Month: April 2016

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Back off, rabbit

If I look back on my sexual history over the last decade or so, I’d say the one area that could use some improvement that consistently shows up is that I’m far too…um, enthusiastic. Which, in and of itself, is one thing but when you combine that with a larger than normal visibility due to a platform such as this blog where I get to prattle on in front of thousands of eyeballs, it all gets out of control. I just get carried away. Part of that is because I’m constantly stewing in my own frustration and that causes me to perhaps make less defendable choices, but part of it is just how I am.

After yesterday’s post about the Facebook messages between Belle and TOG and whether I should read them following Belle’s offer to let me do so, I started to feel like I was doing it again. Yes, I still really want to read those messages, but no, I’m not going to. Partly because I decided it was too intrusive to Belle and her potential relationship with TOG and partly because the ethics of doing so are a little shaky but mostly because Belle decided it was too much. TOG is a thing that is happening to her, not me. She needs to be able to maintain a sphere of privacy and freedom and giving me such an unfettered view into her interactions with TOG totally punctures that. So yeah, that offer is now off the table.

I’m also going to try and get myself under control with regards to how much I talk about she and he. To be sure, things are not settled there and anything can happen. They may decide the emotional risk is too great for him if they became involved. He may freak out and ghost her. Things might just peter out as they sometimes do between people. If I make too big of a deal here and, because the prospect of it leaves me so fucking exited, then it starts to kind of hang a cloud over the whole thing. Because I write about it and because there will be comments or whatever, me and my take on what’s happening become too important. The gravitational influence starts to change the natural trajectory of the thing. It’s unfair to Belle and, I guess, TOG (though he knows nothing about any of this kinky sex blog stuff). 

So, starting today, I won’t be asking Belle any specific questions about TOG and their conversations or plans. She will share with me whatever she wants or needs to. I have reserved the right to be able to talk about how being the husband of a proto-hotwife makes me feel, both with her and here, but she gets to veto anything she thinks crosses a line and I’ll be doing my best to keep my blogging about it to a reasonable level. It might be different if she didn’t read the blog, but she does and always has and always will, so that’s that. Also, my only other ask (I call it an ask because it seems weird that I can make rules for her) is that each and every time they are together physically (if and when that happens), I want to know how often his cock is involved. But she does not need to offer specifics. Like, she could say they fucked and how many times but I wouldn’t be able to ask what he said to her while doing it or what piece of furniture she was bent over at the time. I can ask general-type stuff (“How did it make you feel?”) but even then she can cut me off if she thinks it’s too intrusive. Basically, other than the fact it happened, all other info will be metered out as she see fit. I think this is important because it maintains an airspace between them and us that respects her prerogative as the dominent partner.

It should be noted that Belle doesn’t think I can keep to this arrangement. She thinks I’ll crack and start asking things I’m saying now I won’t. I do totally acknowledge that I am craving information and am dying to ask more questions, but I am doing my best not to. The way it makes me feel is really very similar to what it feels like to be denied. It is a form of denial. It’s an demonstration of my submission. So from a dynamic standpoint, my lack of insight into what’s happening is a source of energy for me. The subby rabbit in me feeds off the fury of my internal sex lizard as he goes crazy thinking about what he doesn’t know.

She made me figure out for her today how she can Skype him. I don’t know when and for what purpose they will be using it and I’m not going to ask. I may not be told when it happens. So we’re already operating under the new rules. 

Funny thing about all this is I have now been living with an indescribably powerful desire to fuck the taste out of her mouth for about 72 hours. Continuous, palpable, and often difficult to contain every time I see her or hear her voice. Well, “difficult to contain” except for that one part. This morning, since I knew I wasn’t coming out of the Steelheart, all I wanted to do was set up camp between her legs and plant my face in her pussy. I hope that later tonight she’ll let me do it again. The introduction of TOG has made her the most desirable object in the world to me. Funny how that works. Also funny to think that one way couples could reinvigorate their relationships would be to crack them open every once in a while and let someone else have a turn. 

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Possession is nine-tenths, etc.

Belle and I spent some time after the lights were out last night just talking. Talking about TOG specifically, marital openess in general, me, her, etc. (even Drew, but that’s for another post). It was wonderful. Even though the tone was far more tame than the night before (for example, my finger wasn’t in any of her hot, wet orifices), it still left me too hopped up to sleep (and now you’re like, oh fucking great I get to read about how the rabbit can’t sleep again).

