Once upon a time there was a sweet young girl. All the parents of her friends knew she was trouble. All her friends knew not to let her around their boyfriends. All her boyfriends knew not to trust her with their friends...
Everyone has one. I am usually "that" ex girlfriend. So, this man keeps popping up, asking himself into my life, begging me to sleep with him, not to tell his wife. The poor boy is playing with fire.
He is sweet and a bit rough and I fucking own him. Where is the fun in that? Well, I do have some pretty good ideas. Lovely boy. He owns a landscaping business so he is cut and hot but I know him. I know that there is not even the slightest chance of a challenge.
He tells me he remembers me sucking his fingers. He wants me. Has always wanted me.
I remember after we broke up, he had a new girlfriend who he wanted to marry. I think I was with a live-in partner. I met him out one day and told him to come and pick me up the next day. I took him on a picnic to the national park and fucked him so that everyone at the lookout could see us, see me riding him.
He remembers it too. Boys are so easy.
Tuesday
Chocolate Truffle Cake
So this was becoming an addiction. I had to speak with him. He would always text just when I thought I would not speak with him again. It really was like some kind of drug.
I had switched off this memory of who I was, of what I wanted and now it was there and I could no longer hide it. Not from anyone else. Not from myself. I have played around the edges of D&S and had always worn the control, just waiting for someone to step up and take it from me. No one had - until now. No one had even come close. I have slept with musos, egotistical advertising execs, up tight accountants, CEOs, friends fathers, old men, young men, not to mention all the women and none had even looked at stepping up and taking what I wanted taken - control.
The moment I was faced with it was nothing short of terrifying. I am not sure whether I was more scared of the power that he exuded or my desire to have my power taken away. Exquisite torture.
I walked out through the world and every pore just screamed from me "SEX".
So then I started to understand. The moment I owned who I was my neck eased up and my back stopped hurting. All of this tension for all of these years, just gone. I had to know this. I had to know what it was to be there in that space, to give my control up to someone.
It somehow still felt dishonest with my husband. He had pretty much agreed to an open relationship. Pretty much. I have never cheated on him. Never been with anyone else the whole time we have been in our 7 year relationship. I know he has never looked at another girl. Funnily he does not realise how hot he is....and he is.
So I was stuck in this space. I now understand what it is I do when I feel frustrated. I cook.
I pulled together the most magnificent truffle chocolate cake. Four layers, cherry coulis and morello cherries with butterscotch schappes. It was beautiful.
I stirred by hand all of the ingredients, beating the eggs by hand until they were light, stirring the sugar through until it was dissolved, folding through the flour and melting the chocolate adding the butter until it melted through and was a thousand different flavours of awesome - that sweet salty bitterness of dark chocolate and salted butter. A lot of people I know like to bake with unsalted butter but I love salted. That balance of sweet and salt is just a match made in heaven. While the cake baked again I melted chocolate and added cream for the truffle filling, boiled down cherries, sugar and some liqueur for the coulis and pitted the morello cherries making my finger tips smell sweet, musty and tinting them pink.
I spoke with him on the phone and told him I hated him for doing this to me. I had spent weeks just trying to understand what the hell was going on. Trying to find another way out of this mess that did not involve him. He laughed.
I was in dire straits. Now I could not cum. I could not understand it. I was not intentionally listening to him. I did not want him to be right. I did not want him to win but I did. My cunt was wet and hot and my nipples hard and aching to be sucked...and here I was - I couldn't cum. I wanted to. I tried to. I just fucking couldn't. With all of the delicious desire that I had held on to for so long I knew that this was no longer a want but a desperate fucking need. This was it, the one thing I had been waiting for. There was no way I could turn my back on it whether I wanted to or not, I couldn't.
I sliced the cake while it was still hot and poured the filling over, layering perfect, even cherries and chocolate, sprinkling the butterscotch on the middle layer. It sat perfect in the fridge, cooling. It didn't even take the edge off.
So I took it to my friend's place and in the car on the way there I spoke with my husband. I told him I was serious and I really wanted an open marriage. He agreed. I sat and ate cake with my gorgeous friends in their beautiful home while our tribes of children laughed and played, just thinking about being fucked by this other guy. I sweetly sat while they said Grace at dinner, drank my tea and said my goodbyes. I got in the car, took a deep breath and said "This is hard for me to say and I know you said you were okay with the idea, Honey but I need to tell you. I have met someone I think I may be interested in seeing. Are you okay with that?" He swallowed hard and was quiet. "Yes." The questions started about how we had met and who was he, how old - all of which I neatly avoided. I got the answer I needed.
