Sexkitten

THE ANIMAL

It hit me as I lay beneath Kenny, my legs spread, propped up on my elbows watching his cock go in and out of my pussy, that the feeling building inside me, the need in me, the taste and smell of him, the sensation of each thrust, his clench ass, the seriousness on his face…there’s a reason why I cannot get enough of this. Why the human race is consumed with fucking. There is a good reason why when it comes to sex, it's easy to lose control and take leave of our senses.

I realized that there was nothing going on in my mind except to beg for more. One more thrust, the sound of our bodies slapping against each other fills my head forcing me to let go. Waves upon waves of bliss floods my body and I am strong and weak at the same time.

I threw back my head and thrashes beneath him. His hands on my hips were possessive as he drives deep and hard into me. Yes, through the pounding of my heart, the racing of my pulse, and the flame in my belly… in that moment, I was completely out of my mind.

I listened to my grunt and groans, and to my ohhhs and ahhhhs, open, and surrended benath him, giving of myself completely with nothing to hold onto, no shame, no thought about decency or proper behavior, being a lady, or behaving right. Nothing. I realized that I was lost and consumed in lust. I was stripped of all defenses and responding only to the primitive in me.

The animal.

Kenny pulled out of me and I stroked his cock, spraying his cum all over my face, neck, tits, some got on one shoulder, and my belly.

I watched him. I didn’t cum, I didn’t want to, not yet. I’d stopped myself several times. I wanted to fuck for days. I wanted to stay connected to this primitive place where I am lost in the wilderness.

This is why I love to fuck so much.

ASK & YOU SHALL RECEIVE

“Kitten, what are you doing?” Kenny called out.

“I’m reading,” I said.

He was upstairs packing for a week long trip that I wasn‘t happy about. A week without him is too long. I can barely handle three days. He wanted me to fly out and meet him for the weekend but I have plans with the boys.

“I need you,” he said.

“What for?” I asked

He didn’t answer right away. “I have to show you,” he said.

“I’ll be up in a minute,”

He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his pants off stroking his cock.

“Baby, I need a blowjob. I’m stressed out trying to decide which suits to bring,“

“That’s easy,” I said. Bring them all,”

That’s ridiculous,” He said leaning back on the bed. His engorged cock points to the ceiling.

My pulse raced.

He's watching me.

He knows...I cannot resist.

I whip off my blouse and step out of my jeans.

I fingered my wet pussy and spread juice all over his pulsing cock.

I started slowly licking off my nectar with the tip of my tongue.

MY RUNNING SHOES

I was sure that there is no armor. That my days of standing at the door with one foot in and one out was over. And that I was no longer wearing my running shoes.

I realize that old habits die hard. I functioned in that mode for so long that it has disappeared inside my skin. And telling myself that I no longer function that way is an illusion I sell myself. It is a story and a good one.

I’m not sure why or how or when it happened that I became her…

I’ve been saying since I started this blog that I wanted love and happiness and partnership. I have it. Right now he’s naked in my bed waiting for me. I will join him shortly. I will fuck him as if it was my last fuck. I will hold him as if forever lives in my arms. I will nestle against him as if the warmth from his body is oxygen.

And still, I will be wearing my running shoes.

Today I saw her in Kenny’s eyes…

He’s not sold on the same illusion. He can see and feel clearly, it’s not that I don’t love him. He knows I do. It’s not that I don’t want to commit to him. The question is, can I commit to myself?

He knows me.

He knows me.

“I love you,” he said.

He doesn’t say I love you often. Love is not a word that he uses loosely. But when he say it, it has impact. It breaks my heart and heal it at the same time.

He knows that I’m a risk. But I’m a risk that he’s willing to take because he’s decided that I’m worth it.

Am I am worth it.

I just need help putting away my running shoes.

MY HEART'S DESIRE

It was one of those moments…after a bad day, I went looking for Kenny. He was away for three long days and I missed him terribly.

I found him in his office. He saw me coming and smiled.

I Kiss and sat in his lap, straddling him. He hugs me tightly placing tiny kisses on my collarbone.

