I give a loud chuckle, as I begin to write. It’s been…what? At least a year that I’ve gone straight. Cold turkey. One solid year with one sex partner. I’m sorry, but about to find a bridge and jump! Are we humans, according to the law of the land, supposedly have just one sex partner???? Seriously! What monk created the word monogamous. Surely his ink well ran dry, his quill unable to script it’s true meaning. Along come the old senior monk, penis dried up but ink well full, his quill adds “sex”. I think the Europeans got it right. As did the Asians. Consorts, cortisanes, paramours, are what keeps them separate from Americans puritanical mind-sets. Ménage trois, polygamous, not necessarily polygamy, have success when entered into with a strong consensus and openness. Sharing your prowess can be liberating.
I’m not wired to having the same kind of intercourse when he’s in the mood. Two men or a man and a woman adds so much dynamic complexity that is so simple and basic. If man were meant to be one horse riders, strip joints, private sex clubs, prostitution, Ashley Madison, online sites geared to couple sharing would be dormant to the sounds of crickets. If you’ve read my earlier blogs, my favorites are private, by invite only, social gatherings hosted by couples and some individuals at their residences. I met my current, monogamous partner at such an event. It was love at first site, but he’s not into sharing thus we’re in the “where do we go from here” mode.
I admit to my error. I thought I’d found the perfect mate. My like-minded guy, or so I was led to believe, who I was willing to spend the rest of my life with. I was distracted by the lifestyle: new expensive European sports car, the ring the size of Mt St Helene, private jet, locations…but the sex is ho-hum. I’ve shown him some of the hottest women (okay the other guy thing I get-not wanting to share) in the US, France, Thailand, Scandinavia…nothing! My thing with this is; you found this kitty at a couples swap party and now you want to deprive the kitty of it’s milk. I’m not a happy kitty in the bedroom. I want us to share our tenacity for love and engage in happy healthy cunnilingus, fellatio, ménage a trois…
I’m back to my blog. Not a good sign. I solemnly do swear I am of sound mind & (matured) body. I want to feel a woman’s lips on mine.
It’s been a sometimes fun but often grueling experience. I’m happy it’s over and hope not to travel this road ever again.
To my editors; You will have to provide me with a much larger incentive if you ever want this kind of information again. I took many showers during these past several weeks and drank my share of vino just to get through it.
For the love of what the fuck! Six months ago I agreed to enter into the world of online dating for the second time. It’s a jungle out there, a girl has to be smart and willing to take on another life, especially if it’s all fake for information purposes. The facts aren’t often pretty and these are no exception. I’ll randomly go through the last six months of the revolving door of men and women. Some info will be limited due to copy-rights and my editors blowing up regarding my blogging on the subject. It’s enough to share, enough to…well just read on-in no particular order.
I’ll begin with Ken (btw all names are fiction-yes they gave me actual names, phone numbers and much more)…Ken, the Scorpio, introverted, former NAVY, works as civil employee, lived in a moderate neighborhood, divorced, one child-freshmen year in college. He liked to cook and it showed. Not very outdoorsy and it showed. Spent his weekends watching old movies that he’d seen a few times, liked to play board games. He came off as gruff, not a very happy person who wanted to get laid but didn’t want to put in the effort to accomplish this. He wanted to exchange sexy emails with me doing all the sex talk. When I called him out on meeting, after a few weeks of pulling sexy talk from him, he gave me the story that he’d had a bad experience and was hesitant about meeting. At which point he asked for more photos. Seriously? I’ve sent you 3 and now you want more? Oh and if I could send a nude one he’d like that.
A shower and a bottle of wine cleansed me from this lazy jerk, who I suspect was jerking off to the photos and the emails. He was cut off…spam.
Meanwhile, back at rancho online creep-o! There was grandpa, the Leo. He had no online photo, came off like this sweet, subservient guy who only wanted to please. It was “dear” this “dear” that and whatever pleases you dear, oh I’m sorry dear, was I being, too forward dear, whatever you say dear…I’m suck a dumbass dear, I should have known better, I hope I haven’t blown it with you. This was Don. Supposedly a professional guy with an office, married but not getting any-had not had any in a very long time. He begged for a photo for about 10 days, when he finally got the message that I wasn’t sending jack shit until I got one from him, he sends a photo of him sitting in a lawn chair with a 6-year-old on his lap (his grandson). WTF! What kind of man sends a prospective piece of ass a photo of his grandchild? Was this for browny points? Or was it to cover the belly and the dick-dew? He begged for my phone number so he could text. Okay, here you go, here’s my burner. And then it was a constant barrage of sexting all day through early evening then a pause and would start-up again around 10 and last until midnight. The pause was when he was home and the wifey-poo was up, but as soon as she’d gone to bed he’d start again. I finally laid down the law, the day I was in some very important meetings and had to turn my phone off because he was sexting every 30 minutes. The day I met him, he almost stained his trousers. He even wanted some PDA, that I squashed!! Seriously? You think I’m going to make out with you right here in the middle of a parking lot? And please don’t follow me, I’m not, too keen on you seeing what I drive…to which I walked him to his car, saw him off before heading to the steps to my vehicle 2 levels above (where I parked purposefully).
