The first time I actually talked to him he showed up at my door one sunny weekend and asked me if I wanted to hang out.

I politely declined and mumbled “maybe another time.”

I was under the impression he was still in high school since he was my new landlord’s son. The first time I met him was when his dad, my landlord, was introducing them both to me.

I thought he was cute, but kind of dorky and definitely way too young.

So he was written off. Not interested.

I moved on with my life, seemingly unaffected by his presence in the apartment building next door that his parents owned.

Until that one day…

I think almost an entire year passed from that first meeting and I saw him around randomly during that year, not paying much attention.

I had been dating a guy from high school for a couple of months and when it didn’t work out, I decided to devote myself to cultivating a sensual and sexual relationship with myself.

I spent around eight or nine months self pleasuring and re-birthing myself as a deeply erotic and orgasmic woman.  

That summer I went into the garage one day to talk to my landlord, who was playing pool, and there he was leaning up against the wall, hair slicked back to one side in that James Dean kind of way, smoking a cigarette and blowing the smoke into the air through his luscious lips.

I think I had an orgasm from looking at him and felt that seductive shiver of electricity run up my spine. (Not necessarily due to the cigarettes haha.)

I thought to myself…whoa! When did he get so hot?

I found out he was only five years younger than me…but I just couldn’t shake the age thing.

He was written off. Again.

Then, one summer night I was stargazing in my front yard, trying to count shooting stars in the meteor shower. I was sipping on some herbal chocolate concoction and he came over to say hello.

He sat next to me and we chatted about life, music and all of the somewhat deep things you can tell someone you don’t really know. After that night, we hung out quite often in his garage. I’d watch him play pool and he’d secretly melt my heart.

We went on a “non-date” and when he tried to cuddle me on the beach one night I declined and said we should just be friends.

I was attracted to him. I wanted him. BUT…he was just too young.

I didn’t want to like him. I didn’t want to look forward to seeing him. I didn’t want to love him.

But that rather quickly began to happen. I really liked him. I always looked forward to seeing him and I could feel myself falling in love with him.

I felt this split happening inside. Part of me wanted to seduce him and make him my lover. Part of me wanted more, but I’d never admit it.

I kept my cool exterior on. The walls were up in front of my heart. In my mind, there was no chance for this to work beyond sex and we’d become such deep friends that I couldn’t see that working out either.

A man his age could never please me sexually or give me what I needed relationship-wise…so why try?

So I kept him at a close distance. I’d lure him over and read his Tarot. We’d sit on my floor, candles lit all around and ask each other intimate questions as we played with my crystal pendulums.

Eventually we started cuddling each other and I could feel the desirous electricity building between us.

I’d push him away and pull him closer several times a night. We’d start making out passionately and then I’d tell him to leave. Sometimes it was a dance like this that lasted for hours.

The next day I’d say we needed to keep it friendly and then I’d stumble back into it again.

My body wasn’t confused. Nor was my heart or soul. They all wanted him, but my mind – no, my ego – was really fucking confused. He wasn’t the “package” I’d ordered from the universe.

He was 20 (I was 25). He lived next door. He was my landlord’s son. My ego seductively whispered that he couldn’t possibly be right for me.

“What could I possibly get from this?” she’d hiss in my ear.

But one night, my body gave in and we had sex for the first time. It was amazing and definitely the best sex I’d ever had, which was crazy to me.

He was so passionate and loving. He made me feel seen, fucked open and vulnerable.

And that was scary. So I returned to the only pattern I knew – the push-pull dynamic.

I told him I wanted him to leave yet I’d seductively grind my ass into him or bend over, exposing myself. I kept this on repeat until eventually he said “do you want me to leave or do you want me to fuck you again?”

Stunned to have been slightly called out on my bullshit, I opted for the latter and it was wonderful. I think I made him leave afterwards so I could “integrate”…

And the next day I fell into my pattern and told him we couldn’t do that again.

