reply to scifriedlv426

I’ve had a comment on my post The Forced Affair, that I want to take some time to reply to. He self identifies as “a coddled mama’s boy who feels inadequate, a (victim) of childhood abuse and self hate (who) feels alone and (is) going insane”. They share a child with special needs and both he and his wife have cheated, though his “wife has been on a long journey of self discovery.”

I don’t know enough about his situation to offer counsel, certainly not by 1 simple blog post. I can say from a woman’s perspective that our brains are wired very differently than a mans. My guess is that she has decided to stay with you or she would have already left.
Something may happen in the future which will be the straw to break the camels back and she may decide that day to change her mind and leave. The point is, why bother being so caught up in what may happen, instead of simply allowing yourself to enjoy the day?
You need to Blog. Write your fears and insecurities out. Try not to present them to her as such because it erodes the foundation of security that women want to build their families upon. Do you mean you are the only one emotionally or physically for your wife? Does it matter is she has sex elsewhere if she is committed to you and your children? To your life that you’ve built together? If by having multiple lovers, she is better able to be a better partner, who does it harm if she also handles her family responsibilities?

More importantly, why do you feel alone?Do you have emotional needs not being met? Physical ones? What is driving your isolation? Marriage is not about being together and having no issues…it’s about staying together when you are struggling and hoping to come out on the other side together after enduring your own battle for survival. Think about it as holding hands as you go over a waterfall. There is a lot that can happen on the way down, isn’t there?

You are both going in the same direction. Struggling to breath, each coming to the surface at different time or as opportunity allows. You are each getting battered by hidden rocks and debris, and occasionally the same ones if they are large enough. There is no guarantee you will both come out the other side, at the same time, or with injuries which prevent you from moving forward together. There is no expectation that you will both find your way to the same piece of broken driftwood to get your strength back.

Sometimes you have to journey separately a little while, before you can trust yourself to go the brief or great distance towards the other person, before they get lost from your sight as their path takes them further away from you on the same river. Sometimes the river forks and they go one way and you go another. Your children will be the beautiful island refuge between you if that happens.

You are living a lie if you believe marriage has no issues or that parents of special needs kids do not have monumental stress on them. We all handle that differently in order to survive it. One way id not better than the other as long as you are not harming others in the process. I say that if an affair happened, then you don’t have to let it be the thing that determines if the relationship is viable or not. It only acts as an alarm to the fact that your partner is struggling beyond their ability to handle things alone and feel like they are.

What are your needs? Why are you struggling? Why is your health impacted? What do you want? Where do you want to be? There are many questions you have which I can’t help with as they require a vast amount of interaction and guidance. If you’ve finally felt compelled to write…what has precipitated that decision? Why now? Things are not always as complicated as we perceive them to be. Oftentimes, simplicity is a matter of breaking things down to the core questions we need answered about our beliefs and who we think we are as people.

The question is, do you want to do the work to figure that out for yourself?

Posted in advice, marriage, Relationships | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

the forced affair

the mistakes you make on purpose, push me away; making it impossible for me to resist the hands you are blind to, pulling me away from you. all you want from me is comfort in the role of substitute mother, for the one you never had; while they want the woman who has been ignored for 25 years and who they see as unappreciated and sexually unfulfilled. the only way i can stay with you, is to be with them and for me to give up the deep seated need to remain monogamous to the man i  chose to stay married to, without feeling remorse for the need to live dual lives i never wanted. once again, i write the words that you refuse to hear when i speak them.

you are content to live a false life and do not want to know or hear my truths. you live by the code of don’t ask, don’t tell and are stunted at an infantile stage of emotional development. you don’t want to know who you are; you fear self examination or awareness, while i am the polar opposite. you’ve made this shared life my biggest regret. had it not been for my obligations, had i been more selfish, i would have walked away, physically,  a lifetime ago. as it is, my only escape is through the emotional and physical connections i allow myself to have, when i am at a critical point in my emotional ability to cope with my current situation.

it makes me sad. for what i thought i would have with you and for changing who i am to accommodate you. for accepting less than i deserved and enduring a false marriage. it makes me angry at myself for not being more selfish or for believing in my childs needs over my own. things would have been so much easier for me, had i been more broken. the problem with being strong is that when you finally reach a breaking point, it tends to irrevocably destroy everything you believed to be true; even about yourself.

