So if you’ve been keeping up, you’d know that I want a girlfriend. And I’ve been browsing around on aff (actually may even have a first date this Saturday), and I’m finding it a completely different experience than when I was looking for a third.
I’m not looking for just a fuck, so on one hand I’m just as interested in what someone likes to do, the things she does for fun, etc. But what I’ve found most interesting is that I’m looking at different girls than I was the last time.
I was somewhat surprised to see I was drawn to looking at girls who are more curvy, with a little more meat on their bones. Not obese, not even close, but apparently I like girls who are soft rather than boney.
And don’t get me wrong… All you skinny bitches out there, you’re sexy as hell, don’t misunderstand me. But my attraction seems to fall a little higher on the weight scale.
And I started to think back, back to a time when I regularly buried my head between girls’ legs, and my past preferences prove this. The one “girlfriend” I’ve had, back then she wasn’t fat, but she was never thin, more big boned. And the other girls who ended up in my bed, or in my fantasies for that matter, they weren’t skinny girls either, although they all had flat stomachs and good proportions.
And this has struck up an odd conversation between M and myself. When he first saw the pic of the girl I’m hoping to go out with this weekend, he was like, “But she’s thick.”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
Hmmm…. Why? Because girls with curves are sexy. They are soft and hippy and I can curl up next to them. Because I want to run my hands down their sides and feel the flare of their ribs, waist and hips. Because when I wrap my arms around her, I don’t want to feel like I could break her in two.
And I’m not (currently) a skinny girl. I’m still struggling to get there (damn baby weight). But I have a body type that’s meant to be skinny. I’m not curvy. I’ve got a tiny ass and small hips. Even at my fittest, pre-munchkins, when I was running miles every day, swimming every evening and lifting weights more days than not, my waist was not truly defined. Even though my hip bones stuck out and my ribs were slightly visible, I didn’t really have curves, more like angles.
So on this Wednesday morning, I’m still coming to terms with this. With wanting something different than my Sir. With looking for what I want, what I’m attracted to, regardless what people think.
Have a good hump day, y’all. Half way to the weekend! *hugs and kisses*
With day jobs and three kids at home, sometimes it’s easy to forget the little
French Kiss (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
things in your relationship. It’s easy to go about your day, moving from one thing to another, homework, dinner, evening news, and never stopping to catch your breath.
At different times in our relationship, sometimes the intimacy has taken a backseat (although let me tell you I will make sure that never happens again). And one of the first things to go is kissing. And it’s a shame, because I love to kiss.
Kissing, especially passionate kissing, is one of the ultimate expressions of love and desire. To hold someone in your arms, pull them close and press your lips against there’s, to lose yourself in the embrace is not only fun and arousing, but good for you as well.
Cleaner Teeth Having extra saliva in you mouth from “swapping spit” helps to keep your teeth cleaner, as it washes bacteria off and loosens plaque.
Exercise When you make out, all the muscles in your lower jaw are used, which could, theoretically, keep your skin tighter and reduce wrinkles.
Calorie Burn Making out doubles you calorie burn, reports ranging from two to six calories a minute. While that might not sound like much, the more you kiss the quicker it will add up.
Stress Relief Kissing is known to reduce stress and the negative pressures of the day; in other words, it lets you blow off steam. Kissing increases the levels of oxytocin in your brain, which is kind of like your body’s own Xanax.
Be Happy When you kiss, it increases overall euphoria and calms your mind. According to WebMD, the physiological changes that occur with kissing are very similar to those achieved during mediation.
So it’s time to start kissing more. Why the hell not? And here are a few ways to get back into the habit.
Kiss for at least 30 seconds a day. If you haven’t actually really kissed in awhile, be prepared; this may lead to a quick romp on the couch.
Give small kisses when the opportunity arises. Kiss good morning, kiss goodnight. Kiss before you leave for work in the morning and when you get home.
Hold hands. Although it’s not kissing, it increases your touching and makes you feel closer. With that in mind, I’m guessing it will increase your kisses as well.
Make out. And not just for 2 minutes before you start fucking, but really make out. Like you did in high school.
