imho

One of the most - no, perhaps THE most arousing, erotic things I have ever seen in my life was a particular couple at one of the clubs I occasionally go to.

Here's the scenario: T and I were in the couples' lounge, taking a rest break and cuddling, when the other couple entered the room. We watched as they made themselves comfortable on the bed next to us.

It was obvious they had been together for a while as he knew all the places where she liked to be kissed, and she knew exactly how he wanted his cock stoked while she sucked his balls.

This couple was in their own world as they made love and fucked, then made love again. She climbed on top of him and rode him cowboy and I could feel T's cock hardening against my thigh as she loudly came.

We watched as they got up from the bed. He gently guided her over to the spanking bench, and when he turned to grab a towel for her to lean on, I saw it.

Tomorrow in the mountains...!

I wish I had a girlfriend that I could talk to, especially about this side of me.

I'm excited for tomorrow!
I get a hug tomorrow!
And a kiss! Or two...

Nobody touches me.

I seriously have no physical contact with other humans in my life right now. D ignores me, the kids are in that age where hugging mom is uncool, and at this point with my depression, anxiety, and shutting myself down to cope with the ongoing abuse I simply have no friends.

Now you can see why I'm so flippin' excited about tomorrow.
Not only do I get a hug, but I get other important skin on skin touching from B, and I'm super excited.

He's really good at ...touching..
...among other things... that involve other kinds of touching.

When I was chatting with B about maybe making plans, it got to the point where we had pretty much decided it would be nice to see each other, and we were both available. When I asked if this is a plan or if he still wanted to think about it, he said, "I reserved a room at the such&so motel in that mountain town we go to." Whooee, a motel!

That means we have a real bed instead of having to find a flat spot on the ground where we can spread out a blanket. Uh, that also means I have to shave the winter coat off my legs. It's been a long time since I've had this kind of touching (the last time was several months ago, also with B.)

Anyway, I'm excited. It's been a long time since I've had this kind of skin on skin contact, and B always makes it extra special, so it's going to be a really great day.

Gotta get to bed and get myself all rested up. Tomorrow I've got a long drive up into the mountains, and a physically demanding day/evening ahead of me in that motel room.
Mmmm yay!

Why Wives Cheat

Lately I have been reading a lot of articles and blogs regarding emotional abuse, living with a spouse with Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD), living with a spouse with Passive-Aggressive behavior (PA.) These articles have been great, helping me understand where my household's flavor of crazy fits into the realm of personality issues so I can figure out a sort of roadmap to getting out.

One thing that comes up again and again is the issue of cheating. In many of the blogs I'm reading, the husband is the one with the personality disorder, and the wife is the abused partner. (Apparently, these disorders are more common among men, but not strictly limited to men. I believe there are also more women talking about this via blogs, and the men being abused by NPD or PA wives are finding other outlets, if any, to discuss and share.)

So, regarding cheating. I know that D cheated on me at the beginning. I learned about this a few years after the fact. Had I found out right when it was happening, I don't know if I would have had the guts to try to leave. My self esteem was pretty trashed when we met, so back then I always felt like if I was going to achieve my dream of being married and having kids, he may be my only chance. I loved him, and we were best friends, but that always nagged in the back of my head.

Now days, I don't know what he's doing online or via text, and I don't care. I know he's not leaving the house to see anyone, and we have a couple of big intimidating dogs, so I can't imagine anyone coming over when I'm out. (Besides, when I get home, one of the dogs always tells me when people came over in my absence.)

Honestly, he could cheat and I wouldn't care. I just don't care any more. It would be a relief, knowing that "Aha! He found someone to get his mind off me!" and that would make it easier for me to move out. I'd feel less guilty for abandoning him, anyway.

In our case, though, I'm the one cheating. So... why?

There are lots of websites and blogs explaining this question, too. According to what I've been reading, men cheat when they're not getting enough, bored, or are looking for a thrill. (Or in my personal experience, their wives are too self-conscious about their bodies to fuck or they won't go down on them.)

Women cheating, however, is a different game. Most articles I read explain that two of the biggest reasons women do it is for revenge or to get even, or they're desperate because they are unable to fix whatever problem is at home. I fall into the latter group.

There was one moment of conflict at home when I realized that there was no way to fix the problem in our bedroom, and I was so horny I couldn't think straight. I mean, I literally couldn't concentrate on anything. It's like trying to focus on reading a boring book when you have to pee so bad you swear your teeth are floating in your mouth. Can't be done. I was changing my panties 3 or 4 times a day because they were always wet. D brushed me off when I tried to start something in the bedroom, and wouldn't participate in any discussion about it. He ignored my pleas for even a kiss. I was miserable, and D wouldn't touch me. I mean, he would not touch me. Not even a hand on my shoulder. I was lucky if he looked at me.I was being wholly rejected by the man who was supposed to love me.

I didn't know what else to do, so after being celibate with D for a solid 3 years, I started seeing other guys.

It was wonderful. Took the sexual pressure off (a bit,) and gave me the skin on skin touch that I so longed for. I don't feel guilty in the least for cheating. I can't say I feel justified, because that doesn't even really apply here.

Cheating made me feel less rejected.
And human.

