With the benefit of hindsight

You know, hindsight is a wonderful thing. If we could see our future selves we would probably do many things differently. Make decisions that didn’t take us down a fateful path. Or maybe we would. Perhaps that is what human nature is all about; learning by our mistakes.

I suggested the prompt regrets / benefit of hindsight when preparing to write this post. I’m not linking to the stuff about my ex, but it is contained here in this blog. In the early years of writing here I poured my heart out. Since I couldn’t tell anyone in real life about most of it, this was my haven. A nonjudgmental place to be myself. I received support from strangers along the way and found my way to the place I needed to be.

My ex and I are about to finally be divorced and I’m sure no one ever ended their marriage without some level of regret. We were married for over 30 years and I loved him. I will never regret that part of my life but with the benefit of hindsight I know I should have got out sooner. However there are reasons not to regret my decisions.

S

The things that have happened to me since just before my 50th birthday have been amazing. I was sexually repressed and my knowledge came from books and the internet. Since then, my learning curve has been steep and experiences varied. Master always says that he is glad that S got me ready for him. And, it is true he did. S helped me learn about my sexual needs and how to enjoy sex. He also brought out my submissive side, even if it scared the hell out of him. I took a massive risk the day I headed off to a hotel to meet S, but it turned out well and directly led to me meeting Master.

Master

The time was right for us both. He was in another relationship, but in hindsight that was on its last legs. I needed a push to move on both from S and my ex. We came together at the right time and helped each other through the emotions that ensued. He asked me to be his slave just when I had decided that was what I wanted.

Sex with Master is the best I’ve had. He is the most considerate love I have had and always puts my needs first.

I believe that things happen for a reason. We met when the time was right and for that reason I don’t regret staying in my marriage when I should have got the hell out.

A letter filled with love

Silhouette of a mother and son. Mother is kneeling and kissing boy on forehead.

I always struggle this week of the year. The week of your birthday. You would think that I’d be over it all, after all you are 29 now. But somehow the trauma of a difficult pregnancy and then the joy of your arrival has become intertwined with the sense of betrayal I experienced from your father. He was there is body on the day you were born, but it later transpired that he was definitely elsewhere in spirit.

You are the same age today as I was when I had you. It is no wonder that you seem like a proper grown up these days, since I did at 29 too. Marriage, a mortgage, responsible job. But I can see that you and your wife have great fun together and don’t overly worry about serious stuff over a good holiday. I don’t speak to you or see you as often as I would like, but I am thankful that if you need me you will reach out. The hug you give me when we see each other, the kiss when we say good bye tells me all I need to know. It’s not apparent to the outsider but we are as close as we were when you were a little boy.

You were described as a mummy’s boy. But what else could you be when your daddy wasn’t exactly a role model presence. Either working or up to no good he was often absent. It was our norm, something I didn’t tell others and smoothed over. I also worked full time, so made our time together as special as I could. Visiting family, going to the park, Toys R Us on a Saturday morning, playing in the snow. So many happy times, but often just us. Later though we included cousins and grandparents and ventured further afield. It was only annual holiday times that we were a family of 3.

Looking back I realise we would have managed alone. But I was too frightened, so clung on to your dad and tried hard to be happy. As you grew up I know that you sensed things were wrong but thankfully didn’t really see how bad they were.

I was wrong to wait till you were at university to make my move. Wrong too that I betrayed your dad in order to find my way out. It made me now better than him in many ways. But there’s no manual for life and us human’s get things wrong. I was grateful you came away on holiday with me and that we spent time working through some of those feelings. Sadly that then made me think you’d be ok about me brining G into my life when I did. I guess that I failed to explain who he was and how important he was becoming. But also that you would need time to adjust. That you directed your anger back at me was upsetting, but something I probably deserved.

Thankfully we have both moved on from those times. We have talked through your feelings of hurt and rejection. Talked endlessly about your dad and the issues you have with him and his behaviour. I am happy you have your wife to love and support you and that you know how much I love you and will always be there for you.

