Sexkitten

Nick did come home to me… the night he returned. He dropped the kids off and showed up seeming stressed and uncertain about my mood.

I put him at ease by throwing myself in his arms and planting a passionate kiss on his sexy lips. We fucked the night and the morning away. And spent a few hours discussing us before he had to leave again.

He tells me that I am putting a lot of pressure on him. I am making demands and not looking at the big picture.

I disagree.

I make little demands. I don’t ask for much. I am the least clingy, needy woman I know. But like everyone in a relationship, time with our partner is essential for the success of that relationship.

I did not get involve in an exclusive relationship with him to be alone all the time. Isn’t that being single? And sex four times a month if I’m lucky, isn’t my idea of a relationship. Isn't that single with a booty call?

I’m in a relationship for a lot of sex. Hugs. Kisses. Tender moments. Passionate, loving moments. I’m in it for the sight and feel and smell of him. I want to touch and taste him when I feel like it. I want cock when I’m horny. I want to share my thoughts and feelings with him. I want to grow closer. I want access to him.

So no, I don’t agree that I‘m overly demanding and putting undue pressure. I demanded to know what the hell was going on when he stopped making time for me. And it was important to make clear that it is not ok to take me for granted. It will never be ok not if we are in a solid, exclusive relationship.

“I’ve been divorce for thirteen years,” he said. “You’re the only woman who has met my children and extended family. How can you question my commitment and love for you? I‘m thinking long term and you‘re thinking short term,” he said.

All of this is long term. I thought One month turns into two, two into three…His youngest is thirteen. My youngest is six. It's all long term.

“Let’s take a look at your schedule,” I said.

We did. And for the next two months, there were five possible days in which Nick could spend with me, and those days were contingent on his ex-wife’s schedule and whether or not he would have the boys.

We sat silent for a moment.

He looked so sad. “We’ll make this work,” he said.

I kissed his lips and neck. I touch his skin. I trace his strong cheekbones with my fingertips. I took his clothes off. I sucked his cock and demanded his cum.

He filled my mouth.

I left him in my bed and showered. I cried but let the water wash them away. We’re good together. He’s a good man. I love him.

Will we end up being bad timing?

Does love always find a way?

I think sometimes, oftentimes, love breaks your heart.

I don‘t miss Nick anymore.

“I‘ll call you tomorrow,” he said when we spoke last night.

“Ok,” I said and it hit me that I didn‘t care.

He spends so much time gone, I’m simply used to it, so used to it in fact that when he’s home, I don’t have much to say to him. It’s hard to remember where we left off, and where to start when all I have is one night. One night once in a while is not enough to build on. I feel like I’m having a long distance relationship and I don’t do them. I'm not capable. Absence does not make my heart grow fonder, it makes me forget.

A lot changed for me the moment I hung up the phone after throwing my tantrum.

I stayed awake for hours wondering why I should have to demand time from my man?

What about him? Doesn’t he want to spend time with me? Whenever I feel that he wasn’t making the effort to see me, I blamed it on an over active imagination. I think surely, it couldn’t be. He loves me.

But when he cancelled his one night with me to have dinner with the son he’s taking on a week long vacation the next day, I can no longer blame my imagination, can I?

I’m not a woman who lies to myself. I don’t live in fairy tale land. If it looks like shit, feels and smells like shit--it’s shit. He didn’t come over that night not because he had to take his son out to dinner, I can only conclude that he didn’t care enough to spend time with me.

Does it hurt saying that? Yes. But I can take it. I’m not fragile. I don’t break nor do I fall apart easily.

Here’s what I know for sure: I’m an intelligent, attractive, independent, sexy, sensual woman and I come with a world of pleasure and passion and fun. And I‘m not short on offers. 

I can live without Nick if that‘s what it comes to. It will hurt. And I will mourn. But I would move on. I often hear people say that they cannot imagine life without their love. I can imagine life without mine. I have imagined life without mine, and I’m just fine.

That’s not to say that I don’t love Nick. I do. I’ve spent the last year and half with him. I want us to work. I’ve invested a lot of time into him. I am committed to our relationship. But I cannot make us work alone. And if he doesn’t care enough to make the effort, I will walk away. I cannot and will not accept less than I deserve.

I threw a tantrum. It was just a matter of time.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demand when it becomes clear that I was being accused of cheating.

“Why didn’t you answer my phone calls?” Nick demanded.

“I didn’t have any signal,” I said again, wondering why I am repeating myself. 

“I don’t believe you,” he said.

