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I’ve been living my sexual life quietly in the period I’ve been absent from the blog – if memory (depressingly) serves me correctly, I haven’t had sex this year.
The Drummer’s libido has been increasing and he’s discussed that he’s here and available when I’m ready again. While we aren’t physical with each other at the moment, we’re close in other ways and I’m confident we’ll sort out an accommodating medium in our sex drives and interests at some stage. It’s hard to admit defeat at times that we just aren’t a match sexually, much as we try until he’s anxious about me not enjoying myself, and I feel guilty that I reach the point of discomfort and sometimes pain before stopping things if his orgasm is elusive. The oddity of our situation is that we’re struggling to find others to misbehave with when we could be having sex with each other, however, the lure of new experiences and desire to experiment with others can never be underestimated. And he’s just not into being cuffed and spanked and those little urges pop into my mind on a regular basis 
.
I met someone and here is my confession that I have turned away an attractive, bisexual man in an open relationship. Maybe I should be spanking some sanity into myself. He lives near the city and beyond my geographical boundaries but we got on well and met within a week of first making contact. He is the stereotypical tall, skinny, spectacle-wearing computer programmer type who doesn’t go for whatever demographic I fit in (rapidly-ageing, slightly alternative crazy cat lady) but we liked each other and spent an afternoon having lunch and wandering the local beach. We both had attacks of shyness at the end but kissed goodbye a few times before parting and promising to catch up in the near future.
Fast-forward six weeks and we still haven’t caught up. He had plans, he got sick, I got my period, he — I don’t know as I can’t remember, I think he left my last invitation unanswered for a couple of days so I made other plans. I ended up saying it was easier to give up before we start and he sounded disappointed but accepting. I’m not one for back-tracking and I’m also not one for being able to keep irregular liaisons going so I’m going to reluctantly leave him be.
I met someone else the other night who was a leftover from my last campaign. I sent him away for crimes against grammar* and for telling tales that he’s had fewer than a handful of sexual partners (he’s in his early thirties and I was in the jaded final days of being online so everything I read seemed to be gold-coated bullshit).
He kept returning, like a cute puppy that keeps jumping up your leg for attention when you’re telling it go away but really smiling on the inside. While his written expression hasn’t improved, I ended up agreeing to meet him as I picked up a few hints of guilelessness and honesty that piqued my curiosity. He’s lovely, he’s more articulate in person than anticipated, he’s as honest and unsullied as he said and, oh, he’s just re-uniting with his girlfriend but doesn’t think it will work out so he is in a fragile emotional state and not sure what he wants.
I don’t think he’s acting out of malice in meeting women (his on-again girlfriend didn’t receive the marriage proposal she set a deadline on, and publicly and promptly took up with his mate for six months) but I don’t think he’s going to be stable enough to corrupt, as much as I’d like to. He’s never had sex in a car and I doubt he’s ever had a tongue in his arse – is there anyone more qualified than me to give him some new experiences? I think not. And what if he’s never been spanked? However, if I can get myself back on topic, I believe he should sort out his personal situation before seeking new adventures and not the other way around.
We parted amiably and he has since thanked me for the chat. Appreciation isn’t an orgasm but it felt good in its own way.
* I rest my case:
The Drummer placed a profile on the sleazy free web site about six weeks ago as he was interested in meeting a casual someone. I didn’t think much of it until an interesting moment at home when my profile popped up as a match for his, however, I managed to refrain from singing the old song about pina coladas and getting caught in the rain.
On occasion he’s called me to his computer to look at a profile or attempt to decipher the subtexts in some women’s messages. I hadn’t trawled any women’s profiles for ideas when I wrote my own so reading others’ self-portrayals has been fascinating. A fair proportion have done the rounds like me and become jaded as their final paragraphs are “don’t” lists of not wanting to be played, not being treated as late-night semen receptacles, not wanting nude photos prior to meeting, not engaging in anal sex on the first meeting – we’ve all encountered the same situations judging from the knowing smile on my face when I read some of their complaints. I removed most of those ‘rules’ from my profile to see if the idiots would be less subtle and more easily identified, but perhaps my tactic was wrong and I needed to spell things out bluntly.
