Starting Point

We have been chatting, off and on, for years. Since before I wore a ring, since before I realized the extent to which I was lacking satiety.

Back then, we talked about sex. We talked about fantasies, we told stories (him more than me, admittedly, because I was and am sorely lacking in stories to tell, although that is slowly changing), we aroused each other through words. Years went by of this, off and on, knowing the other lived, at least for a portion of the time, less than 20 miles away, and having never even heard the other's voice. And when my itch came back, when the dissatisfaction that I had pushed down to the pit of my stomach slowly rose up and consumed my mind, my body again, we began to type again.

It started as it always had, with vagueries, with innuendos, and somehow morphed into me suggesting friends of mine that he would be interested in sleeping with. In not sleeping with, that is. His counter was, "will you join in?" And for so long, it was a no. It is still a no. I will not join him with one of my friends, because he has become a secret, in a way.

This is a bit scattered.

I am a girl who loves to suck cock. Who has always loved it, especially if the man I am sucking is enjoying himself and expressing that. If the man I am sucking is confident, and is willing to take what he wants from me, to manhandle me, even better. He knows this, has always known this, and has always expressed the desire to experience it for himself. I have, until recently, always made a joke of this expression; I made it clear it was not something that I would ever do.

Things change.

I know what I want, and I am not afraid to take it, but I am shy. I am socially awkward, and difficult at pleasantries. And so when we began to talk about making our chats something more than just fingers on a keyboard, I was not nervous about the act itself. I did not feel guilty. I worried about what we would say before, and after. During, I wasn't worried. My mouth would be full.

I spent the morning before our first meeting frantically running errands, knowing I had a window between when I would be finished with mundane tasks and when I needed to be at work, and knowing I wanted that window large enough that I would be able to stop and see him. Being busy made me less nervous. I just wanted to get there.

I pulled up to his house, and sat there, getting up the courage to go inside, when my phone beeped. I looked down at it, and had a text. "Just come inside...I won't bite...hard." I had to grin at that, grabbed my purse, and went to the door.

That first time (and there have only been two so far, with him, although we talk about it fairly often), I was so nervous, so red-faced, I could barely look him in the eye. I think he found it amusing, and we both sat on the couch and talked for a minute, and then he stood up, and walked over to me, and stood right in front of where I was sitting and began to unzip his shorts. That was all it took, for me. Still shy, but oh so excited at the thought of sucking cock again (it had been waaayyyy too long), I looked up at him, through my glasses, and began tugging his boxers down, his shorts coming with them.

As soon as I had his cock in my hand, I dropped to my knees on the floor, and felt his hand move into my hair, gripping, guiding my mouth to the head of his cock. I couldn't wait, couldn't spend time running my tongue over it the way I thought I would want to; I just needed it in my mouth, right away, and so I took it, between my lips, moaning as I felt him tug on my hair, pushing his cock further into my mouth, all the way in.

I sucked him there, kneeling on the floor in front of him, the hard tile pressing into my knees, my mouth full of his cock, for a time, until he had me move to the couch with him so he could sit and I could kneel between his legs. I paused them, taking the time to look up at him as I ran my tongue from his balls all the way to the head, swirling it around, and just loved the way he chuckled, deeply, when his eyes met mine and then gasped as I took his cock completely into my mouth again. He held my hair then, at the base of my neck, forcing me to take him, over and over, fucking my mouth until I heard the words I love to hear.

"I'm gonna cum...get ready..."

It makes me wet just thinking the words again, feeling him tense in my mouth, thrusting his hips upward as I felt him cumming, felt it filling my mouth and running down my throat. So many of my girlfriends refuse to swallow, hate to swallow, talk about how it disgusts them to swallow. I sit there when they say this and quietly smile to myself, knowing how I love to swallow, love the feel of it sliding down my throat, love the taste. I loved licking him clean, smiling sweetly up at him as I sucked off every last drop of his cum. The look on his face when he dropped his head back against the back of the couch was pure bliss.

That time, we made small talk for a few minutes, and then I grabbed my bag and left again. The grin on my face stayed there the rest of the day, and from minutes after I left, we were already texting with talk about next time.

An Introduction

I am starting this blog as a way to document the portions of my life that I am not willing to share anywhere else. I plan to be fully honest, but will be replacing names, places, and anything else that may give away my actual identity due to the topics I want to write about. Judge me if you will, I probably deserve it.

I am married to a man that I have been with for the majority of my adult life. We have been together since before I fully knew who I was, and that seems to be hindering things in our relationship to an extent. He is older, and was already set in his ways and in his person at the time we started dating. We were experiencing overall relationship issues, but they seem to be improving. However, the one thing that is not working is our sex life. He is the first man I ever slept with, and at the time I was extremely insecure and lacked self-confidence and self-knowledge. I have since learned a million things about myself, including the fact that I am extraordinarily open-minded and sexually driven.

What started as (somewhat) innocent flirtations online have begun to spiral a bit out of control. I posted a few things looking for male friends to talk to, and that has been fine. I missed having male friends, as that was the majority of what I had in college and in high school, but had since tapered off. I also reconnected with a few old friends from online, and of course, there was flirtation there.

I made a bit of a decision that was probably not the wisest, but so far is working for me, to an extent. I want to say, first and foremost, that I know that what I am doing is wrong. I also know that I would hate to end a marriage strictly over bad sex. So for now, I am using my actions as a bandaid of sorts.

My original rules that I created for myself were that, no matter what I did, it would not involve any actual intercourse. I have since broken that rule once, and I am not particularly proud of that. However, I want to explore my sexuality in a way that my husband is unwilling to do with me, and so I am seeking it out elsewhere.

I don't feel guilty for what I am doing; I only worry slightly about being caught, for what it would do to him, not for the consequences it would present me with.