Don’s admission that his big office was actually a suite in a not so nice part of town, having just purchased a new sofa for his “office”, wanted me to stop by his new office…WAIT! NEW OFFICE? So, this location you’ve just moved in to? And your assistant is actually your wife, who works there on the weekends? Oh, I see! The only time you can get away is during the day? Evenings are tough to get out, but if I don’t want to have sexy time in his “office” we can go to his house, his wife is a ride share, once she leaves for work (25 plus mile away) she’s gone for the day. NO. NO thanks. No not going to your wife’s house to have sex with you!
Meanwhile. The college professor who was actually an instructor, he and the wife enjoyed playtime a few of the local clubs that hosted gatherings for couples swapping. They sent numerous photos of her in flimsy lingerie. He was contact person, never heard from her and all he wanted to tell me about was what he had. Hmmmm! No thanks! When I asked him about his wife, if she and I could exchange communications, I was promptly told that he did the talking for both of them. Okay…
Then there was Greg. Older fella. Said he was a retired consultant. Sent me two photos that were either several years old or they were photo-shopped from a magazine. In one he’s wearing a tux holding a highball glass, not looking into the camera, the other the man is wearing a very nice custom grey suit standing in front of a grey Porsche that has a Delta emblem on it…which is on the tarmac. When I saw this photo I took another look at the first one…something wasn’t fitting, just looked, too perfect. I called him out on the photos but not to my surprise did he acknowledge or deny-completely ignore my query. And again, he could only get away during the day, he worked from home, when he wasn’t traveling of course, nights and weekends were tough to get away. I set a meet, waited until the morning of and gave him an out. He jumped on it and has later asked if we could really get together? His take was meet during the day, have wine and then sex. Ha, ha, ha, ha!!! LMAO! I questioned him; So, you can’t get out at night or weekends, you travel to all these places, stay in these 5 star hotels, yet you want me to meet you during the day, drink wine – have sex…and it’s okay for you to go home reeking of wine and stale pussy? He didn’t respond to that query either. I concluded that Greg was lying and probably retired, bored sitting home watch game shows and cop repeats.
The one thing they all had in common. Once I mentioned I like giving head, they were all in! Would do whatever it took to get me in a room, an office, a car, behind a bar…I guess older guys or any guy for that matter doesn’t get much head from the wifey-poo! I don’t get that. Why women don’t give their husbands head!!!
And lastly. I mentioned several weeks ago that there was one guy who was slicker than grease. I came off like the discard women, who’d been wronged. Well, actually no, I wasn’t. This guy, was a smartass, or at least he thought he was. Sent photos that I, once suspect were old photos and he was much older than he claimed. It was something he responded to that brought this to light and from that it was decided that I would take this route. In his arrogance, he admitted to knowing my identity, my blog, my overseas column. He’d taken the time to “look me up” in a detailed way. He’s also, my opinion somewhat of a racist and I don’t use that word often or lightly. He, as we suspected could have been dangerous and we decided to do something about it. A dual online profile, using a photo from a shoot that we had permission to use and dangled the cord by putting in all the key words that would get his attention. POP! He did, as he followed the same pattern of photos that he’d sent me originally and asking for my number to text. I took on an entirely different persona and he bought it. He wanted to meet, was coming to town (we suspect he lived in town), dinner (it always had to be at a nice place), I told what I would be wearing, he told me what he’d be wearing. WE went sat in the parking lot and sure enough there he was…just as I had suspected! Of course Morgan didn’t show. He texted many times, even wondered if she was okay. His final text was sad, regretful and he sent an empty email to see if the email was still there. The profile on the site was remove 15 minutes prior to the meeting time. Karma is a bitch Bugsy. Fire hot! Burn!
Most men on sites want a little excitement in their lives. I get that. Most of the married women on the sites are seeking the same. Gents, if she’s not your cup of tea, move the fuck on…there are, too many women in the fish bowl to play games. Wives, give your man a blow job! You don’t have to swallow!
I’ve been asked by many, what I do? I write for a publishing house who wouldn’t want me to divulge their brand. My blog began as a way of self expression, later morphing into a combination of readers who write to me and my experiences. I’ve written many articles that are proof read by editors and their assistants, thus my blogs contains errors galore, but I think that gives it a homey, believable feel. I’m currently working on a novel. Because of your inquires I’ve decided to share one snippet with you. I’ve chosen this page because…well I’ll let you see for yourself. I’ll be back in a few with more adventures from the world of internet dalliances, fornication and hookups (fall has been fruitful). Until then enjoy the snippet…
The cool air moving across Amanda’s face was a welcomed relief, compared to the sweat rolling down her arms. She pedaled at moderate pace, with slow deliberate breaths. The path was dimly lit, flat and smooth, against the dark back drop of the park. The tall trees were a canopy, shielding the night sky. She made good time creating distance between her and the house she fled. She pedaled faster.
She attempted to adjust her ball cap. The bike began to wobble as she realized her hands, her legs were trembling and her heart was pounding loudly in her ears. With a deep breath Amanda steadied herself, adjusted the cap tighter. With more control she pedaled forward.
