Hanging on your every word.

Last night was difficult.  I stayed alone for most of the time; occasionally irritated that two men were texting me and my actual boyfriend wanted to sit and to tell me how beautiful he thought I looked.  I should have been happy, but I wasn’t because I couldn’t believe it or feel it.  Having multiple sexual partners does not automatically deliver self-confidence.

I wanted to sit alone, to be alone.  I didn’t want to have my nipples constantly rubbed and pinched.  I didn’t want my boyfriend pushing his hands between my thighs and stroking my pussy, hoping for a reaction, hoping to feel my dampening. I felt dry.   I didn’t believe that my body wanted to unfurl and open up to anyone.

I know that I can’t keep referring to the different men in my life as ‘this one’ or ‘that one’ and so I shall give them names for you, my dear reader and my only confidante; I hope somebody reading can know how I feel.  My boyfriend, as close to a husband and family that I have, and the father to my children, I shall call Daniel.  My lovers are currently only two; one of whom has no idea that Dan and I have anything but friendship, the same applies to the second. although lover 1 has been in my bed for over ten years and lover 2 has only been for three years.  I shall call them Oscar and Jude.  Jude the Insecure; a literary reference which I cannot escape.  Recently there have also been Jon and Philip, but they became too much work; demanding me so much and I couldn’t afford to keep seeing them; dating is expensive and unless the man is happy to pay, I am genuinely out of my depth.  I don’t know how to become a gold-digger; I’m certain that it’s a very useful asset; it seems inaccessible to me, even though, despite everything I am confessing here to you, I am an attractive-seeming package.

I am truthfully aware that I am above average in many ways and below average at a huge bundle of attributes which I think most people would find important, but that is why I keep myself hidden; one of the reasons I deceive.  I used to model, hence my heavily disguised photographs with much make-up and fake hair.  I know I am fairly attractive but I don’t want to be recognised.  I’m tall and skinny with a more youthful look than my late nights of gin and dope would predict.  I have traveled and I have worked and I have been to university and I have read War and Peace; I seem like an okay catch, but I’m not and I don’t know if I will ever be truly loved.

Dan lusts after me all of the time. Last night he was running his hands all over me and telling me that he wants me forever but that he wants to see me being ‘a dirty girl with lots of other men’.  I am trying to please him.  I had told Oscar that I was busy but he continued to text, ending the evening by wishing me sweet dreams about his making me pregnant; about wanting to live with me and I replied that I loved him because I didn’t know what else to say and because there , was no possibility of it happening because, not only do I entertain the idea and realise that I don’t feel excited by it, but because I want to be with Dan.  Unfortunately, Dan cannot be everything to me and that is where my lovers come in; some men must give out a pheromone which makes me want to submit to them; to be taken, to be debased, to have them stretching my anus and filming the hot red inside, my deepthroating them and gagging on the varied shaped genitalia being pushed into my mouth.  Other men bring a nurturing feeling  out in me; they suckle at my breasts as I stroke their hair and once this sexual dynamic is set, I cannot change it. Jude is unusual in that I want to submit to him and yet I also want to hold him close and rock him as he breathes in my comforting smells; he is my parent and my child and I have never felt this confusion over one man before and I know that the child part of this dynamic is why I would never want to leave Dan for Jude.



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