Yesterday morning I read a post by Kisungura Restacking Me. I just recently started following her blog… and couldn’t tell you how I came across it. I dug through older posts and liked the way she used words, her imagery, her story… so I followed.

I’ve had an emotional week: A disappointment with Daddy, a revelation ( or three) regarding my ex, children deciding respect is unnecessary in our world, an episode with heat exhaustion, technical difficulties at work resulting in lost clients, my kids starting school today, the modem frying ( making online school impossible), my vehicle needs work- again, and the list just continues….Several times this week I simply wanted to fall apart, but there was no one with whom to fall apart. So I push back my tears, wash my face, straighten my crown, pick up the cloak of responsibility all single moms wear, and press on.

But in the pressing on, I’m letting go of a piece of me. I’m shoving my Little aside, telling her her tears are pointless and less important than the tears of my children. I’m squelching her cries for help… because Daddy is 1600 miles away and there’s no one else here to hold her. I’m ignoring her screams because I need to focus on the adult world that is in constant need of mending to keep us safe and protected. In the process I was letting her go.

Reading Kisungura’s words today all I could hear were her sobs, “THIS! … this…”. In neglecting her, I’m neglecting me. What my in-control Adult sees as being responsible, she perceived as yet another grown up telling her she unimportant. But now, instead of the molesting uncle tossing her away, or one of the many Father figures deciding she’s not worth his time, instead of a family member telling her she’s always in the way… it’s me telling me… to be quiet the kids are more important. It’s me shoving me aside because grown up life must be attended to. It’s me ignoring me because there simply isn’t anyone here to draw comfort from… so there’s no point in needing it.

Realizing how I had set her aside was hard. Daddy tells me to take care of me, but it didn’t occur to me that I was intentionally hurting me.

I don’t know where to go from here. I’m not certain how to help her, but knowing what I’ve done is a start.

I wish I could say when the tears started to fall tonight, I didn’t push them back… but I did… because life is happening and the escape artist dog doesn’t care that I need a good long cry. The heart wrenching cries of my youngest watching our youngest pup scramble out from under the tires of a moving car- unscathed- do seem more important.

But now I know I need it. It’s not a moment of weakness, it’s a need. And maybe I can find a way to let my Little have a bit of time to deal with all the trials life has handed us in the last few years. Maybe I can create a moment to let her breathe.


The Anniversary : Part 2

In the nine months of separation, a milestone passed for us. The Anniversary of our dinner that launched all of this. That night filled with questions unspoken and desires, touches unmade, caresses unattended…. thinking about that night, the way he looked at me, the way I still felt with him..his embrace, his lips on my cheek as he said goodnight. All of these things I revisited alone, because Daddy was on business trip. We spoke, but I didn’t get to share with him and touch him and do those things I wanted to that night.

This night happened to be the month later… so it became The Anniversary Night.

The drive home was comfortably quiet. He had handed me back my panties, requesting I put them back on. Neither of us remember much of the drive back. It’s a blur, really. Various pieces of inconsequential conversation. Dinner had been exactly what we needed and the drive to the cabin was the perfect time to focus on him, and all I wanted to share with him.

He had been clear throughout the weekend that he had plans for me this night. He informed me he was going to video our playtime, and take pictures. While not against this, I did have apprehensions. I requested no faces, no names. He agreed.

Once inside he instructed me to get Sting ( the crop). I did and presented Sting to him. He stood me in the middle of the room, told me how lovely I looked. He sent me upstairs again to get The Purple Pussy Eater and a toy of my choosing. The Purple Pussy Eater is a purple vibrator, covered in a soft silicone that has ZERO flexibility. While I was there I realized we had not yet played with another toy, Rainbow Bright. One of his favorites. (Both pictured at the bottom). I took them both to him. He smiled when I said I brought one he hadn’t played with yet. He knew which one.