The Drummer received some defensive feedback for writing in his profile that he wanted to see women making more of an effort to contact men. Others contacted him solely to hurl abuse his way as they assumed he was lying about his open relationship status (I don’t understand this behaviour; if you don’t like what someone writes, why not leave them be instead of going to the effort of contacting and abusing them?). I watched one discussion unfold and was shocked at a woman’s tirade because he was already in a relationship. I was tempted to invite her to call me as a reference check but The Drummer sensibly shut down the conversation.
The Drummer was in contact with one woman and they had exchanged e-mails for some time but hadn’t progressed towards meeting. It was hard to tell him that she was either not ready or was never intending to meet when he had given her his phone number and she hadn’t reciprocated. She was still appearing online but had made no effort to chat again so her interest had waned or perhaps she was an attention seeker. Personally, I saw a picture of her bare breasts on a large monitor and would be intimidated at the prospect of climbing among those mountains.
He has suspended his account to try another site but one final woman’s comments have resonated in my mind. She said he would have to make more of an effort to win her over; quite rightly he gave up and walked away. My inner feminist screamed that one of the trade-offs of equality is that we can’t sit in ivory towers waiting for gallant lads to take all the risks and sweep us off our feet (and especially so for casual encounters).
I know my own tough times when I’ve looked for someone but it’s been eye-opening to witness that the grass isn’t necessarily green on either side of the fence.
The problem with posting in close to real-time is there’s no backlog of material to fill the gaps when nothing’s happening.
And nothing’s happening. The Country Boy just postponed our third meeting plan in a row and I’m feeling a tad frustrated. He has been ill and working seven days a week so I’ve been Ms Understanding and Patient for a fortnight, but it’s a not a long-term part I’d like to play because the forced smile is starting to freeze on my face. My period is also due in the next few days and the window of opportunity will be closing until next week (I’m trying to be patient).
There have been some stirrings of sexual activity on the home front. The Drummer came to me a couple of weeks ago with a hard cock in hand, saying I should take my medicine. Some smutty lines and roleplays make perfect sense if each person is attuned and in the mood, but I was sitting on the couch reading a book and not contemplating men with hard cocks in their hands. I felt lazy just turning my head, opening my mouth and rubbing his perineum area but the fantasy in his head involved me taking my medicine, and a mouthful I took. I pondered the surreal moment, chugged down some water, smiled and returned to my book.
Last weekend something similar happened when he was at the dining table but I moved at the last moment so his semen spurted from my shoulder down to my mid-thigh. Rather than attempt to clean the mess on my gym gear, I elected to change clothes before heading out the door. He said to make it known when I was in the mood for reciprocation, but I’m dog tired by early evening at the moment and my libido is spending more time in the shallows than at its peak. I know that sounds inconsistent to my comments about being frustrated in being able to see the Country Boy, but in the situation with him there’s also the anticipation and risk and break-from-routine novelty that I miss and crave.
Mr OMG has been back in touch and he might have a week of home-alone time later in the month. I’ve nominated myself to help take care of him so I’ll see if he comes good on some of the words he sent that left nothing to the imagination.
Has anyone ever received a mis-fired sexual text message? I received one from Young Lion recently, telling me the voice recording I’d left him was giving him an erection while he was on the train. Heh? I wrote back and said that perhaps his message wasn’t intended for me (we haven’t communicated for months). He back-pedalled instantly and said it was me he was referring to, which wasn’t correct as I haven’t made a voice recording for anyone, ever. I had a laugh about probably killing his public transport-worthy erection with my insistence that he didn’t need to bullshit.
I have to be careful at the moment as ArmyDude and the Country Boy have the same first name. The former is receiving advice on a professional issue and the latter is the recipient of unadulterated smut — a lapse in attention could result in an awkward situation; sending policy guidance to the Country Boy would be an explainable mistake but sending unadulterated smut to ArmyDude could open a whole can of worms. Don’t drink and text and don’t be sleepy and text.
Mr OMG and I have fallen into a strange but comforting routine over the last six months. He storms in from wherever he’s been, I respond with cautious joy, he occasionally sends pictures, I occasionally reciprocate and he suggests a meeting driven by the state of the hard-on in his pants. I confirm and he either disappears without notice or remembers to postpone, but it doesn’t hurt as I knew it was going to happen. We lay low for a few weeks and start the cycle again.