Kiss sometimes when you’re having sex. It makes it that much more special.
So… in redoing the blog here at LSAM, I’ve been rereading a ton of old posts and comments. And on this post there is the following comment from Lily that has been radiating in my mind for the last few days.
Step 1: Get a girlfriend.
Step 2: Acquire a strap-on.
Step 3: Get her to give you a blow job.
Speaking from personal experience? TOTALLY WORTH IT. You might not have a lot of nerve endings in your “cock,” but you have a hell of a lot between your ears.
It’s been constantly on my mind, all of it, steps one through three. And I’m strategizing how to accomplish them. I guess, first, should be to notify M. hehe. Well, I’m pretty certain that he knows now, me putting it all out there like that on LSAM.
But really, how do I even go about getting a girlfriend? I’m thinking of browsing AFF, afterall browsing never hurt anyone right?
*sigh* A girlfriend. What a novel idea. I picture taking her out to dinner, wooing her. I can feel her hair running through my fingers, the softness of her lips on mine, her skin beneath my hands. I imagine first kisses and butterflies, hesitant touches and small gasps of surprise and pleasure.
And then the strap on… I’ve been infatuated with the feeldoe, or perhaps the Share even more, since the first time I’ve seen one.
I picture her on her knees before me, looking up through shy lashes as her lips wrap around my “cock.” I imagine my hand coming to rest on her cheek, my fingers wrapping around under her hair line, looking down at her with love and desire in my eyes. I want to know what it feels like to thrust into her mouth, watching her suck my “cock.”
God, it gets me wet just thinking about it.
I want her spread before me, her slit wet with want. I want to bury my tongue in her, tasting her salty sweetness, feel her softness close around my fingers. I want to make her juices flow and swallow down every drop.
I can see her beneath me, eyes closed, her teeth working on her lower lip as I thrust into her, fucking her. I feel her ass pressed against me as I take her from behind, wrapping my arm around her waist to fondle her breasts, then manipulate her clit. I imagine watching her cum, her body’s spasms spreading through my own as we cum together.
Every couple fights; no matter how much love there is, no matter how much sex, no matter how
Bondage collar (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
much communication. M and I, well, we don’t fight too often. A minor disagreement here or there, but over all, we rarely fight. And I never go to bed angry. Until last week. And why that night? Who the fuck knows: pride exhaustion, frustration, idk…
But the fight is not really the point here today. Instead, it seems to me that the further we are into our dynamic, the more he becomes the Sir and me the toy, the harder these fights become emotionally, at least for me (not to be snide or snarky, but I don’t think our fights truly bother M… he is proud and sometimes arrogant **sorry Baby**). When he becomes angry, or disappointed in me, it kills a little bit of me, every time. Because more than anything, I want to please him, make him proud of me, be everything he wants and needs. But sometimes I miss the bar.
A little bit ago, Fatal posted about a friend breaking up with the man who had collared her, and how traumatic it was (here’s the link). Now, if you are not in a dynamic, a break up is hard, I don’t want to underplay that. When love is lost, it is always traumatic. But when you in a power exchange, when you have given yourself, your love, your will, your soul, to a man that has earned the title of your Sir, it is not only heartbreaking, it is utterly devastating, as defining yourself without that, without Him, is something you don’t know how to do.
And although M and I are not breaking up, not even close, this relates. Because now, when a fight ensues, it hurts even more. It racks my heart and soul, tears me apart from the inside. I begin to worry. And that worry turns into panic. And the panic, terror. I fret about what he’s thinking, his disappointment. I fear he will no longer want to be my Sir, want to have the responsibility of taking care of the mess that is me. I become afraid that the disappointment will run deep, and turn love and devotion into hatred and disgust. These self-defeating thoughts mix with the anger, and I stew and fester, becoming a fucked up mix of boiling emotions that I don’t know how to handle. And the worst part is the more I become his, the worse these fights attack my psyche.
Crazy, I know, but that’s the way my mind runs.
