Not Enough – III

Note: Please read 1 August 2006, Not Enough – I, Not Enough – II first to get the full story.

“History is written by the victors”
Sir Winston Churchill

3 August 2012. I wonder if I can will the situation in my favour by continuing to write about it. Perhaps this way, I can force a happy ending for us. Either way I’m going to try.

Today’s Friday and I’m very glad indeed. Soon we’ll have the weekend to ourselves. We’ve been working on an old motorcycle together, trying to change a few bits and pieces; seat, tail light, indicators… I’ve never done anything like it before, but it’s nice to be actually involved instead of watching others do similar things on the Discovery Channel.

The day passes, nothing much happens. Except the delivery of my brand new tail light. So I come home triumphantly carrying the light, excited to try and see what it will look like on the bike. He’s already home of course, his office is only 10 minutes away. As I come in, he gets up and walks towards me, muting the TV. The look on his face is hard to place, sort of uncertain, insecure.

“We did it today, lunchtime.” He looks worried now, waiting for me to react. It’s obvious what he means.

I don’t know what to say, I try looking at the floor, fighting back the tears. Damn it why do I cry so easily! Today?! I’ve hardly had time to think, to get used to the idea. I thought I had time…

“I’m sorry. You’re upset.” He hugs me, his arms enveloping me completely. I can’t move, so I just stand there, arms hanging down by my sides. “If it upsets you so much, we won’t do it you know.”

“What do you mean ‘we won’t’? You did or you didn’t?” I push him back, looking at him, eyes narrowed. This time it’s him avoiding my gaze, I don’t know what to make of this at all.


“I thought you didn’t want to know details… That maybe it would help if you weren’t sure.” This time he’s looking at the floor.

“Yeah but I didn’t want you telling me in a half-assed manner either! Now you started talking, you don’t get to be vague about it! Either you fucking did or didn’t, which is it?” I feel myself getting annoyed now. Why is he playing around? I try to calm myself down – deeply breathing in and out.

“We did… I can’t keep secrets from you.” His voice sounds small, scared. “Please don’t hate me.”

Well at least that takes care of the uncertainty I was feeling, over whether he’d go through with it. That ship has now sailed. He went through with it. Tears are properly streaming down my face now but I’m hardly making a sound.

“You told me about the 25th. And now you’ve done it already. I thought I had time to get used to the idea.” I pause and press my face against him, waiting for him to put his arms around me again.

I dry my face in his T-shirt and pick up the tail light. I need to distract myself from this mess. The motorcycle is parked in the garden; I quickly walk towards it with my new light. Held against the back of the seat, it looks exactly how I had hoped, I connect it up to test if it works. He’s watching me as I press the brake and flip the light switch a few times. It must be showing on my face that I’m pleased with the result because he comes over and holds me again.

“You’re happy with the new light? Good.”

I don’t know happy is the right word to describe my feelings right now, but yes the light is good. I nod.

“We share so much together, please don’t take this personally. You’ll always be the one I love.”

He still has his arm around me as we go back inside.

There’s a sealed envelope on the dining table with his name on it.

“What’s this?” I pick it up to show him.

“Her wedding invitation.” He opens it as we sit down on the sofa. Saturday the 10th of November, 7pm onwards. As I’m reading the card I can’t help but feel sorry for her fiance. He has no clue at all.

“I guess I’ll be going by myself,” he says.

“What?! I’m not invited? She gets to fuck you and I don’t even get free food in return? Unacceptable” My sense of humour is coming back, that’s something.

“Though I could see how it would be awkward to meet her and her hubby-to-be. ‘Hi I’m the wife of the one your wife is fucking’,” I continue.

He pulls me towards him and we both lie down on the sofa, me on top of him in his arms, my head resting on his chest. He starts telling me absentmindedly about something that happened on his drive home, some speed trap nearby, he comments she may have got a ticket.

“You brought her here?” I’m a bit shocked; after all he’d said himself he didn’t want to bring her into our house. Looking around the living room there are bike parts, dust everywhere. “It’s filthy in here!”

He can’t stop himself from laughing. “Silly cow, THAT’S your biggest worry? That the place is dirty?”

I realise it’s quite stupid but I can’t help myself. I promise myself that I’ll clean up properly this weekend.

“You’re going to laugh some more.. I’m writing a book.”

“What book?”

“About this. I thought it might be a good outlet. Since I can’t really talk to anyone about it.”

“You can talk to me!” He seems hurt. Men!

“Yeah I can talk to you, but that’s not how it works! Women tend to talk about emotional stuff to deal with things.”

“So why don’t you talk to your best friend about it?” Honestly? He really doesn’t get it.

“Well I can’t. Not until I’m OK with everything. It’s not an easy topic and I don’t want to get into a conversation about what I should and shouldn’t accept and how you’re a mean bastard who hurt me.”

“Fine ok, that makes sense. Well if you think writing will help.”

I didn’t want to tell him. But I just blurted it out. But I don’t think I’ll let him read it, ever.

“You fucked up my whole storyline. I had 25 days to write about until it would happen. And you went and did it already!”

My remark seems to have amused him. “Sorry…” he says sheepishly.

For a few minutes I’m lying in his arms quietly. Surely, he didn’t do it in the bed like he promised me he wouldn’t… I look around some more, lift my head to look at him.