I have accumulated quite a collection of pictures and the resilience of mind that we may never see each other except for chance sightings at the local shops. He did offer to exit my life but we have developed a tolerable pattern of behaviour and an amiable companionship of sorts. If I weren’t so awful at being friends with exes, I’d almost call it friendship.
Last weekend we exchanged a few messages in the morning and by late afternoon his libido was rampaging. He offered to meet at the foreshore in the early evening and this time I suspected he was prepared to follow through. I was sitting at home with unwashed hair, no make-up and wearing an old tracksuit and needed to make a decision quickly. I gained the Drummer’s blessing to dash out for an hour or so and responded to Mr OMG that I’d have a shower and hit the road.
Between putting the phone down and heading to the bathroom, The Drummer intercepted me with his cock in his hand and the comment that he wanted a bit of what Mr OMG was going to have. I stopped, and was caught in a never-never land of indecision and guilt. The Drummer and I have had limited sexual contact over the last 12 months and he consents to my other life so who am I to rush out without paying attention to his wants? Then again, his lust was probably only sparked by the knowledge I was heading out to meet someone else and he has all the other time in the world to be physical with me. But I haven’t approached him for a long time though and should be welcoming of his advance regardless of its timing, but I’d made a commitment to Mr OMG.
Fuck. You can read all the self-help books and blogs in the world about non-monogomous relationships but there are some crossroads that don’t come with roadmaps.
The Drummer pulled my pants down and pushed my upper half over the bed. Decision made on my behalf. His cock was becoming harder but my body wasn’t ready and I experienced jabbing pains until my body adapted to penetration. After more thrusting he felt good inside me but the clock in the back of my mind was ticking that I had about 10 minutes until I’d be late for the agreed time with Mr OMG. The Drummer is on medication that can delay orgasm and I suspected with the short lead-in that I’d possibly be leaving him dry.
Fuck.
The Drummer removed my pants, flipped me around on my back and got on board. We kissed and I wrapped my arms around my back and the mis-fire of our last attempt at sex a few weeks ago was fading from memory. However, his thrusting started falling into the mechanical monotone that signals he’s a long way off coming and I broke the pattern and said I should have a shower and go.
The Drummer was understanding and said that at the start he was into it but not fully into it, if I knew what he meant. I didn’t. Maybe he was acting on the first impulse that hadn’t fully developed into serious intent; he can come in a reasonable time if he’s had a longer build-up and this was a spur of the moment action.
I showered quickly and made myself even later by waiting in the wrong car park for Mr OMG. We worked out the geographical confusion and he pulled up alongside me and got out of his car. Darkness had almost fallen and it was difficult to see him in detail after a year’s absence. We hugged and our smiles matched in breadth and he was skinnier than the last time I had my arms around him.
And I’m going to have to continue this another time as I’m away from the computer for a few days. I’ll be back.
Sorry, I’m continuing this deviation from my sexual diary again, but I need to tidy some loose ends before returning to the good stuff.
Self
I mentioned at Christmas that my mother was ill. All is good now and she seems healthier than prior to her illness.
I haven’t mentioned The Drummer of late, firstly because there’s been no sexual activity with him for a long time, and because I am caught in a bind about how much to write. I need to express something as my partner is part of the whole story and enables me the freedom to live this part of my life, but on the other hand he’s entitled to his privacy and I find it hard to gauge how much to tell.
We have been working through some bigger-picture issues regarding our relationship and are coming from different perspectives: he’s simpler and more open in his desire to stay together for the longer term, but I look at the last couple of years and have wondered many times if the now is still what I want in the future because we aren’t moving positively from a stagnant situation. Also, I need to seek help with how to manage living with his mental illness more effectively. I don’t know if I help or hinder his (lack of) progress and I believe a greater understanding of my role will assist. It breaks me on too many days to see him a shell of who he was. I’ve sourced a counsellor and am going to start seeing her to help gain a wiser perspective because I’m too close to the eye of the storm to see what’s outside its fury.