Now that I’ve reached here, I don’t know what the fuck the point of this post was. I don’t know what I was trying to share or what point I was trying to make. *shrugs* Shit. Sorry folks, for a random rambling…
Final cover of Please, Sir: Erotic Stories of Female Submission (Photo credit: rachelkramerbussel.com)
So, just a brief favor to ask. I need your opinion.
I’m applying for a job at an online magazine geared towards married women. The focus on the site is how to “date” your husband to keep things exciting and strengthen your marriage. It is by no means kinky or even sex based, but it’s not like it’s a Christian dating service either. But they don’t say “fuck.” Or “cock.”
Anyway, there is a list of questions/comments to respond to, and there is one that I’m just not sure how far to go. It asks to tell a little about yourself and your family. I’ve written the damn thing three times.
See, my problem is that M and I’s dynamic is such an integral part of our relationship, and therefore my life. It defines a part of who I am as a wife and a mother. The first tine I wrote my response, I didn’t mention it. Then I felt like a fraud. So I rewrote it, and then I thought it sounded weird. So I changed some words around, trying to not make it sound kinky and cliche, instead mentioning something along the lines of through our trials and tribulations, we have come to understand that having a specific type of dynamic between the two of us works best.
Does that even make sense?
Should I just not mention it, or should I be upfront and if they don’t like it, fuck ‘em?
So, what do y’all think?
**you gotta love the self-indulgence of being a blogger**
I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned it, but I love (LOVE) Offspring. This is by no means my favorite song, but I thought it fit.
A few weeks ago, I received a blog comment from Mr. X from The Male POV. The post was discussing my obligations as a sub to M and Mr. X responded as follows:
The psychology involved in this kind of relationship may not be helpful in the long term. For example, it feels like M is making up for something he feels he lacks (Masculinity, Power, Purpose, Regret, Anger etc.) by being the Dom. Whilst on the other hand, you feeling guilt and will sacrifice any power you may once have had to make up for this feeling of guilt, regrets or mistakes that may have occurred. Imagination is so powerful, the sub-concious mind does not know what is real and unreal.
I think this a common thought of people unfamiliar with the lifestyle, and I don’t believe that Mr. X was trying to be snide or mean. As a matter of fact, the comment didn’t upset me at all (must have caught me on a day where I took a xanax), but it did spur me to want to explain, at least as best I could.
As far as the psychology behind our relationship, it boils down to the power exchange we engage in. I have given part of my power to M, in exchange for his consideration of my needs. Now, this does not mean that I don’t have an opinion or that what I say and/or think doesn’t matter. Not in the least. What it does means is that he gets the final say in the things that involve our marriage. There is no more arguing and bickering over little things, well, barely any. We discuss things, each of us voices our opinion, and a decision is made with regards to everyone’s best interest in mind. And then we move on.
Honestly, I can’t think of one thing that the addition of our D/s dynamic has changed that could have negative consequences, even long-term. What I can tell you, is the changes that have occurred can have long-term positive effects. For instance, let’s talk about communication. In the comment string in the above mentioned post, there is a conversation between Miss Catherine Bowman and myself on this very topic. I was discussing how implementing rules and consequences has opened up a line of communication we didn’t have before. Let me explain, as I’m sure many of you don’t have this going on in your relationships. While there were a handful of rules when we first started our power exchange, most of those were generic. The real rules, the ones that have come to matter, have all been inspired by something. Something happened, which created some sort of emotional response between us, we talked about it, and a rule was born. Now this might not seem like much, but it has gotten us to talk about things that we would never have broached before. It has given us the platform to discuss what we really want and need from each other, as well as a mini brainstorming session on what can be done to accomplish it.
As far as “M making up for something that he thinks he is lacking” well that literally made me laugh out loud! You see, M is very arrogant and therefore probably doesn’t think he lacks anything. **Sorry Sir, but the truth is the truth** But seriously, if you were to know us in real life, and asked M why he is my Sir, he would say it’s because it is what I wanted. Which, as many of you know, is true. I was the one seeking a way to become submissive, and he was willing to give it a try. But even regardless of this, I must say that M is lacking in very little, abide a bit of humility. And I’d love to say that anger has never made it into our bedroom, but I’d be lying. There have been times that I’ve really done something that pisses him off, and it has been incorporated into our punishment play. Never too roughly, or mean, and I’ve never even known until he tells me later. Actually these circumstances happened at the beginning of our dynamic, and I doubt they would happen now.