Amanda dared not look behind her fearing she would slow her progress. Just ahead she could see the red glow as it came into view. The first of three traffic signals. Not wanting to decrease her speed, she willed the light to turn green as she drew closer to the intersection. Just as she began to coast, the light signaled green, as she glided effortlessly across the brightly lit intersection that was miraculously void of vehicles.
The bike path took a western route, Amanda veered north, deciding the confines of the sidewalk would be better than the street, using the parked cars as a buffer to any oncoming traffic. It slowed her pace a little. The black hat, jacket and pants made her almost invisible to the traffic on the street, as she calmly breezed through intersections two and three.
It is the first day of fall. Things began to change. Green becomes yellow, orange, gold. Days become shorter. Evenings become cloaked in darkness. The warm begins to chill, unless you’re below the equator-then don’t read this part skip over it, doesn’t apply to you. And you, the ONE who thinks this is going to be about him. No…no Bugsy, this ain’t about you, so carry your sorrow ass on back to being a putain d’homme. You will know when it’s your turn…big bold letters I promise <giggling>.
I’ve mentioned my private parties, the shenanigans, the fun. I’ve mostly attended these soiree with a friend as a plus one or gone alone. Which by the way drives men wild for some reason. An unattached woman entering a partie de sexe gets them drooling. Well, I met this guy. Funny thing about how we met. I was stood up by a cad (I know Bugsy, it’s not about you, I’m merely making a point-chill!) decided to go out and have dinner, since I had nothing else to do. I’m sitting at the bar, sipping on a beer that the bartender had put in the ice maker just for me. This gentleman walks in, he looks forlorn, asks the bartender whatcha got in a bottle, he looks at me and says; “I’ll have what she’s having.” I tell the bartender to give the other bottle he’d slipped in the ice and put another in for me. This guy looks like he needs it.
We talk about the impending days of predicted rain, wonder if we’re really in for a monsoon, it’s already pouring rain (I love valet parking when the weather is nasty). And he opens his heart to me. He’s been away, come home to an empty house, the girlfriend has up and left. All she left him was the bed, a set of sheets, his clothes, a coffee maker and a cup. She left him a voice mail, timed to when she thought his plane would land and him headed home-his house by the way.
Here we sit. The noise level has risen as more patrons enter for that after work respite. He turns to me and asks; “Would you like to get a booth? I’d love to buy you dinner and a bottle of wine, maybe?” Why not?! I’ve been stood up at the eleventh hour by a cowardly putain d’homie, who lacked manners and maturity. (Bugsy are you still reading? I’m flattered!) We are seated by the hostess at the bartenders request, a great booth, somewhat secluded, very little crowd noise. I order lite, I don’t have much of an appetite, we end up sharing a couple of heavy appetizers, me another beer and he a top shelf scotch. To my surprise he doesn’t continue to lament about the missing girlfriend, the contents of his home, he’s truly grateful that his beloved dog was being boarded and not left alone. Awww! What a nice guy!
The rain continues, we talk about everything from politics to religion and to my view of Americans who are so hung up on monogamy. When he tells that he and the missing girlfriend attended a few parties of the swing-swap type and ventured to a club in Atlanta. At that moment, I think I stopped breathing for at least 20 seconds ,my heart beat increased to a rapid pace, my eyes must have glazed over or something and my cheeks a sweet shade of red. “What?” He asked. And begins to apologize because he thinks he’s offended me! (okay y’all stop your laughing-you know me, he doesn’t or he didn’t). Once I regained my breathe, my rate returned to normal, I took a long sip from my bottle, sat it down, looked up at him, focused my eyes on those greenish gray, long lashed dreamy eyes of his and said; “My membership is still valid, doesn’t expire until January 2017.” I could actually see his pupils move to refocus. He reach out his hand out across the table indicating that I give him mine. I did. He held my hand very tender like, almost endearing, it was kinda strange at first. Then he said, without so much a blink or taking a breathe; “I knew you were special when I entered the bar. You’ve been there? You’ve been there more than once?” Yes, yes and I added another yes just in case I’d missed a question, because by now, I’m beginning to realize that even though a few hours ago I was mistreated by someone I thought was a gentleman, an earnest person who wouldn’t waste a lady’s time with a bunch of bullshit, who had lied about his age (yes Bugsy you did-you so much as admitted you’d lied about being younger, but I suspect you’re much older than you said-much older-your barge of photos-the periobital puffiness were signs you’re trying to be something you’re not), wasted my time for weeks, it was all for this, this moment of he and I sitting in this booth discovering that we liked the club in Atlanta. That we had a lot in common. And that he, had an invite to a party this weekend to celebrate the change of the season, that he was going to send his regrets even before he’d return home to find the girlfriend gone, his furniture, cooking utensils and all gone.
