I have been thinking more and more lately about opening myself up to the potential of dating.  My marriage is in collapse – we have been separated for over 3 months; talk off and on, but it feels more and more like it’s over and kaputz!  Oddly enough, I’m okay with this and I am getting to a point where I am considering opening myself up to some platonic kinds of relationships.  But, I have no clue what I’m doing…

I haven’t been on a date with someone else in years and years. I don’t really understand the ins and outs of dating, social interaction and all those things that go into it.  Truthfully, now that I’m writing it down, my palms are sweating and my heart is pounding and my breathing is deep (For frick’s sake, it sounds like I’m having sex…). I’ve mentioned it before, but since my life is different than it used to be, I think I’d like to eventually have a boyfriend (but I would not turn down the possibility of a girlfriend).  I’m not interested in going too fast, I’d rather spend time just getting to know some people and form some friendships and if I ever get to the point where I’m ready for something intimate, then I am prepared.

I don’t know if any of that makes sense, but if I am being totally honest, I miss intimacy, I miss being touched or touching someone, I miss conversations, I miss those things that a couple might do. And I know and I feel like anything very serious right now, just isn’t right, but I would like to curb some of the loneliness…

Am I wrong for feeling this way?

SARD: Part 19 – Unable to Tell (Warning: NSFW 21+)

********Warning: This post is highly sexual in nature. It has a homoerotic theme and sexual assault connected to it. I am going to use sexual and vulgar language, simply because that is the only way I know how to tell this story. Some of you may be shocked at the brutal vulgarity, others may not. Some of you may find this hard to accept, some of you may not. Some of you might be aroused by this and some of you might be disgusted. Some of you might pity me, and some of you may find sorrow. Some of you may never understand why I wrote it and some of you might understand better than I do. I have always tried to be honest, but sometimes honesty is raw and not very nice.*******

I don’t know why this memory came to me, but it happened when I was a teenager, with a friend that I had…hmmm…”experimented” on a previous occasion. I’m not going to mention his name…mostly because I don’t want to. But, I had this memory occur today…

“Put your mouth on it…” his words sounded void of emotion other than lust raging in his eyes and escaping on the heat of his breath. I grabbed a hold of his penis, doing what I was ordered to do and put my mouth on it.

“Now suck it..”  Slowly, like he told me to do before, I moved my mouth up and down the shaft of his penis, taking his swelling member into my mouth and touching the back of my throat. I knew he liked what I was doing. I didn’t like this feeling I had. It felt different than the last time I was with him.  The last time, he seemed to care about my enjoyment in our sexual encounter, but this seemed forced – by whom, I couldn’t tell. I began to gag a little as he put his hands on the back of my head and thrusted upward forcing me to take him as far down my throat as he would go. His balls smashed against my chin as he let out a guttural sound.

Tears formed in my eyes as I tried to take him over and over, fighting back the urge to gag. I felt like vomiting. ‘This is nothing like before’, I thought to myself, as he continued to fuck my face with my on my knees and he stood in front of his chair. So many thoughts came rushing in as I tried to concentrate on breathing and trying not to gag.

“I’m going to fuck your ass just like I’m fucking your face, you little bitch!” came the words that oddly aroused me and disgusted me at the same time. It felt different than the first time he and I made love. I thought I mattered, but this was making me feel like I didn’t matter.  His forcefulness said all he wanted from me was sex. There was a loss of emotion in today, like loving me wasn’t going to be involved like he led me to believe the first time we did it.  Maybe I am nothing more than a whore? A faggot whore, I thought to myself.

Then, in a sudden motion, he yanked himself clear of my mouth and I looked up at him with tears in my eyes, gasping for a little breath and thankful I was no longer choking.  He looked down at me with a grin and I gave him my hand to assist me in getting up. I rose to my feet and he pulled me over and slightly shoved me past him. He put one hand on my upper back and pushed me over the chair. I knew what he wanted and I didn’t feel like it today, because he felt so rough, but I wanted the feeling of being wanted. And he wanted me, he wanted me for his own use.

