I have meant to write about this for a long while.
See, I have this thing in my life with the number 3. It has spilled over into my affair with Jack/Surfer, and I noticed that in the very beginning. We discovered that we were married on the same day, and it isn't a real common date to pick. Not at all. That was my first clue. We have the same lucky number, which, most people think is actually bad luck. The room we most commonly use at our hideaway hotel is 103. You get the idea. This pattern with me goes back to birth, and I find it odd....because every major life event for me, has to do with that number and this crazy phenomenon in my life has me perplexed.....
And yes, I have researched numerology. I have actually had my charts done, numbers done, you name it. I have been to a psychic many times, because I am really curious about that crap and why the fuck not?
I just wonder what in the hell it all means, you know?
*thinking*
Cheers,
Me
Monday, November 9, 2009
Friday, November 6, 2009
Rainy Saturday
Composed 9/09
By the grace of amazingly good luck, we get to spend a Saturday together. Now, this proves challenging in more ways than I initially realized. People are off from their daily work routines, and we can run into anyone, anywhere without warning. Oh, the risk. We love it and hate it. We get off on the excitement, but it is tempered with the healthy fear of being busted.
Keeping up with my theory on "hiding in plain sight," we head to a favorite Italian place and have a wonderful long lunch together. He's simply glowing with adoration for me, and I am in return. When paying attention, I notice that people like to stare at us. And no, there isn't PDA going on...I think it is that they see the chemistry at work and that we don't care about anyone else around us. This particular day, I just happened to notice that we were being watched. It is a huge compliment, and I often wonder if people think we are married to each other. The rings are there, after all. Realistically speaking, my parents still have that chemistry and they have been together nearly 5 decades (pre-divorce years counted in there, as they did have a long-term affair before divorcing then marrying each other.)
So that begs the question...can you make it work? The odds are stacked against you, that is for certain. And, before you say anything, we have no plans on doing anything, changing anything, at all. We both have committed to raising our children and remaining married to our spouses.
I am simply wondering....is it possible to succeed, based on where you started? Is there proof of this in our lovely blogosphere?
Cheers,
Me
By the grace of amazingly good luck, we get to spend a Saturday together. Now, this proves challenging in more ways than I initially realized. People are off from their daily work routines, and we can run into anyone, anywhere without warning. Oh, the risk. We love it and hate it. We get off on the excitement, but it is tempered with the healthy fear of being busted.
Keeping up with my theory on "hiding in plain sight," we head to a favorite Italian place and have a wonderful long lunch together. He's simply glowing with adoration for me, and I am in return. When paying attention, I notice that people like to stare at us. And no, there isn't PDA going on...I think it is that they see the chemistry at work and that we don't care about anyone else around us. This particular day, I just happened to notice that we were being watched. It is a huge compliment, and I often wonder if people think we are married to each other. The rings are there, after all. Realistically speaking, my parents still have that chemistry and they have been together nearly 5 decades (pre-divorce years counted in there, as they did have a long-term affair before divorcing then marrying each other.)
So that begs the question...can you make it work? The odds are stacked against you, that is for certain. And, before you say anything, we have no plans on doing anything, changing anything, at all. We both have committed to raising our children and remaining married to our spouses.
I am simply wondering....is it possible to succeed, based on where you started? Is there proof of this in our lovely blogosphere?
Cheers,
Me
Monday, November 2, 2009
Waiting
Composed 10/09
We had been away together just 10 days before, and it was magical. It always is.
We had to wait. Sickness, obligations, family weekends. All those great things (and some not so great things) getting in the way.
We wound each other into sexual knots for several days before meeting. I came 3 times in one afternoon, because I needed him...wanted him so badly. He walked around with a perpetual hard-on for a week, because we were so strung out on each other after that incredible romantic getaway.
I pulled into the parking lot and dropped him a quick text. He had already checked in, and before I could get my sunglasses off, he was at my car door. I jumped out and into his arms....and immediately he has me off the ground and up in the air. That scent of his...ocean, fresh laundry....musky male. Intoxicating.
We kiss....for a long time, and once again must stop ourselves from fucking in the parking lot. Eventually, we trot off to the room (our usual) and step inside. The longing...has now turned to intense and unadulterated lust. We are clawing at each other, biting, unable to stop each other. I rip his plaid shirt open and pull at his jeans. His belt is quickly undone, and I am eager for that enormous cock. He's trying like hell to go down on me first, but I am relentless with my need to suck him. I am over him on the bed, taking the length of him while he moans and lets himself relax into my spoiling. I catch a glimpse of myself in my yellow lace set, but with the addition of over the knee socks, since the room can be quite chilly ;-) (Truth be told, I just think they are really fucking sexy and love wearing knee-high, thigh-high and over-the-knee socks anytime.)