It took us moment or two gather our senses. We sat in silent for a long time. The waiter came over broke the silence, asked if we’d like another drink. He quickly responded; “Yes, we’d like a glass of house champagne. We have to toast our meeting, this was fate at it’s finest. We were meant to meet.” I told him all about Bugsy, how we’d met, all the bullshit and the way he’d sloughed it off earlier, this was one of the places I’d suggested that we meet and when I’d thrown in his room, just to see…how he’d jumped right on the number 3 choice. He listened and I listened. We toasted with our champagne flutes, he took out his phone, entered a text and said; “We have just excepted the invite this weekend, it won’t interfere with your charity event, we can leave after you’re finished, I’ll drive, but if you’re not comfortable without your car, you can follow me and I’ll book 2 rooms for our stay. I want us to be FWB for a long time, I’ve waited for you forever and I’m very happy this evening has finally arrived.”
We walked through to the bar and thanked him(bartender) . We waited in the alcove for the valet to bring our cars. His came first and he refused to leave me standing there. He waited for my car to arrive, walked into the rain held the door and said; “May I text you later, to say good night?” I agreed by nodding, because I’m not sure if I’m dreaming. The last thing I want to do right now is wake up. But i wasn’t. We’re getting to know each other and it’s great! The weekend is going to be a good one. Fate.
Thank you all for reading and your wonderful emails!
I’m inspired by a few things. I am on the high floor of a magnificent hotel with a fantastic view, no sounds except the clapping of my keyboard. The bed was, is beyond dreamy, the pillows sofa yet comfortable. Arriving late last night with my Coterie, we sat and enjoyed a few lagers before retiring. With the street noise so far below I am transcended into melancholy of the past weeks. I’ve been trying with all my wit to forge a new relationship of sorts, although unconventional to the average Joe, I like doing things that are against the norm.
I’ve been open-minded, yielding, extremely giving-maybe, too giving.
If you don’t look like an adonis, why are you being so picky??? For Pete’s Sake!! You don’t run, you don’t walk, you don’t golf, you don’t play tennis…you play board games, watch movies and eat a lot of red meat!!! That takes a toll on one’s physique, not to mention other unmentionable parts. So I’m not a WF, I’m a mix of many parts, some may so exoctic. I was guileless, did not hide it! Why are you being an asshole? First you want to known what my likes and dislikes are-reason being, still not sure…for the sake of conversation; So he won’t say or do the wrong thing. Seriously? Life is ebb and flow! You be who you are, not hide behind some bullshit of meaningless crap because…If I could figure that out we’d be an item by now, I suppose. This being his transcript (not mine); he’s divorced, spends a lot of time at home, watching tv, cooking, watching tv, drinking beer, watching tv and he’s ready to find someone, to start living. Need I state the obvious here?? I’m still kicking myself for being drawn to this…this person. I sent 3 photos, all different to show my versatility and he wasn’t satisfied with those.
“Wow, they all look different! Is this 3 different people? Do you have anymore I can look at?”
Ah, no I do not. WTF!? I could have easily said; Look you aren’t the most handsome guy I’ve met, you’re not the most unattractive one either, but I thought you were a nice guy and I was looking for nice, not handsome, not over the moon knock-out gorgeous. I’m willing to bet there’s not a six or an eight pack under that t-shirt and bulky coat (in the photo you sent to me). BUT what I did say; I think we’ve come to an impasse. Why don’t you mull the photos over for a few days and get back to me. His subsequent correspondence has been directed to the TRASH BIN.
I move on…A week remaining before my trip to the outskirts of the Big Apple with my Cortier, I give it one more go. If you fall off the horse, you’ve got to get your bum up, dust it off and get back on! Right?
Which brings me to the “PROFESSOR“! Not that he was or is a professor. He struck me as such when I ventured out to meet him, after several correspondences. Much older than he had claimed. Okay, so he used an old photo, we all do that from time to time. But the person I’d corresponded with was not the person I met at the coffee cafe. Grouchy about having lost his life. Was having an affair (she was Japanese, married with 2 children), they fell in love, she went home to get divorced but decided not to return…Meanwhile, he divorces his wife, she takes him to the cleaners (can you blame her?) alimony-child support and in the interim he’s laid off from his executive position, ate his nest egg keeping up the spousal support, etcetera, etectera, etectera…I took time from my busy day for this? TMI!!! He works from his apartment, that was a condo when we first began to correspond. His voluntary inventory of said apartment: a lounge chair, his work station, computer, etc., (and my personal favorite) a traditional Japanese futon (mat). Yep! That’s not a typo…a mat. If you know anything about Asian culture, you know a mat means just that! M-A-T, no elevation as in the western world. I was so stunned by the mat, it took a few minutes for the lack of other items that weren’t included in the inventory. Okay. So, you’re thinking we’re going to spend our time at my house? Seriously! NO! I waited a few minutes, made small talk about the weather, about stuff in general, finish my espresso drink, looked at my watch and said; “This has been just wonderful! I’ve enjoyed our conversation, you seem like a special guy, but I do need to head out, I’ve got more work facing me before I end my day. We’ll talk soon.”