Posted in Affair, Relationships | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

no clean up required

“you want to leave me full of your cum in the morning and then send me home to spend the afternoon with my husband. you’ll be dripping down my slippery thighs and my white panties would be soaked with our blended juices. i’d smell like you. you’d send me back to my husband smelling like your spunk, with messy hair, dreamy eyes and a swollen pussy. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes, yes it is.”

Posted in cuckold, lust, Relationships | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

I’m alive. I’m living in a world of neutrals and shades of beige. I am neither happy nor sad. I am not sexual nor do I pine for what’s lost. I exist. I live. I breathe. I wake up and slog my way through the minutiae of my daily life. I try to stay away long enough to go to bed at a normal time and then I fall exhausted into a mindless sleep where nothing is processed or dreamed about, until my bladder wakes me up and repeat the cycle again.

I’ve traveled. I’ve encountered new opportunities. I’ve met new people and let go of those whom I was required to for my own peace of mind. Yet, nothing seems to actually matter. I am strangely vacant. Lost loves that never were, lost friends who clearly weren’t, all have settled into the weight of the fabric which creates my life and has weighted me down with the knowledge that things are not as they appear. Life is not as it seems.

I trust my mothers love.Though I fear it will evaporate under the weight of issues. That I will become my mothers daughter and abandon my children emotionally, simply because she did; even though I know I won’t. But still…that creeping fear is always there. Just like my one of abandonment. Because I have been.

Posted in Relationships | Tagged | 7 Comments

i like a boy

I’ve been so busy, I’ve had zero time for myself and that equates to lack of exercise and no time to write. Am I happy? No. Am I sad? No. I am Neutral positive. That means that as I go about my day, I see it as being productive as a worker bee and as a parent, but provides no opportunity to feed and nourish my soul or provide me with spiritual or emotional growth.

My spouse has continued on his journey to reconnect with me and it’s working. Of course there have been blips and minor setbacks but I can declare with certainty that he is on the path of self correction by doing all I had asked of him and even when he stumbles, he has been quick to fix his mistakes and move forward.

I did not trust it for the longest time. I did not acknowledge it or praise it. I kept waiting for the inevitable fall that always accompanies the effort. And it’s never come. Which means, I am now beginning to enjoy his efforts and that results in positive reinforcement to his actions. I am beginning to enjoy our time together after 15 years of neglect and hurt.

I am not at the point I can re-commit to him in my heart. I honestly don’t know if he can ever repair that. I personally don’t think it’s possible to repair a marriage when that kind of damage has been done to it; that you are pushed to the point of needing solace from another person. . But I am willing to move forward and maybe grow into something new with him, if this continues.

I remembered how handsome he is. I see how much he is being stable for me, even when I react badly to his mis-steps and that allows me to quickly come back and say I was sorry for my flare up after being triggered. He is touching me more than he has in years; non sexual contact which makes me feel closer to him. And he is finally being sexual with me again.

All of the little things which add up, to make a marriage work, he is doing. And it is making me miss him when he is gone and look forward to when he comes back. It is making me smile when he does it and is making me look forward to spending time with him. After years of hating him, of giving up and not caring anymore, I can finally say that I like him again. And that seems like as good a place to start as any.

Posted in marriage | Tagged , | 1 Comment

pissy moods are created

let me start off by saying, i fucking hate stupid people. i hate entitled people. i hate people who are bullies. i hate people who are fine when they get their way and lose their fucking minds when they don’t. i hate people who are only nice when you are doing things for them and then their true colors show through when you put your foot down and change the rules about how often you give of yourself.

assholes. ass shats. fuckers.

over the last few years i have been sliding down an incline of ‘fuck you’s’ and ‘i am done’s.’ i do not have the tolerance for stupid shit anymore. it is so fucking gone that i am surprised at how quickly the tide swept it out to sea once i let it go. i don’t have to be a good daughter, a good neighbor, a good play by the rules kind a girl. because i am a fucking adult and i can say, fuck you, fuck off and fuck that.

don’t like me? don’t care. don’t like it? don’t care. don’t fuck with me, because that’s when shit happens. like my being mouthy. like my standing my ground. like holding you accountable. like cutting cords and burning bridges and walking away while flicking the fucking match over my shoulder and spitting out the taste of kerosene that’s in my mouth, which i sprayed all over everything before i walked away.

fuck. you. fuckers. think you’ll chase me away? not. fucking. likely.