In regards to my behavior being based on past transgressions, guilt, regret, etc, it’s just not the case. I’m not saying that I’m perfect, and I’m not saying I have not felt guilt in our relationship over things (I can say that I regret nothing, as every past event has led us to where we are today, even if they sucked ass at the time), but that is not the root of my submission. I have always believed that there should be a power exchange in any good, long-term relationship (it actually spurred a good discussion in this post). I think when each person has a fully defined role, when they know what their expectations are, it becomes easier to manage and fulfill. And in fulfilling this role, it increases the self-confidence of each person in the relationship, because they are both adding what they can, what they are supposed to, and making the other happy. When this exchange is not there, in my experience, there is often an underlying struggle occurring, maybe not all the time, or even all that often, but at times. For me, it’s been ever-present, even if not always problematic.
See, I was reared by a single mom, who is very opinionated and loud, and ALWAYS struggling for power, with just about everyone in her life. I grew up watching her in failing relationships where there were moments of happiness, but always overcast with conflict. But this is how I learned to interact with men, particularly with men I was in relationships with. And there were elements of this in all my earlier long-term relationships, and even in my marriage with M. We would get in pissing contests, for lack of a better word, over stupid, silly shit, most times that wouldn’t even have mattered a few weeks later. But now, by engaging in our dynamic, that doesn’t happen. There are no more pissing contests. It is what it is and we move on.
Okay, so I don’t know if this makes any fucking sense to anyone, but I tried to explain but not just say things I’ve said before about the unexpected benefits of our relationship. Feel free to ask questions if there are any. *hugs and kisses*
Ok, so I gave in, and interestingly enough, decided to read the second 50 Shades (much better than the first, mind you), but at the beginning of the book, I was struck by something I don’t think I mentioned before, and found myself compelled to write this, while sitting at the garage, waiting for my car to get inspected.
Grey, in all his Domishness, does not like to be touched. It’s his hard limit. None of his subs have ever been allowed to touch him, per the signed contract. This bother me, immensely.
As a submissive, I have an innate desire to please, and not just day to day. And not just in the realm of kinky, subservitude. In that desire, there is also the need to pleasure: to touch, suck and feel my Sir. To do unthinkable things to him and make him wither in ecstasy. I want to bind him, not to dominate, but to be given the opportunity to ravish him. Worship him. Kiss, lick, and touch him to the point where he groans aloud when I wrap my warm, moist mouth around his cock. To have him so sensitive from my treatment of him that his whole body becomes an erogenous zone. A brush of lips against his collar bode, the raking of my nails across his chest, that these things will make his cock throb with wanting release. To treat him and his body like the god he has become to me.
Is this desire “normal” for a sub? I don’t know. But how sad to give yourself, body and soul, over to a Dom and be denied the pleasure of experiencing their body in all its glory… To be denied this opportunity, to me, is a denial of love, a denial of mutual respect (which for those of you not in the lifestyle, it might not seem like it, but mutual respect is a MUST for anyone with a power exchange), a denial of all things sexual. A denial of shared experience. It would hinder my growth, both as a lover and as a sub. I’d say it’s a hard limit for me…
English: Lesbian show in Granada (Spain). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
So, I just started reading this new piece of erotica, where the primary relationship is girl/girl. And it got me thinking about how different it is to be with a girl than a guy. It’s been years, a lot of years, since I’ve been with a girl, but in reading this, flashbacks of warm soft skin, musky scents, and all night love-making are vivid in my mind.
And it’s funny as I write this that I call it love-making. I never refer to sex as making love. But with a girl, two soft bodies pressed together, that’s what it is, making love.
Anyway, it’s so different from being with a guy. And don’t get me wrong. I love men. I love cock. I love a man’s chest and his hands. The hardness of his body. And I love fucking. But with a woman, it’s different.
