Let’s talk about you and me.

It appears that most sex bloggers, including all of those I read, do not support monogamy. Most of them believe that it’s somehow unnatural or something. I suppose this means I am the minority.

After my faux marriage ended, I had the Consultant, who unknowingly awakened a previously dormant monster inside me that had an insatiable hunger for sex. The monster consumed me, and if I did anything it was only to feed the hungry beast. My offer was constant fucking, my only term was that it be exclusive. He confused my desire to constantly ride and suck his perfect, delicious, beautiful member with a desire to be his girlfriend and he ran away. When I couldn’t get it from him anymore I used what I learned from him – that it was undesirable to be monogamous.

I found a new plaything, dabbling around with others all the while. I was on a constant prowl, and no matter how much I got it was never enough. Then I met the Unmarried Man, and learned very quickly that I didn’t enjoy fucking someone if I couldn’t be the center of his attention. I began seeking lovers who fit that criteria…and then one of my admirers got hurt.

Oops. I felt like a real connasse. I decided it wasn’t worth hurting someone over sex that wasn’t that great anyway, since I wasn’t really totally into the people I was fucking.

Then I met the young one with the deliciously sick, twisted mind. Oh, his timing could not have been better! I was looking for someone to whom I could devote myself and still come out with a minimum average of three orgasms in a day. If he couldn’t be there himself he certainly made sure to provide adequate inspiration. And I was happy to be inspired–after all, I was under strict orders to cum when called! As I was drawn further and further into my admiration for him I severed all ties to other men. I became his, constantly under his doting supervision. The tighter his hold on me became the happier I was. And we both let it go on too far before he told me what I already suspected, that I wasn’t the only one. The crushing weight of the jealousy and the damage to my self-confidence that followed made me understand all too well that I am a monogamous woman.

I can see merit in “polyamory,” but to me it’s really just a synonym for ‘noncommittal.’ I desire commitment, especially if I’m seeking a partner with sadistic tendencies. I don’t want someone choking me unless we’re committed to each other. I mean, if he’s not committed to me, what’s to stop him from taking it a step too far and crushing my larynx? I know that sounds extreme, but seriously, I need to trust someone a lot to do some of the things I enjoy doing.

Now see here though – once I’m committed and partnered and trust implicitly there’s room for dalliance. Like… Say my partner asked me to have sex with someone else while he watched. Provided I’m attracted to that person, sure. I’d be game. But affairs outside of our coupledom? No way, Jose. If he wanted to be with another woman, I’d better get to pick her, and I’d better get to be there.

I’ll give up my power to him, but it comes at a price, and I don’t really think monogamy is that much to ask. It’s the only surefire way to make sure nobody gets hurt, specifically, moi. I should make the earth move under his feet anyway. I should be sa meilleure Jouissance!

Published in:  on August 11, 2009 at 7:59 am Leave a Comment

La Morale de l’Histoire

I went and did it.  I let the Unmarried Man get to me.

I fucked him again that next Tuesday.  Drunk again (we met at a wine bar and got seriously wasted), but this time in my bedroom and not on a roof.  Then we promised we’d be good.  Then I gave him a ridiculous blowjob on his couch about twenty minutes before his girlfriend came home–I don’t know that I’ve ever tasted cum so sweet either.  Then I met the live-in and she’s pretty nice…not my cup of tea personally but she’s cool or whatever.  

Then there were more promises of being good, since we genuinely liked each other and wanted to be friends.  We managed it somehow, and now I can barely imagine him fucking me missionary style between pristine cotton bedsheets much less bending me over a roof ledge and pumping his cock into my dripping pussy while he fingers my asshole…

Really I can’t.

No really!  I can’t imagine it; the whole thing seems absurd.  I’ve completely replaced him in my memory with someone else.  Maybe it’s easy to do because he really could have been anyone else and I still would have done it.  I mean, it was pretty awesome. 

The whole thing messed with my head though.  I felt ridiculously bad about it and have spent the last few months (yep, months) thinking about what I’ve done.  At first I thought we were both horrible people.  Then I thought the girlfriend was an idiot.  Then I blamed their relationship and made myself out to be an innocent bystander who just happened to be horny at the right place at the right time.

Then I realized that was all bullshit.  It happened.  I don’t know the particulars of their relationship and neither of them seem keen on telling me.  I don’t want to fuck him anymore, I just want to be nice and talk about video games and share goofy links on IM. I don’t have a lot of friends with whom I feel comfortable being myself and he definitely puts me at ease, even if I do get impatient with his flirting (with other women, not me or the girlfriend…the dog).  I wouldn’t mind hugging sometimes, but now it’s all awkward, so I’ll just content myself with waving hello and goodbye when we see each other.  And occasionally getting an apologetic drunken text message.

So it happened.  Big deal.  I felt bad.  Oh well.  What’s the point of putting myself through the misery?  I made a mistake; so next time I’ll know that fucking someone else’s someone behind anyone’s back is not worth the guilt it causes me.  Maybe this all comes naturally for some sluts, but I still have some things to learn so I’ll just chalk that one up to a lesson.

Here’s hoping my next lesson is way more fun and involves some sort of restraining device!

Published in:  on January 6, 2009 at 6:43 pm Leave a Comment