On the day of my mastectomy you took the day off and came to be with me. Breast cancer was a wake up call for me and for us as a family. I’ve now discussed things that I didn’t know possible with you. It’s entirely possible that you are the strong and caring man you are because that’s how I brought you up and because of the experiences we had together. I’m proud you are my son and the man you have become.

So on your 29th birthday, this is a love letter to you, my son.

I am, because we are

It is a coincidence that as I walked home yesterday I was thinking about this topic. Wondering about who I am now as we enter the 7th year of our life together. Wondering whether I am worthy as his submissive and partner. I came to the conclusion that we are where we are because of who we are, together. So, some background.

Last weekend was the 6th anniversary of the day we met in person. This year we celebrated by going out for dinner. We often eat out, but usually it’s because we are doing something away from home and dinner out is easier. This was a meal out for itself.

Today I received notice that the first part of my divorce, the decree nisi will be heard in court in March. 6 weeks and one day later I will be divorced. My entire blog catalogues my own journey to this point. In many ways I am the person I was at the beginning, but of course events have changed me. Plus taking on the role of slave and starting a new long term relationship has added to that.

The person I was

Confused, probably sums it up. As I approached my 50th birthday I knew change was needed. My life wasn’t going as it should and I wanted something different. Trouble was I didn’t know what that different was or how to go about getting it. I consider my self lucky that the two men I met along the way helped guide me towards discovering what that might be. The fall out from my ex was hard to bear. Last week while reading some old posts from 2013 to link to my privacy post I came across some very disturbing writing.

My husband was playing me. I know that now since at the time he was already in another relationship (still unknown to me). But meanwhile he manipulated me and made me feel I was beyond dreadful for cheating on him. He made me sleep deprived by turning up early in the morning and then he snooped through my emails and was generally horrible. All the time I cooked meals for him if he decided to be home. Made sandwiches and did his washing. YES, I actually did those things. I was a complete doormat. I now know I should have kicked him out and changed the locks. But that’s with the benefit of hindsight.

The person I am

From the beginning of my relationship with Master things changed. He listened to me and helped me work out how to navigate the way ahead. I didn’t always to what he suggested to begin with. But usually there was some method in his ideas. His own other relationship was messy and so we worked through those times together. Sometimes that meant just being there for each other. I know there were times when he felt less dominant for it, but this was a human need not about power exchange dynamics. Not many months after we met my father became terminally ill and died. The support Master provided during that time set the scene for the kind of partner he would be.

Running parallel to all of those more intimate and personal elements of our relationship is the kink. Power, Dominance, submission, kinky sex and play. Over the years we have learned what is our norm. The things that feel safe and right. But we have also pushed each other to try new things.

For a very long time we played in the privacy of our own home and occasionally in a privately hired dungeon. It was also a while before we ventured to Munches and in the end it was through talking to people at those events that drew us to play events. Then recently we started meeting up with some people we met at one of those. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that often I’d prefer to stay at home. Well until I’m there that is. But that is also true of attending vanilla events even with friends.

Am I submissive enough? Is he dominant enough?

These were my thoughts as I listened to some podcasts while travelling yesterday (details below). My idea of submission at the beginning of this journey was based on erotica and other blogs. Training plans for submissives, men with dungeons in their basements, kneeling naked etc. It isn’t like that. For obvious reasons. But when Master tells me I’ve been bratty, I do stop and think. When he tells me to kneel and suck his cock I do it. When he asks me if I’ve achieved the things in my planner, I do reflect. And when he tells me his is proud of the person I glow with pride.

He has helped me become the slave he wants, but also I have helped him to become the dominant I need. Our life together is the one we have made together and it isn’t like anyone else’s I’m sure. But it occurs to me that we are who we are and I am the person I am because of us.

At some point soon, I am going to draw a line on some of the past. We share enough history on this blog not to need to go back further. The posts will remain but they will be archived from view. They are not ones that are retweeted anyway. Time to move on.