“The sofa…?”

He nods.

It troubles me a bit, but I lie down again and close my eyes.

“I’m getting used to the idea. But I can’t promise it’s not going to come back to bother me again.” And I can’t promise I won’t bring it up in snide remarks during arguments either. I let out a deep sigh.

He strokes my back and I relax some more. Emotions sure are exhausting. I close my eyes and start drifting away.

Keep calm, all hope is lost. 

Growing up and other embarrassments

For some reason I’ve been looking back on my teenage years lately. My poor mom had her hands full, raising a volatile rebellious version of me by herself and I certainly did not make it easy for her. She never fully knew what I was up to, until years later (over a glass or two of wine) I answered some of her more prying questions. But I suppose the things she did get wind of, were probably stressful enough at the time.

 My top 5 classic Teenage moments:

 1. Sex Ed.

I suppose I was about 13 when our school had a 2 day special Sex education programme. Many topics were discussed in a typical European manner; one where children are encouraged to be open and honest, the aim being to instill tolerance for all things different. After a particularly long discussion in class about what we can and cannot discuss with our parents, I felt liberated. Plus I was already quite rebellious with a “don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks” attitude. Upon coming home, I decided to strike up a conversation.

“Mom, if I was a lesbian, what would you say?”

“What am I supposed to say. You are what you are.”

“Wouldn’t you mind?”

“No. Why are you asking?”

“Oh we had this discussion thing in school. About tolerance and stuff.”


“Mom, what do you think about oral sex?”

*spluttering, coughing noise*

“Err, you’re too young!”

“Yeah ok, but do you think it’s right or wrong?”

*awkward silence*

“Well, would you do it?”

*Mom turns bright red*

“That’s something everyone should decide for themselves.”

I never got my answer….

2. Extra-curricular Activities

I grew up in a small, boring town with about 100,000 inhabitants. As a result the town centre was particularly unexciting and had a poor selection of shops. But when I was 14 or 15, something exciting opened up, just a bit outside the normal shopping zone. Just a bit further from view, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Something with shiny latex outfits in the window, yet minus the seedy neon “Sex shop” sign.

Due to the lacklustre shopping avenues in our home town, of course us teenage girls would often take a train to a larger city nearby to do our shopping. One where dimly lit “Sex Shops” were nothing unusual. Those were scary looking from the outside though, the windows were darkened so you couldn’t look inside. And until you’d set foot in one you wouldn’t know what was in there.

So I’d never been in one.

This new, bright and airy shop with the kinky clothes was different and not so scary at all. Basically like Ann Summers in the UK, an entirely new concept to me at the time.

After noticing this shop on a previous trip to the town centre. One day I waited until the street was empty and ventured inside. I was a naive teen and a virgin. And I came home with my first little vibrator (the big ones just seemed physically impossible). Once I had paid I excitedly took the opaque plastic bag I was handed with this much coveted possession and left the shop. I was so over the moon that it didn’t bother me much that a builder loitering outside made a particularly rude remark. Not bothering with a comeback, I simply gave him the finger and walked off smiling.

 3. My 12th Birthday.

Not quite teenage, granted. But the story fits in as being fairly embarrassing.
Let me start by saying my mother wasn’t a nudist; far from it. But I wasn’t brought up to be ashamed of nudity either and it wasn’t until I hit puberty that I had any issues changing in front of her, and vice versa. So yes, this may seem shocking to some people but I’ve seen my mother naked. But during the previous few months something else new did happen. Mom had started dating. For the first time since my dad passed when I was just a toddler, it wasn’t just us girls.

On the morning of my 12th Birthday:

“Happy birthday, darling. What would you like for breakfast?”


“What’s wrong, why so grumpy?”

“You woke me, you know.”

*Mom giving me the WTF raised eyebrow look*

“You, and your boyfriend! I woke up and heard something really weird. It was freaking me out. Like sort of howling.”

*Mom turning pink*

“I got up to figure out where the racket was coming from, opened your door…”

*awkward silence*

“How could you! On MY birthday!” 

That morning, after the first time her boyfriend spent the night, I discovered that my mother is a screamer. And my biggest worry was that she had disturbed my sleep on my birthday.

 4. Stern instruction

I was a bit of a late bloomer when it came to boys. Apparently being a Goth was a fairly effective form of contraception in my school. My first boyfriend therefore didn’t go to my school at all. In fact he wasn’t in school anymore. And he wasn’t in the same country either.

I had an internet relationship with a guy 6 years older than me starting at age 15. When I was 16, he finally visited. Bearing in mind that I had just picked him up at the airport by myself, by train, and we’d spent about 1 hour face to face in total, coming home to face my mother was frankly the least of my worries. (Just to clarify; yes she knew and she agreed that he could stay. Us Europeans are cool that way.)

So while she offered him tea, he went to unpack his stuff to take out the various gifts and things he had brought for me. Some of it was clothes, prompting mom and him both to cheer: “Try it on! Try it on!”.

No sooner had I stepped out of the living room and closed the door in order to change in the hallway, I hear mom put on the distinctive voice she uses when she’s trying to be an authority figure.

“Please, whatever you do, use a condom!”