Anyway, lots to write about there, but first this…

At some point, Belle offered to let me read the history of her messaging with TOG. Not like right then but sometime if I wanted to. Nothing to hide and all that. I am of two minds. On the one hand, it’s pretty personal and seems borderline intrusive. But, of course, she offered and it would save her having to answer my endlessly annoying questions. On the other hand, I think it’d be hot as hell. Anyway, I asked Twitter what they thought and DarqKnight offered the above.

I want to talk about possessiveness. Not because I think DarqKnight is wrong. This is not a case of right and wrong. But “possessive” seems analogous to “jealous” and jealousy is really interesting to me.

I skipped over it yesterday, but I think jealousy is, at least in part and in some people, driven by insecurity. Worry that one’s partner will choose someone else or prefer someone else. In my case, my particular blend of perversions are such that rather than making me jealous, these possibilities turn me on. Also, as I said, I’m confident in my position with Belle and don’t for a second (well, not for two seconds — more on that in a minute) think she would leave me for TOG. Once that’s out of the way, there’s room for compersion to set in. Plus, there’s a real benefit to me for her to be having this fling.

What I mean by that involves the concept of “new relationship energy.” NRE is described by Wikipedia as…

[A] state of mind experienced at the beginning of most significant sexual and romantic relationships, typically involving heightened emotional and sexual receptivity and excitement.

I mean, we’ve all been there. Belle is experiencing a healthy jolt of NRE along with all the associated benefits and in the same way sunlight reflects off the moon some of it’s bouncing off her and hitting me. She’s in a better, sexier mood and that’s good for me. She’s ridiculously attractive to me right now. She’s also more interested in her health and well-being and I’m happy about that, too. So beyond the compersionistic aspect (yeah, I may have just made up a word) of feeling happy for her because she’s enjoying what’s going on, I’m able to also benefit from the real impact it’s having on her in other ways.

Of course, there’s a second way “possessive” can be defined. If I had a nice car (and I do), I would be possessive of it (and I am) as a thing that belongs to me and is mine to enjoy (and it is). Of course, there is no “car owner relationship dynamic” but if one was a Dom one might consider thier sub as “theirs” and feel a similar exclusive right of use. Maybe that’s what DarqKnight meant. If so, of course, I don’t feel that for Belle. I’m fortunate she doesn’t feel that about me (except for the penis, of course).

So I said I don’t for a second think Belle would leave me, but that’s not entirely true. As we were talking last night, she told me that I was wrong when I said all TOG knew about me was the relative size of the penis. Early on, when describing to him the parameters of our open marriage, she told him that I’d not only be OK with her being with him but that one of my fantasies was to be cuckolded. That helps explain the aggressive tone of his “I want you to enjoy sex with me more than him” attitude. As we talked about that, I had a brief bolt of panic that flickered for just a second. The idea that this other man would be actively trying to woo my wife and would have unfettered access to her while doing so is, however remotely, risky. And, I have to tell you, risky is sexy. How we respond to risk is sexy. Why do we do risky things? Because they’re fun. Risk means the envelope is being pushed. It’s really only with sex that we seem to collectively frown at the idea of introducing risk of any kind. So yeah, there is somewhere in me a tiny piece of worry and it may grow as we get closer to the time Belle will meet him, but to me it feels roughly equivalent to what it would feel like to downhill ski or skydive. Maybe something catastrophic happens, but chances are it won’t. Skating that edge has its own excitement.

There’s a noticeable age difference between TOG and Belle. Had I been able to cast my perfect guy-on-the-side for her, I would have probably made him closer to our age, but this is what it is. Belle seems worried that a guy in his late 20’s may not be fully prepared for what a woman in her forties is like, but I counter with the fact that there are lots of things that make someone sexy and desirable along with their physical attributes. She’s confident and successful and experienced and married and any or all of those things might be firing in TOG’s head as he thinks about her. He and I are in agreement that the age difference is actually pretty fucking hot.

I said in my first post about TOG that the only real concern I had was that Belle would be hurt. She told me her worry was actually the other way around. Apparently, TOG is quite smitten with her and may end up being more attached to her than is practical considering the circumstances (married, other side of the Atlantic, etc.). She’s been clear that she thinks he should think of her as a fun port o’ call on his life cruise and not a destination. If there’re any clouds on the horizon of this little adventure, it’s that TOG might become overly invested in Belle emotionally.

