to acknowledge or avow (a fault, crime, misdeed, weakness, etc.) by way of revelation
Well, here I am.
I have finally found my place in cyberspace. The place where I can confess to my little heart’s content all that has been going on in my marriage, or, I should say, OUTSIDE of my marriage as of late. This month marks the 2 year anniversary of my husband and me being “Open” in our relationship. Of screwing people besides each other. Of going against the societal grain. And doing honestly and openly what many people do quietly and covertly (no judgment here, btw. “Whatever works for you,” is what I always say!). And admittedly and decidedly, having sex with other people ~ sometimes together, but usually separately ~ and enjoying, relishing and delighting in our debauchery.
I suppose we should celebrate by…. having sex!?!
Yes, well, Hubby and I did celebrate in that fashion last night, and it was really good, I must say. Especially when he… oh, I will save that for later. I know some of you want to know the intimate details. Others just want to know how I get away with fucking other guys. You will have your chance. But not just yet. For now I will just skim the surface of my experiences with the many men (and a handful of women) whom I encounter, and have encounters with, from now until I tire of confessing.
How did Hubby and I come to open our marriage? Let me divulge….
I had been out at a bar with a friend and I met a guy. Instant chemistry. It was astounding.
See, I have always had a problem with monogamy. Let’s face it people, it’s a really fuckin’ difficult situation to maintain. And, when I say “problem”, I don’t necessarily mean I challenge the custom of monogamy, but rather my “problem” is BEING monogamous. My beautiful husband has been privy to this of course. We’ve known each other for 25 years and have been married 11. And he and I actually discussed opening up our marriage to others even before we were married. But, ultimately, we decided to wait until we knew the time was right. And that time was at exactly 2:43 am on a Friday morning in March, 2006.
The guy from the bar’s name was Shane, and he was hot and mysterious and short and sexy. I have always had a thing for short guys, not really sure why. My husband is not short, but short guys are just incredibly cute to me. So, Shane and I clicked and he and I found ourselves making out in a corridor near the bathroom. And, yes, I know that sounds grody.
But…Fire! Electricity! God, it felt so good and new and sweet and unlike anything I had felt since the beginning of my relationship with Hubby. That growling in your groin that just begs to be fed. That energy transfer between two bodies that is so enormously colossal that you feel faint and dizzy and just silly as shit. It had me reeling for the hour or so that it took me to stumble back to my house (I was DRUNK on LUST). When I got home, I marched right into the bedroom, pulled the covers off of Hub and said “Wake UP!”. I told him exactly what had happened between me and Shane. And then I said that I thought we should think about opening up our marriage in order to save it from it’s inevitable demise due to my inevitable straying and his inevitable intolerance of it. Plus, I knew he’d enjoy the opportunity to fuck around, equitably, with any number of the hot chicks he’d been scoping out for a while. And that conversation coalesced into a meeting of our minds the very next evening. Over cocktails on the patio, legal pad and pen in hand, where we decided on the Rules of Our Open Marriage.
There are many, but the big ones are Safety First and Always, and Honesty at All Times.
And so we began. And later that week, Shane was the first guy that I banged on the way out of the “open” door. So, I am now chronicling these last two years in a book, therefore I will not discuss all of the past stories that I have to tell. Those will come in due time. There are many. From the scary to the hilarious, from the sweet to the acetic and from the insipid to the downright tasty, baby.
Here on my blog, I will blithely confess that which occurs in my sex life from this day forward, within the confines of the ether, declaring my anecdotes and wearing them like a red badge of courage on my sleeve.
Take what you will from my stories, as they are mine to give to you. I share them like ice-cream; sweet and syrupy and drippy and gooey and yummy and delicious and full of fat. The ultimate symbol of hedonism, a doctrine to which I subscribe unabashedly and unequivocally.
No one will ever say that Sadie doesn’t like to have a good time.