“Err.. Ma’m.. we’re not..”

“Whatever, use a condom. I do not want my daughter pregnant. She’s only 16.”

I nearly died laughing in the hallway.

At that point, we hadn’t even had our first kiss.

 5. Busted

So as you’ve already read above. I had decided at around 15, that I wanted to try out vibrators. I was exploring my body and I really wanted to give myself an orgasm. One vibrator wasn’t quite enough, because it was a fairly simple one. I especially went back to the same shop and had them order one in that was different, waterproof.

I anyway love to take long showers, that day it was even longer. I experimented and did my best with the new toy. I didn’t quite cum but it was interesting. I vowed to try that again until I would succeed.

Later that same evening the conversation went something like this:

“May I make a request.” *grumpy expression*

“What, mom?”

“Don’t leave your… THINGS… in the shower.”


“Your thing. Your fake PENIS.”


Oral Sex & Hygiene

Somehow I feel compelled to write about this topic today. Not sure if it will turn into a rant or what, but a quick Google search revealed that I am not alone with my, shall we say, “concerns”.

Firstly, let me explain my position on oral sex. I am not very fussed about it myself, it feels nice but it doesn’t make me cum. But, I am extremely conscious that I make sure things are clean and in order before anyone goes near there with their mouth. As in – I don’t mind sex during that time of the month, but I don’t want anyone licking stuff I wouldn’t want to taste back if I get a kiss afterwards. If I have any doubts, I’ll have a quick clean beforehand or refuse and suggest something else instead.

Even though I don’t quite see the attraction in receiving oral for anything other than a warm up to the main event, I understand that most men love getting it. I’ve never had any complaints about technique or anything, perhaps I had watched enough porn before attempting it for the first time to know roughly what to do. I don’t mind giving head, but I have serious issues when it comes to personal hygiene.

I’ve tried the whole wipe-it-down-with-a-wet-cloth-beforehand routine. It doesn’t work. Neither does rinsing it under warm water for a bit. I don’t know if it’s a circumcised vs. uncircumcised issue but somehow no matter how hard I try to put it out of my mind, when I try giving head, it tastes of urine.

It’s not that he doesn’t shower, and he has even started to wipe off any stray drops after taking a wee but somehow it doesn’t seem to help. Always after a blow job I just have this aftertaste in the back of my throat that seems to find its way into my nose and doesn’t go away for at least half an hour. And I particularly dislike if he pulls back his foreskin wanting me to lick his head directly. Even though it looks clean, it smells pretty bad. I don’t think I’m very fussy, I don’t mind tasting a bit of sweat, or even swallowing.

I just mind that public toilet smell.

I guess it’s more difficult keeping it clean, but it just irks me that for noticing it, I’m apparently picky. Because this never used to be an issue. I have two theories about that. Firstly, apparently when you’re super aroused you are less likely to find things off putting. In the beginning of our relationship we were absolutely crazy which may have caused me not to really notice these things.

But my second theory is probably more viable (and less insulting): We were in Asia, where he didn’t use toilet paper but instead washed after going to the toilet. Perhaps it was just cleaner that way?

Well anyway. I guess I’m just a bit annoyed. I know what I smell like and base my decision on whether or not to agree to oral on that knowledge and I wish others were as self aware. Judging from what I found googling the topic of urine smell during oral I have come across entire discussions of women noting the same thing. And surprisingly a lot of men who think wiping their dicks instead of a halfhearted shake or two is gay. All I can say to that is if you’re happy leaving drops of piss all over your underwear all day, don’t expect more than a handjob.

But if he’s making an effort keeping things clean, why the hell does the smell not go away?

Kinks & Fantasies 2 – Food

It is a well known fact that some foods are considered to work as aphrodisiacs; Oysters or chocolate for example. I’ve never tried oysters so I cannot comment on them but like most women I am a firm believer that chocolate can at least cause happiness, if not arousal. Really though, there is more to food than just the way certain items are meant to affect us physically. I’ve not chosen my pen name without reason, I am a hedonist indeed. I seek pleasure and food can be oh so good at delivering just that.

Have you ever eaten something so lush and tasty, that it left you speechless? That you sat still, eyes glazed over, with the spoon still in your hand in mid air, savouring the moment? Whether jokingly or otherwise, certain foods can actually be “better than sex” or at least as good as. But how good would it be to combine the two?

I’m not sure our brains really differentiate between different types of pleasure. And when arousal heightens our senses, what would be better than to stimulate our taste buds as well.

Sometimes I fantasise about becoming a living buffet. Laying out delicious foods over my naked body in a flattering and tempting manner. Rather than wear pretty underwear to keep some of the mystery alive, I could use lusciously rich icing, piped over myself in an intricate pattern, covering my nipples instead as a tastier alternative to pasties. I’d lie back, waiting to be discovered, hoping he’s hungry for the Belgian chocolates I’ve stuck against me with more icing just circling around my belly button. Wishing he will enjoy the process of discovering my exposed body underneath the tasty treats. And hopefully receiving the benefits of his increased pleasure after reaching a chocolate and sugar high from licking me clean of icing.

Who’s hungry?

Not Enough – II

Note: Please read 1 August 2006 and Not Enough – I first to get the full story.

