Last night we watched Match Point, a Woody Allen movie. It wasn’t bad and the ending surprised us both, which rarely happens. The main character cheats on his wife with another woman. He gets other woman pregnant and she wants him to leave his wife. Long story short, he shoots the other woman and her neighbor and gets away with it. Happily ever after. The end.

The entire time we’re watching it I am mentally going back and forth between full on panic mode and full on sigh-of-relief mode. Full on panic because, well, I’m engaged and God knows the thought of being cheated on is my absolute worst fear. Who wants to be made a fool of in such a way? Who needs the pain, the betrayal, and someone making a mockery of everything one holds dear? Not me, thank you. I could have started a fight in an attempt to gain reassurance but that’s not who we are. That’s what the old me would have done.

Mentally, in walks the new me. The full on sigh-of-relief mode sets in as I listen to the comments my Knight makes about the movie and the actions of the main character. this is the man I know and love. The man who would do anything to protect me, the man who stays up late just to make sure I’m alright just because I’m too restless to sleep. I snuggled closer to him and enjoyed the comfort that come from knowing him as well as I do.

Fast forward to this afternoon.

I stumbled across a link to a blog that is written by a man. A married man. In the first post I read he talked about getting rid of his wife. In another post I read he talked about asking the store for about their return policy for wives. In the third post I read, he detailed his fly-in fuck fest at a hotel with a woman who is not his wife. I determined as much before he even admitted it because, well…he wasn’t running his lover into the ground.

Now I’m sitting here completely and utterly forlorn. Are men really like this? Oh, I know there are married women who run their husbands into the ground, married women who have lovers. I feel just as strongly about women cheating as I do about men cheating. So I guess the real question is are people really like this?

I mean, if you don’t love someone enough to be faithful and take your marriage vows seriously, why get married? Why not fuck freely with no strings? (This is not intended for those who have an open marriage. That’s between them, that’s what they have decided. I’m talking about marriages where one or the other believes it is a monogamous situation.) Why promise to forsake all others if you know damn good and well you won’t?

I’m all for spicing things up. Swing if you want. Go to sex clubs together or bring in a million different partners. Whatever it takes to keep the love alive, so long as you’re honest with one another. Why hurt someone by going behind their back and making a mockery of everything you’ve worked so hard for?

That’s where I’m lucky, I guess. The Knight loves me. He says it and she shows it. What’s more, he respects me and what we have together. I know if the time ever came that he wanted someone else, he would walk away first- before ever touching them or crossing the line. It’s not an entirely pleasant thought, granted, but it’s comforting to know that he would never do to me what some other individuals have done (and are doing!) to their spouses.

Thank God for men like The Knight.

{P.S. I really was tempted to link to the blog, but I decided against it. The husband that is so desperate has plenty of problems without my rant of intolerance being added to them. Instead, I choose the high road, my friends…I choose the high road.}

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Yesterday was a good day. A slow and lazy kind of day that included lots of flirting and conversations full of suggestions. As the day came to an end we hadn’t made good on a single promise of any sort of sexual debauchery. It was fine by me because the closeness was there regardless and that’s what matters the most to me. Sex is good, love and intimacy are so much better.

It crossed my mind that I could touch myself. Then it crossed my mind that it would just prove frustrating and unsatisfying because I can’t climax without him. So I laid there, listening and wondering. I knew I would blog about it today and I knew that if anyone felt like sharing their sex secrets it would be those that read sex blogs.

How do you get off?

For me, it’s with him. With his cock buried inside my cunt or in my ass. Though they’re not as easy, even giving him oral pleasure can make me come. Sometimes it’s with his fingers on my clit and his mouth on my breasts. Other times it’s right after we’ve made love and all it takes is his mouth on my nipples or his fingers tugging at them.

Before The Knight, well…that’s a whole different story. A story that revolves around nightly masturbation, usually with my own hands and nothing more. Sometimes it was a dvd from my (now owned by someone else) porn collection and one of my vibrators. More than once it was my double-ended dildo and some lubricant, to see if I could use the dildo to fuck my ass and my cunt simulateously. I can. And I did.

