"You are capable of anything," because of my brand new metal object. Trent did not intend that to be a compliment by any stretch of the imagination. Trent was clearly insecure about my enhancement. He was the former swinger guy, so what in the heck did he need to worry about me for?
The only weakness that I would fess up to was b eing a “chronic crotch watcher.” Trent was always screaming at me to stop looking down at random men’s hardware as they walked by—so what if I have a relentless weakness for well-endowed fellows. Even though I had big eyes, I was always faithful to him. I was slighted by Trent's cold shoulder and insulting insinuations about my boob jewel. My intentions were coming from the right place. I wanted to show him that I was as much fun as his former wild lifestyle. His negative attitude towards my new plaything was only jealousy rearing its ugly head! I actually thought that he would enjoy it—wow, was I painfully wrong. The nipple pain I experienced would be nothing compared to what Trent had in store for me in the coming weeks.
I thoroughly understand and get the ne ed for excitement. I am a first-class, grade-A thrill-seeker in a vanilla wonderland over here. If I was an uncomplicated gal I am sure I would not have ended up in the precarious ponds that I have dabbled around in. Although, I am not into mate swapping or extreme kink—it’s just not me. I knew in my heart that Trent's animalistic call back to flesh motel could only be ignored by him for so long. I could have hung out in swing clubs with the best of them, any day of the week—I just didn’t want to. I am not a hater or judgmental. I have walked the earth long enough to know what makes my fancy tingle. The few seconds of an orgasm was not worth the scalding, nuclear plant, sterilization-style shower that I’d need to give myself when I got home from a mound of suck fest two-thousand—simple as that. My butt cheeks would be red and welted for weeks if I had to endure that kind of cleanup on aisle three!
I have a strong sex drive and I have struggled to find a real life, balance. I am sure that is in part the reason why I have inadvertently chosen “hot to trot” men like Trent in the first place. With all things considered, I do have a decidedly saucy side that runs amply through my veins. While I have embraced my sexuality and go after what I want in bed, to some degree, there is still always room for fantastic inspiration. I am certainly not a wilting wallflower by any stretch of the imagination—being with Trent certainly capitalized on my inner sex tussle. I am more open minded than many of my friends. Yet, I still do have a few chains on me—thank goodness. As open sexually as I was at the time, I still could not mentally move beyond Trent's sexual past, as hard as I tried.
Even though I had an erotica list that I enjoyed daydreaming of, Trent and I never discussed them. A piece of me was afraid if I let him into my secluded mental sanctuary; he may have perceived my fantasies as a green light and would want to act them out. Those fantasies of mine were the private property of my brain and not the shared property of our marriage. I was not about to split any of that funky shit 50-50! I instinctually knew that Trent’s human nature would get the best of him. Historically speaking, nature always wins, and being acutely aware of that fact, I knew that I would ultimately lose. Trent’s sexual addictions were his master, and I simply his mistress.
8). Misty
The only time we seemed to get along was when we were in different zip codes or neighborhood dildo boutiques. Trent planned for us to take a last-minute trip to New Jersey. We had a great time together walking around the chilly city and sightseeing. We laughed for hours in the monumental hotel bed like slap-happy teenagers.
Talking about the future seemed natural as we lingered around with our bodies twisted in a knot. We truly connected on a deep level and
The only weakness that I would fess up to was b eing a “chronic crotch watcher.” Trent was always screaming at me to stop looking down at random men’s hardware as they walked by—so what if I have a relentless weakness for well-endowed fellows. Even though I had big eyes, I was always faithful to him. I was slighted by Trent's cold shoulder and insulting insinuations about my boob jewel. My intentions were coming from the right place. I wanted to show him that I was as much fun as his former wild lifestyle. His negative attitude towards my new plaything was only jealousy rearing its ugly head! I actually thought that he would enjoy it—wow, was I painfully wrong. The nipple pain I experienced would be nothing compared to what Trent had in store for me in the coming weeks.
I thoroughly understand and get the ne ed for excitement. I am a first-class, grade-A thrill-seeker in a vanilla wonderland over here. If I was an uncomplicated gal I am sure I would not have ended up in the precarious ponds that I have dabbled around in. Although, I am not into mate swapping or extreme kink—it’s just not me. I knew in my heart that Trent's animalistic call back to flesh motel could only be ignored by him for so long. I could have hung out in swing clubs with the best of them, any day of the week—I just didn’t want to. I am not a hater or judgmental. I have walked the earth long enough to know what makes my fancy tingle. The few seconds of an orgasm was not worth the scalding, nuclear plant, sterilization-style shower that I’d need to give myself when I got home from a mound of suck fest two-thousand—simple as that. My butt cheeks would be red and welted for weeks if I had to endure that kind of cleanup on aisle three!
I have a strong sex drive and I have struggled to find a real life, balance. I am sure that is in part the reason why I have inadvertently chosen “hot to trot” men like Trent in the first place. With all things considered, I do have a decidedly saucy side that runs amply through my veins. While I have embraced my sexuality and go after what I want in bed, to some degree, there is still always room for fantastic inspiration. I am certainly not a wilting wallflower by any stretch of the imagination—being with Trent certainly capitalized on my inner sex tussle. I am more open minded than many of my friends. Yet, I still do have a few chains on me—thank goodness. As open sexually as I was at the time, I still could not mentally move beyond Trent's sexual past, as hard as I tried.
Even though I had an erotica list that I enjoyed daydreaming of, Trent and I never discussed them. A piece of me was afraid if I let him into my secluded mental sanctuary; he may have perceived my fantasies as a green light and would want to act them out. Those fantasies of mine were the private property of my brain and not the shared property of our marriage. I was not about to split any of that funky shit 50-50! I instinctually knew that Trent’s human nature would get the best of him. Historically speaking, nature always wins, and being acutely aware of that fact, I knew that I would ultimately lose. Trent’s sexual addictions were his master, and I simply his mistress.
8). Misty
The only time we seemed to get along was when we were in different zip codes or neighborhood dildo boutiques. Trent planned for us to take a last-minute trip to New Jersey. We had a great time together walking around the chilly city and sightseeing. We laughed for hours in the monumental hotel bed like slap-happy teenagers.
Talking about the future seemed natural as we lingered around with our bodies twisted in a knot. We truly connected on a deep level and
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