These words hurt more than I can say.

They take my breath away.

They rip a hole in my heart.

My blood boiled.

Trust is the one thing we never fight about. For me everything is built within a wall of trust.

Everything.

Without it we have nothing.

“What do you think I was doing?” I asked staring at him. Shocked. Hurt. Confused.

“I think that you were with Sylvia and her husband and that‘s why I couldn‘t reach you,” He said.

I keep staring at him. Of all the conclusions to come to, that’s the last one I would’ve made. I have trust. He didn't.

How could he accuse me of being unfaithful?

What did I do to deserve this?

Nothing I tell you. Not a damn thing.

This fight started innocently enough. The day prior to this conversation, I dropped Nick off at the airport. After 6 hours delay the flight was cancelled. He called me to pick him up and couldn't reach me. That's because on my way home from dropping him off, I got a call from my friend Sylvia inviting me to her barbecue. My phone doesn’t get signal where she lives. That's why Nick could not reach me.

I called him when I got home and he was fucking pissed. "Where were you?” he demanded.

“I was visiting with Sylvia,” I said. I gave him details about my visit including the fact that I found out that Sylvia was bi-sexual. Her husband is fully aware. She drags her catch home and together they indulge. I tell Nick that I enjoy their company and find their openness refreshing.

"I have to go," he said and hung up. I tell myself that he’d had a rough day. It sucks spending hours at the airport and then having the flight cancelled. But that's not what he was pissy about. It was about me not picking up the phone when he called--me not being available and him thinking that I was fucking around. 

What kind of bull-shit is that?  

And thus the fight.

Getting accused of cheating is the last thing I expected. For a year and a half, I’ve been a devoted girlfriend. I have not for one second considered stepping out of our relationship despite the fact that I only see him on weekends, and of late have been thrust to the side while he devotes himself to his son. I switch from lustful craving to resignation that things have change. But that change for me, despite the absent boyfriend and lack of intimacy, I remain a devoted girlfriend in waiting for no other reason than I believe in us.

I’m waiting folks. And I, Kitten does not wait for things to happen. I make things happen. I demand what I want. I don't settle.  But here, I’m powerless. I take what little time I get and make it ok. I can’t demand anything without coming off like a heartless, selfish wench. I am completely out of my element.

So I wait. I trust completely while he travels the country.

I wait, even though he no longer comes home to me.

I wait because I love him and I believe in us.

My body and heart remains his  alone. 

I wait. 

And he doesn't trust me.

"T" calls me this morning.

When I saw the number on my phone my heart started pounding. I thought the worst. What did he do now?

"Hi mom," he said."

A great big smile spread across my face.

"Hi honey. How is everything?"

"Fine," he said.

And started telling me about a field trip that he went on, the new friends he made. And his new girlfriend.

"You have a girlfriend?" I asked.

"Of course," 

"What's she like?"

"She's hot,"  

"What is she in for?" I asked.

He laughed.

"Assault with a deadly weapon," He said with the greatest pride. 

"What?"

He laughed.

"You need to stay away from that girl," I said.

It's become clear that "T" has a weakness for the wrong type of bad girls.

I know that I was getting too comfortable not getting sex when I find myself annoyed that Nick is fondling me while I sleep.

I ignore him in hopes that he would leave me alone. But he persists tugging at my panty. Why I was I even wearing a panty?

...In case little C wakes up and starts screaming for me. One less piece of clothing to find in the dark.

Nick continues to grope me. He pulls off  my black lace panty and fondles my pussy.

I roll over and kiss him. "I have to remove my tampon," I said still trying to get out of getting fucked. What the hell?  

"Take it out," he said.

I got out of bed still annoyed. I feel like bitching. 

I make my way to the bathroom. I come back and spread my legs. "Have your way with me," I said which was my way of letting him know that this is an obligatory fuck.

He chuckles and penetrates me.

And oh my god...

I close my eyes and moan as his thick cock fills and strokes my suddenly wet welcoming pussy.

I groan. I moan. Chills run up and down my spine as his cock moves in and out. I feel like a thirty-three year old virgin getting her fantasy fuck. I feel electricity rushing through my body. I feel love and passion overflowing inside me. I feel so much... 

"Oh yes," I said as he pounds me.

"Oh yess,"

With one hand gripping my ass cheeks and pulling me to him and the other behind my head. He spread helpless beneath him. My cunt at the mercy of his thrusting, pounding cock. I moan and groan. I writhe and grind. My need is insatiable. 