Confident, Comfortable, and Bare-Ass Naked

Over on my public side, I mentioned my beaus, and how they helped me to recognize that I'm in an emotionally abusive marriage.

That's only part of what they have done for me.

Before all of this, I had been a timid, shy, overweight, cautious girl who was overly concerned about what other people thought of her. I hid myself in dark baggy clothes, I never spoke up, and was very good at blending in. I hid behind masks, I hid behind self-undermining language. I hid from life.

MJ was my first extramarital beau, and he blew the doors of my hiding place when he introduced me to the world of voyeurism and exhibitionism. He was very nice and gentle about it, letting me call the shots and letting me decide if and when we should leave. He just saw something in me that was begging to be free... and released her to the world.

For that I will be forever grateful to him.

 

Ever since I came out of hiding, my subsequent beaus have been treated to a confident BBW woman who is comfortable in her own skin. They all love it. 

As the only naked person at the clothing optional hot springs:

Me - "Should I put my suit back on?"

B - "No."

Me - "I'm the only naked person here. I don't want to make the others feel uncomfortable."

B - "Keep it off."

My first time with T, when he stripped off my clothes with all the lights on:

T - "Look at you look at you look at you! I want to eat you up!"

My first time with K; he was hot-looking and before he knew it I was stripped completely naked. 

K  - "Uh, wow! Stay there for a minute. I want to look at you. All of you."

At a sex club:

Him - "Let's expose your breasts as soon as we walk in the door so I can suck on them whenever I want."

Later, of course, I'm totally naked and fucking in the group room, etc

Me, at home:

Shades up & lights on when changing for bed, masturbating, dressing in the dark winter morning.. 

(There is a 55+ high rise across the street from my window.)

Camping with B:

Roadside blowjobs, parking lot sex outside the car, stripping down to change into my swimsuit wherever we happen to be...

Now that this part of me has been allowed to overtly exist, I can't imagine being any other way.

call me your slut

"Will you talk dirty to me? Tell me I'm your slut."
"Slut? Really? You're ok with me calling you that?"

He was very sweet, making sure he didn't insult me or hurt my feelings.

To be honest, I love being called a slut. It's what I am. When one of my guys calls me his slut, it makes me feel all warm and gooey inside.

Why oh why would an intelligent woman like me not only allow someone to call me a slut without smacking them into the next room, but want to be called a slut? Because don't see it as a negative word.

Even in college, when it was said that so-and-so is a slut, I was envious of her. She allows herself to be free. She allows herself to have fun. She spits in the eye of the double standard where men are seen as conquerors when they sleep around but women who do are immoral. She is confident enough to be true to herself.

Damn, I want to be like that.
(Ironically, she probably was just the unfortunate subject of gossip and hadn't been sleeping around at all.)

So why and how can I possibly see this as a positive term? A term of endearment?
Evil Slutopia says it best:

"In most of the world, 'slut' is a highly offensive term, used to describe a woman whose sexuality is voracious, indiscriminate, and shameful. It’s interesting to note that the analogous word “stud,” used to describe a highly sexual man, is often a term of approval and envy. If you ask about a man’s morals, you will probably hear about his honesty, loyalty, integrity, and high principles. When you ask about a woman’s morals, you are more likely to hear about whom she shares sex with, and under what conditions. We have a problem with this.

So we are proud to reclaim the word 'slut' as a term of approval, even endearment. To us, a slut is a person of any gender who celebrates sexuality according to the radical proposition that sex is nice and pleasure is good for you. Sluts may choose to have solo sex or to get cozy with the Fifth Fleet. They may be heterosexual, homosexual, or bisexual, radical activists or peaceful suburbanites.

Our approach to a sex-positive language is to reclaim the original English words and, by using them as positive descriptors, wash them clean. Hence our adoption of the word 'slut.'”

The UrbanDictionary.com top definition says it second best:

"Slut: a woman with the morals of a man"

I don't see any problem here.

(BTW, he did talk dirty to me, growling in my ear that I was his dirty slut as I rode him hard. Hearing this filled me with incredible joy and passion. The night ended with one of the biggest orgasms I'd ever had.)


photo credit Dirty Grrrl

Post #1

When I discover a new blog, I always click to read the very first post.

What was the original intention for the blog? Who were they back then? What inspired them to take all the thoughts and ideas from their head and start committing them to paper? Ok, so a blog is not paper, but you know what I mean.

As for this one, I have already written my first post. Go click on the tabs and read the "Who."
I also have a second blog that parallels this one, only it's where I journal about my public life. Breaking free from an unhealthy relationship, self improvement, and discovering who I actually am. Experimentation, discovery, sensory descriptions, and an exploration of my personal limits. The other blog is totally safe for work, (although I don't edit my language,) so if you're curious about following this part of my journey, click away: Finding My Own Wings (my public life)

The remaining tabs should explain who I am, what my intentions are, and why I finally decided to sit down and start writing.

Now, for my next trick, I'm going to post a bit of what's in my head. It will appear out of context, I'm not going to explain the backstory, nothing. I'm just gonna write. If you discovered this blog and like it and read post after post, then it'll all start to make sense.

After all, I am writing this for myself, I'm just doing so in a public forum.