Posted in rant | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

on immigration

Bring your food inspirations, respect the existing customs, be tolerant of the differing religions, befriend the people, play the sports, enjoy the music, so the country feels like home to us all. If you try and change everything to replicate where you came from, then tell me again, why it is that you left or why you are offended when people tell you to go back, when you are the one intolerant to change and refuse to adapt to where you are?

Posted in Current Events, world events | Tagged | 2 Comments

empty people

let’s be clear. i don’t like you. i don’t really care if you have situational issues or there are life circumstances which make you act how you do. you are clearly not simply having another of multiple bad days. your personality, i find offensive and repugnant. i normally don’t even think about you, you hold no space inside of my mind or life other than those times when i am forced by circumstance to interact with you. and it is during those times, i am reminded just how truly abhorrent you are. you are a reminder of how fortunate i am to not have to deal with you more often and that people like you are responsible for so much negativity that you seem to thrive on it and seek it out. you are vile. completely unworthy of notice or commendation. you are empty of anything remarkable. you, are nothing.

Posted in rant | Tagged , , | 5 Comments

worn panties

finally, we were getting heavy, ground soaking rain, after months of dry, hot weather. the dark grey skies had opened up their low rolling clouds as i was completing a small list of errands, which had me driving all over town, picking up and dropping off various items. before i went to the grocery store, i stopped to make a clothes donation, into the bin at the side of a large box store.

i was wearing low slung jean shorts. frayed along the cut off bottom, white strings of bleached denim tickled the top of my tanned and firm thighs. my pale purple capped sleeved t-shirt, had a wide and low scooped neck , showing a generous amount of cleavage with the full round tops exposed. The shirt was carelessly rucked up around one side as they were just a little too large at the waist. needless to say, as i exited the car, i was soaked almost to the skin, with rivulets of water cascading off my  bared skin and instantly soaking through the cotton of my top.

i was focused on the rain, distracted by the warmth of it against my skin, thinking how warm it was and how much the humidity was increasing, rather than improving. i opened up the side door and pulled out a small bag of clothes i had sorted through the prior day for donation. odds and ends from my lingerie drawer. nighties, teddies and slips i no longer wore. camisole sets i had grown tired of.

as i stepped up onto the curb and started to hoist the bag into the bin, two things happened almost simultaneously. first, an item fell out of the open top of the bag as i was lifting it, by the time it reached my shoulder height. the second was a man, who had just come into my peripheral vision, bent over to pick it up for me, as i turned to see what had fallen, lowering the wet bag to my side.

as he stood straight, looking at what was in his hand, i also looked at what he was holding and staring at with such intensity. it was a pair of sheer, vintage type panties, full bottomed, with delicate lacing around the legs and detailed stitching on the band, featuring a large and prominent gusset area, as was typical of foundation wear from the 1950’s styling.

we seemed to raise our eyes almost at the same time i saw him swallow hard and say “I’ll give you $50 for these”. the look on his face was cascading; arousal. sparks of a desperate kind of craving. fear of speaking impulsively and without thinking. deep dark need. As he spoke, he didn’t even wait for my instant reply; his wallet was out and his money was in hand, even while I was saying “Okay” and our hands reached towards each other, His to give and mine to take.

the moment the money was exchanged, his eyes got wide. surprise, delight, fear,pride of possession. All passing in succession as he quickly turned and went around the corner of the building. i stood there in the pouring rain, looking down at the wet money, slowly going limp, watching the rain pour off it’s sodden edge, and i smiled once the confusion started to pass. and then i chuckled.

and then i tipped my head back and faced the stormy day and laughed and giggled and gave myself over to the moment which took me several minutes to understand. i had just unexpectedly sold a pair of my lovely worn, but clean panties, to a stranger, in broad daylight, beside a busy mall during a severe thunderstorm and had $50 to show for it.

needless to say, as i entered my car, i tossed to soaked bag of lingerie back onto the seat beside me, thinking that there may be potential for alternative ways to dispose of them, other than donation into a charity bin. certainly more profitable ones, anyway.