Nick shot his wad inside me. And I cling to him. I cling to him long after his cock grows limp.

I didn't want to let go.

I met up with Nick today. He was standing in his driveway waiting for me. He opens my door and pulls me to him. I hug him back.

“I miss you so much,” he said.

“I miss you too,” I said noticing how tired, stressed, and withdrawn he looks. And feeling relief that I did not add to his stress by bitching and moaning. I remain calm and understanding and freaking superb through what has been, still is, and will continue for a while to be a very difficult time for us.

His sixteen-year old son has moved in with him.  He has cancelled his trips for the next two-three weeks, but that does not mean that I will see more of him. I will see less of him, if at all.

He is having similar issues with Nick Jr. that I was having with T not so long ago, pot-smoking, ditching school, being disrespectful. All this week Nick and his ex-wife, Melissa has had to put their differences aside. They’ve been divorced now for eleven years and are still feuding. I don’t understand how people can stay angry for so long.   

Nick says that Melissa hates men.

Anyway, they spent most of this week at the hospital with Nick Jr. who they dragged to the hospital for evaluation for taking an axe to his room when they threatened to send him away to military school. 

“Baby, I can’t see you tonight. Melissa and I are at the hospital,” he said.

I pictured them together. Parents forced to deal with each other by a common unbreakable bond and for a brief moment, I wonder, what if? What if their long night alone rekindle old feelings?

What if they decide to try again citing the best interest of their family?

What if?

Screw what if? I tell myself. I am not about to sit around thinking about what if’s. I am not controlled by what if’s. Nick loves me. I remind myself. He loves me. Do I not know that? What is wrong with me questioning his love and commitment to me?  

I wanted to be with him. I wanted to sit long hours in a hospital room with him, but I also know that I didn’t belong there. And that knowing left me in a lonely, lonely place.

“Ok,” I said.

The following night the same thing happens. “Baby, Nick Jr. is out of the hospital, and I’m taking him home,”

“Ok,” I said.

He was silent for a moment and I did not break it. i feel us coming undone. I think that he was starting to see what I’ve known for a while now…with his travels and taking care of Nick Jr. he’ll have very little time for me.

But I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to wait until this plays out, however it plays out. I’m going to wait faithfully. I am going to stay committed. I will remain understanding and supportive and loving him.

I'm not going anywhere.  

I spent the day with him and Nick Jr. who is a polite young man. Nick spends the day holding on to me as if to convince himself that we are fine.

“When will we see each other again?” he asks when I was getting ready to leave.

“I don’t know,” I said.

I have to get little C to school and get to the office. He has Nick Jr. And his traveling. I can’t go to him and he cannot come to me.

The only solution is to come together and all I feel is deep pounding unrelenting fear. 

I want sex.

I want more sex.

I want rip my clothes off-throw-me-on-the-floor-and fuck me sex.

I want yank-up-my-skirt-and-fuck-me from behind  before I leave for work sex .

I want a sore pussy. I want love marks on my flesh.

I want dirty, dirty sex.

I haven't felt used in, in...

I try to remember when last Nick had me on my knees, or on my back with my legs spread and his cock deep inside me.  I try to remember when last I had too much sex I couldn't take anymore.

It could not have been more than a week, yet I could not remember. I need lots of cock. I'm just that kind of woman. But with Nick away so much I have to adjust.   

I've been working my ass off. Work and little C. That's all I've been doing. I try not to miss Nick too much. I tell myself that I'm fine with not seeing much of him. I don't know if that's a good thing. I don't want to get too comfortable, but it's fast becoming the case so much so that I'm beginning to feel virginal.  Untouch. Unused. Not in the least whorish.  

 I'd just gotten home and was sitting on the edge of my bed. I step out of my work clothes and was getting ready to go for a run. I rub lotion on my legs. I rub lotion on my stomach. My hand slid into the waist of my panty and gently massages my clit.

That feels good. I tell myself.  That feels really good. I rub my clit some more, and more. My body responds with greed forcing me to writhe and moan. Not just my clit, my entire pussy needs attention. I abuse my lips. I finger fuck myself.

"More please," my pussy begs.

 I feel the explosion building and stop. An orgasm would drain me and instead of going for a run, I would end up taking a nap and would wake up crabby and start thinking shitty thoughts about Nick. 

Tonight. I promise myself. I'll cum tonight.  

I step into the sexy blue shorts, tied the lace on my new running shoes. My tits were trying to escape the pink top. I secure my ipod in the waistband of my shorts and hit the pavement, still feeling virginal, untouched, unused and fucking hating it.