Thoughts generated from the following podcasts

Thoughts on intimacy

While reading this post by May yesterday it struck me that there was a time when I hated intimacy. The reasons for these feelings differ between us, experiences in childhood and young adulthood are important. Being cheated on so early in my marriage had a profound affect on me. Over time, I learned to bury the hurt and pain, to bury my feelings. I guess I came across as cold and unresponsive. He told me I was frigid, so I know that was the case.

Sex during my marriage

Was perfunctory and was often just sex. I’ve said before that he was a man who could complete foreplay and PIV sex in during a commercial break. But to be fair to him, I was often ok with that. I’d hang around in the bedroom for a while and bang out an orgasm. Or else wait till he was asleep and find my rabbit. I actually didn’t want him to be intimate with me, to stroke and touch.

It’s strange, because we didn’t have full sex for quite a time after we met. But there was a lot of intimacy – a lot of foreplay (without the sex), we always sat close together and touched and kissed a lot. And then gradually that didn’t happen any more, but the catalyst for that was his affair. Don’t get me wrong we had our moments, but I think alcohol played quite a part in getting me to relax my guard.

Meeting S

This was a pretty transactional relationship looking back. I was his bedroom submissive, I dressed up and got off on some humiliation and degradation. In return we had some very good sex and through that I discovered I was in no way frigid. The play and the sex were fairly unemotional. But there was a lot of intimacy before and after. My husband rarely cooked a meal and being presented with breakfast after an early start and long drive was amazing. Picnics in bed were also a fun and intimate thing. But also there was aftercare of the physical kind – stroking, kissing and just generally being.

But then it was time to leave and I often didn’t hear from him for days or even weeks. To begin with that hurt, but over time I accepted that it wasn’t a love affair and took from it what I needed.

The intimacy of us

This relationship, with Master gives me everything I didn’t realise I needed until I had it. I’ve written before about the importance of touch between us. The intimacy is just there. If my husband came up to me and put his hands on my waist, then grabbed a tit I’d swat him away. Because there was a motive. With Master, there could be motive, but in general he is touching me because he desires me and just wants to touch me.

The stroking and holding takes place before during and after sex. During play he is constantly seeking to check I am ok and to let me know that he desires me. He also wants to know that I am aroused by the things he is doing.

As mentioned in the post – The touch of our hands – he didn’t always enjoy being touched. Now though he actively seeks my hands on his body. We approach each other regularly and just kiss gently on the lips. We don’t always hold hands when out, but sometimes, often late at night we do and it feels just right.

In many ways I feel I’ve come full circle. That I didn’t actually know what I needed till I didn’t have it. Didn’t know what to expect or to ask for. But, you know what? It’s never to late to find out what you need and perhaps to get it.

Click below for the thoughts of others on the topic of intimacy

Click below to see who else is participating in January Jumpstart.

January Jumpstart – More goals for 2020

For the second year Violet Fawkes is running a month long meme – January Jumpstart. Designed to get the blogging year off to a flying start with 31 posts in 31 days. This year January looks pretty quiet and I’m keen to get writing so I’m joining in.

There are a couple of goals that I left off of my post yesterday and which I want to write about. These are personal things that are not related to my blog or to writing but which I am bound to write about.

Legal issues

The first is that I am still married and that we are living in Master’s house. That I currently have no financial stability and if something should happen to him I would be looking for a new home. Also that my (still) husband lives in a house that is jointly owned by he and his partner. But if anything should happen to him, then that half a house would become mine again. So the key personal goal for this year is to sort out this legal and financial situation.

I had planned to divorce last year and did start the online process. But with other stuff going on it wasn’t a priority. Now though I feel I must get on with divorce and we must have wills to make sure everyone knows where they stand.

I never thought I’d want to marry again, but actually I would really quite like that. But you can’t marry if you are already married to someone else. So, into my planner all of this goes.