Things are looking positive for the job mentioned in the last post and I hope to have something finalised in the next fortnight. There will be a lot of responsibility and high targets, but the company has the discipline and processes needed to succeed, so it will be up to me to achieve with them. I hope the offer comes off as I’m excited firstly about the challenge, and secondly about the freedom to effectively be running my own business within the business. A side-benefit will be more flexibility than I currently have to pursue my sex life, so things are looking up in a big way after a couple of months of eking slivers of personal time.
The Country Boy
We are back on track although my suit of emotional armour is a little thicker than previously. The irony of being more detached is that something’s occurred that currently impacts on his family and work, and he should have less time for me, but is making a greater effort to meet. Perhaps we’ll both be freer at the same time in the future and we can enjoy some relatively peaceful time together. His house will also be available for a while in a month or so; I can’t maximise use of a hotel room at present so the thought of being in a house and on a bed is enticing beyond words, and even exceeds the discomfort of knowing I’ll be entering someone else’s territory. I greatly enjoy the outdoor activities we engage in, but I’m reaching a stage where more variety and less risk would be good (having said that, we were more brazen than usual last night and I’ll have to write that story up).
Others
Young Lion has been back in touch. He works not far from my temp gig and has suggested we fuck in a booth at a peep show … I don’t even know if that can be done as I’ve never been in a peep show booth. I must admit to some curiosity to the point I walked past the club one lunchtime, but it was at the end of a lane and some seedy-looking people were congregated at the entrance, so I chose not to explore it alone.
NZ and I have had some phone contact. His wife had a baby so he’s been on daddy duty. His sex drive seems quite high according to some of his messages, however, I’m squeamish because I’d feel I’m taking him away from something more important. He has a genuinely open relationship so any time away is sanctioned, but I find it funny that I’m the one with skewed perceptions and not being able to look past them.
I almost posted this without mention of Mr OMG but he texted yesterday to apologise for his behaviour and said he’d leave me alone. I decided that saying goodbye was his way of saying he didn’t really want to end contact, so I said I’d miss him and would like contact in whatever capacity it forms. He replied soon after so I was on the money with my perception, but I still have no idea of my true intention. My motive seems pure at the moment that I like him even though it’s unlike we’ll meet face-to-face again. Or, I am an idiot.
Future of the blog
Having been deprived of time and energy to spend on the things I enjoy has made me appreciate this quiet space even more. There were some moments I thought of walking away and just getting on with living the life rather than talking about it, but I’m not ready to do that yet.
I’ve been thinking about my sexual objectives for the year (it’s a damn long ride on public transport and I need to think about something), but they haven’t really changed from the things I didn’t achieve last year, such as another threesome. I have decided I’d like to find another girl to make some of the Country Boy’s fantasies come true and I’ll devote some time to that in a few months when I have time. I’d like to explore fisting more but I think the Country Boy’s hands are too thick and broad to fit me, but I’ll never know unless we try. That, too, will have to wait until things calm down as I’ll need a lot of relaxing warm-up time to make the attempt.
I intend to try some different ideas like adding photos more often, but that’s dependent on the usual issues of taking snaps that no one else sees and that can’t be linked to anyone. You should have seen me learn very quickly how to kill off geo-tag data on photos — hello, techno-gadget designers, I *don’t* want the world to know what I’m doing where.
I’m also thinking of how I can open this space up, perhaps to questions and answers (I’m too lazy to open and maintain a Formspring account, and I’ve convinced myself I won’t be asked any questions anyway). Felinus had an intriguing idea about a sex blogger-created site where questions or topics could be posted and discussed or readers’ stories contributed and told — like an open-table forum. I think it has huge potential but I’m good at starting and not finishing things so I’m not sure if I’m the right person to kick it off.
To end, I’ll probably have sex no more than 50 times for the rest of the year according to the rolling average of my posts, so I’m going to make the most of every opportunity.
The Drummer has changed his mind about having others in the house. I called him at work (this was a couple of weeks ago now) to discuss that Mr OMG was possibly free to catch up with me one night and to double check the newly-agreed arrangement still stood. He said everything was fine and told me to have a good time.
About an hour later he called back to say he had changed his mind and didn’t feel comfortable. I was caught by surprise and backed down immediately; our agreement regarding the open side of our relationship is that we only proceed with things with the agreement of both — anything causing discomfort or angst in one stops immediately with a reasonable explanation.
