Hi I Read U 1st Time , U R Wonderful, Keep It Up

Such intensity and passion in massaging is usually in my husband... And my bf from the swimming club who is a big time boob lover.

How many guys do you think you have fucked so far? Any specific numbers?

No, never counted…never thought of keeping a count also. It’s not like a record etc. I meet men when I want to and some I keep meeting, some I meet and move on….there are some who visit my city and I am contacted to them through my stag, who knows exactly the kind of men I prefer, or at times he prefers. In those cases mostly it’s one time, though there are a few who keeps re-visiting.

For some reason I am not able to send you direct messages. Just have a small confession to make - I recently cheated on my fiancée and it all came out bad and nasty - she got really badly hurt and i just now stopped spiralling down in guilt and shame and agony. I wish she heals soon and the love and trust regrows. I had posted and reposted a lot of shit so far, 99.99% promiscuous. The last reply of yours to a booksandquotes blog post was so deep and beautiful, could not resist writing to you.

I am not sure why you aren’t able to send a direct message, but I am happy to receive messages here, rather than directly to me. To begin with that quote wasn’t mine. I just re-blogged that quote because like you, I also found it a very meaningful one.

If I go slightly deeper into the situation you described, I think you are confusing between two things. It is one thing to read about someone else’s life in a blog and fantasize about it. It is quite another to accept one’s own principles and be at peace with own conscience. The trick is to be able to reconcile with what YOU want. It is not about seeing someone else’s life and imagining enacting their part. It never works…in fact, as you may have experienced it, it can be devastating. One of the reasons why it can be devastating is because when someone is trying to copy another’s life, he/she is only able to copy the physical manifestation of the other’s life…what one doesn’t realize, or rather get to know is what the other person went through in his/her mind when he/she committed to that act (the mere manifestation of which excites the audience). Thus the picture the reader gets is only half…only the physical part. He doesn’t get to know of the emotional turmoil that the character has gone through.

Naturally, when one imitates without having the full story, set-back is obvious. Coming back to the concept of cheating, one possible reason why I may have been able to survive in my lifestyle is because I have never labelled myself a cheater to any of my men…i don’t care what others label me, they are not living my life, I am, and I am very clear to my conscience. So far (and I don’t know how far it will be sustainable, so far it has), I have been able to compartmentalize ‘love’, ‘lust’ and ‘love & sex’ and never overlapped them.

So, please never make the mistake of falling for something that you do not possess full information of, as it could well lead to shame and agony and severe mistrust. I sincerely hope that with time you are reunited with your loved one and…and you don’t fall into the same hole again.

Cheers.

It's obvious I'm not the second 'anonymous' replied to. And for my reasons... I'm sure you've an imagination of your own. I feel polyamorous myself as well, yet I can't transcend societal guilt because I haven't had the sedative benefit of sex with each one of them.

I love that answer.

That's like my husband kissing me, kissing my soul through my mouth, breathing life into my body, fulfilling my reason to exist on Earth, reminding me of the reason why I am born, to be his.

Share some of your still to do fantasy.

Thank you for your request. It makes me feel special. :-)

I have lived my fantasy, well definitely the greater part of it; maybe someday, when I feel inspired enough, I will write about it. Actually later on I searched and found that I did write about it briefly in one of my posts.

I am from India and I love your blog. I only dream of having a hot wife. I love reading your thoughts and the way you put it down in words is extremely sensual. Although, there is probably no chance but I just wanted to ask, what are the chances for a man like me to be your bull or a side boy friend given that I am respectable guy?

Thanks for the kind compliments.I do however hope you understand and appreciate the differences between acquiring yourself a wife who you find hot, and, making your wife a Hotwife.

When u post ur pic??

😉I post my pics exactly when you log out and remove them just before you log back in.😉

Gairik and I  (part 5)

Contd from part 4...

Gairik stepped out of the car. I heard the door shut with a gentle thud. The cold air swept inside the car from the brief moments that he had the door opened. Outside I could see the narrow lane with not many houses that have still been completed, mostly dark and silent. The neon of the pharmacy lighted up the adjacent area to an extent. Looking at the dark uninhabited houses my mind wandered (or may have raced) back to the earlier moments where Gairik touched me in the darkness. I kept playing back in my mind his coming closer to me, his warm breath on my face, his hands which were trying to pull me closer to him, my own eager self that wanted to be pulled closest to him. I jolted back to reality hearing the click of him opening the door from outside as he returned from the pharmacy. He held a small brown paper packet in his hand.

"Ato ghamcho kano? AC switch-on korbo?" (Why are you sweating so much? Shall I switch the AC on?), he asked as he got inside the car and closed the door. "seat belt ta khule boste parte to, bhalo lagto" (you could've unlocked the seat belt while you waited, would've felt better).

I realized I actually was sweating. Despite the cold outside, I was surprised to find my brows and face had sweat on them, so were my palms. A sensation of heat was emanating from within me, almost making me feel that only if I explode, will I get some peace. I quickly reached for a napkin from the box kept on the dashboard. I wiped myself and muttered, "na na, nothing wrong, I am fine".

I am fine? I am fine? No, I am not fine. I have not been 'fine' ever since I knew Gairik loves me, ever since he touched and held me closely against him for those brief moments. My mind screamed, "pull me close again", while my face just smiled at him. Gairik handed me the packet and said, "please eta bag-er modye rekhe dao" (please keep it inside your bag). I extended my hand to receive the packet, and kept it inside my handbag.

"Gairik?" "Yes Shefaali?", he answered while locking his seat-belt and starting the car. "Amra bari kokhon pouchobo?" (how long before we reach home?)

I think I saw Gairik smile. He said, "Arekta jaigay jete hobe amader, tarporei amra bari pouchobo, khub taratari, promise" (we must visit one more place and then we 'll reach home, very soon, promise).

He reached out and held my sweaty palm in his and drove on. I clasped my fingers over his palm. A short drive in silence brought us to a stationery shop. "Come with me, I need your help here", he said. We got off the car and went inside the store.

A nice and cheerful store it was. Gairik seemed to search for something along the aisles. Finally he reached a section and stopped. "Pradiptaa loves to paint, doesn't she", he asked. Pradiptaa is my daughter's name.

"Yes, she loves and can spend hours doing it". "Great, so does Durba. This will keep them occupied". "Pradiptaa is very fond of drawing and painting and it is difficult to divert her once she is engrosses in her activity. She would participate in all the sit & draw competitions in school. She is...", and I suddenly stopped. The full implication of 'keeping them occupied' and diverted sunk in. I blushed upon my late realization and I think Gairik saw my face turn red, and smiled.

"You are a beautiful and wonderful mom, Durba keeps telling me how much Pradiptaa talks of you in school", he said. He picked up two sets of drawing and colouring books, pastels and crayons.

"Gairik, these are very expensive, you do not have to get such expensive gifts for them". "Shefaali, I will be borrowing her very precious mother from her to be with me. These mean nothing in return", he replied with a smile. We walked to the cashier and he cleared the dues.

As we stepped out of the warm store, the cold winds hit us. Instinctively I drew myself closer to him. We walked back to the car.

to be continued...