“What’s going on, baby?” Nick asked when I let him in and tiptoed to meet his kiss.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You’re wearing panties. I’ve been gone for a week and you meet me at the door with your panties still on,”

“You’re going to get pussy,” I said. But we’re going to talk first,”

“Can I have pussy first?”

“No,” I said, leading him to my bedroom. I throw my arms around him and hug him tightly. “I’ve missed you,”

He squeezes me to him. “I missed you too. Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” I said.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Us,” I said.

“We’re perfect,” he said.

“I’m worried that we’re not going to make it,”

“What?”

He seems positively shock and confuse.

“I thought that we were doing fine,”

“We are,”

"Then what are you talking about?”

“You travel all the time,” I said. “And now that your son is moving in with you, it’s going to be tough to fit me into your life,”

“Silly woman,” he said. “You know that I love you, right?”

“Yes,” I said.

“And do you know that I think about you long term?”

“Yes,” I said starting to feel silly.

“We’re going to have to make some adjustments and I’m going to have to cut back on certain things, but your place in my life is secure. We have discussed moving in together, that could be part of the solution. The bottom line is that you are not going to be compromised,” He kiss the top of my forehead, “You are the love of my life,”

I stare at him. I know that he loves me.

My problem is that I don’t know how to be in a relationship. I think that we can move in together and be perfectly happy, but I am still on the fence and holding on for my life. I want to let go, but I don’t know how to do it. And if I can’t even get off the fence and move forward what right do I have asking for anything?
I can walk away, but why would I? I love my Nick. I love him intensely. He treats me like gold.

I am not going anywhere.

What’s a girl to do?

I am going to keep understanding and accepting. And I am going to enjoy my moments with him.
I pull off the black and pink lace panty and spread my legs. “You can have pussy now,” I said. He stuff his head in my pussy and sniff me.

“I want a blowjob too,” he said.

“Done,”

“I want to put my cock in your ears and nose,”

I giggled, and then moan as his lips close around my clit and fill me with pleasure.

“We are not going to make it,” I thought.

I remember thinking this a couple of times over the span of the year that we have been dating. That is not unusual is it? Do we not all have those moments?

I have had moments in all my relationships when I look at a man and think we are not going to fucking make it. Sometimes it is over right then, but most times it blows over. This time, I push the thought away but could not escape the sadness.

Nick was telling about the counseling session with his ex-wife and their children. “My son is going to move in with me,” he said.

I feel a plethora of emotions and a lot of questions. I feel happiness that they will have the time together. I know how important it is for both of them. I'm happy but don't feel it.

I feel confusion. What about his job? He travels 85% of the time, how is he going to raise his son when he travels so much?

I feel sadness. Where does that leave us?

He has a lot to say about the counseling session and I listen, thinking baby, I love you, I support you, I want you to spend time with your son, and I know you have to travel, but where does this leave me? Where does that leave us?

I did not say anything. A strong dose of guilt hit me, followed by frustration and sadness again. I feel helpless. I can’t complain about his job and don’t dare complain about his son moving in with him. I have nothing. I can feel but cannot express my feelings without coming off like a selfish little wench? This is bigger and deeper than me, and I know it.

I understand that Nick has to travel, I accept it, but I don't see him enough. I deal with it. But I don’t see him enough.

And when he’s home, I don’t expect him to devote the remaining 15% of his time with me. He has his boys. He has his friends. He loves to play golf…and it is important to me that he maintains his relationships and interests outside of us. Not to mention that I have a demanding career and Little C and I'm not always available. Right now, I average about 10% of Nick's time.

When his son moves in, I will see less of him. Moving in together is still on hold. I'm not ready.
Can I function in this relationship where I see so little of my man?

"Yes," I can get used to not seeing him and be okay with it. I just dont want to--I want to be around him enough to know if I can tolerate him two years from now. He comes home. He gives me cock. And he leaves again. Isn't that a booty caller?

I don't see him enough to grow with or apart from him. I do not touch, or taste, or smell him enough. I do not fuck him enough.

Still…I do not complain…because I understand and I accept.

I realize today that I don’t know where or how I fit in his life. I know precisely where he fits in mine. I’m here, steadfast and committed full of understanding and acceptance.

I can't help wondering if I am understanding and accepting myself out of a relationship.

Happy mother's day to all the mothers out there.

I spent the day with little C. We saw Speed Racer at the movies and ate junk food.

I call to speak with “T” he gave me the cold treatment. He mumbles yes and no to everything.
I tell him that I love him and said goodbye.