I sent the text as soon as I could - "Game on!"
So now I sit watching the hours tick slowly, slowly until my husband comes home from work to watch our children so I can go and be tied up and fucked by someone else.
I had switched off this memory of who I was, of what I wanted and now it was there and I could no longer hide it. Not from anyone else. Not from myself. I have played around the edges of D&S and had always worn the control, just waiting for someone to step up and take it from me. No one had - until now. No one had even come close. I have slept with musos, egotistical advertising execs, up tight accountants, CEOs, friends fathers, old men, young men, not to mention all the women and none had even looked at stepping up and taking what I wanted taken - control.
The moment I was faced with it was nothing short of terrifying. I am not sure whether I was more scared of the power that he exuded or my desire to have my power taken away. Exquisite torture.
I walked out through the world and every pore just screamed from me "SEX".
So then I started to understand. The moment I owned who I was my neck eased up and my back stopped hurting. All of this tension for all of these years, just gone. I had to know this. I had to know what it was to be there in that space, to give my control up to someone.
It somehow still felt dishonest with my husband. He had pretty much agreed to an open relationship. Pretty much. I have never cheated on him. Never been with anyone else the whole time we have been in our 7 year relationship. I know he has never looked at another girl. Funnily he does not realise how hot he is....and he is.
So I was stuck in this space. I now understand what it is I do when I feel frustrated. I cook.
I pulled together the most magnificent truffle chocolate cake. Four layers, cherry coulis and morello cherries with butterscotch schappes. It was beautiful.
I stirred by hand all of the ingredients, beating the eggs by hand until they were light, stirring the sugar through until it was dissolved, folding through the flour and melting the chocolate adding the butter until it melted through and was a thousand different flavours of awesome - that sweet salty bitterness of dark chocolate and salted butter. A lot of people I know like to bake with unsalted butter but I love salted. That balance of sweet and salt is just a match made in heaven. While the cake baked again I melted chocolate and added cream for the truffle filling, boiled down cherries, sugar and some liqueur for the coulis and pitted the morello cherries making my finger tips smell sweet, musty and tinting them pink.
I spoke with him on the phone and told him I hated him for doing this to me. I had spent weeks just trying to understand what the hell was going on. Trying to find another way out of this mess that did not involve him. He laughed.
I was in dire straits. Now I could not cum. I could not understand it. I was not intentionally listening to him. I did not want him to be right. I did not want him to win but I did. My cunt was wet and hot and my nipples hard and aching to be sucked...and here I was - I couldn't cum. I wanted to. I tried to. I just fucking couldn't. With all of the delicious desire that I had held on to for so long I knew that this was no longer a want but a desperate fucking need. This was it, the one thing I had been waiting for. There was no way I could turn my back on it whether I wanted to or not, I couldn't.
I sliced the cake while it was still hot and poured the filling over, layering perfect, even cherries and chocolate, sprinkling the butterscotch on the middle layer. It sat perfect in the fridge, cooling. It didn't even take the edge off.
So I took it to my friend's place and in the car on the way there I spoke with my husband. I told him I was serious and I really wanted an open marriage. He agreed. I sat and ate cake with my gorgeous friends in their beautiful home while our tribes of children laughed and played, just thinking about being fucked by this other guy. I sweetly sat while they said Grace at dinner, drank my tea and said my goodbyes. I got in the car, took a deep breath and said "This is hard for me to say and I know you said you were okay with the idea, Honey but I need to tell you. I have met someone I think I may be interested in seeing. Are you okay with that?" He swallowed hard and was quiet. "Yes." The questions started about how we had met and who was he, how old - all of which I neatly avoided. I got the answer I needed.
I sent the text as soon as I could - "Game on!"
So now I sit watching the hours tick slowly, slowly until my husband comes home from work to watch our children so I can go and be tied up and fucked by someone else.