2 August 2012. Another day, a fresh start? I’m not sure I believe in that cliché but I do feel a little better today. At least I’ve had a good night’s sleep. My alarm hasn’t yet gone off but that’s only a matter of 5 minutes. Not too shabby considering I am currently reconsidering my entire life.

Of course he’s still asleep, looking at him makes me smile. Would I want to give this up? Not really. I like waking up next to him. To have someone I can cuddle with when I’ve had a bad dream. Someone who will make fun at me when I am being my stupid clumsy self; making me laugh when I’ve stubbed my toe hard on the coffee table leg. Again. He has an odd way of showing his love for me at the best of times but I know he’s sincere.

But I AM jealous. Why? I wish I was a stronger, more confident person. (I also wish I was 3 dress sizes slimmer, had bigger boobs and didn’t have two left feet, alas I can’t have everything!)

I turn towards him and half asleep he hugs me and I press my face into his bare chest. His scent is intoxicating, as it’s always been.  I hug him back and run my hand over his shoulders and back. Almost immediately he moves closer, pressing his hips against me. I can feel that he’s ready. He usually is in the morning. Nevermind, strike that last part. He usually is, the horny bastard. His eyes open slowly and he looks at me half sleepy half aroused.

“Morning” I kiss him softly and he responds by returning the kiss deeply and passionately. His tongue runs over my teeth, plays with the tip of mine and he pulls me closer into his embrace. A kiss like this can only mean one thing, he wants me. Or does he really? Does he want me or do I just happen to be convenient at this time?

We kiss some more as he runs his hand over my back, down to my ass.  He grabs a handful and squeezes it firmly. I quickly try to shake off my negative thoughts, I can do without the mindfuck right now! Let’s just focus on what’s in front of me. As he presses into me slowly but firmly I can feel he’s fully erect. He feels so good, his body moulded against mine, I want more. I guide his hand up over my hips and side to my breasts. He loves fondling them, playing with my nipples. In fact he can grope like an overeager teenager even now while in his thirties. It tickles like hell when I’m not in the mood. But right now, I’m loving it.

I run my hand in a circular motion over his ass cheek, down over the back of his thigh and around his hip until I’m caressing his cock slowly. His whole body shudders as I touch him there. He moans softly and presses his face into the side of my neck, kissing and softly sucking the skin  in that special spot where it is most sensitive. It gives me goose bumps every single time. I may not feel the same passion for him as in the beginning, but he certainly does not leave me cold either. Already, I am getting moist between my thighs.

“I love you,” he whispers in my ear, “don’t ever leave me…”

Oh he knows how to charm the pants off a woman, the player!

“Take me then, I’m all yours!” I moan.

I wiggle out of my panties as I turn onto my back. He quickly takes off his PJ bottoms, letting his fully erect cock spring forward, pointing right at me. It knows exactly where it wants to go! He gets on top of me, kissing me deeply again. I can feel my breathing changing, and he hasn’t even entered me yet. I grab his cock, it is rock hard in my hand as I squeeze my hand the way he likes it. Irresistible silky soft skin. He comes closer, so I can almost guide him inside me but holds back. He loves to tease. All I can manage is to brush his foreskin against my now dripping wet lips. Round and round a few times, it excites him as much as it does me. I want it in me so badly but he won’t let me have it yet. He loves to watch me squirm.

“Oh please, what are you waiting for?” I plead. He just looks at me and smiles wickedly. Nothing can wake him up as quickly as the prospect of sex.

“Why, what do you want?” Of course, he’s toying with me. That’s what he does. It’s what he enjoys.

“You, in me, now!” I breathe. I can hardly take it, he’s so close to me and yet it feels so far away.  He’s supposed to be all mine, and that bitch he’s been talking to can go to hell for all I care.

Finally he gives in, lowers himself down. He feels so big as he enters me that I can’t help but cry out.

“Ohhh yes!” I grab both his ass cheeks and pull him deep into me.

He complies and I can feel him filling me up completely. Any bigger and it would be painful, any smaller and I doubt I’d be satisfied.  The first few strokes are slow and gentle, but quickly he’s picking up pace. I am still holding on to him and pulling him into me all the way.  I look up at him and he looks gorgeous, his messy shoulder length hair frames his face and his eyes seem like they’re burning into my soul. He can certainly be difficult to read, doesn’t like to express his feelings, except during sex. Then he comes to life.

There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he looks at me. By now he’s moving faster, pounding me, encouraged by my fingers digging into his skin. He leans in for another deep kiss, this time it’s wilder, messier. But he doesn’t stop moving. I grind my hips upwards to meet his, finding my rhythm , getting ever wetter and more slippery. As I tighten myself, stimulating his full length inside me with every movement I can tell he’s getting closer to match my excitement. I moan with anticipation, grinding faster, tightening more.
“Oh baby, fuck me harder!”

I catch a glimpse of him still staring at me, a subtle smile on his face. My eyes close involuntarily and my neck arches backwards. He’s really picked up speed now, he’s fucking my brains out and I love it. I’m so close, it feels amazing. I contract and release my pelvic muscles again and again until I feel the warm tingling sensation of an orgasm envelop me completely.