I suppose it’s possible Belle could, too. That her fun and sexy feelings for him, once she actually gets to know him in person, may become more significant. The prospect of this doesn’t bother me. Like I said yesterday, I think I am fundamentally polyamorous and feel pretty confident I would be able to adjust to a reality in which Belle had another significant relationship along ours, but I’m not sure Belle’s wired that way (let alone TOG who I know no better than a hole in the ground).

Getting back to the offer of reading her messages with him, I’m totally going to take her up on that. I think the prospect and her instant willingness to let me see them says a lot about the fundamental strength of our bond. It occurred to me last night when we talked and I said something about writing here about stuff that I wasn’t entirely sure it was appropriate. This blog is about Belle and my relationship. TOG represents something related but really totally separate. It’s her relationship with someone other than me. Regardless, she’s cool with me going on about it so I will, I’m sure, at length.

So yeah, that’s where we are…

Is it August yet?

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Further TOG pondering

I wasn’t going to write my previous post last night for fear it would rev me up too much to sleep afterward but it was pretty clear I was already too revved up for that. Beyond just the normal excess RPMs spinning around after getting Belle off just before bed, the conversation about the other guy (now officially TOG) kept bouncing around in my head and I had to get it out. Reading it now, it seems a little rushed and messy, but it does a good job capturing my state of mind at the time. Actually, it’s still kind of my state of mind, though I have had some time to reflect. 

“Compersion” is a word that, essentially, means the opposite of jealousy. Instead of finding discomfort or anger or sadness when one’s partner has sex or finds love with someone else, you experience happiness and feel good for them. I am compersioned as fuck. During the night, I kept reaching over to her and holding her or just letting part of me touch her. This morning, I couldn’t just give her a quick morning peck. I need to kiss her full on the lips, open and wet. Hold her. Put my face in her neck and purr. I am completely and totally smitten by her.

The challenge I’ve had is remembering what this is about and who it’s about. If she ends up meeting TOG and getting fucked by him, that’s all her. Her choice, her pleasure. Not really about me at all. But excitement at the prospect of it almost forces my mind to race away and spin fantasy scenarios. I imagine how the prospect and reality of their sex would change how she treats me. What she needs and expects from me. I imagine someday meeting him and the things he’d say and ask. In relationships where denial or chastity are involved (any kind of femdom, really) it’s important for the man to give his partner as much room as possible to make for herself what the dynamic needs to be for her. In doing do, he’ll enjoy an authentic dynamic they both get something from even if it’s not the fantasy life he created in his head. That same approach needs to be taken here by me. Yes, I have vivid ideas about the hottest way possible for this next chapter to unfold, but those ideas aren’t as good as the real thing because it will be real so the real thing needs to develop. Too bad August is so far away. 

Also, I don’t want to create a situation where she needs to live up to my fantasy. I certainly don’t want her thinking about how I’ll react to whatever transpires. To be factoring in my expectations. There’s enough pressure involved in meeting a new person and finding a way to pleasurably interact without thinking about the hopes and dreams of the locked up sub back home. 

I wonder if the ability to feel compersion is something that’s hard wired in some people or if it’s something that’s made possible because of other factors. I know about myself that I am suited to an open relationship and even polyamory. I just am not that jealous. At least, in me whatever jealousy I feel channels into productive kinds of things. But I’m also pretty confident in myself. Confident in my place in Belle’s life. Even if Belle and TOG fuck and even if Belle finds herself having deeper feelings for him, I don’t for a second think that would lead to problems between us. I would be happy for her and figure out a way to make room for whatever followed. Whatever my need is to feel what it’s like for her to be with another man, it’s not driven by an inferiority complex. I want to hear and know he’s got a nice cock and knows how to use it and even that she likes it better than me, but I know that’s a single aspect of our relationship and I have another attributes. In fact, I’d say the perceived competition drives me to accentuate those areas. In any event, my theory is jealously is driven by insecurity and I’m simply not insecure about too many things.

It’s all very complicated and I’m still figuring it out. How can I say I don’t have an inferiority complex but want her to be with a guy whose got a bigger cock? How can I get so excited by the idea TOG has said he wants to give her better sex than she can have with me? I’m not insecure but totally get off on being made sexually inferior. I don’t know the answers. More of those knotty BDSM paradoxes, I guess. 

The sleeping was quite difficult last night. Too many thoughts and visions. Too many explicit visualizations literally forcing themselves into my attempt so find peace. I don’t know that the penis was less than half chubbed out all night and it was forcefully pressing against its containment on several occasions. I’d hear my heart pounding in my ears as the enormity of the reality of Belle taking a lover presented itself again and again. Eventually I popped a melatonin, but even then I only got two or three hours sleep. 