He began to walked around me, praising me. Telling me how gorgeous I am, Telling me how pleasing I am to him. How proud he is of me. What a good girl I am. How he finds me beautiful and desirable. He took a moment and arranged his camera phone.

Returning his attention to me, turning me to face the ottoman and the couch. He instructed me to kneel on the ottoman. I remember him standing behind me, his hands tracing my body, then withdrawing. I realized he was taking pictures of me.

Quite suddenly he pushed me down into the couch, catching myself on my hands, I dropped to my elbows. I was struggling to stay focused, and that contact scrambled my brain. I couldn’t think. He continued to take pictures of my ass covered by the dress, which was now stretched over me and translucent. He peeled my dress up over my hips, took more pictures. He spoke to me saying how pretty my pussy is, commenting on enjoying the way the panty of the g-string framed me just right. His voice thick and husky with need. His hands over my hip, inspecting me (oh how I enjoy that!).

I heard him take another picture. He stepped back, inspecting me with the crop, tracing my body, tracing my thighs, tracing my pussy. By this point I was shaking. Quivering beyond my control. My thoughts were focused on his movement, his next touch. Suddenly String struck me. Not hard. Catching me off guard just enough to focus my attention to the point of contact. Again on my thigh… my ass… my thigh… my cheek… trailing from my clit to the back of my pussy. And the Sting again.

I don’t remember much of my responses to him. He said I was vocal, my usual staccato sounds, mixed with deep guttural moans of need and pleasure. He has never heard that from me before. That my responses were different, seeming to take pleasure in the pain, more trusting. He said the swats grew in intensity… I didn’t notice. My ass was a bright rosy pink, he was happy with it, setting the crop to the side. Daddy says, “Cheeks are made for blushing.”

He picked up Purple, sliding “him” against the lips of my pussy to get him wet. Then twisting and working him into my pussyhole. Half way in, he turned it on. I shook, with deep low guttural moan escaping me. Purple has a special feature… when clamped down on or squeezed in certain areas of the shaft, it kicks up a gear or two, depending on the location of the squeeze and the intensity of it. Purple went into high gear, immediately. He fucked my pussy with Purple for a few minutes. Enjoying the responses and noises of his toy. Watching my need building. I do enjoy the sensations and the stimulation of Purple in my pussy.

He set purple down and repeated with Rainbow. Sliding the bulbs against my lips to moisten it. He slid Rainbow into my ass, just the upper bulb…. ohhhh… but I am an anal slut!! I don’t remember, but I doubt I was still for that. He played with me, again, watching my reactions and responses, listening the noises of him toy fucking my ass, of me trying to contain myself. At some point he decided adding Purple in would illicit even better noises from me. He began sliding it in. However… as tall as I am… I’m tiny inside… I don’t have a great deal of space for multiple items. As soon as he placed Purple burying the tip inside me, it felt as though Purple was ripping thru the barriers of my girl parts. I desperately tried to crawl away, as he removed the offending items.

At that point Daddy said he just had to have me. I was solidly in the lower levels of subspace and he was in and out of Domspace. He said knowing he was videoing kept him from getting lost in the sensations of me.

It wasn’t the first time this weekend we had been intimate, but it felt that way… as he slid into my dripping pussy, that first thrust… always takes my breath. This time it took his too. Nine months of a lack of touch created a deep need in both of us. Nothing was enough or too much. His hands on my hips, his hips pushing his cock into me, further, burrowing inside me. The sound of his sigh, his sheer pleasure of simply being inside me. I told him I wanted him in my ass, he complied. This.. this pushed me further into subspace. I remember very little of the order of the next few things. I remember the deep seated hunger his entering my ass released. I felt it down in the lower parts of my chest. My body responded on its own and clamped down around him. But it wasn’t just the sphincter, it was my whole body tightening up. He said this was when the deepest moans came. I started to move on his cock, fucking him, needing him, needing him to release inside me. I needed him to fill me. I needed him. The sensation I felt was new and surprising. It was pleasurable, but not satisfying. I could feel an orgasm building, he told me to play with myself. But as soon as I touched my clit, that disappeared. It was all still enjoyable, but I knew I wasn’t going to cum. And that was ok. There was so much else happening inside me, I don’t know that I could have taken that emotionally. Once my body clamped down on Daddy’s cock, it did not take long for him to cum. He came hard… and long…He collapsed onto my back, as I continued to squeeze down on him. I asked him not to pull out just yet. I always do. I always have. Then and Now. This moment, when he’s spent, this moment is when he is the most vulnerable with me. These moments of shear pleasure, of the joy of having had him, of having him close. Having him completely spent because of me. I cherish that moment. I prolong it as much as I can.