There is a scar on my heart for him. It will not heal. I did not cry…this time but gave myself permission to feel like shit and wallow in self-pity. I did for few hours.

How did he and I get here? I could not find an answer and was force to let it go and focus my attention on little C. I have right now to make a difference.

Right now...

He is almost six years old and still sweet and innocent and adorable. I cannot look away for fear I will miss something that will later take us down the same road that I am with T.

That cannot happen.

I have moments like this almost every night. After a long day at work, then getting little C from school, playing with him, feed him, bathe him and put him to bed, only then, do I have my moment.

I run a bubble bath and indulge in sweet smelling bath oil. I light a candle. It is moments like these that I miss Nick being gone so much.

He has been gone too long. Sure, I have a full life without him and I do not complain about his travels. And yes, I trust him, but acceptance does not stop me from wanting him.

I miss him even more when I climb into bed at nights. I am naked. My skin is soft and smooth and smells
divine. I want to be mounted, spread open, and fucked. I want cock in my mouth. Cock in my cunt. Cock possibly in my ass. I want to behave badly. I want to show him my pussy. I want to entice him.
I want so much…

I want kisses all over my body. I want touch. I want his smell all over me. I want to wake up and find him beside me. I want his cum in my pussy. Why do I miss that so much? His cum…in my pussy.

I have been masturbating all week, and I had a seemingly endless, kick-ass orgasm last night, but I need cock.

I have been watching a lot of porn. Thanks again to those of you who sent me free porn sites. I appreciate it. I checked them out, but I am all porn out. I can only watch so much. I want cock.

I am a super girlfriend. I am understanding and accepting, but I want my man’s cock.

I do not whine and complain, but I want cock.

I want touch. I want kisses all over my body. I want his smell all over me. I want my smell all over him. I need to mark him with my scent.
I need to mark him.

He comes home tomorrow. I am going to ravage this man.

"You are a very special woman," Nick said to me on our way to the airport.

"Yes," I agreed.

He chuckled.

"Do you know why I say that?"

"Yes," I said. "I take care of you,"

“How do you know that you take care of me?” he asked smiling.

“I make it my business. I pay attention, and I ask questions,” I said simply. Do I ever fail to ask, “Would you like another blowjob, darling? Are you ready for more pussy, darling? Is there anything you’d like to talk about, darling? Is there anything I can do to add to our happiness, my darling?”

“I could use a blowjob right now,” He said.

I rubbed his bulging crotch. “You need to keep your eyes on the road,”

“Didn’t you just say you’d give me a blowjob if I ask for it and if it will add to our happiness?” he said flashing me a feign I-don’t-know what-the-hell-is going-on look.

I giggled.

“What about my blowjob? He asked.

“You’re not getting it,”

“Ok,” he said. “I’ll let it go this once, but don’t say things that you don’t mean. Besides, I want to talk to you about something,”

He sounds serious.

“I’ve been home for two days, I’m leaving again for a week, and you haven’t complained once,” He said. “You are a very special woman. That or you don’t miss me enough. What’s the deal?”

“I am a special woman who is secure with myself and in us,” I said. “This is your job. What’s there to whine and complain about?”

“Kitten, I’ve been divorced for over ten years and I’ve dated a lot of women who couldn’t deal with my traveling and I wasn’t traveling half as much as I do now. Yet all you want to know is when am I leaving and when am I coming back,”

“You travel. I accept it. Besides, I don’t have time to sit around and pine. I have my career, little C, going to the gym, my friends. You are not my whole life, just an important part of it,”

"So you’re not secretly resentful of me or anything like that, right? Because baby, I love you and I feel guilty that I’m not spending enough time with you,”

“What did we do for the two days that you were home?” I asked.

“I fucked you silly,” He said.

And folks, he did. I got more cock in two days than some people get in six months. We revel in each other. We lounge around naked. We discuss work, kids and politics. We touch and kiss and cuddle and fuck. We fuck and fuck and fuck.

On our way to the airport I was a fulfilled sore pussy, sexually used, satiated woman. He leaves but he comes home to me with hunger and passion and need that he unleashes on me like a storm.

He didn’t know it yet but there was a video on his phone saved as “One for the road” It’s seven minutes of pussy-baring—smut talking—fucking myself with a big fake dick clip. Even on the road, he should be looking at my pussy...I've decided.

When he lands, I will text and tell him it’s there.

Sure, I miss him when he’s gone. But he always comes home to a woman who at first sight rips off his clothes and gives him pussy. Nick loves coming home.