Money

Most of the proceeds of the sale of my half of our marital home is tied up and doing nicely in my share portfolio. Master is managing that for me and all is well. I receive a monthly NHS pension which should be enough to live on and is. But it doesn’t really allow for much in the way of luxuries, holidays etc. So I need to supplement it. I still have a reasonable amount of savings other than mentioned above, but I need to build them up again. I managed to spend quite a bit during last year.

So, I need to find some interim work for the first half of this year. Resend my CV to a few agencies and chase some contacts. This is on top of any small amount of money I might be able to earn through my blogging and writing.

So, these are my specific personal goals for 2020 and are added to those I mentioned in my last post. They aren’t New Year resolutions but actual things that really need to be done. And that’s me for January 1st 2020.

Freedom

This weeks F4T prompt is freedom. You would imagine that as a slave in a M/s relationship, my freedom would be limited in some way. But actually I feel more at liberty to do the things I want to do than at any point in my adult life. That’s partly because I have fewer responsibilities. But also because I feel safe and secure in my relationship. I have freedom to express myself, both here on this blog and also with Master.

The responsibilities of life

We all have to act within certain rules in life. No one is free to do as they wish – there are laws, moral codes and organisational rules. But while some people manage to exercise the freedom to be themselves within those confines, others feel constrained. For a long time I felt like that, even though I had a lot of freedom. I had a husband and son to care for (and the husband wasn’t low maintenance), a job and wider family. But still I had opportunities to go out with friends, read, study and shop for myself. However I felt trapped, unable to express myself, to be the person I wanted to be. Trouble was, I didn’t actually know what I wanted. Just not what I had.

For years and years I did nothing about it. I went to work, out with my husband, saw family and cared for my son. I was known for taking my nephews and nieces out for days and even on holiday. We were always doing something for someone and usually the main driver was me. I was my own worst enemy. But keeping my head down and getting on with it felt like the best approach, then I didn’t need to think about my own needs and desires. However that approach was not sustainable, not from anyway.

Breaking free

The life I have now has taken many years to achieve. One of the problems was I didn’t actually have a goal. Instead I just followed my heart and body. In hindsight, there is nothing wrong with this, but if I’d had a plan the journey may have been smoother.

Fear of making mistakes and of what others would think of me held me back. It stopped me seeking help when I needed it and made me internalise my problems.

I really don’t recommend cheating on your partner. But in the end it was the catalyst for working out what I wanted and needed. I was lucky that along the way I met someone that I really do want to spend the rest of my life with.

The by product is that my ex is also happier with his new partner. For a long time he denied it, since he claimed to still love me. But when I see him now I know that his new lady provides all of the things I detested. In particular she is better at mothering him. I always said that I had one child and didn’t need him to become another. Plus at the time he had a mother.

My blog

It’s strange that writing a sex and relationship based blog can provide freedom. But it does, and in a way that my previous work related one never could. Both were anonymous, at least to begin with. But I feared being outed and sacked for writing about the health service then I have writing about sex and BDSM.

This blog has evolved over time. I always wrote about my relationships including the break up of my marriage. But over the past couple of years I have felt more freedom to write anything. Though all of my posts are personal in some way, even the fiction. That’s why I decided to write about my cancer and also the reason there will be more posts about my diet and fitness. Now I am not working I have more time to be creative, and the freedom to do so. Trouble is words don’t automatically flow just because we want them to.

I love to write about the fun, BDSM related things we do. The new toys we try and the way in which we push our relationship and dynamic. I want to develop this blog, make it more dynamic. I want to write on a wider range of topics.

Master told me at the beginning of our relationship that he liked my blog and loved to read it. He told me that I would always have freedom to write as I wanted and I took this at face value. That doesn’t mean I don’t consider him and his feelings when I write. I’m not completely gungho. But my freedom to write and create is never restricted by him.

Freedom to be a submissive

In my former life I both loved and hated being free to make decisions. I was able to make them but grew weary from doing it. What to eat, where to go, work decisions, relationship decisions. It just went on and on. So to be given the opportunity to give up making some decisions has given me more freedom.

