The Detective

After having the best sex of my life but having my ex leave because of it, I went back on Ashley Madison immediately, of course. My thought process was very much “Fuck you, I know someone wants me.” Since I was 100% sure I couldn’t maintain a real relationship & pretty sure no single guy would want me, it was an obvious choice. Needless to say someone did want me, a gorgeous bald, buff Italian guy in his early 40’s who had been married for 10 years, was not 5’10” (men are liars, he was 5’7″), was slightly stocky & hairy.

He was not as captivating as The Tourist but he filled a need. Mine to feel desired at a time when I was still wearing shape wear on a daily basis because my body was so sad and his need to feel loved and wanted. We met at Starbucks and I determined he wasn’t a serial killer. He eye fucked me for a bit and then asked me if I’d go out to his car. We started making out and he told me to get in his backseat, To which I responded “I wasn’t expecting to go that far today because I’m on my period” but he said that he just wanted to watch. That was his kink and actually a scene we played out a few times. I would masturbate and he would watch but I wasn’t supposed to make eye contact with him or acknowledge his presence. More often than not he would film it or take pics. I never watched the films or looked at the pics because I didn’t want my disgust to overshadow the joy he took in them.

That first day though in the back of his truck, at 10am, in a corner of the parking lot, I shyly rubbed my pussy for him while he watched wolfish and hungry. The exchange ended with me sucking his cock till he came, notable because I still wasn’t very good at that and because he’s only the second guy I’d ever made cum. I played at sucking cock as a teenager but I wasn’t very good at it to say the least and teen boys know how to jack off extremely well which gave me an out. So they would just finish and I would watch pretending to be sexy and frankly glad my “job” was over. Then I got married and he didn’t lick pussy so I rarely sucked cock. Of course when I did there was no motivation to finish because then I would lose any chance of cumming. If he wasn’t able to fuck me because he’d already came then I would lie there alone and frustrated wishing I could bring out my vibrator and not feel awkward about it. I once waited until my ex was snoring, then snuck to the living room, my vibrator and I so I could cum. I did and it was wonderful but sad and shameful at the same time.

The Detective was different though and for a month we existed in our own little bubble. Sex of all kinds in hotel room after hotel room. Naked cuddling and being so horny that he wouldn’t be able to wait for room service to arrive before he thrust his hard dick into my pussy, that being interrupted of course by the room service guy. Who of course knew what he interrupted and was wearing the smirk to show it. In between he would send hot and heavy texts sometimes while his  wife was in the next room. I tried not to think of her and rarely asked about their relationship. All I knew was that they had never had any kids, they focused on their careers instead, that she knew he cheated but just wanted him to be discreet and that he would never divorce her because she was his best friend.

So we went, I wore lingerie for the first time in a very long time for him while we played out his fantasies. He always had his Go Pro camera with him and I just ignored it. I could pretend everything was good with him but my hunger wasn’t satisfied so I continued to sleep with other men. I didn’t want to get attached to him or so I said. He knew though of course and would interrogate me while he fucked me. He wanted to know how many, details about the sex, them and whether their cocks were bigger then his which most of the time they were. The interrogation turned him on and gave him license to punish me, which turned me on. That was the first time I ever gushed with manual stimulation. He rubbed my pussy hard and kept repeating that this was his pussy and told me to repeat that, which I did. I came and came and then of course we fucked again.

I did fall for him though, he was wonderful and intoxicating and liked me. One night we made the mistake of falling asleep together and as I stroked his arm, “I love you” tumbled out of my mouth. I was shocked at myself and how terribly cliché it all was. I promised to myself though, no extra dick from that night forward. Then he disappeared.

Not from the world, just my world due to a credit card statement that had eight hotel charges on it. A bit excessive to say the least and his wife was furious. He chose her like I always knew he would but tried to tell me it would only be a little while. I said no and tearfully let him go via email of course since he was on house arrest, gone forever.

He wasn’t really though because six months later I went back on AM disgusted by terrible dates and terrible sex and guess who found me? The Detective of course. I still wanted him and I looked better so he really wanted me. This time the staleness of the sex and desperation of him turned me off. We slept together twice and the second time was just as bad as the first. So when he “Poof” disappeared this time, I almost felt a sense of relief. So now I have a strict scorched earth policy unless of course their FWB’s which is a whole different kind of fucked up.

The Tourist

So let me start by saying the tourist who I slept with wasn’t really a tourist at all but an officer in the Air Force. Once I had my ex’s permission I decided that me sitting at a bar waiting for someone to hit on me was probably not a guarantee of good sex or a very safe idea. So online I went, to Ashley Madison to be exact. I posted my pics and a slightly biting blurb since I didn’t want anyone emotional. Then the flood came in, a fact I credit entirely to men utterly outnumbering women and not at all to my looks since I was a good 50 lbs heavier then I am now. I received so many dick pics it was obscene, fyi nobody likes them. Never ever with the exception of the one that was the size of a spray starch can, that was impressive.

In the hoard one guy stood out; bald and buff with some of the dirtest emails I have ever received. I’m talking romance novel quality, wet your panties and shiver in anticipation dirty. We exchanged a few emails and agreed to meet. He was much shorter then advertised, he said he was 5’10” but was probably 5’8″ on a good day. Believe me, men are compulsive liers about their height if they are under six foot. But he looked at me like no one had looked at me in a long time hungry, wolfish, like I was a delicious snack. I followed him back to his place  super nervous.