“Ahhh! I’m yours, take me with all you’ve got!” By now I have very little control over my muscles, I try to keep up with his rhythm grinding my hips, but I miss a few beats as I’m trembling with the aftershocks of my orgasm. He’s slamming into me hard now, again and again and suddenly he freezes as his cock inside of me twitches violently and he releases. He’s fully tensed up and I’m still holding on to his hips, now I’m grinding against him with newfound energy, trying to make this moment last just a little bit longer.

As he catches his breath he’s still got a glimmer in his eyes “Waking me for sex? Hmmm?”

I feign innocence. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, I was sleeping…”

We’ve just got time for a quick shower each before rushing to work.

Sex on a working day morning isn’t all that common, though it does happen every other week or so. In fact I don’t feel our sex life is all that bad considering we’re not newlyweds anymore. We manage a few times a week mostly, but I guess it’s too much of the same old moves for him. I like the idea of being adventurous, but not the reality. And I rarely make the first move. I know he dislikes this about me, but before him I could happily go without sex for months. Or at all. This is a huge change from the old me and he knows it.

But I guess it’s not enough.

The day is not very memorable from then onwards. After work we cuddle up on the sofa and watch some TV. My mind is elsewhere though, mulling over everything that’s happening. I want him to be happy, and if that means letting go a bit and giving him more freedom, perhaps that’s the right thing to do… After all we did talk about this before, the rational part in me agrees with him.

“I’ve got a few rules,” I interrupt the TV, “Not in our bed. I don’t want to come home and have our bed smell of someone else.”

He nods.“Alright… I don’t think I’d want to bring her here anyway.”

“And you don’t make me feel secondary – ever.”

“I would never. ”

“You wear a condom. And you tell me immediately if it’s more than just sex…”

We’re both quiet for a few minutes. “Does she know that I know?”

“No, our relationship is none of her business,” he says.

I quietly start watching TV again. He puts his arm around me and caresses my hair as I lean it against his shoulder.

“Oh, The Fugitive is on, we haven’t seen that for a while..” His seemingly innocent remark makes me chuckle. They’ve been showing that film every day for a week now.

“You do know you’re the only one for me, right? Who else would put up with me watching the same shitty movies over and over… Who else do I talk to? Thanks for letting me be myself.” He whispers. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. Maybe it’ll work out this way.

While we get ready for bed, his phone buzzes a few more times.

“I said good night already, pesky woman!” He mutters under his breath.

Is the appeal waning already? 23 days to go…

Continue to Not Enough – III

Not Enough – I

Note: This really needs to be read after my previous blog entry 1 August 2006 which serves as a prologue to this true story.

It’s the 1st of August 2012, 25 days left until my husband is going to fuck another woman.

He’s asleep next to me but I am awake, confused. I can’t help but stare into the darkness, my eyes welling up again and again. It feels like I’ve been lying here like this for hours, my head is throbbing as I keep trying to swallow the urge to cry. And the stupid thing is I’m not sure why I’m so upset. I’ve always considered myself to be rational and open minded. I’ve never fully understood the limitations our society imposes on relationships, why one should be monogamous. Why not live for the day, enjoy life and follow your desires?

We’ve had this discussion a number of times, even before we became a couple we spoke about how couples with open relationships or open marriages have it all figured out. Only the lucky few manage to find a partner who is totally compatible in every way even sexually.  And whether or not the relationship survives this incompatibility depends on your priorities I suppose.

Until very recently I would’ve said we’re happily married. Of course we argue – viciously even. With the kind of rage that can only be ignited in people who have felt real passion for one another.  But I wouldn’t have thought this was odd in any way, after all we’ve been married nearly five years. And we’re both extremely stubborn people. Until recently I would’ve said we were content, used to each other’s strange habits, finding common ground often in our varied likes and dislikes. But he’s not content. We’re just not compatible in the bedroom.

The topic has come up so often I’ve lost count. He knew very well what he was getting himself into because I’d told him beforehand about my relationship with my ex. It resembled more of a platonic friendship towards the end. We hardly had sex, we had hardly experimented with anything, I was pretty inexperienced.

Then along comes this passionate man, who knows what he likes and takes it, often. He could probably go for days without food if he was given enough “distraction”. In the beginning of our relationship sparks would fly whenever we spent time together. Our hormones went absolutely wild and we could not keep our hands off each other. Over time this passion ebbed away, but only from my side. I have no doubt that he could still keep up the same level of lust. He wants things in the bedroom that I cannot provide. I can’t be ready and willing all the time. It’s not that I reject him every time he’s in the mood, but I guess he notices that I’m not as much into it as he is.

So when he told me two days ago, that he’s been texting with one of his colleagues – flirting – it wasn’t all that surprising. Apparently she has similar tastes, and she’s in a relationship of her own with a man who’s not all that into sex. Little things like that don’t tend to wind me up. I don’t care if he looks at other women, watches porn or chats to his ex online even. In fact the latter I find highly amusing, how could a former couple be any more different.

I trust him completely; he’s never given me a reason not to. But then he said “You know how you keep telling me I should find someone else to fill the gap in our sex lives… She’s home alone on the 25th…”. I kept quiet but my feelings were written on my face.

Now this early morning on the 1st of August, I feel lost and sad. I don’t quite understand what’s happening.

