So, in regards to requests for  blog post ideas, I got some great material.

One person wrote: I used to like to write after therapy sessions. I’d write about whatever insight I gained in the session.

I have learned much from my therapist. I have learned that I need therapy like a car needs an oil change.

My therapist is great. I think I would never be able to speak with a woman therapist. I find myself wanting to know more about his personal life, and look at pictures on the wall. His wife is gorgeous, and I imagine her real life. No, I would not sleep with him (because I know you were thinking that). Partly because I know him and wouldn’t hurt his life like that. But I do it to strangers? what’s wrong with me.

But therapy about much more than that.

I have learned how great it is to bitch and complain for 45 minutes and then leave with a smile on my face. I learned about myself and how I define love by ‘acts’ of love. How I need something done for me. Putting in a load of laundry, or changing a light bulb, or actively seeking out my daughters backpack to see what the teacher has sent home.

I have learned that I perhaps identify myself sexually because I was sexualized too early. More on that later but it’s a huge, horrid bag of stuff that some of you may already know what I mean.

I learned I need approval. Even from my therapist. Maybe that’s why I haven’t fully told him the truth. I am ‘gaming’ him a bit. And then I feel bad about it. It is like a viscious cycle that I beat up on myself over.  I have told him I had an affair (notice the singular) but made up a story that sounds much better than the truth.

Then again, I suspect therapists know we lie. It’s part of their job to let some go. Or maybe he just nods his head and doesn’t even listen.

Actually, that isn’t true. He does listen, and that’s what is so cool about therapy, is he listens and doesn’t want anything back. No sex, no hand job, nothing besides my insurance card.


Posting More. I Need Ideas.

I wish I could post here more. I swear I think of something to write every day but I am never sure which one to choose.  I have no idea how many people are reading this, but, if there is anybody out there who wants me to write about something, please let me know.

Throw out an idea or a question or request (including picture requests)  if you’d like.  Leave a comment here or write me at


When does foreplay start?

On Ashley Madison, it starts the minute you write your profile. Write me something that says you are worth it. Foreplay starts when you write and say hi. The minute I read it I want to feel something. (pet peeve: please don’t ask, “Are you having any luck on here?” or something like that.) As I read, I am picking apart all sorts of little things to see if we should have sex. I want you to remember little things about me.

Foreplay is when you respond to a picture I send. Promptly. When you text, and not at a time I ask you not to. When you ask how a sick child is.


I know, that’s a lot of work, isn’t it? Well, I am worth it. I will make you happy you did. The real foreplay goes on when I ask that you give me more than an hours of your lunch. Where I spend time with your body and you spend time with mine. Where I do all those things I have been thinking about all week. All those things that you have been writing me about come true.

Day After Christmas With Ashley Madison


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The day after Christmas and the day after Mothers day seem to be times when lots of new people sign up for Ashley Madison. All those expectations you have for the holiday fall through. Or you just had one too many fights.

It is like ‘tourist’ season. But people like me are there to stay.

I slept with 6 men before my husband, and 8 men since marrying him. Yes, we are still married

Sometimes I think I should be open with him, and even try an “open” relationship, but I know that won’t work. It sounds good, but he will want to join, he will ask questions that seem harmless… we have been with partners at the same time, and there is an unspoken completion in the air.

He will never be a cuckold who enjoys watching me get pleasure from another man while he sits there helpless.

It’s not even a jealousy things. We all start relationshps with jealousy when we feel the power of our lover, but over time, things change. Both of us have times where we are like “you want my partner? You take ’em. They are all yours. ”

So far, I have done nothing with them that I haven’t done with him. In fact, sometimes I want them to touch me like he did. Not like he does now, but like he used to.

I have an issue with needing to be validated with sexual attention. He has an issue with thinking happiness will come with worshipping his cock. Both are temporary.