“What’s your phone number, I can send you mine and we can keep in touch by text. Email is so impersonal, don’t you think? Besides, I’d like to call you and wish you sweet dreams at night and maybe end it with some tantalizing conversation, if you know what I mean.” <grinning his ass off>
Oh my! He’s got a plan and I’m it! I smile my best flight attendant smile, position my voice to sooth and I reply; Well, I hardly know you. We haven’t been emailing that long and we just met this one time today. Let’s see how it goes, I can always give it to you in a couple of days. He was not happy. But he had no choice in the matter. Subsequent emails have found their way to the TRASH BIN.
As I sit and enjoy the view, I remind myself that as difficult as it may seem, the universe will come full circle and I’ll once again find that special someone. But for now, enjoy the comradely with your coterie, the city, the food, the OPEN…
Dating in the first century of the 3rd millennium has its challenges. Be smart. Set limits. Avoid the cyrano-syndrome.
Thanks for being a loyal fan. Addison firstname.lastname@example.org
Ever want something from the past to come back and be the same, you damn well know it ain’t gonna happen. As much as you want it, you know there’s no way this is going to have a happy ending. Fairy tales are in children’s books, romance novels and the movies.
Don’t cry for me…(yeah that’s a song-it fits really well here). I’m a big girl and I walked into the place, for lunch, knowing full well life moves on, shit changes, people change-nothing stands still. Time makes change as it moves through the universe. My bad, a girl can dream…then you wake up! Hopefully when you do wake, you’re in your own bed in familiar surroundings. Not in a crowed posh restaurant, dressed Saturday casual sheik, tanned with sun-kissed highlighted hair, braided perfectly to the side. You could care less what I looked like, a lot of forethought and care went into looking just right…but I’ll get on with the events.
I followed the hostess through the maze of tables filled with equally poshly dressed diners. Making eye contact with several as I wound my way to the rear of the room toward the large windows that overlook the St John River. I lost my balance, the room took on a dim hue, when he stood to greet me. Oh my goodness! Shut the front door! This could not be the man I worship, that I would arrange my flights (flight attendant) to coincide with his days off – a major player as a Detective for the local law enforcement, former Marine MP. No freakin’ way! We use to get up at the crack of dawn (I still do by the way) to run many miles before the sunrise over the Atlantic. He was full cop, full ex Marine and a fantastic lover…more on that in a moment.
How can I put this nicely? On dating websites when they ask about your body the choices are; in shape, athletic, nicely toned, a few pounds…Let’s go with the latter. I knew it was him, without a doubt, the blue eyes, the smile, the haircut (still Marine style) and the voice-his voice always a turn on for me. I loved this man like I’ve loved no other! He called, the voice was so familar…I was going to be in town 2 weeks later. Why not? He’s newly divorced! I got excited! I mean really excited! Over the following 2 weeks leading up to my visit (business in town), I recalled all the wonderful moments…there were many and there were some not so wonderful moments.
I composed myself and greeted him with European pecks on both cheeks, avoiding his eyes, hoping he wouldn’t see my astonishment. I sat, made lots of small talk hoping to avoid the enviable conversation about reconnecting. All the while sitting and wondering behind my perfect flight attendant smile, what had happened to my guy to let himself go and go so far from the man who was? Coffee after a wonderful salad with an excellent piece of salmon, it was hard to hold back the tears. It wasn’t because he lacked the washboard abs…he was a tyrant when we were together about eating, drinking and in general a health nut! Then conversation fell on us…the us of yesterday. How do you tell a man you loved so completely that you’re worlds apart today?
I had a key to his condo on the river. I’d helped him buy the furniture, purchased pieces for his birthday and Christmas. I surprised him with a new mattress set, custom-made, because of his height and his bedroom would be cramped with a king bed. It was a significant moment in our relationship. For the first time I considered becoming a wife. Big step for moi!!! My flight schedule was changed mid day. I was in Chicago and there was a flight at the jet way, being boarded and headed to his city. I waited with bated breath, hoping for one open seat…I thought my luck was with me that day. I landed, caught a cab to his place, saw his work car in his parking spot. I was so excited, I ran to the main door and quickly to the condo door. As I put the key in the knob I could hear music playing-my French themed, sexy music I loved to play. I walked in and my heart sank…on the floor were a pair of ladies heels, a skirt, his shoes, the jacket I’d given him for his birthday…on the coffee table were two coke cans, a half eaten pizza…none of things he and I would ever eat or he’d allow us to eat! I followed the hall to the rear, the door wide open to the master bedroom and there on the bed were he and her having sex, her on top, just bopping away…I told there waited to see how long it would take for him to notice another person standing in the door way, Mr. A-1 Detective. While I stood there frozen in time, that seemed like an eternity, it wasn’t what I saw that broke my heart, causing it to bleed. It was what I heard that made me want to throw up. His love for her and him saying all the same things to her, he would say to me while we made love, which later I felt was just a fuck. I turned left the room, headed to the other bathroom and threw up, careful not to soil my uniform. When I’d emptied my gut, I flushed the toilet and began running the sink water to wash my face and gargle. That got their attention. I thought it would…as I spit the mouth wash into the toilet and began to flush for the second time, he appeared in the doorway with a pair of swimming trunks that I had arbitrarily purchased, just because…His first words, well actually his several words were; this isn’t what it looked like, I know this looks bad, I can explain, I didn’t expect you and my personal favorite; “Why are you here so early? I didn’t expect you until tomorrow morning. I had a great welcome home planned for you. Now you’ve ruined the surprise I had planned!” I’m sorry! I went from zero to 100 in less than one second…It’s a blur after that…I rememeber grabbing my wheeled bag and walking out the door. I walked a couple of blocks from the building stopped and called a cab…airport crew lounge was my refuge for a few hours…I caught a flight back to my home base. Turned my phone off for 2 days. Got another phone with a second number, gave that to the airline, family and friends with a story that I was getting harassing calls-my cop friend suggested I just get a new number.