He’s right; I did tell him! I told him numerous times. Sometimes in anger when he’d get frustrated that I wasn’t receptive to his advances. Sometimes in despair when we’d calmly talk about his needs not being met. I didn’t think you’d actually DO it! I also said I wouldn’t want to know about it!

I should have known. He’s painfully honest; can’t keep a secret. He’s told me over and over that he wouldn’t lie to me or hide anything from me. He’s not like me at all, in comparison I feel like I’m full of secrets. I’m going to need time to digest this information.

It didn’t quite strike me until 3:30 am, when I woke up – eyes wide open . Shit, he’s actually going to go ahead with this!  I wipe my tears away with a corner of the duvet for the umpteenth time. Damn, I’m sure my eyelids will have ballooned up after all these tears. I try and soothe my eyes with the back of my hands, listening to his deep and regular breathing next to me. I settle back into my pillow and try to relax to make the thumping pain in my head go away. I’m exhausted and slowly drift away.

*Beep beep beep beep..*

My eyes open again, the alarm! Already! I look over and he’s still asleep, he has no idea I just spent hours crying over something that was basically my idea. I drag myself out of bed to get ready before it’s his turn. Today is going to be long and tiring, my headache is still here, and as I glance in the mirror – yes indeed. My eyelids are huge, reddish and my eyes are watery. I look quite pathetic indeed.

“Wake up sleepyhead!” He groans and turns away, eyes closed. “Come on wake up!”

I shake him a bit until he wakes. I quickly get off the bed again and walk off to continue getting ready.

“You’ve made my eyes puffy, I look hideous and it’s all your fault!” I shout while brushing my hair. I can hear him getting up and stretching; he walks over and looks at me.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been crying?”  I swallow hard and look at the floor. “You’re jealous!”

I can’t bear to look up, or the waterworks are bound to start again.

“I don’t know” I whisper. He hugs me tightly – unusual considering he can be the grumpiest person on earth in the morning. Not just that, he generally doesn’t tend to be overly affectionate at all.

“You know I only love you! It’s only sex… You were the one who told me!” His voice sounds soft, again unusual.

“I know I did, I’m not quite sure why I’m upset.”

“You are jealous, aren’t you! Look, I love only you. Before you, I didn’t believe in marriage, I never wanted to spend my life with anyone. You’ve changed me and I’m happier for it.”

“I know…” I can feel the tears coming back. He hates it when I cry but I really can’t help it.  “I just… I’m confused. There is just this conflict going on inside of me. I’ve been trying to think all morning. And I can’t quite put my finger on it yet.”

It’s true, I really still don’t quite understand. I truly believed I could be more mature about this. I love him and I want him to be happy. He likes sex, a lot. Why can’t I think of it as a hobby? But a lifetime of cultural brainwashing apparently can’t be undone because at the same time another voice in my head says: You deserve better! This is the beginning of the end.

“Nothing will change between us, I need you to know that! I will always want you.” He’s holding me again and I bury my face in his chest. Oh but it has already changed hasn’t it. I didn’t feel this sad before!

My drive to work that morning isn’t any better. In the car I’m more preoccupied with this inner struggle than paying attention to the traffic. Just another day at the office lies ahead. Luckily a lot of people are on holiday so there are not many around to scrutinise why my face is patchy and bloated today. I just get on with it and ignore my colleagues for the most part.

But I just can’t shake the heavy feeling in my chest, the lump in my throat that just tries to travel upwards with every breath; the burning sensation in my eyes which are about to flood again. I realise that I have felt this before. It reminds me of 6 years ago, when I decided to leave my ex. Even though I didn’t have feelings for him anymore, in fact I was extremely unhappy for the last year or so, I did feel an immense sadness, a sense of loss I guess. The crying had gone on for days and I was petrified of being alone. But I couldn’t be with him anymore either. After dragging out my decision for months, our breakup was final. We didn’t stay in touch.

Is this where we’re headed? Do I need to cry my eyes out now for days, weeks? Will this calm down the battle within me until the only voice left inside my head is the one telling me to walk away? It certainly would be easier to try and cut myself off from all emotions and shut the door on this part of my life. Five years is a good run. A lot of people don’t make it this far. But I’m not ready to be a soon-to-be 27 year old divorcee. I’m not ready to give up.

It’s 5 o’clock and I wonder whether I should go shopping in order to avoid home for as long as I can. In the end I decide against it, I’m exhausted and shopping wouldn’t cheer me up anyway.  As I reach home I try to avoid eye contact.

“Hi, how was your day?” I ask.

“Oh, same old. Some customer giving me grief.”

“Yeah me too.” I quickly walk to the kitchen to cook. At least I can hide in here for a while. I try to listen to the TV to distract me from my thoughts. I just don’t want to cry anymore.

Thank god for the TV. Until I sort out the mess in my head I have nothing to say anyway. His phone is buzzing on the table; he responds to the text. I try and ignore it as I quietly eat my dinner.

We go to bed at about 11, I’m exhausted from all the emotional turmoil inside me and as I drift away I think, 24 days to go…

Continue to Not Enough – II for more.

1 August 2006 (Prologue)

There are four of us in the bed. The room is dark and stuffy. I can hear my boyfriend snoring to my right. He’ll be my ex boyfriend soon, but he doesn’t know it yet. I lie completely still, on my back, willing myself to get comfortable and sleep but there isn’t much space. Honestly it sounds better than it is, four of us, two girls in the centre of the bed, two guys on the outer edges.