When I was younger I was more adventurous. Cucumbers, candles, even the occasional kitchen utensil found it’s way into my bedroom. I would find an empty parking space at the back of the parking lot then find release as my fingers stroked my throbbing clit. After an interesting conversation with an old friend I even tried her suggestion of rubbing myself against the arm of the sofa and I found that she was right- you really could find the right mix of clitoral pressure and have your hands free to play with your nipples!

Now it’s different. I can’t have an orgasm just by touching myself. Unless he’s laying beside me, talking to me or sucking my nipples. Never in a million years could I have imagined a time when masturbation was next to impossible. It doesn’t bother me though because orgasms are so much more delightful when he’s involved.

So tell me- how do you get off?

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That’s what I have with this blog. I love it. I hate it. Other days I don’t know how I feel. Right now, right this second, I hate it. With a passion.

Why?

Apparently every flippin’ link in my side bar- specifically the page titled ‘My Writing’- is linked to the wrong place. THE WRONG PLACE!!! Right now I don’t have the time or the patience to waste sorting it all out.

This is what I get for being so determined to get my database back. This is what happens when you’re as anal retentive as I happen to be. God, I need a code monkey!

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He called in sick today. I crawled back into bed after The Guys left for school and snuggled up against him. He turned and wrapped me in his arms, asking in his half awake state if I was ok. I told him I was then proceeded to drift off to sleep thinking about how much I love lazy sick days with my Knight.

It couldn’t have been more than a half an hour later when I woke up, completely wet and turned on. It was the dream I had. The same one I’ve been having lately about the two of us waking up together and proceeding to have incredibly erotic anal sex. I pressed against him and I felt his cock harden against my ass. He snored softly so I took the opportunity to feel him up.

I stroked his cock gently, barely touching him with my fingertips. He moaned and pressed himself into my hand. I held him firmly, wanting more than anything to cover him with my mouth. I knew it would be ok to do it but I didn’t. He was sleeping and oral sex always awakens him.

Besides, last night he’d decided at the last minute to fill me with his seed. I wanted to taste him, to finish him with my mouth but when he turned me over and told me he wanted to be inside of me, well- who am I to argue? The man knows what he wants.

So I let him sleep. I wrapped my hand around his shaft one last time then released him. Later I’ll entice him into my ass and I’ll revel in the sensation of him fucking me mercilessly. I’ll delight in my libido being shifted back into high gear.

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I signed in to add links to my blogroll. Really, that’s all I was doing on here. That’s when I noticed a new entry under ‘Incoming Links’ and I got sidetracked. I couldn’t help but check it out. It is Fleshbot, after all. {I’ve heard of them and I know for whatever reason it’s a big deal to sex bloggers. I had to check it out.}

Thanks to Fleshbot, I’m a MILF. Funny, until a couple of months ago I didn’t even know what that meant. Now they have called me one. The Knight likes it. And he finds it amusing that I am blushing profusely. I guess it can’t be a bad thing, right?

I guess I’ll have to thank Emily the next time I see her.

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In the side bar you will see that I’ve added some photos. No, the models aren’t me, and there is no identifying information. It was simply a way to share the wedding details as they come together with those who have asked. Feel free to email me or leave a comment to let me know what you think.

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There will be good days. There will be bad days. Sadly enough, the bad days seem to find me when I least expect them. When they do I long to curl up and let the world pass me by. I wish for a box of Kleenex and a time machine so that I can go back. Maybe it’s a day, maybe it’s an hour, sometimes it’s mere seconds that I wish I could erase. Words I wish I could take back, emotional gut reactions that I wish I could keep from having. Why is it the things that we wish we could undo the most are the things that we wish the most had never ever come to pass? I suppose it really is true that we all fall down.

I’m pushing thirty and I’m feeling my age for the first time ever. With daughters that are starting to look at boys as something other than minor annoyances, parents that are aging, a wedding that refuses to plan itself, and a boat load of personal issues, I feel my age. How it saddens me to admit it. As we sat at dinner the other night, next to a group of women in the midst of a birthday celebration, I watched them and was suddenly on the verge of tears. As we held one another before bed, I confessed my fear to The Knight. I don’t want to be fifty and celebrate my birthdays alone. I don’t want to go through life without people to share life’s little celebrations with. So this is what happens, this is how it feels to be pushing thirty.

Every cloud has a silver lining, though.