I don’t like being told what to do in all situations. But I do love it in the bedroom, during play and also in our wider life. Before I acted alone and didn’t consult because my ex was terrible at making decisions. But now I discuss everything and am happy for advice, a push or even for Master to decide for me (depending on what is required).

Being his submissive has made me happy and it has also given me more freedom to be myself than I new possible.

F4Thought

The ceremonies of life

When I was slimmer my collar was a little big. I’d be happy if it was like this again!

Christenings, weddings, funerals and graduations have all been the ceremonies of my life. Christmas, even though I don’t go to church is a ceremony of its own. Over the years I’ve enjoyed them all. I still look back with fondness to my own wedding. I loved the day, being centre of attention. happy and in love. Marriage was much less fun than planning the wedding and living through the day.

Formal ceremonies

My favourite ceremonies with and for others though have been the ones involving my son. His christening at 6 months old, cute in his sailor suit. Family enjoying a sunny September afternoon in our garden. His school events, plays, nativity, fetes they were all ceremonial in their own way. The graduation – my son all grown up and smart in his gown, on the cusp of proper adult life. Then last Christmas his wedding. A really small and intimate affair, so different from my nuptials. A day though filled with laughter and a bride and groom who did things their own way. I loved every minute of that as much, if not more than my own.

His wedding allows me to concentrate on myself and my life with Master. I feel that the wedding ceremony is part of a bigger event. That he is now part of a new family, his own. One that will grow as, hopefully they have children in the future.

Collaring

This was a ceremony I didn’t expect to write about. But on the day that Master collared me, his slave I committed to him. Though this was not in front of other people. to bear witness, we made vows to live our lives in a certain way. I agreed to wear his collar, to be obedient and to provide service. In return he agreed to care for me and to be the best owner he could be.

4 years later and we have pretty much stuck to the vows we made to each other that night. Until I had surgery and then radiotherapy, I had rarely removed my collar. That titanium ring means as much to me as the ring I wore on my finger before.

However I do have the urge for another ceremony. I would like to affirm our commitment to each other in public, in front of my son, his wife and other very close family. But first I need to get round to divorce, get myself a new boob and make some plans. But it is something that hopefully we will do.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

A road not taken

Two country paths, which way to take?

This week’s Food for Thought poses some questions about the choices we have made in life: How many times have you found yourself at a junction in your life?; What helped you choose the road/door you decided on?; Do you ever think about what you would be doing if you had chosen the other path?; Tell us about that other you who picked the other route.

A Junction in my life

The biggest was when I discovered my husband was having an affair. The signs had been there previously, though I had chosen to ignore them. To believe in the obvious lies he told. We had been married for around 8 years and my son was a toddler.

I was ironing in my dining room one Saturday afternoon when a woman turned up at the door and told me she was engaged to my husband. She had little time to lay out her accusations before he arrived and bundled her out. She sent me a very long letter the following week detailing all of the times they had been together and with photos to prove it. Around the same time divorce papers arrived.

What should I do?

I was a mess. Crying and barely able to function. He told me that the other woman was manipulative and that she wouldn’t let him go (they were work colleagues). He told me that it was partly my fault as I hardly ever wanted sex and indeed was frigid. Therefore he had strayed.

For pretty much the first time in my life I felt unable to go to work. I didn’t want to face people, couldn’t bare having to be strong and capable. I was a district nurse at the time and needed to be able to make decisions to care and to be the boss. This was something I couldn’t do and so I saw my GP and got signed off for 2 weeks. I also told a friend who had been through something similar.

Two weeks doesn’t sound long. But actually I made my decision during that time and tried to move on. I could see no way of being a single parent. I was physically and emotionally able but I hated the idea of people thinking badly of me. But also I worried that I would be unable to cope financially.

Even more than that though I loved my husband. Hated the thought of someone else having him and so decided to fight to keep him.

What would I be doing now?

