Do you come here often?

So I have a question.
For my new Admirer.
Do you make a habit of this?
Making moves on other women?
Has your long marriage been sprinkled by affairs?

This didn't seem to be new to him. In some ways he felt like a 17-year old boy, but in some ways it seemed very natural to him. Putting his hand on me. Spreading his legs more so he could press his thigh against mine. He seemed very relaxed about it all, no underlying guilt of "Oh my God what am I doing I've never felt like this before how can I betray my wife like this but the feeling is too strong I can't resist..." and so forth.

Which disappoints me. I admire his family. I admire any family which seems close, the various generations sharing interests, embracing differences, all smiles and love and rejoicing.

Not that I have any right to be superior. Given my own history of infidelity in both marriages, and my current illicit relationship that's been going on for over 11 years now (wow, really?), who am I to judge?   Still... maybe it's because it feels as if it came out of nowhere. And because it's within this small town community. A betrayal of the community as much as anything else.

And because, yes, it does feel good to be paid that kind of attention.

Which doesn't change how I feel about the man I deeply love, and who occasionally takes the brave step of saying in so many words that he loves me.

Comments, anyone?
If anyone is out there?

Why me?

He's nice.
We share interests.

He's married.

He pressed his leg against mine and held my hand.
Bob, I said.
You can't flirt with me in front of your sons.

Point taken, he said.

Peeking out of the mist...

Just wondering,
Is anyone still out there?

Translation

I love you, I say.
I know, he replies.

Translation: I love you, too.

I miss you, I say.
I understand, he replies.

Translation: I know.
Translation: So do I.
Translation: I miss you, too.
Translation: I love you.

Beneath the carapace

He thinks a lot of himself.
Or so he says.
He wants me to know that he thinks a lot of himself.

Such a mammoth ego.
A mammoth ego needing so much support.
Wanting constant massaging,
like his lovely cock,
hungry for attention
from hand and mouth and more
to keep it smartly hard.

Such vulnerability.
Such beautiful vulnerability.
Does he know that's something I love about him?

He tries to hide it.

And now.
As we sort things out.
It took me ever so long to see.
He had to say it nearly straight out.

He needs to save face.

He does know he triggered it.
He knows the beast escaped.
He knows he didn't protect me.

But what he focuses on is what I did to him, how I left without a word, how I tossed away 7 years (actually 6 and a half) because of half an hour (seemed more like an hour), how I waffled about whether it was over or not...

Because.
Because he knows what he did.
He knows the effect it had on me.

But he needs to feel - to pretend - that he was the one who was wronged. Like when he has trouble cumming because of too much to drink, and he says it will be all my fault if he can't cum even though he knows - and I know - that it's not my fault at all. Sometimes, after, he has even said that, reassured me, that he knows it wasn't my fault but he needs to act like it was.

So I'm being good and doing as he says and accepting that he has doubts. And he has always had doubts, it has always been hard to fully believe that I do love him, do want to fully give myself over to him, even though I do sometimes fight it and run scared because really, given issues I've always had with authority even as I've so badly needed someone to take control, is it any surprise that some sense of rebellion remains?

In fact, he's got a plan that seems to be working. He's wise for us to ease back in. And what he so badly needs is to feel that he's back in control.

Which is also why he won't let me masturbate.

I love it that he won't let me masturbate.
Just as I love how sweetly he stroked me
as I even more sweetly sucked on his cock.

Sexual healing

There were tears in his eyes.
No other words were needed.
And were probably best left unsaid.

Seeking solutions

Tantrums, tears, negotiations.
The tantrums weren't mine.
You can guess about the tears.
Negotiations? Or something like.
He always said he doesn't negotiate.
Meanwhile, as offerings, two poems.
Blue snow beneath a bright full moon.
Beyond that -
who the hell knows.
I need some sleep.