Posted in erotica, fetish | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

shift work and shaft work

he said nothing as he slipped naked into my bed. i turned towards his cool body as his hands slid up my ribs to cup the heavy fullness of a breast, as he lifted it towards his eager mouth. his lips fastened over my puckered areola as he drew the nipple deeply towards the back of his throat, suckling hard and nuzzling in  erotic awareness of the softness his shadowed beard was rasping against.

arching into it, i silently demanded he suck harder, which he immediately complied with while using his other hand, wrapped around my hip to slide up my naked back and press gently, bringing me forward and pressing my breast harder towards his mouth. I could feel his cock hardening against my leg. The sheer weight of it, arousing me as I visualized how beautiful his big erection is once fully engorged.

i wriggled away from his mouth and touch; shimming down the length of his body, breasts dragging over his hairy form, as he shifted from his side to his back, as i inched my way  down his body, hands sliding over his groin and thighs, my own mouth searching for succor and towards the secret pillar of eroticism which was hidden from me by the darkness.

nails gently biting as my hand opened up as it moved over his upper thigh, so that i could cup his balls to gently knead them. i gently stroked the base of his shaft, almost as an afterthought, as i focused on the soft orbs, weighing them, molding them. my head was now on his stomach with my long hair trailing over his chest, draping over his side. i ran my cheek and nose against his shaft and felt it jump at the incidental contact. i felt his testicles contract on the palm of my softly clasped hand. i could feel his respiratory rate increase, with the positioning of my head.

i dragged my lips and tongue over his engorged head. i used my full lips to pull his foreskin and push it down as my mouth started to gently and far too softly, milk and stoke his cock. i used my hands to augment the gentle ministrations until it became torturous for him. His hips started to thrust. his cock seeking out more pressure and a faster cadence. all of which i prevented him from achieving by lifting away and pulling back on his balls, using them to guide the direction i wanted his cock to take.

he was struggling. his body was becoming taunt with the efforts at maintaining control. i could feel his stomach muscles tightening under my cheek. I could feel his quads bunching against my soft body and his glutes clench against my breasts. i could hear him pressing back against the pillows and his head tossing as he breathed heavily out of his nostrils, sounding like a bull ready to charge.

and that is when i took him hard in hand, stroking long from base to tip and used my mouth and tongue to do the same, but only on his head so that he received a tandem handjob and blowjob which brought gasps from his mouth as he received all the pressure and speed he had been aching for. it lasted long enough for him to catch his breath and realize what i was doing, before he flipped me to my back.

he entered my dripping wet pussy in one violent stoke of male dominance, so that his balls smacked my ass and he took back the control i had almost made him lose. he rammed me hard for 6 or 7 strokes, grunting his frustrations against my neck through clenched teeth; bulging biceps, shoulders and forearms, pushing me further underneath him, so that i could not escape from the pounding.

now it was me who was crying out and gasping. Left breathless and molten by the instant onslaught to sensitive and aroused flesh. he fucked me like a man who had been denied and teased which was the state i had purposefully pushed him to. there is nothing more arousing to me, than being used hard underneath a man who forgets himself  once he has gained entrance into your hot eager body. in those few seconds to minutes of feral coupling, he is the animal he keeps a tight rein on.

i revel in his loss of control. nothing makes me feel more alive, more like a woman, than having a man forget to be gentle with me, not care of he is hurting me or giving me pleasure. to make the only thing he is aware of, is his blind and driving hunger; his need to ejaculate fiercely inside of me so that his cum bursts from my body like a broken dam in epic waves of splashing virility.

he left me sleepy, tucked in, covered, well used and wet. quietly letting himself out after locking the door behind him before he drove home and the bed he shares with his wife.


Posted in erotica, lover, Relationships, The Book | Tagged , , , , | 5 Comments