Picture this: Me having sex with him, my body rocking back and forth while I am on all fours and faced away from him. What he can’t see is my eyes rolling in the back of my head not with ecstasy but with boredom and thinking “is he going to work on the basement today? after all, it is 8 in the morning, and when he’s done, he’ll have all day and should be happy.” I know he could be fucking a stuffed animal and not notice the difference. And I know he’s bored too, he’s wondering why he made his move rather than read the paper.

Not very conducive to passion is it? You may just try to fuck him harder hoping the old times can come back (they won’t).

WE have spiced things up. I will not give details. This is anonymous. There is a certain debauchery in sex that comes after respect… when someone shares their heart with you, you give them your nasty side… that all changes when you feel like you lost respect.

I do know that cheating can wreck you. If you are not ready for it, you will curl up in a ball and feel sick after you do it.  You will cancel meetings you had looked forward to for many days out of guilt..

 ImageI have had unsuspected sex in parked mini vans. I have given oral to gentleman in suits at their desks and walked out. I have had full afternoons tangled up in sheets, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, and brought lunch in the middle of them all… I have had a vairety of things that I will let you imagine about.  Some i feel bad over, but sometimes I feel bad and realize I want to feel bad. 
Day after Christmas, and I have no answers.

Some Erotic Fiction

A woman on a beach with a suntan wearing a top...

–Here’s a Piece of Erotic Fiction (Just slightly Taboo). It is partly based on a true story. Cruises are full of pigs eating at the buffet, but also some wonderful bodies–


It was day two of the cruise, and the main pool was surrounded by pool revelers and sun worshippers. Music thumped in the background and giggles filled the air.The sun beat down on my skin and I felt it energizing me. Next to me, my 18 year old niece Megan was slurping on a strawberry smoothie and sitting on a towel. She was still dripping wet from the pool but soon the sun would dry off every inch of her young skin, and she would get hot and want to swim again.

I lay on the pool lounger, slightly inclined, watching the crowd through my sunglasses. Tanlines were developing all over me, and soon a white line from my bikini would be surrounded by the red flesh.  I looked at my breasts, not too bad for a 38 year old who has given birth and breast fed, but still, all day long I had been surrounded by young woman on the boat.

How could I know there would be a cheerleader competetion to be staged on the boat, not to mention all the regular number of girls running to and fro on a cruise ship.

My flesh browning in the sun made me feel on fire, wanting to touch and be touched by man and woman alike. The smell of the pool chlorine and sunscreen, and watching the tan lines everywhere. Girls with suits falling off of them  got attention, and I couldn’t help but watch their bodies, and then see muscle-laden men pamper them with attention. God how I wanted to get some attention from some of the men on this ship.  One of them now was there, a near hairless body, full of marine muscles, sturdy pecs and rock hard legs that I am sure carried a rock hard cock. A hot marine guy I had seen more than once on the ship.

I laid back on my chair, pushed my chest up, and pulled the top down just a notch to expose a bit more of my tits. They were still worthy tits, and came with cleavage, and my ass had only slightly widened and dropped.

I looked at my niece, who was the most beautiful thing in my family. Her cute, pug nose, so innocent, and fresh. Her cheeks that smile greatest, even as she slept. She had a sculpted body without even trying, firm muscles, slender, with tits it seemed the whole world was so curious about. I had seen her look at them, gently touch them with her fingertips in the mirror. The outline of her nipples could be seen in her white bikini.  She gave the last slurp of her smoothie and then turned to lay face down in the lounger.

She gave a slight wiggle, and I watched her ass cheeks which were so firm and sweet. I looked at the bikini bottoms which angled to cover only half the sweet mounds. Oh did I miss that power of youth.

She shifted to get comfortable, moved her ass up and down a bit. I noticed the marine man’s eyes gaze her way, his eyes stayed a bit longer than usual, I could tell he was watching her.

“Honey, you don’t want a strange tan line on your back.  Here, make sure you stay layed down while I do this.”