This was the first time we’d seen each other since that day-yes years have passed. I heard from a mutual friend he’d married her, she moved into the condo-no kids. And as he told me his martial gruesome story, she’d screwed around on him, with a few guys and she wasn’t shy about or discreet about it. He’d become depressed, because divorcing her would suck the life out of his saving, possibly his pension, his condo, his rental properties…so he stayed in the marriage, let himself go…was promoted to captain and now thinking about retiring to the Keys. He was renting a place down at the ocean, no longer in quaint area we once ran through those dark mornings, ate at the sidewalk diners, enjoyed life as a handsome couple (that’s what people would stop us to say).
No. It wasn’t working for me now, but I could see he was willing. I took a deep breath and I simply said: ‘I don’t think we can go back. There’s too much baggage, it would only weigh us down–weigh you down.’ He reluctantly agreed. We fielded our way through the tables, less diners, less chatter, it was a 2 hour lunch. As I waited for the valet to bring my car, he turned, hugged me, kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear; “You will always be the love of my life, I’m sorry I hurt you, everything after that day that’s happened to me I deserved. You look like a million bucks and whoever the man in your life is, he’s a very lucky guy-hope he appreciates you and loves you as you should be loved.” He turned and walked away…he didn’t look back. My heart hurt, because I man I loved so much was gone forever, even though I’d just had lunch with his spirit.
Life’s a bitch! But life goes on…
Thanks for being a loyal reader. Personal comments and questions are always welcomed. email@example.com
Affirmative Spirit transcends to everything carnal.
I began this blog a few years ago because I wanted to bring openness to carnal knowledge. I got away from it, not sure how or why, and found myself entangled in the adult world of online dating and affairs of married men and women. I’ll certain continue to bring those things to light, to talk about married men who are prone to “serial affairs” versus those who seek the comfort of a woman’s body. Forget the reasons. Men are prone to have sex and to have it often. Which is why gay men are more likely to have “open relationships”. And I kinda have to agree. Are we as human beings with all this brain power meant to be with one person? I have nothing against marriage. I think it’s great for those who crave it, want it, need it. But why is it so imperative that one man dedicate his sexual needs and desires to one woman? And why is a woman considered a whore, a slut, a low-life bitch if she has a desire to be sexual with more than one man? To engage with someone other than her matrimonial spouse? It’s even sadder that society frowns upon the husband & wife that engages in swapping! For pete’s sake, they’re consenting adults, betrothed in wed “lock” if they want to spice up their sex life with swapping, why the hell not? What is wrong with that? Yet, if he tips out by himself he’s label a cheater! If she’s licked to carnal bliss by another woman or fucked by another man, she’s labeled!
Some men actually derive sensual pleasure watching their wives being pounded by another man. They also like to watch another woman lick her clitoris, pinch her nipples, kiss her with lots of tongue. These are normal everyday people with mortgages, careers, children and some with grandchildren. It is a turn on for both to watch another man insert his cock into the wife’s pussy, lick her pussy close to orgasm and the husband takes over. Or another man to finger fuck her while she sucks his cock. And in some instances, the wife taking both men, one in the pussy the other in the mouth and some others (women) like to be fucked in the ass while she’s sucking a hard cock.
I have found them to be very stable individuals. Mature individuals who know what they desire and enjoy being sexual. I for one would rather have sex with a man while his wife watches than have a clandestine affair with a married man who is stealing time for sex. Some may say that’s thrilling, but I say having a wife watch me make her husband’s cock hard with my blow job skills makes me horny and wet. Granted there are some women who’d rather watch and not engage with another woman-the shy type. Once I get in to stroking his hard cock with my mouth, as he moans with pleasure, she’s likely to finger herself because she’s wet from watching me pump the clear pre cum juice from the tip of his throbbing cock. Some wives have dildos, some will want to sit on his face and watch as I bring him to full orgasm. In those cases when he cums, she will cum his face and watch him lick me to full orgasm. And if she’s not shy, it’s a full on threesome, she’s licking me while I suck her husband’s cock or I’m licking her while she sucks…He’s fucking me while she sit’s on my face. Or on occasion, I’m being fucked in the ass while she fingers my pussy and I’m sucking on her tits. Who says being a third wheel is a bad thing??
All normal stuff, that humans enjoy doing for carnal pleasure.
I’m meeting a new couple, I plan to blog about our journey. I’ll get back to the Ashley Madison sagas when the new couple has filled their carnal cup.