I was wearing 4.5 inch heels, a sexy black skirt, and purple blouse.

I pulled my skirt around my hips and rested my warm pussy on his cock.

He was already hard.

“Three days is too long for you to be away,” I said jokingly. “I have needs, you know,”

He adjusted himself beneath me so that the stiffness of his cock is pressing against my horny pussy. The only thing that separated us is the zipper. Who ever made boxers with the slit in the front, I’m sure was thinking about more than pissing. I’m sure it was a man or a sex loving woman who understands the importance of accessing a cock without undressing.

“What needs do you have that can’t wait three days?“ He asked

I unzipped his pants and pulled his cock through the slit in his boxers.

And I sat on it.

I just slid the little thong aside and sat on it. My cunt was wet and tight and I closed my eyes and moan.

I moan.

He fills me. The width and depth on which I rise and fall fills me. I look down at the image of his cock wedged between my lips and I moan.

“I love your cock,“ I tell him as I ride him--as I grind, thrust and gyrate my pelvis back and forth on him. I grab the back of his neck and buck my pelvis, forcing him deeper into me. I am crazed with lust. He unbuttons my shirt and took one raised, bobbing nipple into his mouth.

He clutch my hips and match my rhythm, forcing himself into me as I force myself into him.

He knew…

This fuck was not for him.
Just as I know and surrender in moments when he mounts, penetrates and fucks me to satisfy whatever hunger he needs to feed.

He’s not trying to make me cum. Yet I always do, so turned on I get by his domination of me. The way he takes me leaves me blushing for days.

And just as I have surrendered to him countless times, he surrendered to me, thrusting his cock at me to fuck to my heart’s desire.

And when I was done…when I collapsed upon his cock, when the arms that moments before were gripping the back of his neck for leverage, these arms were now wrapped lovingly around him…when my screams died down and my shivering stopped and I’m silent and still, he carries me to the couch and ravage me as I had him, moments before.

WHAT'S WRONG WITH BEING SELFISH?

I’m not a conformist. I do not apply to the school of “It should be so’s, and this is the way it’s suppose to be’s, or this is the right ways” of things.

No. I apply to only one school, and that’s living life on my terms. I move to the beat of what feels right for me. I do not believe in compromising myself and my beliefs to make anyone happy if it leaves me unhappy and dissatisfied with who I am. I don't believe in self-sacrifice. I think that people who compromise who they are end up with regrets. I will not live a regretful life.

I understand that people call that selfish. I say what’s wrong with being selfish?

I love Kenny. I love him heart, body, and soul. And I know that he doesn’t want me to compromise myself. All he wants is clarity. I’m not opposed to marrying or moving in with him. But I’m not going to get married to prove that I’m committed to him. And even if I move in with him, I’m not getting rid of my house unless it makes financial sense. I love the place.

The true test of my commitment is my boys. Most of the men I’ve dated never received an invitation to my house much less met my boys.

If I had the slightest doubt about Kenny, he would never have access to my boys. But he has keys to my house. He drops off and picks them up from school. He takes them to movies, the park. He comes with us on vacations.

Don’t tell me that I’m not committed.

I’m not anti-marriage. But being married doesn‘t mean much to me. I have the same regard for unmarried couples as I do for those who are married.

I see marriage as simply a contract that legally gives one person ownership of another, something that by nature, is not possible. I belong to myself. Kenny belongs to himself. I’m just sharing his beautiful life.

One reader who sends me an email ask this question, “Isn’t marriage the ultimate commitment? After all, it carries pretty stiff penalties should it fail,”

"Penalty" that word scares me silly.

Fact is, if I want to leave a man I will, whether I‘m married or not despite the penalty I will have to pay. My ex-husband will attest to that.

People lie and cheat, married or not.

Relationships fall apart, married or not.

I am more likely to get married for tax breaks before I would get married to prove my committment. Yes, I said tax breaks.

Why can’t we live in a world free of labels?

Why am I being called selfish because I believe what I believe?

Why am I expected to give up something to get something? What if I give up the wrong thing? Why can't I have it all?

Why can’t I be committed to my dream guy and still want to keep my own house?

