Happy New Year
- thedirtydianaxxx
- Jan 1
- 3 min read

I woke up this morning feeling giddy. It’s going to be a great year.
I spent New Year’s Eve with both of my men, kissing them both at midnight. Shortly after I was fucking Sean while Dakota was getting his dick sucked in the next room. After everyone had left and Dakota and I cuddled in bed I felt inexplicably close to him. Like we had just had great sex. Maybe it was just the brain chemicals lingering around, but it still felt very real. It felt incredible that we are on this journey together.
I woke up not hungover (yay!) and couldn’t believe how happy I still felt. After a couple hours of existing in the new year I get our daughter down for a nap and we have some fun of our own. And it was hot. Which, admittedly, is not the case a lot of the time anymore.
I don’t know if he feels the same way, and I know he reads my blog so sorry in advance if this hurts your feelings, Dakota… But it often feels like a means to an end. I need sex to feel close to him. I’m not saying daily or anything, but those women who (supposedly) have kept their men in chastity for a year? I don’t feel like I’d see him as a husband anymore. Just a roommate.
Not only do I want the happy, lovey brain chemicals – I also like the feeling of orgasms. Duh. And so does he. But the two years prior to our baby our fertility treatments put a huge strain on our relationship and gave me weird feelings about sex in general. Sex was calculated. Prescripted. We must have sex these times and cannot at these times. The anxiety of wondering if it would finally work. There was a point in time where I did my best to dissociate during it. I needed him to cum inside me but I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to think about what was happening. I could grab him tightly and fake the moans without really being present. There were a few times I kept my eyes closed, hoping it would seem like this was because the sex was just so intense, when in actuality it was because I’d cry if I opened them. I don’t think I was ever fooling him though.
All of this, as you might imagine, turned our sex very efficient. We know each other’s bodies well. We know what buttons to press and what knobs to turn to reach the end goal. We didn’t really need passion by that point. We’d been doing it for years already. And that’s not to say I hated all of the sex we had during those couple of years but even when it wasn’t bad it wasn’t necessarily good.
Then I was pregnant which meant I was more tired than usual and pretty quickly sex got uncomfortable. Then there’s having a new baby in the house. And all of a sudden we’re at nearly four years of very mechanical sex. Just get to the orgasms
Something I hated to admit is that lately sex with Sean was better than with Dakota. I wanted to fuck him so badly. And he wanted to fuck me. He told me I was the most attractive woman he’d been with and oh my God did he act like it. Like every time might be his last time if he didn’t do well enough. Like he was competing for his spot.
For a bit I just enjoyed this. But the contrast made me feel bad about not wanting to fuck Dakota that much. I wanted to feel like this about him again. So what did I do?
I faked it.
I would think about sex with Sean. How much I needed him inside me. It wasn’t about the destination, it was about the journey. I’d put on a show for Dakota that was not at all a show for Sean. But he noticed. And it worked.
It pulled him out of the trance we’d been under for years now. It made him want to fuck me how I wanted to be fucked. Not just the easiest way. Seeing me be more “passionate” made him more passionate. Which… made me actually more passionate. It’d been building on itself for a couple of weeks now. Slowly getting more intense with each time. This morning was good. It felt more like fucking the love of my life and less like using him to masturbate.
I’m starting 2025 feeling great. I have so much love in my life. And so much good sex to look forward to.
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