It’s curves and soft velvet. It’s kisses and lingering touches. It’s lips and hands and tongues. It’s slow and long and sometimes seemingly everlasting. Orgasms come and go, the ebb and flow of the waves on a shore.
With a woman, there is no beginning and no end. It fades in and it fades out. You can make love for hours and fall asleep with your bodies pressed together, only to wake up and do it all over again. And again.
Mmm… Memories of scents on my fingers, my fingers surrounded in warm, wet heat. My tongue on soft folds, The taste of salt, sweat, and woman dripping from my chin.
With a woman, the give and take is endless. It does not have to end with an orgasm, or even five. It is exhaustion that leads to slumber, curling around each other, not the orgasm’s toll on your body that deems the end of the night.
Truly it is not comparable to being with a man. It is just too different. It is not better than the other, nor does it satisfy better. It is simply different.
I don’t know. this is just my experience, hazy by the fog of memories of long ago…
Okay… So, if you are a regular reader, I suppose I owe you some sort of explanation as to what has gone on the last few weeks. If you don’t care, great, come back another day. If you do, read on. But don’t expect much. I’m giving you the bare bones, the most that I can, given the situation, without causing more damage…
So, it started a few weeks ago, and I detailed a bit of it here, here, and here. If you haven’t read them, don’t bother. It’s really not that exciting. Basically, I fucked up. I was playing around with a friend, in a manner that I considered harmless. M, once he found out, did not so much consider it playing. Nor harmless. Had the situation been reversed, I very well may feel the same way he does. Maybe, maybe not. It really doesn’t matter. What matters is that I hurt him. And, at the moment it happened, he didn’t know if he could get over it. I kind of pulled the ground out from under him, and he had to reframe both himself and our relationship in his mind. This is currently being accomplished. But it is not easy. And I must be patient.
And, remember, I confessed. During an innocent incidence, I started to lie to him (by no means my first mistake, but a mistake nonetheless), and then was like, “What the fuck, LSAM, why are you lying?” So I told M I was lying, and then told him the truth… Well, not quite. I told him a partial truth. A lie of omission. As that day rolled into the next, things got worse. That night, he was fucking furious. Perhaps the most angry I have ever seen. So, I laid everything on the table. “What do you want to know? Ask anything.” And he did. And I was honest. And, at times, it fucking sucked. But I offered and I promised to be 100% real, and therefore I tried to be.
If you’ve followed along, you know there were ups and downs. I would think things were okay, then I’d get slapped in the face by the reality of the matter. The fact is, yesterday was our anniversary. Married for 7 years. 7 mostly happy years. And the last year and a half, the best yet. Fucking fantastic, the last year and a half have been. And I made M feel like it was all a lie, although it wasn’t. I gave him the impression that I was unhappy in our relationship and looking elsewhere, although I wasn’t. I simply stumbled onto a situation and dove in… I believe I once told a friend that I was “doing me.” What the fuck. It is what it is. I didn’t consider what I was doing cheating, although M (as well as a friend or two) did. And perhaps if in his shoes, I would have to. Who knows. But now it’s up to me to rebuild that trust, and put the foundation back into our marriage.
And we are. As discussed in Karma’s a Bitch, M has stepped up and embraced the Alpha role. He has found his inner dominate, and is demonstrating it all over the place. There are bruises and welts on my ass to prove it. But it’s more than in the bedroom. It’s in life. Which is what I wanted. I wanted to let go. To have someone else take the control from me. And he has. But it has come at some costs…
I am now watched. All the time. And in ways that I probably don’t even know. But that is okay. Because I want transparency. I want him to see that I am sorry I’ve hurt him. Disappointed him. Displeased him. So if he needs to see what I’m doing 24/7, so be it. Transparency. That, I believe, will be the savior of it all.