What’s wrong with that?

Why can’t I be in love and committed and don’t want to get married?

I’m not saying I don’t want marriage. I don’t know if I do. I haven’t given it much thought. But if I didn’t, what’s wrong with that?

I don’t see this situation as remotely problematic for us.

I know that Kenny is not going anywhere. And neither am I.

HURT BEFORE YOU HEAL

I heard this song today. And I thougt about all the broken hearted people in the world. God knows I've had my share of heart breaks. I healed, every single time.

For anyone who's out there hurting. Here's a bit a hope.

NON-COMMITTAL

I woke up to find the day gray and chilly. I clicked to the weather channel. It was going to be gray and chilly and rainy all day. I couldn’t bring myself to go outside. I got the boys off to school. And called the two appointments that I had scheduled for the day. One was going to reschedule anyway. And one didn’t mind rescheduling. I curled up on the couch with a book.

I’m not a winter person. I keep saying that I’m going to move somewhere warm. But every winter, I clench my teeth and struggle through sub-zero degree temperature here in the windy city.

I called Kenny and told him I was going to be home all day.

He stopped by in the afternoon. We made love. Yes. I said made love. We make love quite often. Long, slow, tender, I’m-going-to-find-all-of-your hidden treasures, kind of loving. I’m going to savor the taste of you, kind of kissing. I’m going to explore every dip and curve of your body, kind of touching. I’m going to look into your eyes until you get lost in them kind of seeing.

After our sexual exploration of each other, we curled up on the couch, my feet in his lap. I was dousing off and he was watching TV. It was raining, you know…the kind of day that babies are made. Single women yearns for a man. And many, many men find themselves on the doorstep of women, whom they had abandoned in search of warmth. There’s a coziness to days like these that cannot be found in romance novels.

“Kitten, where are we going with our relationship?” Kenny asked.

I opened my eyes and closed them again. Dousing off felt blissful.

“Kitten,” he said shaking me.

I opened my eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you keep this place?”

“I love this house,” I said.

“Is this as far as we’re going to go?“

“What‘s wrong with where we are?” I asked.

“Nothing. It’s great. But are we ever going to live together? Are we going to get married? You’ve already made it clear that we’re not going to have kids, I just want to know where we stand on these other issues. I know you love me, but you‘re as non-committal as a rock.”

Non-committal as a rock!

I sat up. What are you talking about? We already live together,” I said.

“I’m at your place all the time. Half of my clothes are in your closet. C and T have already picked out rooms in your house. Your stuff is at my place too. Your slippers are at my bedside. Your robe hangs in my closet. You have keys. You can come and go as you please. You can stay here and never go back home. We already live together. We just have two houses.

And as for marriage…we are married. I don’t believe that the true meaning of marriage exists on a piece of paper or in a diamond ring. Real marriage takes place in the heart. And my heart is married to you,” I said.

“So we’re married. We have two houses, and two kids? He asked.

“Yes,” I said.

He paused. I know that he was thinking of a rebuttal. He didn't.

“Open your legs wife,” he said.

And opened I did giggling and writhing as he pulled down my thong and buried his face is my pussy. Shortly after, the school bus pulled up outside with C and put an end to our cozy afternoon.

I lay in bed that night wondering about what he said. Am I non-committal? How can I be non-committal when I give him all my love and loyalty and commitment? Every plan I make now and in the future, he's in it. He has all of my nights and weekends and anytime else in between that's available. I'm the supporter who never stops believing in him. The love that is unwavering. The only man who has full and complete access to my body at will. Is this not commitment? Is that not marriage?

I'm a little bit confused.

Am I not serious about him because we don't live in the same house?

Am I non-committal because I'm not breaking my neck to get married?

This is something I have to explore.

MAKE-UP SEX

The thing about fighting…is that when you calm down and think things through, sometimes you realize that you’ve overreacted.

I had over reacted, sort of…

Not long after he left, I sat around feeling like crap. The “real man” comment was out of order. Wrong. A lie. And should never have left my lips. I sent him a text saying that I’m sorry for suggesting that he’s not a real man and for saying fuck. I shouldn't have said fuck.

