Friday, June 19, 2015

A New House

My blog has been quite because we are doing all the annoying and taxing tasks that come right before a move. I have made every doctor's appointment I can, began shredding paperwork (with a moody paper shredder). My mind and my body is exhausted. 

As some of you know, I live (unhappily) in the southern United States. I have hated it here from the day I moved here. But now an opportunity has come up and we put an offer on a beautiful home in the Southwestern portion of the country. As fate would have it, the offer was accepted within one day (good things come to those that wait)!

I wanted to let everyone know there is a reason I have been absent and not blogging. I will post updates as much as I can manage. Right now stress is high, but J and I are doing great in the area of ttwd. 

I have also decided to go back to college and start working on my Bachelors degree. I found a college that has a degree program that is perfect for me. The only thing is, it starts within three weeks of moving into the new house. It's a lot to take on, but I am up for the challenge. 

So please be patient with me as my routine is chaotic right now. 

Thursday, June 11, 2015

Little Talks

The little talks we have with one another (as a married couple), can be very telling. Sometimes the talks are plain and boring and full of normal stuff like "Did you remember to call so-and-so?". Some are hot like when he says in no uncertain terms to remove my panties so that he can play when he feels like it, throughout the day. Sometimes, we talk about the boring everyday things that happen and I enjoy it, but what really I like is the talk that happens in the bedroom. The things we say to each other that no other person should hear.

It is through these talks that I have become comfortable with who I am and what I like. Yes, some of it is as far from vanilla as possible. Vanilla has its place, like back when I was in my twenties and trying to figure myself out (God I hated that). But, now I want the real stuff, I want the things that we think to ourselves during sex.

Recently, we have a new rule in place. It is a simple one. If, you think it during sex, you say it. At first, I was a little apprehensive and worried about what J would think. Except, something amazing happened. I let go, he let go, and we have not been the same since. We like the same things, we crave the same things, and it is hot as hell when I look in his eyes as he is pleasuring me and I KNOW what he is thinking. My tummy stirs and it creeps lower and lower until am begging him for release. Only he is like me, and wants to make it last as long as possible. I have learned the technique of multiple orgasms through the guidance of his expertly moving fingers.

My body knows when to whine and bring him to the edge. It is as though my body is possessed by some sex slave that responds only to his touch and eyes dragging me to this newer intoxicating place we go during love making.

Our little talks our telling me, I should have let go sooner. I should have let myself explore the darker parts of myself with him years before. I think I have taken a path I will never let go of, nor will I ever regret.

Be you, be happy. Don't let society, family, friends convince you to ignore what is already within you.

*Side note*
I have not been as graphic as I am naturally inclined to be on my blog, so if the more x-rated version of ttwd is what you want, you may not like what I may post in the future. If, however, you are not offended by intimate details, buckle in and enjoy the ride!

If, you do not like rock, don't listen to this, it might be a little much for ya *wink*

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

I am his

I love my man. I love him for who he is, and for who he has been. There is no other man for me, I am his devoted wife, I would push my limits to please him. I would submit as much as he asks for, or demands. I look at his eyes (he has the sexiest bedroom eyes ever seen), and want to drop my panties. His lips have kissed every single inch of my body. His hands have brought pleasure so intense, I thought I was going insane. He has rocked me to sleep, kissed my tears away, and even submitted to me when I was needing it. He is my perfect husband.

Recently, some things have come to light and altered our relationship (ttwd is still 24/7). It has be a rough and beautiful 3 weeks. I stood at a doorway that could have ended it all, I could have walked away, I could have lost it and made his life hell. But, instead, I choose him. With and without faults. I love him so much I cannot bare my life without him. He is my guide, my love, and my rock. He is the balance within myself. 

Once in a while he doubts himself and it scares me. When he is doubtful of something, I begin to panic. Panic does not exist for me as long as his eyes hold calmness for me. But, there was a change in him when he had to reveal some of the past. Although, I was nervous, scared, and unsure, I refused to let those eyes go from being what grounds me, to being something I didn't recognize. I refuse to stop loving because of some mistakes, instead I refuse to give up on him and us. 

I love you J, and I always will. Keep looking at me with those eyes, and I will bring you back.

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

A Personal Vent

I was recently asked a question by a fellow blogger in an email (Megan at Megan's Sweet Secret). It was concerning honesty. Am I a person that can tell on myself even if, I know I will be in trouble? The answer is without a doubt YES. You see I grew up with people that lied every chance they got. It was out of self-preservation, ego, and stupidity. I REFUSE TO BE THEM.

My mother is a compulsive liar that loves any and all attention that makes her a victim in the eyes of her audience. It disgusted me even as a very young child. I remember back to when I was about 4 1/2 years old, as being the moment I knew my mother was not a good mother. Yes, I was very young, I was also the one at 4 years old that was feeding and changing a baby (my brother) who was hooked up to a heart monitor because he was born with a weak heart (he was a preemie and my mother was on drugs during her pregnancy). I watched her punch her stomach screaming that she did not want, "that asshole's baby". Then I watched her go out and party and hang out with the most disgusting men all while she left me home alone to take care of the baby (his father was gone a well).

Of course, now that I am older, my mother has done some damage control and made me the evil, horrible, and ungrateful child that my whole family (besides my brother), no longer speaks to. After all, I was the one that told my mother she had to be a mother to my brother and make sure he ate and had someone to talk to (since I was 2,000 miles away). Oh but, I so underestimated her. What she did was get mad at me and tell everyone that I was mad at her for not spending money on me (how she got that, I have no friggin clue), I watched it, my brother watched it. So when she knew her argument for continuing to be the beloved victim cover was blown, she decided to tell the whole family that I stressed her out so much she swallowed a bunch of pills and tried to kill herself. Except, she never went to the hospital, and upon being pushed for information she confessed that she only took 3 Tylenol and called it a suicide attempt.

 I watched my mother and her audience as a child and as an adult, and knew I would rather cease to exist than EVER behave as I saw. So now I am a woman that does not lie, nor do I sneak bad behavior and I am an advocate for children from people like her. I stand up for what I believe in, I say no when something in not right, and I am also a little mixed up at times given my history with my family. I try my best, but one thing I know I am okay with is, honesty and truth.

I am proud of who I am. I am proud of not being anything like my family. I was proud when I was a young child and got asked if I was adopted. I was proud because it meant I was not like her. What I have learned as a person that survived being the child of a woman that should never have had children is this: I am not her.

I love my step-kids, I desire a child born from my own body. I desire to be a mother so bad, I get angry with those that do not see the beauty in motherhood. My mother's failure has a mother helped make me a damn good mother, and I am grateful for it.

You see I am not perfect, and I never will be. But, I will always be honest and never repeat the mistakes that hurt me, on another living being as long as my soul exists.

My point is, we are not the product of our childhoods, we are instead the product of what we do with what our childhood was.