The complicated diary of my passion

I have never understood how to stop a friendship somehow becoming physical.  I don’t label sex and love differently; but I know that I don’t have the usual outlook; that is the reason why I cannot reveal my identity; two men believe themselves to be my serious, long term partner, whilst a third man actually is and we have two children together.  A few months ago, two other men were also each certain that they were in exclusive, loving relationships with me and it was simply too exhausting.

Some days I didn’t know beside which man I was waking up; I would use the feel of his hair or the identity of the bed linen to let me know with whom I lay.  It is a beautiful closeness between the covers and with intimate touching; the grown-up equivalent of a sleep-over party at which there’s whispering and torch light.  And if I am being told that I am beautiful, that I am adored and wanted is intoxicating too.  I have felt this way for as long as I can remember and, in the moments when we are together, I genuinely do feel my version of love and I hold these lovers very dear to me.  So afraid am I of hurting one of them and of the explosive reactions it would provoke that I am so careful of my anonymity.

One man, my probably ill-suited, long term man knows.  He does far more than know; he encourages me. He wants me to have lovers.  This isn’t in the sense of a man running from his gender identity or sexuality and I personally cannot understand his perspective; he is not a cuckold, not in the traditional sense, although their are nuances to this of course.  He identified the sexual preference himself as hotwiving; deriving extreme pleasure by sharing their lover, of whom they are very proud sexually and whom they love to the point of adoration.  He wanted other men to share in me and so I tried.

 

I didn’t want to get to know the other men at first; I would go onto dating websites and arrange to meet someone and I could never bring myself to tell them that I just wanted casual sex or that I didn’t want a relationship; I was too concerned by their liking me and approving of me that I portrayed myself in the opposite light.  Each time I would say ‘this time I’ll be honest’ and I could never do it.

This afternoon, as my main man was nestled licking inside my panties as I lay in bed, he was asking me for details of how my previous night, with a different man, one who can hardly ever resist anal sex and has introduced me to watersports, or piss play as it seems to be called when he asked if we could try it and I went straight to google.  He wished that he was licking me with another man’s cum running out of me, both pussy and ass; maybe several men’s. Whilst he was occupied with my hard and wet clitoris and whilst he pushed fingers into my pussy and ass, I sent a quick text to my most insecure man to let him think it was time I was spending thinking of him and I sent my other man a photo I had saved so that I didn’t get anything from them whilst I was busy.

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