He text me back asking when I was going to get there.

I had no intention of showing up. I said I over-reacted sort of…

I don’t believe that I was entirely wrong. Under no circumstances should I have been the odd man out in this scenario. And I cannot be convinced other wise. If I’d invited myself to a boys night out, (which I would never do) I could accept the way it went down. But he invited his friends into our evening. Why should I be left to fend for myself when they could have easily grabbed a taxi?

Kenny is used to me rolling with the punches. When things change, I change with them. I don’t ask questions, I don’t whine, I don’t demand anything. I simply go with the flow of things. That’s my personality. I don’t give a shit about most things.

That evening he found a crack in my armor.

It’s the spot where you don’t tell me that there’s no space for me on a weekend that was promised to me…unless it's an emergency.

If Kenny says Kitten I’m going to meet up my friends.

I say, “Have fun, darling,”

Kitten, I’ll be away on business for a week.

I say, “Ok baby,“

“Kitten the boys and I are hanging out this weekend--I’m going to watch the game at John’s house--I’m going to a bachelor party. I’m going to a strip club with the fellows…”

My answer is always the same. Have fun, baby. I really don’t care. That's what he's used to with me.

He came back that night. I was in his bed reading.

I knew he would come. You see, Kenny’s intention was not to hurt me. He just didn’t think about the situation the way I did. He didn’t know that I would go crazy over something like that. I guess I'm still a bit sensitive over the crap I tolerated with Nick.

We both apologized.

We kissed and made up.

It's true what they say about make-up sex...

It's the best.

We went into the city the following day and had our weekend with his buddies.

There’s nothing wrong with fighting. I’m sure he and I will have many more. It’s how we fight that matters. It’s the things we say. It’s the way we treat each other in those moments when we have lost control of ourselves. I have to remember to fight fair and don’t say shit that I don’t mean.

THE FIGHT

Kenny and I had a fight. I don’t think that we’ve ever had a real fight before.
There was screaming. I threw a book at him. I used the “F” word more than once. The argument ended with him storming out without saying goodbye on what should've been our weekend away.

We planned this weekend a month ago...

He called me while he was away to tell me that he was going to be staying in the city at our favorite hotel. There was going to be a conference, but it would be brief and wouldn’t it be nice for us to explore the city. He wanted to take me to some of his favorite spots, and I was going to show him mine. We haven’t explored the city together in a long, long time. “Can you join me, Kitten,” He asked.

I told him that I would arrange it, and I did.

Fast forward to yesterday…

I met him at his place.

“You’re going to have to get to the city on your own. And meet me at the restaurant,” he said.

“Why?" I asked.

“I’m meeting up with five of my business pals. They’re going to join us for dinner. I’m picking up one of them from the airport, and I’m going to drive them to the restaurant. There won’t be enough space for you,“

“What?“ I said. I know the pals he was talking about and know that they’re very familiar with the city.

“Why can’t they take a taxi to the restaurant?“ I asked.

“I told them that I would drive them,” he said.

I stare at him thinking what the fuck.

What about me? What about our plans?

Nick used to do this shit…

"Why did you offer to pick them up knowing that you wouldn't have space for me?"

He stops shaving and looks at me. "It's not a big deal, Kitten,"

Maybe not, but I didn't like it. All I could think about was trudging my way alone through the dark and cold to this restaurant where Kenny and his buddies would be sitting and drinking and carrying on. It didn't sit right with me that he would put me in this position.

"You know how bad parking is..." I said. "I may have to walk a block or two to get to the restaurant. What if I‘m attacked? Don't you care?” I asked.

“Stop being a drama queen?” he said.

“I’m not going,” I said.

"What?"

"You heard me. I'm not going. I don't understand how you could put me in this position. How did our evening turn into a boys night out with me left to fend for myself?"

I couldn‘t believe that I was having this conversation with him too. This was Nick crap all over again.

“A real man wouldn’t throw his woman out the window for his friends...” I said.

It was the real man comment that really ticked him off. He got angry and started screaming back at me.

He kept saying that he's always treated me well. Always! Don't you dare insinuate that I don't put you first in all things.

