I hate being judged. I hate being classified. I’m not a number and I’m not a category and I'm not a class. I hate being lumped in with a million other people.
I sleep with other men but I'm not a cheater. I'm not one of those 4 out of 10, or 6 out of 10, or 54.23% of all married women who cheat on their husbands.
I don't cheat. I sleep with other men but my husband knows. He approves.
I’m me and there is nobody else like me. I know it. My husband knows it. That’s why he loves me and why he married me. He understands me too. He gives me what I need and he loves me, even after knowing everything that I need. That makes me love him even more. He loves me for who I am.
How many men know their wife needs to fuck around, and then let’s her? Not many. That much I know. Most men are more immature and insecure then they would ever admit. Most don’t even know they are. What they see as being protective is really a façade for being afraid that their wife will leave them for another. So they portray the protector but are really the defender; defending other men from approaching their woman. But that doesn’t stop women from looking or wanting or straying or even leaving. Some might say it creates more of a possibility for cheating.
Keeping someone in jail keeps them from being free.
I’m free. I’m as free as I’ve ever been in my life and I love it. It’s not just freedom to fuck. That’s a small part of it.
I’m free to come and go without suspicion, coercion or expectations. I’m free to enjoy being a part of something bigger than myself (like my marriage) without having to surrender part of myself to participate. I’m bolstered by my marriage, not handcuffed by it. I don’t have to shelve my sexuality, and trade it in for the stifling role of the traditional housewife, complete with regularly scheduled sex every Tuesday, Friday and birthdays.
I had that once. I don’t want it any more, or ever again. It’s not living. It’s not right. It’s not me. I need more. My husband knows I need more and he understands it and encourages it. He even gets off on it as you'll see later. I’m convinced that we were meant for each other. Nobody has ever touched my heart and my soul of who I am like this man. I love him so much for it.
But I need more, physically. I can’t help myself. More importantly I don’t have to repress my urges, and I don’t feel any need to try and repress my urges. I know my husband understands. That is freedom.
My husband fills my heart, but at times I need the feel of another man (or men). Other hands on me, other mouths on mine, other arms around me, other asses to rub, other stiff cocks to penetrate me. I sometimes need more. I don’t need it every night or every week. But I do need more occasionally. When that time comes I am free and I have permission to find someone new.
Is there anything better than someone new? It’s not love. But the feelings are not that different. The excitement feels a lot like being in love, and I enjoy that. When I meet someone new I cannot get enough of him at first. I like to talk every day and try to see them as often as I can. I once saw a new guy every night, five nights in a row, when we first met. That’s not the way it always works, but that time it worked out, and we fucked like monkeys every night. It was unbelievable and I still fantasize about those nights.
I love the exhilaration! It can be addicting. It makes me feel alive. Someone new in my life can have me fantasizing constantly. I can call or e-mail them several times a day, and I love hearing back from them. The talk can be a huge part of the affair for me. It extends the sexual expectations all day long and makes it that much better when I actually fuck him.
I’m through judging myself and I’m WAY past worrying about others judging me. I am who I am. I enjoy what I enjoy, and need what I need. My husband is the only one with an opinion that matters, and he encourages me to follow my heart and my urges.
So I’m going to keep doing what I do, and we will keep enjoying what we enjoy. Follow along if you like.