We’re in Ladakh, India, on a motorcycle tour with our local club. We got this room together to save money, standard procedure would be that two sleep on the floor in sleeping bags and two take the bed.  But it’s been a long day and we are tired and stubborn. Nobody wanted to back down and take the floor.

My boyfriend and I have been arguing almost continuously for the past few months – not in a normal amusing old couple sort of way. My school friend who is just visiting me in India has been enduring our vicious bickering for two weeks now while she stayed with us in preparation for this trip.

The other guy in the bed is a close friend; member of the same motorcycle club. One of the few people I can openly talk to even though we’ve only known each other a matter of months. They’re having a little holiday fling. No strings attached she says; Use ‘n’ throw as another club member eloquently put it. It annoys me, but I don’t know why. Maybe I’m just jealous that they’re having a bit of fun whereas I’m deeply unhappy in my own relationship? I feel a sting deep inside when she has her hands all over him and yet he’s all too willing…

They’re stirring next to me, she’s pressed up against my left due to the lack of space so even the most subtle movements are obvious to me. How dare they! Making out with others in the same room, the same bed even! I’m still lying on my back, eyes closed, trying to ignore them, but it really pisses me off.

For what seems like an eternity, they’re preoccupied with each other. It’s as if they don’t realise I’m here too, her ass pressed against my hip. I’m so angry it takes all my energy to keep quiet and not put an end to their fun. But at the same time a heat I’ve not felt before is rushes through my body and starts making me slightly sweaty. With it comes a tingly feeling rising up from between my thighs into the lower part of my stomach. It’s alien to me, I squeeze my eyes shut while trying to make sense of this inner conflict.

Suddenly I feel a soft caress on my left hand which is just resting on my pillow. Butterflies swarm inside of me; my heart skips a few beats and I try not to gasp for air. I run my fingers over the hand that has come creeping closer across the pillow. Our fingers entangled, playing, teasing. This excitement, it’s novel and unexpected. My head swims as the anger I had felt only moments earlier washes off me. It’s hard not to draw attention to myself; restless, flushed and struggling for composure. I only hope my soon-to-be-ex doesn’t wake up…

She moves next to me roughly at arm level, but it’s too dark to know for sure. Almost immediately the invading hand freezes. The pieces fall into place.  If both her hands are on him, then this spare hand must belong to…

I stroke his hand with my index finger, still overcome, yet eager for more. A smile playing on my lips as he’s encouraged to continue our little game. He reaches closer, his fingers now tracing my features one by one. I suppress a moan as he travels further down. His fingertips softly running along my chin and neck, down over my shoulder. He hesitates a little but continues down and I don’t stop him as he tenderly traces the outline of my breasts through the blanket at first before making his way under cover.

Through the deafening rush of lust coursing through my head I can just barely make out my boyfriend’s regular snore. Even my girlfriend seems to have relaxed and settled into sleep. For a fleeting moment we’re alone in the room. His hand moves up again to my face, I softly steal a kiss on his knuckles and drift off into a blissful sleep.


“What was that…?” His eyebrows bunched together in an inquisitive frown; last night feels like a bizarre dream. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

I can’t look at him, so I keep staring at my plate of food. I knew this conversation would happen sooner or later, but we hadn’t had a moment alone so far. Honestly, I don’t know what to say, I have no clue what came over me last night! It’s awkward. We’ve always been honest and I’ve told him things I haven’t even told my boyfriend. But now… I try to shake the lingering emotions of last night and finally look up at him.

“I don’t know, you both were enjoying yourselves, I was awake and it was really pissing me off, and your hand … “ I look down again and take a deep breath. God I hope the others don’t come back to overhear this conversation. “… I felt angry but also turned on, and your hand. It felt nice. So I played with it.” Finally, I’ve said it. I’ve admitted my confusion; we’re back to being honest. I’ve never before noticed the depth in his dark brown eyes. I could drown in your eyes. The thought unsettles me more and I force myself to look away again.

He remains silent, I guess he’s as confused as I am. I recall a conversation we had two days ago, when I was riding pillion on his motorcycle for a few hours and my boyfriend was carrying my school friend on his for a while. I had told him my decision, how unhappy I was with my boyfriend. And that I might as well move back to Europe after breaking up with him. He seemed shocked but I couldn’t put my finger on why.  I tried to change the topic by asking him about his holiday fling with my school friend. “Oh you know, it’s ok.” He had shrugged. “But I’m not that attracted to her. We have nothing to say to each other. I don’t care that much for looks, but attraction can only exist where there is an emotional connection, you know. This… it’s just sex.” – Surely not? We talk for hours, laugh at the same jokes, pour our hearts out to each other. Was he trying to say he’s attracted to me that day on the bike?

My thoughts are interrupted by the return of my (soon-to-be-ex) boyfriend and a few more club members who also settle down at the table for lunch. More food is ordered and soon everyone is engaged in all sorts of conversations. Some of the guys at my table can’t help but stare as another group of tourists comes into the restaurant and sits down at the other end of the room. There’s a girl with them; pretty, flawless olive skin, big eyes, prefect figure, wavy dark brown hair framing her perfect features.