I’m pushing thirty and I make mistake after mistake. I can admit it freely. I can also change the outcome of some of those mistakes. I can do it by learning from them. Sometimes it takes a day, other times it takes almost a year, but I always learn something from each and every one.

As I listened to the words coming from his heart, I wished I could tell him how much I realized right there in that moment. I wished I could rewind the seconds before. Word after word pierced my heart and internally I felt myself begin to fall to my knees. My inner child stood strong, with her head held high and her fists clenched. With tears streaming, we took our turns to let it all out. The light went on, blinding me for just an instant before it shed light on all the things that had been hiding in the shadows.

After all the falling down, here I sit pushing thirty, suddenly safe and secure in so many ways. I’ll still make mistakes but they won’t be as bad as the ones that came before. Why? I’m different now. I know things now that I didn’t know then. Instead of pushing him away and claiming self preservation, I’ll hold tight to his hand, maybe even ask him to hold me close.

After years of falling down, here I sit- pushing thirty and coming into my own.

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We spent a wonderful weekend with The Girls. Even the turn over went smoothly. I guess having The Knight with me when I met The Ex made a difference. Maybe we should have been going together all along to avoid the drama that usually happens at the pick ups and drop offs. Who knows. All I know is that it was far less stressful on *everyone* this time.

I hate the thought of them going back. My youngest has already asked if she has to. How do I answer her? I don’t want to make their lives more difficult when they’re with their father. At the same time, they deserve to know the truth, to know that it is not my fault that we’re in the middle of a battle. I just don’t know how to go about it.

As for The Knight and I…

It was definitely a weekend where we were both “on” in a major way. It wasn’t just the touching and loving, because even if those things hadn’t happened we would have still had a wonderful weekend. For me it was the way he took control of the situation with the girls and the turn over. He said he would go, he went. He said he wanted The Girls here, he showed as much. His actions matched his words, but I think they always have and I’ve just now noticed. {Don’t underestimate the effect that a simple act of control can have on a D/s relationship, by the way. It’s a big deal, a major thing. Especially when I’ve been feeling as if I have far too much control, one simple act can shift perspectives and attitudes in a huge way in a very short amount of time- and it certainly has for us.}

Right now, this very second, I feel so in touch. So connected. There’s a part of me that always does, but since the other night…more so. Since Christmas Eve, the day he proposed, it’s been there. It’s been deeper. More meaningful. In so many ways I’ve been more secure than I’ve ever been. Now, it’s been kicked up a notch. Maybe it makes no sense to anyone else, but it makes perfect sense to me. I think I’ve finally realized how good communication can be.

With my babies, my Knight, it’s better than better…it’s all right.

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Why is it that the most important aspect of relationships is the hardest? You would think it would be simple, something that is so necessary. Yet it isn’t. With each new level a relationship reaches, the harder it is. Add into the mix things like crappy childhoods, financial stress, and children and suddenly the most critical aspect is almost impossible to focus on.

That’s what happened last night. A break down in communication. Real life has a way of rearing its ugly head when you least expect it. His response? Confusion and the cold shoulder. Yet he revealed something to me that I didn’t know he felt, sure, it wasn’t intentional and he didn’t realize the impact it would have on me, but it hit me hard.

He said that with us, things are amazing 90% of the time.

Wow.

All this time I’ve been worried and wondering. All this time that I’ve been thinking that he’s miserable with X and Y. The reality is that he isn’t and he doesn’t see things the way I do. I’m my own worst critic and (unfortunately) it also makes me our worst enemy.

Not cool. Not cool at all.

By the time we went to bed last night we had actually talked to one another. About sex, about our relationship, about the future. In a short amount of time we covered a lot territory that we needed to cover. Well, that I needed to cover. We’ve decided on some changes, things to try, but instead of walking away we’re working it out.

As our heads hit the pillows and the laughter subsided there were words of love and tenderness. All the things I was missing, the things I needed. If only I’d known sooner the wonderful things that could happen with a little communication.

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I found it and I like it. So I’m sharing it.

The power of submission lies not in the ability to kneel before another, to give over one’s body or the wearing of a collar. The power of submission can be found only in the heart of one who gives her love to another freely, knowing what joy and pain will come from it.
~Unknown Author~

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