Living with a partner when you're poly involves a lot of negotiation when it comes to sleepover dates with others. You have to be consistent with putting things in your Google calendar, for a start, and you have to be prepared for a certain amount of planning ahead of time. Impulse dates are hard to manage when you have only one bed between you. The advantage of this is that you begin to get creative about where you can fool around. As someone who loves semi-public play for the novelty of it but also cares deeply about consent and doesn't eroticize "getting caught", it's a challenge to find spots that tick all the boxes that also don't cost an arm and a leg. Public spaces are by their very nature public, which makes them risky. And while sex parties are the right space and the right time, I'm old and jaded about fucking in someone else's wet spot. So I have to think a little further outside the box.
It was a weekday and I finally had a daytime date with my boyfriend. Boyfriend! The word felt new and unnatural still, even if I had a lot of joy from using it. Introducing him to old friends led to me still working out what to call him in relationship to me, and the syllables of "boyfriend" still felt a little like rolling marbles in my mouth. We had only just recently begun to say we loved each other, something that filled my heart to bursting. The sun was shining and everything felt perfect.New relationship energy is, for me, like the first pumpkin spice lattes of the season. It's exciting because I love autumn, I love Halloween, I love soups and pies and cuddling by fires and that pumpkin spice latte is like a symbol for all that. People who like to seem cool shun the pumpkin spice latte, which is their prerogative, just as people like to be too cool for being in love and having a bunch of mushy feelings. Fine, whatever. I enjoy my PSL, and my NRE, and when they fade they just transform into a love for something new and just as enjoyable. Novelty can only be novelty as long as it stays novel, after all, and all things change.
I wanted to go to a pumpkin patch, and a weekday seemed like an ideal time to go. No crowds, no traffic, just a cute day holding hands and picking out the perfect Halloween decorations. And there was a hay maze at the spot I picked, a hay maze I had never successfully found my way through, so that was an added incentive. The farm was empty except for a woman at the desk and a couple of farm hands working, so we had the place to ourselves. We walked into the hay maze confident. He suggested we stick to the wall, which I mostly followed... well, until I didn't anymore.
I wanted to get lost.
I led him by the hand and we explored probably every dead end in that hay maze. Soon we were using the dead ends as an opportunity to make out. At first our kisses were tender, brief, and sweet, as we giggled about feeling like a couple of kids at prom. Then we got more daring, our kisses heating up, hands up skirts and down pants as we took turns throwing each other against they hay bales. No matter how entangled we got, though, we had to keep moving along, trying new paths and retracing our steps. We found a chair along the way, and used that to prop up my leg so he could slide his fingers into my cunt, the hay prickling into my back as I tried not to moan too loudly. Or, in another dead end, I sat on the chair to suck his cock, the sun warming our bodies.
Two hours later, we stumbled out of the maze through the way we had come in, picking hay out of our hair and giggling as we went to wash our hands before picking out pumpkins. My little orange reminders look wholesome on my front porch, even if they make me grin, remembering getting frisky for fall.
As much as I love this season, I had never had sexytimes in a hay maze before. I think it might become a seasonal tradition. And if that makes me a basic bitch, well, I'm a basic bitch who fucked in a hay maze, so. ;)