“Wow” I my friend’s voice next to me “She’s hot. That has got to be the second most pretty face I’ve ever seen!”  Second? It’s as if he can feel my quizzing look in the back of his head, he turns to me. Nobody is paying attention, they’re all looking at the girl across the room.

“You’re the first.” He whispers at me. The strange feeling from last night makes a comeback as I nearly drop the forkful of food I’m holding and stare at him in shock. Shit! He’s got to be kidding!


“What are you thinking about?” His soft, kind voice brings me back to reality, away from my daydream.

“Oh I was thinking about you and your grabby hands. And the girl at the restaurant.” I smile at him, drinking in the longing and slightly worried look in his eyes. How had I overlooked this? How had I not melted away every time I saw his handsome face until a few days ago? He is perfect, masculine and strong but with a certain sadness and insecurity in him which I now find impossible to resist.

“Promise me something..” His voice sounds small.


“Don’t ever leave me. Since my ex I haven’t let anyone close to me. These few days have been amazing and it would kill me if I lost this. If I lost you.”

There is so much pain in his eyes I can hardly take it.

“Never” I whisper as I kiss him. “I’ve been telling myself not to say this to you yet, that it might scare you away because it’s too soon. But… “ I kiss him again, bursting with the overwhelming urge to take all his worries away. “I love you.”

He stops kissing me and for a moment I panic. Oh no, I’ve said it too soon! This sort of stuff freaks men out!

But instead of running he pushes me onto my back and gets on top of me, pressing hungrily against me. “I love you too.” His kiss is deep and full of passion and despair at the same time. It brings tears to my eyes as I’m overwhelmed by his need for me. I run my hands over his side and he starts to tremble at my touch. He shudders as I gently brush over his growing erection.

“Ohh” his groan is suppressed but I worry that we’ll be overheard. My (ex) boyfriend  and school friend are in the other room watching TV. We had retreated claiming to be tired. I don’t think they have any idea…

“Love me!” I gasp in his ear. “Please I want to feel you everywhere!”

“Not yet, not here. Our first time will be back home.” It feels like he’s torturing me, but he’s right. What we’re doing is so wrong although it doesn’t feel it. At the very least we should wait a little before making love. And although the fate of our breakup had been sealed for a few days now, I have yet to actually tell my (ex) boyfriend…

While I pleasure him with my hand, he is quivering above me, running his left hand deliciously over my body, discovering places he hasn’t ventured before. He stiffens, muffling his voice in the pillow as he comes, hard, in my hand. I love the effect I seem to have on him. I feel satiated myself, lying back in the bed, waiting for him to clean up and return to me.

He lies down in my arms, his head on my chest and I hold him tight while softly playing with his hair. There is nowhere I’d rather be right now.

“Can I ask you something?” His voice is even more tense and uncertain.


“I mean, not now or anything, but I need to know.”

I’m intrigued and nervous.

“Would you marry me… You know, eventually?”

“Yes,” I reply in an instant. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. He is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. “Tomorrow if you want to.”

A sigh of relief escapes his mouth as he puts his arm around me as if to pull himself deeper into my embrace.

“I always have trouble sleeping but in your arms I can relax. I’m so glad we found each other.” Indeed, we’re just two desperate people who were lucky to find each other.

His eyes close and within minutes he drifts off. Carefully I get my arm out from underneath him so we’re not discovered like this. I curl up in the sleeping bag on the floor and fall asleep as well, listening to the reassuring sound of his deep, regular breathing coming from the bed. I can hardly believe he’s mine.

This was the introduction to a bigger story I’m working on. Please continue to Not Enough – I

Kinks & Fantasies 1 – Virgins

Over the years I have become aware of certain interests I have which may be unusual. Of course he internet is a great resource for seeking out like minded individuals (or discovering new things you couldn’t have dreamt up yourself)! But the fact remains that some of the things I think or dream about are not very well publicised at all. I would like to change this.This post is the first in a series where I touch upon my deepest darkest fantasies…

It seems to be fairly common place for men to prefer a virgin as a partner. I’m assuming the main draw is that the girl would be considered innocent and pure. Even if one takes out the obvious religious aspect of this preference, it seems to be quite a common fantasy still.

But the same cannot be said for women who fantasize about having sex with a male virgin. In fact I have found comparatively little mention of this online, with most women having opposing preferences (a more experienced partner who could provide more satisfaction in the sack).

That however doesn’t change that I have a great fascination with this topic and would very much love to be a man’s first sexual partner. Unfortunately even my first time wasn’t with another virgin so I haven’t had the pleasure. – In fact I am so fascinated by it that this topic will feature heavily in the book I’m currently writing.

The appeal for me is probably mostly that I could take the dominant role in the bedroom whereas in the past I’ve always been the least experienced and shy as a result. I would be the knowledgeable mentor or teacher. I could make someone feel different (hopefully better) than he has ever felt before. Also, I have a real soft spot for men with a shy side to them.

Or as some people might think, I might be just a devious bitch who wants to corrupt the innocence of as many men as possible. But I’d never say that about myself, obviously.

I would love to connect with other women who feel this way too. If you can relate, why not leave a comment?