But then he did exactly what he said he’d do, he laid me on the counter of his kitchen and licked my pussy until I came. I was still nervous and uneasy because lets just say nobody had licked my pussy in a good three and a half years. My ex’s reasoning, pussies are gross, guess what that got him? Divorced but before that very few blow jobs, I believe in karma. It was amazing to say the least. I got on my knees to return the favor and found the smallest cock I had ever seen, teeny tiny. Plus side definitely no gag reflex.

The tourist though I think knew he had a teeny tiny cock so what followed was the best 12 hours of sex I’d ever had up until that point. Obviously broken up into three different “dates” and since he was only number five, my experience was limited. That being said 27 guys later, I’d still rank him in my top 5. It was the first time I’d ever gushed outside of masturbation, the first time I felt comfortable with anal (obviously such a tiny cock couldn’t cause much damage), the first time I had a G-spot orgasm and the first time my legs literally shook and I had to tap out. One orgasm rolling into another, a tiny muscular man who thought I was beautiful when I felt fat and rejected by my ex and he couldn’t stop fucking me, I was hooked.

I would return home smelling of sex with my head hurting from him pulling my hair and my pussy tingling to sleep next to my ex. I never told him exactly when I was with the tourist, simply saying I was going bar hopping. Our time was limited since he was going to be restationed in two weeks. So those dirty emails became dirty texts saying how much we couldn’t wait to fuck each other, how I loved the smell of him on me, how he couldn’t wait to fuck my tight ass and pull my hair, you know the usual stuff.

I was in the midst of planning our forth and last “date” when the shit hit the fan. I had a code on my phone but still took the precaution of erasing our messages daily. That day my ex was upset about the tourist and asked me if I’d stop seeing him if he asked me too. My response of course was “are you asking me to?” To which he replied “I just want to know you would”. His fear of course was that I was getting attached but since I knew he was leaving something I told my ex, it was moot point. It was just sex and he was leaving so breaking it off was a silly notion. My ex said that knowing that I was having sex with someone else made him want to have sex with me less. Otherwise I was damned if I did or damned if I didn’t.

So my ex read my text messages something I didn’t realize until he was watching tv and started crying. My heart broke because here is the man I love crying because I just want to get laid. I went to comfort him and that’s when he told me. Ridiculousness  ensued on his part including considering suicide and killing me obviously in reverse order. He told me he didn’t want to lose me and went to his mommy’s to decompress.

Nothing was ever the same, though we had brief periods of pretending everything was okay. The tourist moved and he became my counselor via email while things fell apart. When my ex left me never knowing I stayed in touch with the tourist, the binge began. Definitely where things got better and so much worse at the same time.

The Ex Husband

So I met my ex husband the conventional way that girls of my upbringing and age were supposed to meet guys, at church. Yes my parents did meet in college but as it was a church owned college that is pretty much the same thing. The fact that I was at church at all, when I was 21 was surprising especially to me. Since I was a rebellious teenager and my sins included theft, forgery, having sex and becoming pregnant at 18, church and me were on strained terms. Just a month prior I had, had a one night stand with a Jew who worked at a kiosk. Needless to say “Just the tip”, is never just the tip. I buried how I terrible I felt about it with justifications to myself that it didn’t count because it was terrible and he was so small. His cock of course though if memory serves me right he was pretty short as well.

So I stopped hiding out at home and pretending that I was cool enough to be a Sugar Baby (I was on that site for only about two days before I realized I was completely unable to handle such a mature relationship) and went back to church. I had placed my baby for adoption right after birth, which is a decision I’ve never regretted and was the best thing for her, so there was no reason that I wouldn’t be successful at church dating. Needless to say being an unwed mother is frowned upon in most religious communities. The first Sunday there he was, slightly rebellious with his beard and smirk. He was tall, broad and funny as hell. I thought he was perfect. It took only three social settings before he took my number just in case. 

The rest progressed in the usual fashion except for the accelerated timeline due to our religious beliefs, customs & the fact that we were horny. Sex within a month which we weren’t supposed to be having, engaged in three months and married in another three months. I did refuse to immediately have babies so our daughter joined us two years after and my son was sixteen months behind her. Then things started to go off the rails.

When asked why I’m divorced, which seems to be a required question, I answer one way. Because he worked six months out of the four years we were married. That of course leaves people wondering one of two things, why I married him in the first place and why I stayed with him so long. The answers being, he wasn’t unemployed when I married him and I stayed with him because he was honestly my best friend. Now everything I just said is the truth but it isn’t the whole truth. It’s half the truth, the other half is he stopped having sex with me so I had sex with someone else.

Now that sounds like cheating plain and simple but it wasn’t. I had to go back to work when my son was still nursing because someone had to work. Pretty soon, enough was enough and my son switched over to formula. That single action catapulted my hormones into overdrive. I’ve always had a high sex drive but it exploded. I was obsessed with sex, having it consumed my every thought. The practice of having sex because I can’t remember the last time we’ve had sex it’s been so long wasn’t going to cut it. So in the shower one day before work I came up with a bold plan, if my husband won’t have sex with me I’ll find someone who will. He can’t get upset about that, I’ve already asked him and he won’t have sex more than every other day. Which by the way was in the exact same position for the last two years.

So I did. I strolled out and asked “Is it okay if I have sex with a tourist?”. His response was “Yes, as long as it’s just sex”. Within a month he had left me.