That is a difficult thing to know. In hindsight I would have saved myself one hell of a lot of heartache. Instead of dealing with the issues at the time we buried them and tried to pretend nothing was wrong. Their relationship continued though he said it didn’t. But eventually I had him to myself and in reality she should have been welcome to him.

I think if I had kicked him out I would have managed. I’m sure people would have rallied around me, but my problem was I hated showing signs of weakness.

I probably would have explored other relationships sooner, but without the need to betray his trust too. My son would have got used to the idea of his dad and I being apart and wouldn’t have felt the effects in his early 20’s.

Of course I might never have met Master because I might not have been looking online when I did. Though there is always the chance our paths might have crossed sooner.

With another man I might have had another child. There were trust issues that prevented that happening with my husband.

The other me

Well, the other me is who I am now. It’s difficult to know if I would have got to this place sooner if our marriage had ended then. I would like to think that the other me would discover her submissive self sooner and find fulfilment with her Master. That there would have been more years together than there can ever be. But to be honest I am the person I am because of the things that happened. And as I said last week: je ne regrette rein!

Photograph: David Robinson

F4Thought

Everybody hurts

Everybody Hurts – REM

When the day is long
And the night, the night is yours alone
When you’re sure you’ve had enough
Of this life, well hang on

Don’t let yourself go
‘Cause everybody cries
And everybody hurts sometimes

Sometimes everything is wrong
Now it’s time to sing along
When your day is night alone (Hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go (Hold on)
If you think you’ve had too much
Of this life, well hang on

‘Cause everybody hurts
Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts
Don’t throw your hand, oh no

Don’t throw your hand
If you feel like you’re alone
No, no, no, you are not alone

If you’re on your own in this life
The days and nights are long
When you think you’ve had too much of this life to hang on

Well, everybody hurts sometimes
Everybody cries
And everybody hurts sometimes
And everybody hurts sometimes

So hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on
Everybody hurts

No, no, no, no you are not alone

The biggest hurt of my life

The problem is that when you are hurting you neither know, nor care that others do too. When someone has done something terrible to you, and you are lying awake thinking about it, or sitting at your desk unable to work nothing else matters.

One Saturday afternoon while my 2 year old son was napping and I was ironing, a woman knocked on my door. She told me she was in love with my husband and that they were engaged to be married. He arrived soon afterwards and shooed her from the house. He told me not to believe her, that she was vindictive. A few days later she sent me a long letter with photos of them together. She was telling the truth, but so was he. It was a fine mess and it hurt.

In fact it hurt so much I had to take sick leave from work. I went to the GP, blurted out what had happened and was signed off for 2 weeks. I walked around like a zombie, and struggled to care for my child. What should I do? Who should I tell? In the end I did nothing and told no one. Not then. My husband ended the relationship with the woman soon afterwards and I decided to try to forgive him. That experience sewed the seeds for what happened later. Because I never forgave and I never forget. But the killer was that I never trusted him again, with good reason actually.

Now I know that there were always others I could have turned to, for support and guidance. I could always have sought professional help. There were other friends who had been cheated on, but at the time I neither knew nor cared. I wasn’t alone, but I didn’t know it.

This song makes me cry, but I love it too. Because good things came from bad and in the end the person I am now emerged and that is the best thing. It is never too late.

Discovery

Week 2 of the Erotic Journal challenge is about the discovery of our sexuality and ourselves as sexual beings. This week’s Wicked Wednesday is about the technical aspects of sex. This post will attempt to combine the two.

The beginning

I first met my future husband when he moved to live opposite us. He was 11 and I was 7. Our mothers were friendly, though not exactly friends. However we did play in each others houses when one of the mums visited for a cuppa. By the time I was a teenager and he was leaving school our mums both worked and so any contact was pretty accidental. I did like him, but he wasn’t one of the boys I fancied back then, they tended to go to my school and he had gone elsewhere.