“On a scale of 1 to 10, ten being the highest, how much do you think I lust for you?” he asked me yesterday.
“Ten,” I said with ease.

“Fifteen,” he said.

Let’s just say I have a man who cannot keep hands off me.

The car pulls up at the terminal and I get out of the car. I hug him tightly and place a love kiss on his lips.
“Have a great trip, honey,” I said.

He plants kisses all over my face and neck that makes me giggle. He let go of me and pulls me back to give me more kisses.

He releases me and swats my ass. I get in my car and drive away already anticipating his return.

Do I have it in me to settle down? Am I the marrying Kind?

Sure, I am. I am faithful and caring and kind. I will love you like you've never been loved. I will support your dreams and make certain that your needs whether they are sexual or emotional, if it is in my power to fulfill them, it shall be done.

Yes, I can be the marrying kind. I know that I can be even though my track recond tells another story.

It’s not often that I get to ask myself these questions. Most of my relationships don’t last long enough for this to be an issue.

I am a serial dater. Allan told me this many years ago and I’ve come to accept it.

Where most people imagine happily ever after in a new relationship, I get into most of my mine with the end in mind. He may last a week, two months, three months—I wanted cock, cock, and more cock along with occasional companionship, and lazy days doing whatever. And when I got tired of the man with the cock. I move on to the next man, and the next, and the next….

It's not that I don't think that I am deserving of love. I am 200% deserving. I enjoy the hell out of a hug, kiss, touch, and fuck like no other that I know. I am in love with being loved. There's a great big romantic in me, she's just consumed by carnal desires.

I broke a lot of hearts along the way let me tell you even though I didn’t mean to, they just didn’t believe me when I tell them that I just wanted to fuck and would leave one day. “Don’t love me,” I warned. “If you do, I will surely break your heart,”

The problem I've come to realize is that I have serious commitment issues.

I just dont feel the need find a man and settle down even though I'm one hundred percent happy with Nick and feels that I have settled down. I have no need for anyone else. That is settling down isn't it? Or does settling down means getting married?

I don’t care about marriage and I may never care about it. All my friends are married, time they said was running out. I’m in my thirties and I still don’t give a shit. I have all the time in the world.

Falling in love with B was a surprise that took me to places I had no desire to go, and put thoughts and questions in my head I didn't want. But I didn't walk away. I went with my feelings. I was committed.

Now, I'm with Nick and I find myself taking a similiar road. I love this man. I love him passionately. I love him from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. I don't want anyone else. There IS no one else. I would not be anymore committed to him if we were married than I am commited to him living apart. That's commitment isn't it?

He is wonderful to himself and he is wonderful to me. He is incredibly attractive. He is funny—adventurous—wealthy—intelligent--cultured—well mannered--attentive. He's everything I want in a man. I trust him implicitly.

When I started dating him I did so with the end in mind too. I was convinced that I do not have the time nor the desire to invest in nurturing a relationship. I am not sure that has changed, but Im enjoying my time with Nick. I’ve been him for over a year and his cock is sweeter today than it was a year ago. He is sexier to me, funnier, more adventurous, more sexually and intellectually stimulating. I can't get enough of him.

We’ve been talking about moving in together and whenever we do, I stare at him blankly. I don't say much. I have a million things going through my mind and filled with fear that if we take that step I will screw up our beautiful love affair.

Nick has a beautiful home, but I like having my own place. I don’t know how to live in someone else’s space. I like to visit and then go home. When I’m there I’m comfortable and I’m not. I love that he’s organize but worries about the fact that I’m not.

He has a helper and everything is always spotless. My place is full of toys and fingerprints and spots on my walls where Little C has drawn trains and cars, and little men and all kinds of crap. The dishes are not always cleaned and packed away the moment I get done with them. My panties are not always in the drawer. But I love my little Island.

On the other hand, I love to be around Nick's things. I love how everything smells like him. I like to dress in his scrubs and his socks. I love to climb naked in his bed. I love when he comes home to me. I love when he leaves me there. I love that he wants me there.

If f it were just me, I would move in with him without a second thought. I can move out and move on easily if things doesn't work out. But it’s a bit more complicated with kids.

One year even though it’s a long for me, is not long at all, in the grand scheme of things.

I do not mean to over analyze, and I’m not doom and gloom, but I like to look at things as they are, and I cannot discount my past. If it's any indication of my future, I may be in trouble.

Of course, this could be the beginning of a new chapter.