"Stop screaming at me. I don't appreciate your tone," I said.

"And I don't appreciate yours," he said.

Things got out of hand. The more he defended his position, the angrier I got, thus the throwing of the book. More fuck words. And him storming out without me.

HOW DO YOU WANT ME?

Heat builds in my groin and spreads throughout my body. I am wet and warm and pulsating with excitement.

I was dressed for work and ready to walk out the door. He rushed downstairs to stop me.

“Kitten,” he said “I need pussy before you go,“

“You’ll have to wait until I get back. I won’t be long,” I said.

He looks at me as if my words were meaningless. I’ve spoiled him. He knows that he gets pussy whenever he wants it. That I would not walk out the door and leave him with a stiff cock. He knows that if he ask me to drop my pants, they will fall. That’s just the way it is…

He grabs my waist and pulls me close. His grip is strong and possessive…
His lips taste as if they were marinated in honey. I sucked them playfully.

How do you want me? I ask a naughty smile tugs one corner of my glossy lips.

My purse fall to the floor at our feet. My computer waits by the door.

A quick peek at the clock tells me that I have half an hour to spare.

He turns me around… Not like a gentleman handles a lady but like a scoundrel manhandles his whore. I threw my head back against his shoulder and moan. He pulls the band from my hair and let the strands fall. He squeezes my breasts. Nibbles on my shoulder blade. Fondles me.

Before he took hold of me, I was composed. Dressed in a black pinstripe no-nonsense pants suit. My hair is held back in a bun. A hint of cleavage shows between the blue Blouse.

Now my pants are bundled around my ankles. My panty around my knees and Kenny’s cock pressed against me, splitting apart my pussy lips slippery and inviting with spilled nectar.

I wrap myself around him so tightly he is forced to take me hard. To hurt me just a little…to spank me, grab my hair, bite me, make me scream and shake and shiver. He is forced to leave me marked.

And because I know every thrust and sound that I take from him. Because I know his rhythm as if I’d choreographed every move, I calculated with precision, tearing myself away from him to swallow with greed, every last drop.

“Are you done with me?” I asked. Before I got up off the floor.

Flushed and panting… “Yes,” he said.

I took his limp cock in my mouth again. Just to feel him tremble.

THE GIRLFRIEND?

“You don‘t have a job--you don‘t have any savings--your checking account is negative. Your credit rating is 360 and you want me to co-sign on an apartment that you cannot afford for you?“

“Yes," She said. Until I get back on my feet,“

I sat back in my chair. “I would have to be smoking crack to agree to such a thing,“ I said.

She stares at me with that look she gets when she doesn't get what she wants. The same look when I told her no the last time she asked to borrow more money even though she have not paid back my previous loans to her. The look when I told her that she's a fool for taking out loans for men who continues to come in and out of her life...the men she blames for ruining her credit.

I thought you were my friend,”

“I thought you were mine,” I said. "We both know that you cannot afford this place. And you will end up ruining my credit. Why would you want to put me in that position?"

Tears ran down her face. Her voice crackled. “If you needed my help, I would help you,”

“I wouldn’t have the audacity to ask such a favor. You’re not just asking for my help… you’re asking me to ruin the credit that I’ve spent years building. How would you pay your rent if I co-sign for you?”

“I’ll figure something out,” she said.

I stare at her thinking what the hell. I know that the economy is bad. I know that she’s having a tough time. But I've been there as much as I can. But I look at her and saw something in her I didn’t know was there. She stared at me coldly. “So you’re not going to help me?”

“No. I cannot do what you’re asking,” I said.

She tossed her napkin on the table and stormed out of the restaurant.

She was the one who called to take me to lunch. Said she wanted to catch up.

I finished my blackened salmon. And paid the bill.

HE. LOVES. ME

I went to bed and left him playing the piano that night. I didn't have the boys and had planned to spend the night. I lay awake for a long time listening to him, wondering when he was going to come to bed and fuck me.

He came to bed hours later. I had fallen asleep. I curled up to him. "What is this about?" I asked tugging at his boxers.