Today, the Homeland Threat Level chart of my horniness never really dropped below orange. I had a hard time following along in meetings and, in between, I’d pop over to Tumblr and look at the bodies. The images of men fucking women were especially transfixing. I had the feeling all day of wanting to share news with friends at work before remembering they likely wouldn’t appreciate it. It felt not too dissimilar from what I remember on that day following the first time Belle didn’t let me come during sex. Energized. Horny. Alive. 

I have so many things I want to ask Belle. So many more details I crave. I loved hearing her be so frank about the apparent differences between TOG and me. Her expectations and hopes. How she didn’t hide her anticipation. Hopefully I won’t bug her too much. Hopefully I won’t combust every time the topic comes up. Hopefully I’ll get more than a few hours sleep each night between now and her trip to meet him.

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The other guy

A couple of months ago on a Saturday or Sunday morning, Belle laughed and told me she had received a random friend request from some guy in England. They had no mutual friends and she had no idea who he was but, on a lark, she accepted the request. Shortly thereafter, they struck up a conversation along the lines of, “Who’s this?” and “I dunno, who’s this?” He said he didn’t remember requesting to be her friend and maybe meant to friend someone else with the same last name (her maiden name) and he had been at the pub and, well, you know how things happen. 

Their exchange continued beyond that day. He told her he thought she was hot. Things got more flirty from there. At some point, he sent her a picture of himself naked but with his hand covering his junk. I really don’t know the sequence of events since I was in my funk and not really picking up the little hints she was dropping, but I totally picked up the hints tonight. And then I carted them off with a wheelbarrow.

We were in bed and I asked her what was up with this guy. She said he was going to be in the United States this summer and she was planning on meeting him in NYC in August and maybe again in September. This made me squirm into her. I have been unbelievably, surreally horny all day and all I could think about even before having this conversation was her pussy and making it come. I reached my hand into her pajamas and slipped a finger into her ready wetness.

She told me he’s twenty-seven. She told him she’s in an open relationship. He told her he’s got thick 7.5″ cock. What she called a “proper cock.” She told me he likes to talk dirty. That he’s confident. That he intends to fuck her with that cock in New York. He described the ways and the positions in which he intends to fuck her silly. He says he will give her the fuck of her life. The kind of fuck she’s never had from me. The kind she can’t get from me. He says it’s his goal for her to prefer him to me in bed. All he knows about me, besides that I’m married to her, is that he’s much bigger than me. That’s it. But he’s naturally assumed a position over me even before meeting her. He may not know the word or understand the dynamic, but he’s already made me a cuckold.

All the time she was saying these things to me, my finger slipped in and out and over her slick clit. The penis was pushing against the Looker 02 as strongly as I’ve ever felt it. Choking on the device’s insert. It was painful. She got wetter and wetter telling me how he was equipped to give her a real fuck and that he’d undoubtedly last much longer than me and fill her in ways I couldn’t and that yes indeed she expected he could deliver on his promise all I could do was whine and finger her pussy and think how it would feel after he was done with her. How it would feel to her as it stretched her open like I can’t and touched her in places I’ll never reach. How he’d be able to go again and again and never get caught up in his own head and just fuck. And how badly — how honestly achingly badly — I want that for her. 

Equal parts of me are hopeful and afraid that he will do what he says and deliver on his promises. That she will be fucked like never before and that she’ll prefer him to me that way. It is both terrifying and exhilarating to comprehend. But more than anything, I want it for her. I want her to come home from her visit with him fucked so hard she couldn’t have sex with me even if she wanted to. For when the time comes that she’d let me touch her pussy again, or even enter it, I’d want to know that not only am I not the only one to enjoy it but that she enjoyed him more. Was craving to feel him there again, not me.

I cannot explain this. How it goes against everything we’re taught and conditioned to believe and expect in a relationship but how it absolutely fills me with ecstatic excitement, for her and me.

I can’t say I ever really believed something like this would happen. That she’d never really do anything with anyone else. And a lot can happen between now and summer. Who knows. Regardless, what I know now is that I’m not only not hurt or bothered by the prospect, I’m enthusiastically hopeful for her success. The only thing that makes me wary is I don’t know this guy. I don’t want her to be hurt. I don’t want her to be treated poorly. That’s my only concern. 