But we did. After I realized I couldn’t resist him, I decided to switch my control tactic to the mindset of him being my lover and nothing else. I needed to be in control. I didn’t want to get hurt.

I felt the seductive energy of being a slightly older woman seducing the boy next door. It felt sexy for a while until I realized it wasn’t unfolding the way I had originally planned.

The way I envisioned it unfolding from the top of my stone wall tower.

I envisioned myself staying cold and detached, fucking him and then telling him to leave and not feeling anything else.

I was no longer in control of this situation. My walls were crumbling and building up again just as fast.

I was falling even deeper in love and I wanted him even more. But I couldn’t admit it. Not fully.

I couldn’t see through my veil of illusion how right he was for me so I pushed him away. I told him often that I’d be moving to the West coast and I could see the hurt in his eyes.

I needed to protect myself. After all, there was no future with us…right?

My mind couldn’t conceive how someone his age could love me the way I needed to be loved, grow with me the way I desired and make love to me the way my body, heart and soul required.

That’s the beautiful thing about erotic love. Often it shows up wrapped in a different package than you expected and it shakes you to your core.

It shows you what layers of falsehood you hide behind. The patterns you fall into repeatedly.

It shows you how closed your heart is and how the armor can melt away. It shows you how much you truly can open to another and be opened by them.

It shows you how you can learn to surrender and love deeply – giving and receiving the love in a whole new way, over and over again. Surrendering to it. Being seduced by it.

Erotic love is the most beautiful treasure we can experience. The merging of body, heart, soul and genitals through love and sex. A union of sexual love.

Where you can grow in a sacred partnership loving one another through all of the ups and downs, even as love and desire wax and wane.

While I’ve had to stumble, fall and get back up again in this relationship many times, I’m so glad that I’ve devoted myself to this man and our erotic love relationship over the past two years.

Our love is the real stuff. And he shows me over and over again that he can and will love me the way I need to be loved, grow with me the way I desire and make love to me the way my body, heart and soul requires.

He shows me this every day. Eventually I had to stop fighting love and let it seduce me. I had to surrender my heart open and my legs open to let him into me deeper in all ways.

Erotic love to me means that my partner is not just a partner or lover. He’s both. He fulfills the partner role. He makes me feel seen, loved, needed and he communicates with me honestly and genuinely does his best to make me happy and provide for me.

He grows with me spiritually, emotionally and mentally, even if it doesn’t look the way I always thought it would or should.

He also deeply fulfills the lover role. He makes me feel open, safe, intimate, desired, wanted, sexy. He touches my body with reverence and pleasure. He kisses me with passion, wildness, sensuality and tenderness.

I can’t imagine where I’d be in life if I hadn’t allowed myself to be seduced open (and still opening deeper each day) by erotic love. By him.

My heart always felt closed. I always played games. I tried to stay at least two steps, if not more, ahead of guys. I liked the chase, but didn’t want to be caught. So I enacted my push-pull method, but he didn’t settle for it.

Without realizing it (or maybe he did realize it on some level?) he called me out of it. He demanded more of me. He demanded the truth. The truth of love. The depth. The rawness, realness and ever-changing flavor of true erotic love.

Without realizing it, I allowed myself to slowly be seduced by erotic love, which showed up as a sexy neighbor who I fell madly in love with. 

I never imagined love showing up for me this way and I’m kind of glad I didn’t, because I may have written him off for the final time. He’s so much better than anything my ego could conjure up.

So this is the first part of my erotic love story. It will always be unfolding as long as I’m alive and walking this earth. Actually I believe that this love has been lifetimes in the making. It may even be a soul reunion.

And so I allow it to continue unfolding…opening deeper and surrendering deeper into this erotic love.

I want to know your erotic love story too. Are you allowing yourself to be seduced by erotic love, whether solo or partnered? How is that showing up for you?

With love,

Amber