I leaned over and pulled the tie on her bikini, then I let them fall down the side of the lounge chair.  The tiny sides of her breasts were revealed, and she lay there, happy as could be, in just her tiny bikini bottoms


I looked at the marine. He had a firm jaw, sculpted muscles, but not so big as to be gross, but just right enough to give me a firm, long pounding.  He had a beer in his hands and his eyes wandered.


Look, Megan over there, another cruise ship. How neat.”


“There. Check it out.”

She got up on her elbows, and her bikini strap fell to the ground. Her  breasts were exposed, just barely enough to be smushed under a B cup. Her nipples were pert, so fresh, and looked sensitive enough to get hard and stay erect. The triangles from her bikini top had surrounded them with fresh, completely white skin.

I felt the energy of men all around me look. I saw Megan scanning the horizon, her sweet smile still on her sun drenched cheeks, and she was completely topless and completely beautiful, still looking for the other cruise ship that was never there.

“Megan, oh no, your top,” I finally said.


She looked down, saw her exposed breasts and bikini top lying on the towel. Glances from men and woman all over. She gave a half-laugh, reached down and looped the top over her head, lilned up the cups, and quickly tied the tops back on.


“I hope nobody saw,” she said, and laied back down.


“Its okay, I don’t think they did sweet pea,” I said.


But they had. I watched as the Marine got up out of his chair and was walking our way.



Thank You



Thank you

Thank you for writing me before you go to bed.

Thank you for leaving a message for me when I get up.

Thank you for the smile you give for me. Just for me, as i enter the coffee shop. I see the little boy in you.

Thank you for understanding when I cancel.

Thank you for making out with me in the parking lot like we are 16 again. I know you wanted more. 

Thank you for touching my body with passion.

Thank you for not leaving scratches on my ass as I ride you. I love when your fingers clench in. Please don’t leave a mark. Please do keep making those noises. Nobody will ever hear but me, and I won’t repeat them to anyone.

Thank you for treating my breasts as pieces of art, not pieces of mud.

Thank you for trimming. I enjoy the curve of your cock more than you know. The feel. The rush. The climas. I do. 

Thank you for licking me with passion, but not trying too hard. Thank you for not swearing to me everyday how you give the “best oral I ever had”. If you really did, you wouldn’t have to tell me every email.

Thank you for laying with me afterwards, naked, in the near dark hotel room.Thanks for tracing a finger on my back, down my body, lightly over my ass, while my legs are tangled in the sheets. I want to know you want me again. Thanks for bringing me water. 

Thanks for doing things right.


Halloween Slut


We have all seen them. And I admit, I have been one of them.

Halloween is a great excuse to let it all hang out. Of course, it depends on your audience.  (I won’t share my “answer the door in my costume to the group of high school boys” fantasy)   I have been known to dress in some revealing wear and be another person for the night.  It just fits me. The best parts of me and the worst parts of me. And its funny how so many men love to see the costumes but then judge the wearer. The same men who are eager beavers to show off their cock to any profile they come across.



“Ding dong, trick or treat”

Sorry, got to go, it is the high school football team at the door. 

The Nature of Affairs


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Funny how this works. I started this blog so excited. I wanted to reveal things. I wanted to share what I could not share anywhere else. I wanted something exciting and nasty and erotic.

But then it became a chore. I had regrets. i wanted to delete it all and forget about it.

Just like my affairs on Ashley Madision. Just like my profiles. Just like my relationships with men outside of marriage.

I will dive into them with excitement. They will be frenetic. I can’t imagine living without them.

But then the ‘lifestyle’ becomes a chore. I want to avoid it. It seems like work. I want to curl up at home and ignore it all. So I often do.

An understanding man will reap the benefits of this. When i return to him, I want to make up for lost time. I want to perform so that he will remember me until next time. I pull out things I may have been keeping in my bag of tricks. We meet as much as I can and have a crazy week. I may send him pictures so that he doesn’t forget me.