I also used I think that if something like this did eventually happen that I’d want to be part of it. But that doesn’t matter to me. Of course, I am part of it since she’s my wife and I’m her sub, but I won’t be physically part of it. Chances are I’ll never set eyes on this guy. If she sees him and fucks him it’ll be a thousand miles away, out of sight and entirely out of my control. And, it turns out, I’m really OK with that. What I want is for her to have a great time. I want her to feel free to do whatever she wants with him and enjoy the space she has to maximize her pleasure. To dote and spoil him and leave him wanting more. I realize that in that way, I’m not part of it. And I don’t need to be. 

As I sucked her tits and rubbed her snatch and felt her hips grind and heard the moans deep in her throat, I realized she probably wasn’t thinking about me. That she was already in some New York hotel room with the fat cock and her orgasm was already his. I wanted to fuck her so badly then. More than I have in I don’t know how long. But of course, no. No way. So my stifled erection was pinched and squeezed and choked and the device leaked useless natural lube while my heart pounded in my head. 

Oh, fucking hell. 

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On the bounce

It’s kind of surprising to me how quickly and ferociously my sex drive has come back. Like I said yesterday, it started to peek its little head out of the box I was keeping it in (all blinky and tentative like a baby bear leaving the den for the first time in the Spring) on about Saturday and then seemed to exponentially grow until Sunday when I was sporadically super horny on the flight back (what percentage of guys going into those little bathrooms on planes do you think are jacking off?). Monday it was on point to the extent that I could just find the will power to get a device on. Last night was a bit of a challenge falling asleep since laying on my stomach pushed the Looker 02 into me in a delicious and distracting way and laying on my back inevitably led to my fingers poking through the bars of the device’s cage and feeling the hard shaft of the insert buried inside me. Today, I’m walking around with a ball of vibrating horniness in my chest and sneaking time with Tumblr whenever possible to stare slack-mouthed and in kind of a daze. But the thing is, nothing else has changed. It’s like all I had to do was give myself permission to feel sexual again. 

During the time I was in my funk (which, based on the dates of my posting here was more like a month and a half at least), Belle did let me come several times. Maybe three or four times. But I was all kinds of messed up. The one morning we had sex on the trip, after I got her off, I was desperately hoping she’d not let me come. I fucked her for about a minute or so (usually about as long as I can last anymore) before slowing down to keep it from happening and then she told me I could. I started back up again but quickly lost my erection. It’s been like that lately. Like the penis and the brain aren’t working in tandem in any way. She let me masturbate to completion, but even then I felt weird about it. Almost guilty. Or maybe not guilty. More like disappointed. But how would she know? It’s not like there’s instructions printed on the side of my box and I am the rules say I’m not to tell her what I want with regard to orgasm. It’s supposed to be entirely up to her. 

It’s a telling indication of my rapid change of heart that a week ago my relationship with my own orgasm left me feeling blue but today writing those last few sentences strains the cage I’m wearing. Playing with the things we do in our dynamic — the way we force the higher brain to disconnect, override, and otherwise fiddle with urges and processes that are instinctual and natural — is not to be done lightly. But now that we have, I will never be the same again. Our dynamic isn’t an overlay on top of my sexuality anymore. It’s replaced my sexuality. That’s not a bad thing. It’s just a thing and not one whose significance I think I really understood until recently. 

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B.Y.O.D.

D/s is weird. Weird in that from the outside and to the uninitiated, it looks like the D side of the slash is in control but from the inside it’s clear that’s not true. It’s the lower-case consonant that sets the parameters of the dynamic (limits, boundaries, etc.) and, therefore, the rules the D has to follow. So no, the D’s power is not limitless. They call the shots and the sub wants them to, but the shots they call are enumerated by the sub. But it’s not always the case that the sub’s Dominant is all that interested in calling shots regardless of which are available to them.  

Some of us came to understanding our submissive nature later in life after pairing up with an unsuspecting partner. That can be catastrophic if the partner is not in any way cool with their other half’s inclinations to submission and unable to indulge them. Of course, that’s not me. I have a great spouse who’s willing to make all kinds of accommodations, but she’s not sexually dominant. She’s not naturally motivated by or wired for it. Seems to me guys in my boat (S.S. Subby McSubface) have two options. They can hope and wish and push for their wives to be active dominents or they can accept their wives’ more passive dominance. I think of it as the Mistress vs. the Goddess

Before I go any further, the usual caveats about this being from my point of view and not in all ways encompassing of the infinite diversity of human sexuality apply, etc blah blah.