As things turned out on the night, Mr OMG was going to be too late to meet and has since wandered off again, but I was furious with myself upon reflection that I hadn’t pushed my partner for the ‘reasonable explanation’ about his change of heart. While some of my behaviour tends towards the unconventional side, I’m cautious and sensible and would never compromise our personal safety or security or any of the other things he was concerned about.
We had another talk the next day when he had settled and I had cooled and I raised my side that his reasons weren’t reasonable or rational, however, I’d back down for the moment as I wasn’t going to force him to accept people in our house. In having said that, it wasn’t fair on me to have to try to guess the real and underlying issue such as jealousy or marking territory. We talked in circles for a while and ended up nowhere closer so I’ve let it go for now.
From an overall viewpoint, The Drummer’s ongoing mental health issues are no closer to resolution with medication or therapy; he has deteriorated and the last 12 months has seemed wasted in many ways. We worked out today that he’s been diagnosed and medicated for four years now. I feel resentful at times that my own battles have to sit neglected while a lot of our energy is devoted towards managing his daily navigations and, when disagreements like the current one arise, I need to pick my times and arguments with painstaking thought about the potential ramifications. The last time I went to a psych appointment with him I felt like I was holding a ball of bitterness in my throat that I wanted to spit at the therapist that I had moments of being tired of his problems being the star player while there was little energy or time left to devote to mine. I then loathed myself inside for being petty and selfish and I ended up quieting the inner shrew and speaking as the supportive partner; I’ve lived with enough cycles of depression to know I’ll get through them and The Drummer’s problems are deeper and broader and we don’t know where the end is, so he wins.
Part of me thought quietly that perhaps him granting some time home with another would be part of the sweetener to help keep me functioning while we work through our ongoing rough patch, but sexual boundaries and mental health aren’t suitable bounty for negotiations and trade. We’ll have to come to agreement another day when he is being rational and I am feeling less selfish.
A few pieces need to be put in place.
ArmyDude: He is back but dropped by the office unannounced three times in the week of his return and hovered aimlessly when other people were around. I read him the riot act about taking unacceptable risks and asked for some breathing space. He agreed quickly but has sent messages daily and I need a break; he is also having serious problems at home and I’m not comfortable with his boundary management at the moment.
Country Hottie: I sent him a photo of nipple clamps attached to a place I don’t have nipples and he responded awfully quickly like Pavlov’s randy dog. We set a date to meet, he became more flaky than my current temperament would tolerate and I let rip with a message calling him a slack fucking bastard who needs letting go, among other less politely worded things, and I walked away. I felt better after clearing my air, he chose to keep hanging around for now and I’m going to be tied up and spanked a pretty shade of scarlet next weekend. I like him more now that I have acknowledged I don’t really like him.
The man with potential from a few posts ago: We agreed congenially and with a hint of regret to stop before we begin. His diary is a ferociously full beast and, with three weeks passing without a spare few unplanned hours in his schedule, I let him know that things weren’t going to work for me, much as I’d like. There is enough intent without availability in my life without adding to it.
Pleasure Freak: He’s new. He sent a message. I replied that I was growing tired of attached men whose concepts of having time for flesh-and-blood pleasure were illusions and I’d leave it to him if he wanted to get in touch. He sent a nude photo instead. I sent him one from work. He sent another from his car. I enjoyed his sense of daring. We met yesterday and I was almost felled by knee-buckling attraction. He almost thankfully wasn’t quite as handsome as his face photos, but in the lovely paradox that looks don’t always equate to attraction, every girl hormone in my body started having a wild party. He is tall and dark and rangy with broad shoulders and a small arse cupped by faded jeans and emits sexuality that I really and truly want to explore. I held back and looked for clues of what was going on in his head; at one stage he touched my arm as he stood to get something from his car and the girl hormones started somersaulting and doing backflips. Later, he asked if I was keen. I paused to manage some nerves, stared in his eyes and said, “Yes, very much so if you are.”