"I feel like wearing it tonight,"

"Take it off," I said tugging at it. “You know the rule,"

The rule, and he is the one who came up with it, is that I must never get into his bed with clothes on.

He took it off and I stroke his cock. And without fail, it starts to get hard.

“I’m not giving you any cock right now,” he said.

“I want it,“ I said.

“I’m a little hurt, Kitten. I’m not mad at you. There’s nothing to be mad at you about. You told me from day one, that you didn’t want anymore children. But I was hoping that you’d change your mind. And now I have to let go of that hope. And it‘s not easy,” He said.

I stop stroking him. And switched on the light. One legs is tossed carelessnessly, comfortably across him. One tit pressed lustfully on his chest. I propped up on my elbow and look at him. Damn, I love his face. His thick beautiful lips, eyes, brows, chin, high cheekbones…I love everything about this man.

I remember the moment many years ago on our first date when this issue came up. Kenny was telling me about his future plans. The dreams he had both professional and personal. His business was thriving. He just wanted to find the right woman to marry and have a family. I was making tons of money at a job I didn’t give a shit about and was thinking of quitting. I didn‘t care about marriage. I just wanted to have fun. And having more kids was out of the question.

We stared at each other. As much as I liked him, I knew that I should bow out gracefully and move on to the next future boyfriend.

He just wouldn’t let me. And I couldn’t stop myself from going back for more of him. Over and over and over for almost seven years now.

“You don’t have to give up your dream,” I said. There are millions of women out there who will have your baby right this second,”

He stares at me as if I were speaking a language he did not understand. And I realize that leaving me over this had not for one second, entered his mind.

“I want you. I want a baby with you. What are you talking about?”

“I want you to be happy,” I said.

“I am happy. With you. Just because I want a baby and you don’t, doesn’t mean that I’m not happy, and that I can‘t be happy,”

“So you’re ok with me not wanting any more kids?”

“I have to be. What choice do I have?”

“You can find someone else,”

“There’s no one else,” he said with such certainty, I couldn‘t stop smiling.

He loves me.

He. Loves. Me.

“I love you so much,” I said mounting and placing kisses all over his body long, long into the night.

TRUE TO MYSELF

Unlike most women I know, I’ve never, not as a little girl and not as a grown woman dreamt of walking down the aisle. I’ve never imagined myself in a wedding dress. Never dreamt of living in a house with a white picket fence with two kids and a dog...

I don’t see marriage as an accomplishment. And I don’t think that I should want to have kids because I’m a woman.

I didn’t think in a million years that my ex-husband because I divorced him would’ve abandoned T. He decided that if I didn’t want to be married to him, he didn’t want anything to do with his baby. And as most single mothers do, I struggled, sacrificed, placed my plans and dreams on hold and gave all to raising, providing and protecting T on my own.

C is a result of a what should’ve been a sordid summer fling. I had one reckless moment. One. I remember it well. Because I’ve always been cautious. I’d also decided that I would never have another child after T.

I still have nightmares over the destruction that CX brought into my life. To date, getting him to pay child support is like going to war. I’ve simply decided to go it alone.

He leaves town whenever he wants for as long as he wants. I don't argue. I make adjustment to my schedule or call on my support system. I've long accepted that that's the way it is.

I love my boys like nothing else on this great planet. They are the greatest love of my life. I can’t explain in words how completely they fill my world. But raising them on my own have been a long, hard road.

I know that Kenny is not my ex-husband and he’s not CX. But what I know for certain is how difficult it is to be a single mom. I know how quickly tides can change. And I know that when the chips fall, nine times out of ten, it’s the woman who is left with the kid hanging off her tits wondering what the fuck am I going to do now?

“People who avoid commitment are people who knows what a big thing it is,”

I know how big a commitment it is raising a child. I’ve been doing it for a very long time. And that’s why the only basis I can use to make this decision is my own. I'm the one who would carry the child for nine months. Go through childbirth. I'm the one who would have to take off work. And be the primary day to day caregiver. I'm the one.

Am I willing to go it alone again? Am I willing to put my plans on hold? To set aside my dreams? To sacrifice all, one more time?