Comments are most welcomed. Questions are always welcomed! You may comment or ask a question here OR you may email me firstname.lastname@example.org
And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. ~ Anaïs Nin
CHAPTER TWO – Lucy
It is an authors prerogative to make literary changes as they create words of interest on a blank sheet of paper. Lucy was originally to be chapter 3, but her story was so compelling, I couldn’t wait to share it. She sent me several emails chronicling her journey through the sites and the hungry men on Ashley Madison. I also felt a kindred with Lucy, a fellow lover of tennis.
A successful real estate broker. Educated. Philanthropic. Enjoying the fruits of her success with an upscale lifestyle, her marriage had taken a serious turn to oblivion when her husband was diagnosed with MS. First came separate bedrooms. Then came long intervals of sex to no sex for several years.
She was on AM long before the publicity hit the media. It was during the scandalous blitz that she met Joe, the social studies teacher, from NY state, a Brazilian , in her southern town. He was quite insistent, wanting her cell number to text. He wasn’t interested in a cool period of getting to know each other via email. She held him off while she got to know a couple other guys who’d shown interest. Joe was much younger, but he didn’t know that. Brenda lied about her age, by 10 years. He thought she was 4 years older.
When the other 2 older guys became boring, she finally agreed to meet him at a Starbucks. He was handsome, he was a complete gentleman and she could see the stars in his eyes for her. They chatted for a couple of hours, she finally gave him her cell, left him there and headed home.
She heard from him every morning; a hello, or good morning accompanied with kisses emoji. Afternoons sent text of missing her smile, her eyes, accompanied with kisses emojis. Early evenings were the more of the same and nights after 9:30 were longer text with confessions of wanting, needing and more kisses emojis. This went on for over a week. Lucy was departing with a group of friends to the US Open, staying for the semis and championship matches. The text continued and doubled in its frequency. It was cute, she thought, but were becoming annoying. She would check them now and then, but he began calling when she didn’t promptly respond to his text. She muted his number, responding when it was convenient by text only.
When she returned after Labor Day, he insisted he wanted to pick her up from the airport and drive her home, by pretending to be a her Lyft driver. She refuted his offers and let his repeated calls go to voice mail. A few day went by and among the many text was an offer to take her dinner that weekend, his treat. She agreed to meet him at a place that was far from her home, after an event she was attending.
It had been 4 years since she’d had sexual contact with a man. As her event ended that warm breezy late Saturday afternoon, she sat in her car deciding if she’d drive home or meet this youngster for dinner. He texted. He wanted to change the restaurant which just happened to be closer to where she was. She agreed and headed to the place. He was there when she arrived, jumped into her car as she pulled up and wanted her to park away from the entrance. She parked half way from the door, he baulked but that didn’t stop him from leaning our the console of her car to kiss her. It was awkward and awful. Hard and full of teeth pressing against her mouth. There was nothing sensual about it.
After dinner, he wanted her to go in his car with him, she compromised and followed him to an old army fort, historical park with ammunition bunkers, open fields, benches and forest areas. They walked the paths, found a bench, sat and kissed. The hard kissing was his thing, surmised. While he was kissing deep and hard he slid his hand up her dress and played with her now very wet pussy. She could feel the heat in her belly, she wanted to cum, his fingers were moving around her clit causing her squirm. He pushed two fingers into her very wet pussy. She uncontrollably moaned as he pumped his fingers in and out of her. She’d forgotten about the hard kissing, she didn’t really care at this point, her pussy was wet, her nipples were hard as rocks and her clit was throbbing wanting to orgasm. Just as she was about to cum, he pulled out and stuck his wet fingers into her mouth. She was so turned on at this point, she sucked his fingers as he thrust them in and out of her mouth. He took her hand and laid it on his hard cock, bulging through his trousers.
They got up and began walking toward a bunker. These bunker had recessed openings that lead to the doors that were bricked shut. As soon as they were out of sight in the opening, he rammed his fingers in her pussy, bent over and grabbed her nipple with his teeth. She unbuttoned the top of her dress freed her hard nipple from her bra cup, as he bit and sucked her breast, making her wetter. She was at a point of no return. She wanted a cock in her pussy. She unzipped his trousers, cupped his hard cock and began stoking it like it was in her pussy. The clear cum juice was dripping from his cock…she opened the foiled pack, slid it his cock and licked his now sieved cock head. She turned her back to him, pulled her dress over her ass, opening her legs, she took him into her dripping wet pussy. It felt so good, having him pump her, bounce her, go deep into her. She felt a tinge of pain, but it made her want to cum, she wanted to hold off, make it last longer, but he was about to cum so they orgasm together. She felt liberated! She felt like a woman again. She felt like her old self in an instance.
She put herself back together as best she could. He went in for another hard kiss. She moved away to fix her bra and button her dress. She had finally had a cock and she was satisfied. She made an excuse, it was later than she thought and she needed to head home to feed the dog. She thanked him for dinner. Kissed him on the cheek and began walking back into breeze away from the cover of the bunker’s entrance. As they approached her car a family pulled into the parking lot. Thankful for their arrival, she popped into her car, thanked him again for dinner and lovely evening. Before she could leave the park her phone chimed an incoming text. A line of kisses emojis and words saying he’d text her later tonight.