We talked until a few minutes before he had to go and I made him late for a function because we started kissing in his car and it all felt so very, very good. He made himself even later when he said he was going to wank quickly before leaving. I asked if I could stay and perhaps help because I like watching men masturbate (especially attractive men with high sex drives who have sent nude photos and are right in front of me). He pulled down his jeans and I asked if I could touch and taste. He, of course, said yes. I wrapped my lips around the top of his deceptively thick cock and wondered how I’d manage to fit it in, even with more time and a less cramped position for devouring him. I wasn’t able to wonder long as he gave warning signs of orgasm and I let him escape from my mouth before he came up his belly. I’m trying to behave and not do too much on first meetings with those I want to see again. I am cautiously optimistic (and want his cock inside me in many different ways).
Mr OMG: Ha, now how did he sneak in? I ‘accidentally’ clicked on his profile I’ve been ignoring and he sent a smile the following day. Now I wish I hadn’t, and he hadn’t. I sat on my hands and pondered whether to re-open the not-quite-healed wound. I ended up sending a guarded message to which he was brave enough to reply and we spoke briefly on the phone last night. He is a beautiful man and the centre of a thousand fantasies but after a somewhat awkward conversation (which had to end abruptly and was left open-ended) the reality is that I’m not sure I want to see him. Months after we met the first time he is still drifting and doesn’t seem to know what he’s looking for. I think I don’t want him and I’m too surprised by that thought to believe it yet.
Forecast postscript: No, I don’t have ESP; I think tomorrow I’m going to contradict my last sentence.
The Drummer: Last week The Drummer and I were having a heart-to-heart talk about his mental health, and a side issue that caught me by surprise was his admission of jealousy towards my other life and the opportunities it affords. He is losing his masculinity and sexuality on an increasing dose of anti-depressants; he has (we have) a long and tough journey and I’ll never give up on him but this week I wanted be somewhere else, live someone else’s life and not have to be the parent, the boss, the leader, the guide, the decision maker for a partner who has lost himself. I need someone strong, too, but I look around and the only place I see that kind of help is in the mirror and I am sad.
I didn’t have a response to address his jealousy but the next day I said to him all I really want with the others is something along the lines of what I had with Jekyll, who was around but we weren’t in each other’s faces, and we could mix up the car parks and hotel rooms and go to town on each other in any way with firm boundaries. I don’t have that at the moment and my other life is not all he is perceiving it to be. The majority is just chasing and distractions and misplaced hope. I get nervous meeting new people and cynical from knowing that the intentions of most online aren’t what they appear. I get a little house crazy some weekend nights if he is working and my closest girlfriends work nightshift and a couple of other friends disappeared after I entrusted them with my other life secret. I feel lost and probably in need of more female company sometimes. Some men are mindless diversions, like the stripper, and it’s so easy that it’s not fun. If I could have anything sexually, it would be more of him as my partner, away from the grip that medications have on his sexuality, and perhaps one other to fill the urges for controlled insanity, and that would be it, but that’s not life at the moment and so I will roam with a heart equally weighted with desire and discontent, but I will stay home tonight because my eyes are red and puffy from purging this.
I received a message from ArmyDude saying he was free the following morning if I wanted to drop by and ‘borrow some books’. I organised a time and let The Drummer know I’d be out doing a house call when he returned home from a late shift.
ArmyDude had already selected a couple of titles in order to maximise lustful opportunity time. I had my period and wasn’t inclined towards managing the logistics, so I dropped his jeans, sucked his cock and tongued his balls with a level of intentional deliberation and care that was making him impatient. He smelled clean and soapy and had shaved off recently and I was in no rush. Still, I was in and out in less than half an hour, keeping the alibi legitimate and giving us a pleasant start to the day.
I returned home and The Drummer asked if I’d had a good time with ArmyDude. I said I was bleeding so I sucked dick and did some shopping and got petrol and washed the car on the way home; he didn’t hear a word after I said “sucked dick” and ten minutes later he was in front of the computer watching porn and nursing a hard-on. I rubbed his balls as he masturbated and he said, “Here, have your second load for the day.” I didn’t have a chance to object or laugh at his porny dialogue as he was joyous at taking a short time to reach orgasm (he’s changing anti-depressants and can take up to 45 minutes to finish a simple wank). I guess that was a win/win of sorts.
The same afternoon Country Hottie asked if I was free next weekend — I’m not sure I’ll hear from him after I suggested his communication needed work after he disappeared last time he was in touch. The young tradesman I mentioned earlier seems keen for anything, anywhere, anytime and the pierced man is back in touch (he wants to know if I’m up to being fucked anally — he has several ball-ended studs in his shaft and I’m somewhat curious in a masochistic, death wish kind of way). I don’t understand why this all happens at once.