A pushy man will be someone I may just encourage to go their own way. My own life comes first, so if that demands things, or if I am just not feeling it, you will have to wait.

My therapist notices these mood swings. He thinks he knows why. And even though I don’t tell him about my ashley madision life, he also notices I tend to use sex for attention. He thinks he knows why. All of that for another day, when the mood hits me.








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Ashley madison’s blog just put out an article on cuckolding. I can’t say I have found that on Ashley madison. What’s the opposite of Cuckolding? Maybe that’s were I am at now. Where you want your man to be as far away as possible while you have sex with someone else.

Closest thing was a man who was trying to find a way to get me, his wife, and himself together. It was convoluted and wasn’t going to happen, (not that I was against it, but more stuff was at play.) We enjoyed talking about it anyways.

Cuckolding is some kind of fetish where the man gets off by watching his wife with somebody else. It seems a man with the biggest dick around. A man who is a bull. Your man then feels lesser and shameful and it becomes almost some S & M kind of thing.  I can’t say I have done ‘married cuckolding’ but I have done ‘sharing’ to a degree, and like most things, it’s better in fantasy than reality.


The idea is your partner watches you have sex with someone else.   It never seems to work out as good in real life. Like sex with more than one partner that is orchestrated wonderfully on porn (you can’t give oral like that when someone is slap-slap-slappng you form behind.)

As hurt as I was by my husband cheating, I sometimes ‘get off’ by imagining them together (i know, twisted isn’t it?) but in my brain I can’t help but see his ‘fuck face’ with her. I see her giving him oral. I see his hands wrapped around her little ass, comparing it to mine.  I can’t help but torture myself a bit, and it’s both erotic and terrible.  In a perfect relationship, maybe we would love to see our partner pleasured by another, but for now,  I will do it in private, with my partner unable to see.

About That Picture of Your Dick


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So, I may not speak for all woman in the world, but here’s my preference: Don’t send me a picture of your dick on Ashley Madison. Let me explain why, and see how many times I can use the word ‘Dick.’


When you send me your dick, I think you are a dick. This may not be true. I have seen some impressive members (pun intended) that I am sure I could enjoy, but there’s a reason why we use the word “dick” for men who are Dicks. They are men who are completely self-centered, self-absorbed, and live simply to serve their dick. (that’s all men? maybe, some fake it so so well though)

For one, if you send me your dick right away I think that sex will just be completely dick-centric. I’ve been there with the guy who’s like that. Probably from watching too much porn, but they think every moment of sex should be dick worship. This may be okay for part of sex. It may be okay for a quickie once in a while. But if this is how you expect it to go, like I’m supposed to worship at the shrine of your dick, things will end quickly.

I want to be surprised when we unclothe a bit. I want to see and feel an erection that’s there just for me. And I want to see your smile, your eyes. I want to be as happy with my eyes closed as with them open.

A nice ass is as important as a nice dick. Nice hands and nice lips are even more important. I will assume your dick works. I will assume it is not handicapped in some ways.

Of course I want to see you, but, here’s a secret… I want to be the most beautiful and important member in the room.

A swimsuit picture is nice. A selfie with you in front of the mirror with your shirt off is tacky. Very tacky. Maybe more tacky than a dick shot.

I prefer a nice suit. I prefer something random. I prefer not to see your family at all in the shot.

Don’t ask me if your dick is bigger than my husbands, and I won’t ask you if I am more attractive than your wife.

I also don’t want you to promise me how good you are at giving oral sex in your first message. ‘Blah blah blah blah blah’ would be just as effective to write. Doesn’t mean we can’t talk about it or you can prove it down the line, but if you have to lead with that, you probably suck. And not in a good way.

I’m being a bit of a bitch here. Not trying to be a prude. I can handle most things related to sex and a nice, clean (as can be expected) strip club has provided me with lots of fun, but I just want you to show some class. I may worship your dick in time and for a time, but first worship me a bit.