“Bend over, so I can fuck you…” he whispered in me ear and I could feel his hot breath on my neck and upper back. He pulled my shorts down and I heard him spit on his hand.  I always thought this form of lubrication was disgusting and I’m not a huge fan of anyone’s spit outside of kissing.  He kicked my legs apart, unlike how he caressed me into submission the last time we were together. I knew what was coming, as I began to breath and try to relax. I spread my feet, giving him access to what he wanted. I leaned against the soft back of his chair.

“I hope you’re ready for my dick, baby”, he said, half giggling. I felt horrified this time.

I raised my head and turned to look at him and whimpered, “Can we do this another time?”

“Don’t be a pussy. You know you love my dick!” and he began to shove himself inside of me. I cringed, as the pressure of his penis pushed inside of me. I bit the back of the chair and tried to bear down to take it.  My knees buckled and he pushed me to a kneeling position on the arms of the chair.  This forced my ass apart even further and it allowed him to burrow right into me. The little bit of saliva on his dick helped, but it still hurt and I can feel the heat of friction.

I began to whimper a little as I bit the back of the chair. My forceful lover seemed to muster some sensitivity and spit on the entrance some more, providing a little more ease in getting himself into me. I knew it wasn’t for me, however, because he was pushing himself in further. Eventually, my rectum took him and he pushed in and out of me, slowly. I was thankful for it, because I was in pain.

His cock was huge and I could barely take it the last time we made love. This time, he felt monstrous and I began to cry as he began to pound into me. He grunted which each thrust as he held my hips into place, making sure he was not obstructed entering me.  I continued to bite the back of the chair, wishing it was over, in spite of my own arousal.  I didn’t understand why I was excited and wishing it would end at the same time.

I pulled my mouth off the back of the chair and became remotely aware that I was weak all over. He was holding me up as he fucked me. I was moaning, but holding still, worried about the pain and how to handle it.  He kept fucking me harder and harder. IT went on for so long, I couldn’t stand it and began to have an orgasm.  He noticed and leaned over slightly slowing his pace and bellowed, “I knew you loved this. You love it when I fuck you, bitch!”

I practically collapsed at this point and thankful he was so strong and could hold me up as he continued his assault on my tight hole.  Eventually, he began to slow and I could feel his penis start to pulsate, recognizing he was in the throes of his own orgasm.

“Take it out, take it out…!” I pleaded, and he finally did something I had hoped. He pulled himself out and it felt like my ass was on fire. He plopped his thick cock on me, between my butt cheeks and I could feel the heat of his spurt on my lower back as he rocked back and forth ejecting all of his cum onto me.

He began caressing my back, as I recovered strength in my legs to hold myself into position. I was still panting and began to turn to look at him.  A couple of weeks ago, I thought I might have loved him as he made love to me; but today?  Today, I felt disgusted. I couldn’t even fake a smile.

He backed away from me, and pulled up his underwear and jeans, saying, “Thanks. I really needed that.”  He finished dressing as I stood up and asked, “I need to shower, do you want to shower with me?”

I asked it, half hoping there was some sort of romantic notion salvageable in his being.  He simply shook his head and said, “I got to go, so you got to leave…”

I figured one of his parents were on their way home or something, so I put my clothes back on. Not even cleaning myself off. I felt completely used and disgusted with myself. I didn’t like anything that happened this time.

I drove myself home, feeling the sticky ooze he left on my backside. I was thankful to get home to an empty house. None of my family was home, which made it easier to get in and showered before anyone knew anything.

Although, I had seen him again, I still to this day can’t distinguish between knowing if this was a sexual assault or simply engaging in my own temptations.


I think I want to feel love…

As some of you know, I am separated.  And I had considered finding a boyfriend at one point, but I quickly became unimpressed with the online experience. Although, I had considered it, I’m also trying to change myself and feel like I just don’t have the ability to be in any committed relationship right now.  But I’m also fully aware how alone I feel right now.

There are days, I just want someone to…

wrap their arms around me,

tell me my worries are not silly,

explain to me that I’m not a weirdo-freak,

give me compliments, reassure me,

offer my some semblance of peace,

desire me,

want to be close to me,

appreciate my love,

touch me,

make love to me…

…or whatever.