The basic difference between the Mistress and Goddess, in my mind, it that Mistresses demand submission and Goddesses accept (and perhaps even expect) it. Some women (and men, but that’s not what I’m talking about) get off on playing within those boundaries established by the sub and pushing buttons and seeing how far they can go. Call them sadists or whatever, but they’re wired to find pleasure in how the sub responds to them. But my thinking is most women aren’t wired like that and while they may come to appreciate the benefits of having a submissive husband, they just aren’t going to ever be the kind of parter who will be forceful in asserting their dominent position. In those cases (more or less the case I’m in), the sub needs to find a way to project their submission onto their partner in kind of the same way religious devotees worship a theoretical deity. They need to construct in their minds a suitable target for their submission taking advantage of the topography of their surroundings. I know I’ve done this with Belle. At least she’s a tangible person who can interact with me and not some invisible sky friend throwing lightning bolts down from the sky or killing my crops with drought. 

I say all this because recently our D/s dynamic kind of sputtered out. Sometime around the beginning of March I started to feel it slip away to such an extent that I found no pleasure in wearing a device (though I did for a little while only because it was expected). Then, she let me out just before leaving for a trip and forgot to tell me to go back in and I didn’t remind her or put it back on by myself. When she got back, I said I didn’t want to wear it and she didn’t push it. This kind of thing has happened before for short periods, but the big difference is, other than when she initiated, I also pretty much lost all interest in sex, too. I tried to look at porn but I just couldn’t. Like, it wasn’t just uninteresting to me, it kind of annoyed and even disgusted me. I never touched the penis and never even thought about it. Not sure I even had an erection outside of the nocturnal kind and/or when Belle wanted me to. 

So, what the fuck, right? In unpacking this with the therapist Obi Wan, I came to understand that I was kind of like a religious person whose faith had been shaken. Not because of anything overt that Belle had done, but because of life. She’s been very busy at work and traveling and, I’d say, in a grumpier mood than usual. Any one of these things or even the combination of them over a short period I could deal with, but this was sustained for weeks and longer. Long hours at work followed by more work when she got home followed being absent and then perhaps flavored with my own issues led to a general collapse of the dynamic’s infrastructure. Even in the best of times, I need it to be bigger and more elaborate than she needs it to be so I’m by necessity “holding up” more than one half of it. When the footings on her side got a little crumbly, I couldn’t do it anymore and it fell down. 

But my submission and our rules are too ingrained to disappear completely. Instead of unilaterally disengaging and doing my own thing sexually, which is what happened years ago and led to all kinds of issues in our marriage, I simply shut down. If I can’t get a hard on looking at porn I can’t jack off and come without permission and that means I never have to deal with the reality of what that would have meant. My sex isn’t just mine anymore and acting like it was would have been too much to deal with so I just packed it all up in a box and put it on a shelf. But my sexuality is a big part of who I am so this left me dispondant. 

I never really said only of this to Belle. I didn’t want to be perceived as being unsupportive of her and what she needed to do with her job. So I just let it all happen. In general, Obi Wan thinks I don’t do enough to ensure my needs are being taken care of in the relationship. He thinks I tend to avoid conflict with Belle. He’s probably right. Of course, “ensure my needs are being taken care of” is an interesting concept for a sub, but it makes sense when the D/s dynamic as seen as an overlay to the foundational relationship. My needs are, to a certain extent, for my needs not to be taken care of, but only in the dynamic. Down in the foundational relationship, I was feeling neglected and maybe a bit taken for granted.

Again, Belle didn’t do this on purpose. She wasn’t being a terrible spouse. But I didn’t say what I was thinking because I was afraid it would cause her to think I was not being supportive to her needs and I didn’t want to get into a fight about it. 

Last week, we were away on a family vacation. Except for one night, it was close quarters for ten days. I hoped and expected that the trip would be when I turned a corner on all this. Not sure if it’s because of my expectations, but by the end of the trip I found myself a lot more interested in the penis that I had been for nearly a month. To the enxtent that yesterday I put the Looker 02 on. Porn was all of a sudden super hot and had I not locked it up I would have been pulling on it. This is not to say I or we are out of the woods or there won’t be some backsliding. Belle’s still busy. No reason to think that will change. Maybe this is just a little bit of sunlight breaking though some clouds or maybe a high pressure system is settling in. No idea. 

Obi Wan thinks Belle and I should see a therapist together. He even gave me some names of kink-aware people he knows (he doesn’t really do couples). I don’t know if we’ll take it that far or if we’ll figure it out but ourselves. Time will tell.