When he cums, it is powerful enough to make me nearly gag from the force, but I take all of it without fail. He's needing some refractory time following, but I did not have much time to prepare. It is minutes before he is between my legs, lapping at my pussy like a starved man. He doesn't torture me, so I cum pretty fast and really fucking hard. I ended up pleading with him to stop, it was that intense.
I wish I could describe what it is like when we are together...even lunch can turn pornographic with us, and we joke about that fact all the time. Not that sex is the only thing we think about....why, just today we had an hour long conversation about religion. We just do that.
Another hard on and I decide to climb on top to ride him....slowly at first, then much slower...deliberate...grinding....until I get close to the edge again and find myself thrusting down on him with every ounce of energy I have. I fuck him until he's grunting and cuming and I cum just as hard a second time.
The next round would find me staring at our reflection on the ceiling...the most incredible sight of him covering me with that muscular bod....my legs wrapped around his back, seeing my face flushed...watching him fuck me...slow and much deeper than before. I watched myself drag my long, baby-pink nails across his back...digging so hard at one point that I must have left a bruise...evident in a photo he sent to me later that night. It made me smile. I like marking him. To me it isn't about possession. It's about leaving a reminder of how powerful our sexual/emotional/spiritual connection is.
And then there's that last blow job, that nearly put him in traction *snickers wickedly* and came close to rendering him useless to drive home. To say that he was convulsing...understatement. I sucked every possible drop out of this man.
Par for the course....
Cheers,
Me
We had been away together just 10 days before, and it was magical. It always is.
We had to wait. Sickness, obligations, family weekends. All those great things (and some not so great things) getting in the way.
We wound each other into sexual knots for several days before meeting. I came 3 times in one afternoon, because I needed him...wanted him so badly. He walked around with a perpetual hard-on for a week, because we were so strung out on each other after that incredible romantic getaway.
I pulled into the parking lot and dropped him a quick text. He had already checked in, and before I could get my sunglasses off, he was at my car door. I jumped out and into his arms....and immediately he has me off the ground and up in the air. That scent of his...ocean, fresh laundry....musky male. Intoxicating.
We kiss....for a long time, and once again must stop ourselves from fucking in the parking lot. Eventually, we trot off to the room (our usual) and step inside. The longing...has now turned to intense and unadulterated lust. We are clawing at each other, biting, unable to stop each other. I rip his plaid shirt open and pull at his jeans. His belt is quickly undone, and I am eager for that enormous cock. He's trying like hell to go down on me first, but I am relentless with my need to suck him. I am over him on the bed, taking the length of him while he moans and lets himself relax into my spoiling. I catch a glimpse of myself in my yellow lace set, but with the addition of over the knee socks, since the room can be quite chilly ;-) (Truth be told, I just think they are really fucking sexy and love wearing knee-high, thigh-high and over-the-knee socks anytime.)
When he cums, it is powerful enough to make me nearly gag from the force, but I take all of it without fail. He's needing some refractory time following, but I did not have much time to prepare. It is minutes before he is between my legs, lapping at my pussy like a starved man. He doesn't torture me, so I cum pretty fast and really fucking hard. I ended up pleading with him to stop, it was that intense.
I wish I could describe what it is like when we are together...even lunch can turn pornographic with us, and we joke about that fact all the time. Not that sex is the only thing we think about....why, just today we had an hour long conversation about religion. We just do that.
Another hard on and I decide to climb on top to ride him....slowly at first, then much slower...deliberate...grinding....until I get close to the edge again and find myself thrusting down on him with every ounce of energy I have. I fuck him until he's grunting and cuming and I cum just as hard a second time.
The next round would find me staring at our reflection on the ceiling...the most incredible sight of him covering me with that muscular bod....my legs wrapped around his back, seeing my face flushed...watching him fuck me...slow and much deeper than before. I watched myself drag my long, baby-pink nails across his back...digging so hard at one point that I must have left a bruise...evident in a photo he sent to me later that night. It made me smile. I like marking him. To me it isn't about possession. It's about leaving a reminder of how powerful our sexual/emotional/spiritual connection is.
And then there's that last blow job, that nearly put him in traction *snickers wickedly* and came close to rendering him useless to drive home. To say that he was convulsing...understatement. I sucked every possible drop out of this man.
Par for the course....
Cheers,
Me
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