I gave myself an early mark from work the other day and sauntered home half an hour before my usual departure time. The Drummer’s car was in the driveway and the front door was unlocked; he usually greets me at the car if he’s home and I idly wondered where he was.
Of course, he was where one would expect a man at home by himself when his partner isn’t due home for the foreseeable future: on the floor lying against the lounge suite with pants by his side, cock in his hand and a vibrator in his anus, wanking in synch with some porn starlet on the computer taking a gigantic phallus up her bottom.
In fantasyland, I’m sure a woman entering the front door after a long day, shoulders bearing the weight of the world and hands gripping the evening’s dinner, would drop everything and dive to her man’s cock, wanting nothing more than contributing to his pleasure. Nope. I looked, looked again to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating, said hi and went about unpacking the groceries. Perishables need to be refrigerated as soon as possible after purchase.
He was still going when I returned to the lounge room and asked me to rub his balls. Okay, I’m not completely heartless, even when I’m several steps behind someone else’s state of arousal.
I almost screamed for an ambulance when I reached down and saw the smeared and bloody mess around his balls and anus. I was sure he was haemorrhaging but was too full of distracting feel-good sensations to notice that he appeared to be bleeding to death.
He didn’t share my state of panic.
“It’s just that cherry-flavoured lube you don’t use, darling.”
Oh, I remember that stuff. Vile shit. Tastes like cherry-flavoured bronchitis medicine mixed with battery acid.
Carry on.
Something happened that was out of my control and my professional life is about to become very fucked up and difficult to manage. I am oscillating maniacally between searing rage and fear after a sleepless night of the nightmare stages of denial, panic and paranoia.
In an act of small-minded, black-hearted vindictiveness, someone briefly from The Drummer’s past who is in my work world has accused him of sexual harassment and inappropriate behaviour. He is not there so it’s impossible for him to defend himself and fill in the other side of the story. (The links between people and places will just need to be glossed over with it being a fairly small town in size and mentality – not everyone knows everyone but everyone at least knows of everyone.)
She doesn’t know me by name or sight, but the people she complained to are part of my peer group and more senior management. She held court with several of them, spewing snake-tongued stories of vileness and bitterness — and they listened. I was ignorant until I took a call from a kindly soul who overheard in a hallway, and I bunkered myself down in my office until hometime, finding it difficult to breathe while a steel trap of horror closed in around me.
I need to go back there Monday with plans in place to, let’s see: find something to tell my staff to pre-empt whatever they end up being told through the rumour mill (it’s inevitable), find a way of dealing with the people who were told things directly because I see them regularly, and harness my urges to hunt down this woman and destroy her with a sustained and relentless form of revenge. I can’t wait for karma to take care of this one as she has done something personal and unforgivable and irreparable and worse than I am able to detail here.
Another prickly concern I don’t know how to handle is, now she’s spoken, the word will be out I’m not monogamous. All respect is given to people who are open about their relationship status, but I’m not. I am careful to the point of blandness during my salaried hours* because people have spare time on their hands to talk about others — I buy a lot more personal freedom by fitting into their straight view of the world than trying to fight it. I’m also not the type to put on a brave face while others look at me sympathetically or disgustedly so impulse control and management of paranoia cannot come quickly enough when my emotions settle.
I have managed to centre the rage in a hot, spherical bundle inside my body, waiting to be directed and hurled silently and anonymously where it will have the most satisfying impact from the sidelines when they don’t see it coming (I’d be a Buddhist if the faith would have me, but the concept of forgiveness is far, far too much right now). The only upside I can think of is that the timing is as good as it could be because Christmas holidays are around the corner. I know it’s not life or death and things will settle when the next new and shiny piece of gossip hits the streets, but I can’t find a way of seeing through the next couple of weeks with reputation or sanity intact. I want to punish and hurt people for damaging The Drummer’s name and fucking with me.
*The moments with ArmyDude are in my control and my responsibility and I’ll go down in flames for them (and him) if the need ever arises. My issue here is loss of control over my identity and perceptions of my image.