Call it Coffee
The next night I talked to my husband again about having perhaps an open relationship. We have talked about it a lot, from the very start of our relationship. My darling sweet husband has not been with many other women - all of them within the context of a committed relationship. I lived a rather full sex life until we got together and I really felt I needed to let that go to become the sort of wife and mother I envisaged myself to be. He is quite amenable to the idea. He has always been. The thing I know that he doesn't is what that lifestyle actually looks like. He said yes but he has said yes before.
The next day I dropped the kids to my parents place around lunch as we were going out for the night and left my husband at home to go to the 'shops'. I went to his place for a coffee. He pulled my scarf tight around my neck. He made me kneel on the floor in front of him, suck his fingers, call him sir. He pulled my nipples and smelt my neck. He bent me over and grabbed my hair. He spanked my arse so hard it left me breathless and shaking. I was ready to cum, right there on the edge but he said no. No not yet.
I was terrified. Who am I? What the hell am I doing? I have a husband and children. I cannot be here doing this. I had to escape. I sucked down about four cigarettes ( even though I don't smoke) and drove home. I kissed my husband and packed his clothes and we drove to the beach for a party.
A thousand thoughts crossed my mind. It was like walking into the ocean and not knowing where the shore was, swimming out and trying to remember, trying to forget, trying to swim but wanting to drown.
I had a nice time. Out to dinner, laughing, a few drinks, a few cigarettes (even though I don't smoke). I decided that I was not going to call him again.
The next day I dropped the kids to my parents place around lunch as we were going out for the night and left my husband at home to go to the 'shops'. I went to his place for a coffee. He pulled my scarf tight around my neck. He made me kneel on the floor in front of him, suck his fingers, call him sir. He pulled my nipples and smelt my neck. He bent me over and grabbed my hair. He spanked my arse so hard it left me breathless and shaking. I was ready to cum, right there on the edge but he said no. No not yet.
I was terrified. Who am I? What the hell am I doing? I have a husband and children. I cannot be here doing this. I had to escape. I sucked down about four cigarettes ( even though I don't smoke) and drove home. I kissed my husband and packed his clothes and we drove to the beach for a party.
A thousand thoughts crossed my mind. It was like walking into the ocean and not knowing where the shore was, swimming out and trying to remember, trying to forget, trying to swim but wanting to drown.
I had a nice time. Out to dinner, laughing, a few drinks, a few cigarettes (even though I don't smoke). I decided that I was not going to call him again.
Once Upon a Time
Once upon a time there was a sweet young girl. All the parents of her friends knew she was trouble. All her friends knew not to let her around their boyfriends. All her boyfriends knew not to trust her with their friends.
One day when she was 15 she went away on camp. She had a boyfriend but in the car on the way there she got one of the boys to feel her up. He was older and cute. When she was there, everyone was going to bed. She stayed down at the kitchen with two older boys and a leader. She knew what the hell she was doing. Eventually the older boys went to bed and she enticed the man into a game of strip poker. He wanted her. She was like light, bouncing from one side to the other, playing him for all he was worth, for all she was worth. Getting him to touch her, to massage her shoulders, to lick her neck.
She loved watching him with his fiance from then on. She would smile at him and he would look at her, terrified.
One day when she was 15 she went away on camp. She had a boyfriend but in the car on the way there she got one of the boys to feel her up. He was older and cute. When she was there, everyone was going to bed. She stayed down at the kitchen with two older boys and a leader. She knew what the hell she was doing. Eventually the older boys went to bed and she enticed the man into a game of strip poker. He wanted her. She was like light, bouncing from one side to the other, playing him for all he was worth, for all she was worth. Getting him to touch her, to massage her shoulders, to lick her neck.
She loved watching him with his fiance from then on. She would smile at him and he would look at her, terrified.
Fallen
So we get to the next evening and I make the call. He was honest and firm and as demanding of me as I was of others. He read me like a fucking book. He saw everything that I had been pretending not to be. I resented him for it and was so grateful at the same time.
I could see where the conversation was going. It was nice to be the mouse instead of the cat. Softly, softly treading down the path. Speaking quietly so my husband would not hear. Just listening to his voice demanding, commanding. I sat on the phone to this man who I did not not know. He saw me, he knew what I wanted he could feel it, all of it. "Good Girl" he kept repeating. "Good Girl". God it shit me. How dare he say that to me.