I have also had to give up some things that I cared about. New information that I was learning, studying. There is a chance that I can earn this back, because M sees that it was important to me. Tonight, he even mentioned that he may be interested in studying with me. This made my heart “pitter-patter” but I will not get excited about it until it occurs. Because, well, M… he’s still wading through the mess. He is now on solid ground. Has his feet beneath him again. But he’s still walking through the muck. Trying to decipher what is there, decode the fragments that have been left behind, not necessarily telling the whole story, but simply bits and pieces.
And although I truly believe that he wants to believe what I say is the truth, I have broken the trust that he relied on for that. And not just now, but in the past as well. And my track record is not good, dear reader. In every other relationship I’ve had before M, I fucked around. Every single one. And I’ve never “cheated” on M, if you only count fucking as cheating. But I’m not naive enough to understand that many consider much less cheating, regardless of where I set my standards. And M, he knows this. I’ve been honest with him about my past since the beginning. So, I understand that he has little to go on when I say what happened was not a big deal. That it won’t happen again. Because, as M well knows, it might. Regardless of what I say. Regardless of how much I love him. Simply because I am me, with my patterns of behaviors. With my limited coping skills. With my habits of selfish decision making. Simply put, because I, LSAM, tend to “do me.”
But I hope that this is wrong. People change. I see it everyday. It’s not easy. But I can become a person who doesn’t stray. Who doesn’t only think of themselves when they act. Most often, I am that person. Just at times, I’m not. At times, I think solely of myself, and my wants and desires. And it’s not that I want to hurt anyone, it’s just that I’m concerned about me.
What the fuck. I’m done ranting about this. I don’t know if I explained a fucking thing. Oh, well. The only reason, dear reader, that I’m even offering you an explanation, is because so many of you lovely friends, reached out to me, both publicly here and privately, and offered your support. For that I am grateful. And, secondly, I fucked up and I need to own that. Take some accountability. I stand here, just about everyday, on a fucking soap box, ranting about what a good marriage I have and how to make a LTR work. And the fact remains, I do have a good marriage. A great one in fact. And being that M and I are working through this, it just proves it to me even more. But, people, no matter what, we are all real. We are human. And therefore flawed. And those flaws make us fuck up sometimes. Become selfish. Inconsiderate. Biased to our own will.
And as a last note, M was unsure during all this as to where I stood in our marriage. There were points when he thought perhaps I wanted to leave. That he wasn’t enough. That I was unhappy and/or unfulfilled in our relationship. But he was wrong. I am none of those things. So I opened him up to LSAM. I showed him specific posts, about us, about our marriage, about my feelings. And, my lovely little pervs, it’s done wonders. He gets it. He sees my love for him and our life in my words. I believe it comes across in those posts that are about us. At least I hope… (And on a completely different level, this has done fucking wonders for my sex life — it’s given M a window into my mind and… well, fuck. It’s abso-fucking-lutely amazing — don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll tell you about it soon enough).
And, thank you, my friends and readers, for letting me rant. For lending a shoulder. For listening. For understanding.
And this one goes out to you my friends… for being just that…
I find it interesting that I am sitting here , writing about being single vs. married. I’ve never been single. I’ve had a few weeks here, a few weeks there, but overall, never been single. I was always the girl who found herself in a relationship, even when I was trying not to… And although I love my husband and I love my life, part of me is sad that I never experienced being a “single girl.” My original idea for this post was about the difference between single sex and married sex, but I realized that I don’t know shit about single sex… Oh, well…
Benefits of Single Life
No one to tell you what to do. You want to run around the house in hot pink sweatpants. Do it. Drop everything and fly to Amsterdam for the day. Do it. There is no one there to stop you. You’re decisions are for you, not for your husband, your wife, your kids. You.
Variety is the spice of life. You can fuck anyone you want. You can mix it up. Redheads on Mondays, Blonds on Thursdays. Your boss on Friday. And the neighbor on Sunday.
You can pick up that cute guy at Starbucks who always smiles at you. Or the girl who eyes you up everyday at work. I’ve found myself in situations where I had blatant chemistry with people. Really good chemistry. The kind where other people can feel the sexual tension when they walk in the room. I’ve never followed through with these, because of my marriage. But if you’re single. Jump on that shit! Fuck that girl. It’s not right to let those kind of connections go untested.
No dirty socks to pick up around the house. Only your dishes to do. Only yourself to take care of. I envy that. You can eat ice cream out of the container. Drink milk out of the carton. This means less dishes and more time for fun!
Butterflies. The kind you get when you first meet someone. The first time you get naked with someone. The first time he moves down your body to put his head between your legs. Those kind of butterflies… Yep. I definitely miss that…
Benefits of Married Life
Spooning. Whenever you want. And, it seems to me, the longer you are together, the more your bodies mold to one another.
Not having to teach someone how to make me squirt. When you are in a LTR, one of the best aspects is that your lover knows you. He knows how to touch you, where you like it hard and where you want it soft. He knows how to lick your pussy just right and when it’s the right time to pull your hair or smack your ass. It takes time for that type of knowledge of one another to develop. Married sex should get better and better.
Comfort. I can tell him something kinky I want to try, and I know he’s not going to turn around and run out the door. I don’t have to be embarrassed to ask him to fuck me in the ass or use a toy on me. Comfort. It’s nice.
He’s seen you at your worst, but remembers you at your best. M has seen me with my head in the toilet (more times than I’d like to count), he’s seen me on a three-day bender with no sleep. He’s seen me after 16 hours of labor. But he has also seen me at my sexiest. And it’s those memories that count…
No condoms! Woo-Hoo! I hate condoms. And hating condoms has led me to make some really stupid decisions when it comes to sex. But when you’re married, condoms are no longer necessary (*quick PSA* unless your fucking someone else… Boys and girls, if you are cheating on your spouse, wrap it up! It will suck if/when they find out about it. But it will suck so much more if they find out they have herpes*). M and I have both been tested and have not had to use condoms for years (we were bad with it from the get go, but since we were FWB we decided that we wouldn’t wear condoms together, but made the commitment that we would if we fucked other people).
I’d like to say that a benefit of being married is always having someone to fuck… but I know that’s not always the case. It should be though. They should put that in the vows. ”Love and obey… Honor and cherish… Fuck, suck and lick…”
Cons of a Single Life
Dry spells. Sometimes you don’t just want to hook up. Sometimes you don’t want a one night stand. Sometimes you need someone to go to a wedding with you out of town. If there isn’t someone in your life right then, it blows.
Not knowing what you’re going to get. I remember the last guy I dated before M. He was cute. Sky blue eyes. Funny. Decent job. Great kisser. Penis the size of my thumb. So disappointed the first time I found that out! And it wasn’t just that he was small, he didn’t know what to do with it. If he had embraced his small cock, learned how to work with it, maybe things could have worked out differently. So, not knowing what you’re going to get when you get their clothes off can be kind of scary (I remember a friend who picked a chick up in a club in Miami… Got home. She said she wanted to be fucked in the ass. He reached around to finger her and ended up having to stroke a cock instead). Never know what you’re going to get.
People expect you to get married. Aunts will ask you when you’re going to “settle down.” Maybe you don’t want to settle down. Maybe you want the freedom involved with being single. But that’s not what people want to hear. Everybody’s got somebody that they want to hook you up with: a nephew, a cousin, the taxi driver’s third cousin’s granddaughter’s neighbor.
Cons of Married Life
You’ve got to talk about it if it doesn’t work out. People can break up with their boyfriends and girlfriends and nobody thinks twice about it. Get divorced and everybody wants to know what happened…
Things change. You fall in love. You get married. Have kids. And all of a sudden, you don’t know what happened to you. You begin to define yourself as these things (not that long ago my gravatar read “wife, mother, writer”). Things will change. Some for the better, some for the worse. Love will change. Sex will change.
There is a lack of freedom and personal space once you’re married. Your decisions no longer just effect you. You’ve got somebody else that is impacted by what you do. Sometimes it takes a while to adjust to that. Sometimes you don’t adjust…
Well dear reader… What do you think? Single or married… Which do you prefer?
But it’s more than in the bedroom. It’s in life. Which is what I wanted. I wanted to let go. To have someone else take the control from me. And he has. But it has come at some costs…