No.

That’s it. That’s my reason. I don’t know if the how I got here is as important as the fact that I am here. So I do the only thing I know…I stay true to myself. Even with this great, great love on the line.

It’s all I know.

THE PIANO

I sip on the glass of wine he poured me. He was stroking the keys on his piano and singing “There‘s no sunshine when she‘s gone,”

I watch him play. I listen to him sing. I have thoughts of us like this growing old. I seldom think past seven days into the future.

For hours I listened to him play. After a while it was just the sound of his fingers hitting the keys.

I kept sipping the same glass of wine. It’s still half full.

He stop playing and comes to sit beside me.

“I enjoyed that,” I said.

“I know,“ he said. Lifting my feet onto his lap.

Kenny and I have shared many, many perfect moments. We’ve never had a real fight. I think because we understand each other so well. I don’t want to change anything about him. He doesn’t want to change anything about me. I have my freedom to do whatever I want. He can do whatever he wants. It just happens that doing things together is one of our favorite things to do. I go golfing and finds myself having fun because I’m with him. I drag him to every art show and poetry reading in town and I’ve never heard him complain.

We fit. We communicate. We play everyday. We fuck endlessly.

We laugh. We share. We explore each other’s minds. I watch him all the time because there is so much to see.

But I can’t ignore the fact that every time, with his cock buried deep inside me and he fills me with his delicious nectar, I know what he‘s thinking. I know his hope. What he doesn‘t know is that first thing every morning before my cup of tea, without fail, I swallow that little pill to make sure that conception doesn‘t take place.

I tell myself that I don’t have to address the issue. I have always been clear about this. From the moment we met, I’ve been clear. And I have not changed my story.

I know that he was hoping I would change my mind. I’m not going to. And if this means I’m selfish. Ok. I’m selfish. And I’m ok with being selfish.

I don’t want anymore children. I don’t.

And I can’t do it for him.

“Are you happy with the boys and me?” I ask.

“Of course,” he said. “Do you have any doubt?“

“No,” I said. “Honey, I know how badly you want a baby. And I wish I felt the same way. But I don’t. When I think of all the things I want in life... a new baby doesn’t even enter the equation. And I can’t do it just because it’s what you want. It’s not the same as going golfing. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah. I know what you mean,” he said.

He went back to his piano and I watched him. And I listened. And I could hear and feel his heart breaking.

After my last post, I received an email from someone who asked this question:

em>Could you really be so selfish and stupid to let Kenny go because you don’t want to have anymore kids?

I hope it never, ever comes to that. But if it does...

Yes. I would.

THE HAPPY MAN

It’s easy for time to get away...
When you’re not paying attention.

It dawned on me today that I haven’t been here in a while. It’s not that I haven’t been writing. I have. But I’ve also been working a lot, and parenting truly is unrelenting and endless.

And yet, I enjoy it so…

Kenny and I attended a function last weekend and his best friend placed his newborn in Kenny’s arms. She’s the kind of baby that makes a woman who have decided that she is through having children momentarily forgets, and for someone like Kenny who aches for a child of his own to completely lose his heart.

I look at him holding the little girl, and I chose to ignore the look on his face and the way he looked at me. Instead, I took him home and do what I do best. I fucked him for hours. I gave him the blowjob of all blowjobs. I fucked him long hard. Soft and slow. Tender and sweet. I showed him I love him more than he thought it possible for a woman to love a man. I made him moan and growl and cum and cum… in my mouth, in my cunt, I consume his nectar, house it in every crevice on my body like a starving wench, trying to deny the silent fear lodged behind my breast bone, what if I never change my mind? Will our love sustain us? Will it be enough? Will it? Can he accept that I will give him all the love and passion in me…all of my loyalty, all of my heart, except the baby he so badly wants?

There are no answers. So I love him like no other…fuck him like no other, suck him like no other, taste him, lick him like no other. I infuse his body and mind with erotic schemes. I engage him. I challenge him, intrigue him. I make him laugh and laugh and laugh. And every time I look at him I know…he’s a happy man.

And that’s my objective.
To make him a happy man.