My heart raced as he spoke, "I know what you want. I know you. If I told you to get on your knees you would. Get on your knees. Do it now!" I did. Down on my knees on the phone to this person I didn't even know, I fucking hated him. I hated him for being right, I hated him for knowing. I hated myself for liking it, wanting it. when he said "Good Girl" again I hated him more. I hated him for saying it. I hated myself for liking it, wanting it.
I came so hard I was shaking, I could not speak. I hated myself, not for cumming but because I came when he told me to. My God it was delicious at the same time. My husband slept in the next room waiting for me to come to bed. He told me to go to bed, to sleep next to my husband, not to have sex with him and not to let my him see me naked.
I did all of those things because I was becoming a good girl.
I could see where the conversation was going. It was nice to be the mouse instead of the cat. Softly, softly treading down the path. Speaking quietly so my husband would not hear. Just listening to his voice demanding, commanding. I sat on the phone to this man who I did not not know. He saw me, he knew what I wanted he could feel it, all of it. "Good Girl" he kept repeating. "Good Girl". God it shit me. How dare he say that to me.
My heart raced as he spoke, "I know what you want. I know you. If I told you to get on your knees you would. Get on your knees. Do it now!" I did. Down on my knees on the phone to this person I didn't even know, I fucking hated him. I hated him for being right, I hated him for knowing. I hated myself for liking it, wanting it. when he said "Good Girl" again I hated him more. I hated him for saying it. I hated myself for liking it, wanting it.
I came so hard I was shaking, I could not speak. I hated myself, not for cumming but because I came when he told me to. My God it was delicious at the same time. My husband slept in the next room waiting for me to come to bed. He told me to go to bed, to sleep next to my husband, not to have sex with him and not to let my him see me naked.
I did all of those things because I was becoming a good girl.
The hum in the background
The best is yet to come as they say. I was very much aspiring to live in that world. Waiting for everything to be perfect to start my life, my real life. Waiting until I had more money, lost some weight, my husband was better, my children were happier and then I would step into myself, grab my life by the balls and jump. The writing was on the wall - here lies me, died with my potential intact! Never did anything, was always waiting for the right time.
I have done a thousand courses on self-improvement, you name it and I have read the book, looking for the answer. My most recent course has had a profound impact on my life but not in the way I had anticipated.
I sat through days of forums on uncomfortable chairs, endless hours of meetings and bit by bit things started to unravel. I started out with an awful husband and ended realising my husband had an awful wife. Started being nice and good and living through expectations, both that I placed on myself and that I perceived from others (whether true or not) and ended being honest. Started with a lot of career aspirations and no career and ended moving rapidly towards, well, towards being an active participant in my own life!
There was always something missing though. I just could not put my finger on it (so to speak).
I sat in one of my many, many night time meetings and was complaining again, half joking to my group about my husband when the man in front (who had evidently be listening in to my conversations and was a trainer) turned to me and said "Meet me outside at the end of the session. You need to talk to me."
At the end of a very long evening I met with him outside. It was cold and I smoked his last cigarette (I don't really smoke but, well, you know). He looked at me and said "You know, you are a demanding bitch". He was right. He told me I would call him the next night and he would take one hour to unravel me, transform me, create me. He asked me if I was scared of him. I wasn't. Yet.
I have done a thousand courses on self-improvement, you name it and I have read the book, looking for the answer. My most recent course has had a profound impact on my life but not in the way I had anticipated.
I sat through days of forums on uncomfortable chairs, endless hours of meetings and bit by bit things started to unravel. I started out with an awful husband and ended realising my husband had an awful wife. Started being nice and good and living through expectations, both that I placed on myself and that I perceived from others (whether true or not) and ended being honest. Started with a lot of career aspirations and no career and ended moving rapidly towards, well, towards being an active participant in my own life!
There was always something missing though. I just could not put my finger on it (so to speak).
I sat in one of my many, many night time meetings and was complaining again, half joking to my group about my husband when the man in front (who had evidently be listening in to my conversations and was a trainer) turned to me and said "Meet me outside at the end of the session. You need to talk to me."
At the end of a very long evening I met with him outside. It was cold and I smoked his last cigarette (I don't really smoke but, well, you know). He looked at me and said "You know, you are a demanding bitch". He was right. He told me I would call him the next night and he would take one hour to unravel me, transform me, create me. He asked me if I was scared of him. I wasn't. Yet.
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