Soon before my 16th birthday, during the half term before my o’levels he phoned and asked me over to his place to sun bathe. It was a hot May day and his family were out, we sat in the garden and chatted. I didn’t take much account of the heat of the sun and returned home a little burnt. The next day he took me to London for the day. We had fun, walked miles and ate strawberries and ice cream. My usually good appetite deserted me and my tummy was full of butterflies, all day long. The aroma of the soap he used and the aftershave he wore was very alluring. This was the first boy who I think turned me on without actually touching or kissing me. Though of course, within days there were kisses.

Over the ensuing months we spent a lot of time together, both out with friends and on our own and in doors. Spending time in my bedroom alone together was pretty much frowned on and anyway I had an annoying younger brother who tended to burst in. But his parents seemed more relaxed about things. So we often spend hours in his room, lying on the bed listening to music. We never took off all of our clothes but did strip down to underwear, touch and kiss.

“Don’t come back pregnant”

I would lie with his leg between mine and he would flex his quadricep muscle. This believe it or not, was enough to get me off, though I’m not sure if I actually orgasmed. I touched him outside and inside his pants and found the whole thing pretty daring. But we didn’t attempt to have sex. I was pretty happy with what we were doing and didn’t feel the need for more right then.

When I was 17 we decided to take a holiday to Jersey. My parents weren’t overly keen on us going away on our own, but didn’t try to stop us. But on the departure day as we were leaving my mum came to me as I finished packing. “Your dad isn’t happy about you going away with B and all I can say is please don’t come pregnant”

I was pretty indignant. She didn’t know if we were sexually active or not and I didn’t take kindly to the suggestion I was stupid enough to get pregnant. B and I slept together, but didn’t attempt to have sex. The holiday though was fabulous, mainly because we could do what we wanted without parents being present.

The challenges of having sex

In October 1980, another year later, I went off to begin my nursing career. We all lived in tiny rooms in the nurses home and were watched upon by a hawk of a home sister. She was a spinster, who had spent her entire career in nursing and later managing the home. Boyfriends could visit but were meant to be out by midnight. However there were ways to smuggle people in and out and so we ignored that rule.

B was a frequent visitor especially at weekends. At last a door that could be closed and locked. Reasonably thick walls and some anonymity. At last, after 2 years together we finally took the plunge and had actual sex with penetration. Well we tried to anyway, since our first couple of attempts were failures. I owned no toys and had never so much as slipped my own fingers into my vagina. I am not even sure he had either and when it came to trying to sick his hard cock inside me we struggled. We had no real idea about positions or what might work for us and less idea about how difficult (or easy) it should be.

I resorted to consulting with my closest student friend who was already engaged to a sailor and she offered me some friendly advice. Essentially to keep trying and not get frustrated. The following weekend we tried again. Helped along by a bottle of wine and the knowledge that we needed to relax more, eventually we made it happen.

Sex during marriage

Looking back, sex with B wasn’t all it could have been. Soon after we married I bought a copy of the joy of sex which at least offered some help on positions. We tried many and had fun doing so, but I often felt I could take or leave it. My nursing job was demanding and I worked shifts. Even when I was in the mood, there seemed to be something missing but I didn’t know what it was. Within 4 or 5 years he was having an affair with an older woman which for a while helped us, since he had learned some new techniques. But when I discovered the affair my view of him changed. I never again trusted him and I was somehow turned off by him. We carried on having sex for the remainder of our marriage, but not for enjoyment.

When I was in my 30’s I bought my first sex toys and had my first real orgasms. But these happened when I was alone or when he was asleep rather than as something we shared.

I was almost 50 when I first orgasmed during PIV sex and since then I haven’t really looked back sexually. I feel sad about my sex life with B and that we were never able to fulfil each other in the way we should. Perhaps we were never really compatible as sexual partners. Or perhaps the mistake was in carrying on past our 20s. But I don’t regret meeting him or marrying him or having a child together. I just wish we had been better at communicating and been more honest about our needs. Thankfully he has also found someone new and I hope their sex life is better than ours ever was.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked