new times two

We went to a wedding last night. M & I hadn’t seen each other in a few days as I stayed out of town with the kids a bit longer than he had.  We were all dressed up. The ceremony was long, in a gorgeous church. We sat with some people we knew, a gay couple and a woman there without her husband. The groom gazed at his bride adoringly.

I can’t be certain, but I think I looked pretty good. I was wearing a cute dress, patterned stockings, and knee high boots. I’d discovered a hole in my stockings near the top of my thigh as I was putting them on and thought it might be useful later. We had a couple of drinks. M decided to stop drinking so that I could keep going. I think on glass #4 of wine I was feeling quite loose, very chatty, and relaxed.

The dinner was good, the conversation was fun. The wedding toasts to the couple were tedious and uninteresting. There wasn’t much dancing going on. I tweeted a bit, alerting all of my twitter friends to my tipsy state. We left around 9:30pm, with the plan that we’d go home and tear these stockings off.

Then we detoured.

To an adult store.

After we left there with a video, a cock ring, and some lube, we headed home. We got there, popped the dvd in, and laid down on the couch. We made it through a couple of scenes before we started groping each other. Soon my dress and boots were off, leaving me in a bra & stockings. M saw the tear near the top. He ripped it wider, wide enough to pull them aside to finger my pussy which was fairly wet. He bent me over the couch and fucked me for a few moments, but my back and hip still aren’t 100%, so this was pretty uncomfortable. We moved to the bedroom, and I knelt to suck his cock. The cock ring makes him seem so huge, I couldn’t take it all in. I was then turned over and he teased my pussy with his cock – he’d slide in, thrust quickly for a few seconds, and then pull out. Have I mentioned that I really don’t like being teased?

Soon he grabbed the lube, and worked some into my ass. He shoved the vibrator inside and put his cock back in my pussy. But I wanted him in my ass. So he obliged, and then we put the vibrator on my clit. M felt amazing, and it wasn’t long before we were both coming, very hard. That very moment I heard fireworks, and looked up at the clock. Midnight, 2012.

This morning we had a couple of things to do, and then we found ourselves back in the bed. I asked him to come make out with me. He’d worn the cock ring all morning, and soon I was face down yet again. M’s obsession with my ass continues. This time he came hard deep inside my pussy, and then we laid there, curled up together, content.

Shortly afterwards I got up, put on my workout clothes (tight white top with a deep v-neck & cropped leggings) and headed to the gym. When I got home I needed to stretch my hip, so I did this modified arabesque stretch. He was behind me as I did it, and barely choked out his request that I take greater care in doing that kind of thing in front of him. I have yet to wipe the smirk off my face.

 

tear down this wall

I’ve made several references to the Cold War between me and M, and finally someone’s had just about enough of waiting for the story of how it ended.  I was always going to tell this story, I just got distracted by headboards and anal sex, ok? Plus, I’m not proud of myself, of how I treated M, or of how much of a hypocrite I’d turn out to be.  This post is going to take every ounce of humility and vulnerability I can muster.  But, I am proud of where we are now, and I hope you all will be too.

Back in September of last year, I caught M looking at porn for the 4th time in as many years.  (Here’s where my hypocrisy knows/knew no bounds.)  I was furious at him – furious that he’d cheapen women, our marriage, me, himself by using such filth.  Never mind the fact that I’d been denying him sex and intimacy for most of the last 9 years.

It was Labor Day weekend.  My parents were coming into town to visit for my daughter’s birthday.  I decided to hold off on my plans to ask M to leave the house and our marriage until they left.  I’d put on a show for the sake of the kids and to not make my parents uncomfortable.  But I didn’t speak a word to him unless it couldn’t be helped.  I didn’t lay a finger on him or allow him to touch me in any way.  Despite the intense heat of my anger, I felt like my entire body was a shard of ice, hanging off a very tall roof.  One move, and I’d fall and shatter to bits.

We continued this way for 3 more weeks.  It was hideous.  I was so blinded by this misdirected fury that I just couldn’t see the truth.  That he’d turned to porn because I wasn’t fully his.  That he was doing the best he knew how to keep us together.  That I’d hurt him, stabbed him in the gut over and over and over again with my refusals.  We ended up having a couple of gut-wrenching conversations, where I finally told him the root of it all.  I was mad at him to cover up my own guilt.  I was deflecting the blame onto him.  After all, it would be easy to explain this away, were we to get divorced.  He didn’t want me.  He looked at porn.  I could have held my head high, denying any part of it.  After all, we had sex once a month or so!  Even more during the two years we tried to get pregnant the second time!  What more should he expect from a working mother of two?  We’re tired!  We have housework that needs doing!  I’ve got reading to do for work!  The kids need me!  After all, we’ve got friends who haven’t had sex in years, let alone a month or two.  They’re fine, what’s the matter with us?

But when I had this moment of HOLY SHIT WHAT HAVE I DONE, back one October night, the thought of our marriage being destroyed, consumed not by outside forces but from home-grown cancer – God, that just killed me.  I sobbed and cried out to him, and all of the sudden we found ourselves clinging together.  And by a week later, we were going at it like rabbits.

Of course, frequent fucking hasn’t solved all our problems, not by a long shot.  I’m still stubborn, selfish, and sarcastic, and he’s still equally stubborn, detached, and non-communicative.  BUT, we are doing much better.  We’re glued together in a way we weren’t before.  That trip I took, the one that was so stressful for me to be away for so long?  Two years ago I’d not have thought twice about a trip of that length.  It wouldn’t have bothered me for a minute.  But now that we’re back in love?  It was the longest eight days of my life.

Now the problem is that I still feel so guilty.  I have had a very hard time forgiving myself for all of this.  And, I’ve gone off the deep end in the other direction.  Now it’s me acting like a spoiled child if I don’t get what I want, the minute I want it.  Bear with me as I grow, stretch, and figure out my shit, will you all?