A Man-Man-Manic Episode

So, what do you do for fun when you're a young, naive, emotional train wreck, in full swing of an early manic episode?

What I did, way back then, with my (ex)husband, was smoke a little crack with the neighbors, until everyone was good and happy.  Then someone would invite another friend over, who would bring a friend, and then someone else would pop in to say 'hello', and the next thing you know it's a party.  Sometimes there would be a little pot, and sometimes there would be a lineup of liquor.  On two occasions, the early hours of the morning found me picking out which of my (ex)husband's friends I wanted to lay beneath.  I would choose the most attractive one who had paid some attention to me, and showed an interest.  Someone who made me feel sexy.  My (ex)husband would pull him aside and quietly make the proposal.   

Now, when one thinks of a hot threesome orgy, one might think that the men would penetrate her body from both angles, simultaneously.  And one would think that a woman who was willing to have a hot threesome orgy would be willing to do that.  But I was actually quite shy, with little confidence in my own physical beauty.  I never went topless, not even alone with my (ex)husband.  Not even with other men before my (ex)husband.  The contents were open for business, but you just had to keep them in the container.


Here's how it all went down... I would lie on the bed, and both men would touch me, until I was I was physically ready.  My (ex)husband would mount me first, (you know, to display ownership and domination).  His stay was brief, and then he retreated to the back of the room, to watch as another man penetrates, and thrusts into his wife.  It was the moment of victory to me.  To be holding a man so close against my chest.  To kiss his neck and chest.  To feel his hands on my body while his pelvis rocks against mine.  They, each, were very handsome men.  The kind that I would never have a shot with in high school.  But one year later, and two thousand miles away, they wanted me.  Two other men, on separate occasions, wanted me.  (There were actually three, but the last one didn't happen like this).  Both men, in those moments, with the weight of their bodies laying heavy on mine, and their hardened dicks being gently squeezed by my soft pink flesh ... they even needed me.  Even my (ex)husband needed me.  He needed to be a voyeur, watching the live sex show.  Sometimes he would he would stick me one more time, before ejaculating on top of the sperm that already covered my stomach.  It was the closest that I could get to love, and I took it.




     

A Sick Circle

They say that someone who was abused has a higher risk of becoming an abuser, and I agree with that statistic.  I also know that with the right tools in place, the cycle can be broken.  But what can you do with a victim who goes on to enjoy being victimized? 

You will find through past and future postings, that I have been sexually assaulted a few times in my haunting past.  You may also find some research on the web, that shows that many rape victims later find themselves aroused by rape scenarios.  Guilty as charged. 

Once upon a time I was shamed by this fetish.  How sick is it for a girl to want to be overpowered and forced into deviant acts, as a submissive sexual slave?  (My goodness... just typing that line caused me have to adjust myself in my chair).  I mean, it is a crime.  Unless the partner is perfectly willing, and not only gives permission, but thoroughly enjoys the act.  In my mind, it's that primal man, with all of his strength and virility, who has pressure to release.  If a woman should stimulate him visually, he may have the natural desire to take her, by force if necessary.  I love being on the receiving end of a man's strongest urges, when his passion borders on the edge of anger.  When  he seems almost possessed by a demon of lust, and he's driven to force himself on the woman he desires.  (Oh, Boy).  Sometimes it's simply a woman being held as a commodity for men to use as a toy, as they satisfy their sexual needs. 


This fantasy branches out into all sorts of fabulous scenarios.  There's the woman being captured by vikings, pirates, or (--insert your favorite savage here--).  The one who was sold into slavery, in another era, and services handsome, wealthy kings.  The one with the biker gang, and the girl bound and chained on a mattress in the corner.  And one of my favorites, the girl who gets so drunk at the frat party that she doesn't even realize that she's being laid out for the wrestling team to line up on.  I sometimes even take that to the next level, and pretend to be the girl who was drugged by her boyfriend, so that he and his roommate can ravage her in ways that she'll be unable to protest against. 


Okay, so it is rape.  And rape is a horrible crime.  I know because I was raped.  But like I said in the beginning, it is the rape scenario that arouses me.  The sex act, not the violence.  In the privacy of my home.  The participants are two people in a loving and committed relationship, who have discussed the acts that they perform, in all their glory, and have agreed on the limitations.  With love, I give myself fully to his will, and trust that he will keep from hurting me.  Neither of us have ever been disappointed.

Is it still sick?

Ups and Downs

   
About six months ago, my husband began taking a mild mood enhancing drug... prescription, of course. As it did for me, the medication helped him a great deal. His anger just melted away, making him a much more personable man, easy to talk to, funny, and just an all around great guy. The way he used to be, before our kids became teenagers, and the economy nearly wrecked his career. He even dropped a few pounds, and began taking me out socially, like he did when we were in our twenties. On top of that, he had finally given in and gotten that vasectomy we'd been talking about for years, and I had been seen my doctor about an anti-anxiety medication to help me relax.

With all of these things coming together, it was no surprise that we would find ourselves coming together, a lot more often. Not that our sex life was lacking. Chemistry, compatibility, and electric excitement had never been an issue, but the frequency of encounters had diminished. It was a shame, too, because when we have an intense sexual history. That's what comes from a deeply committed partnership between two people who truly respect each other. We've felt comfortable enough to share our secret desires, including fetishes and dark fantasies, and we brought them into our bed. This is what you get from having a deep level of trust in a relationship. Hallelujah.


So, after a couple of years of sexual frustration, brought on by stressors coming at us from random directions, we're back to hitt'in it on a regular basis. I'd even say more than most couples our age, who have been married for more than fifteen years. It's funny, because 99% of the people we know see us as such a sweet couple, as they catch us mindlessly moving in synchronization, and finishing each other's sentences.  We're Ozzie and Harriet or Rosanne and Dan.  Wouldn't they be shocked to discover our freaky side. 


We've discovered, however, that my husband's medication is causing a very unwanted side effect.  It doesn't even matter how overcome with passion he may be, or how strong his erection, his gun won't fire.  It wants to, and God knows I want it to.  It's certainly cocked and ready, but the bullet always retreats just as the trigger is pulled.  We've tried every sexual thing imaginable trying to stimulate him further, even though we've already done everything before.  We did them all again.  He's tried meditation and relaxation techniques, to no avail.  He even decided to reduce his dosage, but that led to the partial return of the grump, so that idea was tabled.  The doctor says that this may last a few months, or it could last as long as he's on the meds.  It's a wait and see situation.


Sometimes, it's nice that he doesn't fire it off for long periods of time, if at all.  That gives me a very long time to play with his assets, and to enjoy his manual labor.  Believe me, "he's got magic hands".  It doesn't help me, though, when I'm lost in a sexual frenzy, and I want nothing more than that moment of feeling his warm fluids landing on, and dripping off of, various parts of my body.  That aspect of our problem leaves me very unsatisfied.  Not only that, but several hours of having his semen held captive by his body, and teasing him with it two or three times in a night, is enough to wear a man down, and the gun goes back in it's holster.  Now, by the time that this happens, I'm usually well pleasured, and so dehydrated that it's a battle to even gasp, and pull oxygen into my desert dry mouth and throat.  We both are equally ready to quit, with nothing really to complain about, but the thought of leaving him without a release, for months at a time, makes me feel bad.   

The only solution, besides waiting it out, may be adding another medication to the mix.  I know that Viagra will create a strong and lasting erection, but can it aid in unloading a load?