Once home she took a long hot shower, remembering how it felt to have a cock in pussy. It still throbbed, her clit throbbed and her nipples were a happy sore. Climbing into bed, she blocked his number, went to the AM site blocked his profile, SPAMMED his email address and slept like a baby. She deleted his name and number several months later and now she masturbates remembering that evening of hot sex with a stranger she’d meet on AM. She was happy with her bite of the apple…
Next up Part Three…
Thanks for joining me, I hope you enjoyed our time together. Addie
The first thing she noticed, when he walked through the door of the quaint cafe, was his ears. They sat far from his head, Dumbo sized. And that military style haircut didn’t make them any less notable. His face was clean shaven, unlike the photo he’d used on his profile. At second glance, she was beginning to think it was an older photo. Not a recent one like she was using no the site….
Being in her early fifties and feeling like the world was at it’s end for her, t she would have to settle for getting older and not having the sex appeal she once felt just a couple of years ago. Her husband of twenty years had had an affair with his paralegal for almost a year. It was horrifying enough to find out that your husband hadn’t lost interest in sex, he’d just lost interest in her. The ultimate horror was finding out about it at the firms holiday gala, a formal, fancy to do at one of the city’s top rated hotels. Cocktails,four course dinner with pristine white table cloths & napkins, fancy center pieces, champagne toast and announcements of new associates and partners. And to round out the evening, an inebriated secretary spilling the news about her husband and the paralegal’s tet-ta-tet, being a wealth of information, providing dates of trips, over nights in the city…
As the polar vortex griped the nation, he was walking around with workout, sweat proof attire, sporting a huge bulge at the apex of his thighs. He’s an active duty military, married, who likes to workout a couple hours a day. When he’s not in his military uniform, he’s in spandex workout garb.a “Dumbo with a big cock” She thought, as he walked up to her table and introduced himself. They’d dispensed of the fake names sometime ago when the communication had reach personal email status. The topics went from general to; how much he liked to eat pussy, how he liked to make it wet and finger fuck it before he fucked it with his cock, how he liked to tongue kiss while fucking her hard letting her taste herself. And she shyly admitted to liking being fucked hard. He didn’t seem to care that her contribution to this hot sexual exchange was minimal, mostly replies to his rants about “good in bed” he was. That he’d had sex in a parking lot and finger fucked a chick at a Stephen King flick.
On that cold day, they left the cafe and she followed him to a no name motel. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to do this, but felt she should at least have the experience. Once in the room, the tv on for white noise he told her, he went for her breast. squeezing them together, pinching her nipples repeatedly. On the bed he removed her boots and she unzipped her slacks removing them along with her panties exposing herself to him. To her surprise, he pulled down his tight spandex pants, letting his hard cock fall and balls fall out, grabbing her head telling her to suck him. As she tried to suck the head he pushed her head deeper causing her to gag. This seemed to delight him as he moaned, yes go deeper. With each thrust aided by his hand at the back of her head, he moaned louder. Just as she could taste his precum juice, he pulled out, pushed her back onto the bed and was on top of her and in with one failed swoop. Now telling her to rock with me. He ejaculated pressing all his weight on her. When he recovered he used his fingers to play with her pussy bringing her to orgasm.
She said she had no expectations of romance, but I somehow felt the encounter was a let down because he’d talked a big game about how he liked to eat pussy, make you cum big, make you cum more than once. Which he had not. Seemingly, there was no hard fuck, just a few pumps and a spewing of cum. About the only thing he did do, was finger fuck her to cum, so at least she got an orgasm out of the encounter. Surely, had she been prepared to suck his huge cock, she may have used her tongue to stimulate his cock head, played with his balls with her hands and maybe licked his balls little to tingle in senses and sucking just the head with a few deep strokes making him cum.
She sent an email asking if he’d like to meet again, this time for dinner before heading off to a room. No response. She waited a week and sent another email, but it was returned as “undeliverable”. Apparently he’d deleted that address. He was one and done. That was her one and only experience on the site. She has since deleted her profile and deleted the semi nudes from her photo cache.
Having followed my blog for sometime, she wanted to know how I managed to have mind blowing sex with men and women. You have to be completely open to enjoying the sex. The act of it. Making it your own. You can’t hold back because then it will have the feeling of being forced. She knew by going to that motel room there would be intercouse, cock sucking (men love to have their cock’s sucked-period). There’s nothing wrong in telling him to make you wet before you suck him off…no one person rules when it comes to foreplay, cunnilingus, fellatio and intercourse.
Next up; Chapter Two, Brenda and the NASA scientist/administrator, who’s online name resembled the popular three part book with “shades” of color. Probably the only man I’ve heard of that has read all three books!!
Yup. This blog is exactly what you think it is. Vivere Marie and Nova Moriarty are here to share the process of trying to figure out this thing called dating and romance. Seriously, the hell is that?! Nova Moriarty is an author of high fantasy erotica, and this blog is the epicenter of her book news and thoughts on writing.