After a few moments, coming back to our senses, he sent me up to shower… as he had made a mess of me!! He cleaned up the puddles on couch and the ottoman, and joined me.

And I found myself, again, under the hot watery fingers of the shower… Daddy’s hands on me… and I was instantly lost in him. In his touch. Neither of us spoke. I have no idea how long that lasted, I could have stayed there forever. In that moment, completely surrendered to him. He said, ” I love the way you have no control over your body when I touch you like that. You couldn’t have stopped me if you tried. Not that you wanted to. It was such complete evidence of my ownership of you. Evidence that you are my property. ”

He’s right. In those moments he could have anything of me. That scares me a bit. To know his simple touch, can create such submission in me, a will to give him complete control.

As he started to end our shower, he asked , ” Baby? Are you there?”

Oh… yes… Daddy… I’m here… and I’m yours… completely and utterly… Yours. Even in the distance.

Monday, The Anniversary part 1

Daddy felt better Monday morning. We got up and started to get ready to go to his appointment. I teased Daddy. Then I shrugged my shoulders and sighed, ” I just don’t have time to blow you.” I had thought Daddy would command me to do so.

I was waiting for this command when he threw me onto the bed,” But I do”. He forced my legs apart and began to feast upon me. My body’s response to this was different. I quivered under his tongue, and the orgasms were satisfying, but not satiating. They left me hungry for more…chasing a more intense release. When that came, it left me gasping for breath. I found myself grabbing at the headboard, much the way Daddy did the day before, body shaking. Again he trapped me, his arms around my thighs and hips, leg trapped between his chest and my body. I tried to move across the bed, ” I don’t know where you think you’re going, Little Girl.” I wish I knew what it is about that show of strength that is so comforting and arousing.

When he decided he was finished with me, we dressed for his appointment. One of my many gifts were a cute pair of blue gingham heeled mules. I wore those with a dark blue pair of skinny crops that hug all my curves and an indigo v-neck t-shirt. Daddy seemed to be pleased with my appearance.

We arrived for his appointment…mostly on time. They remembered us. Though I suppose we could be hard to forget. Daddy got his eye exam, all is well. Then we started looking at frames. We had made a cursory choice on Friday, thinking this would cut our time down in the shop. Nope. It was fun watching him try on the different frames: possibly, no, Those!, and the ever present ‘Oh! Daddy! No!’

We had fun chatting with the staff. The lady we were working with, M, giggled at us, made jokes about us having dinner with her family. She worked really hard to get him the combination that was the best value. When we finished we headed back to the house to have lunch, then out to walk a property that’s for sale.

Between us there are four children. And as fertile as I have proven to be, there is always the possibility of one or two more. Family will be visiting- hopefully regularly- so we need some space. Like.. real space.

This property is undeveloped because it sits with a hill that would need to be excavated, or built into. Both viable, heavily wooded, great privacy. We tramped around and I watched him dream, ” The main house here. In this shape, build up,the road would cut over here. We will need to build a bridge from the road here….” I love watching his mind work…watching the pictures in his head flash through. Listening to his voice build. I couldn’t tell you the details of what he said, they made perfect sense at the time. But my joy came from watching him.

We were getting short on time, it was hot and I needed to shower before our date.

We quickly dressed and headed to our reservation for sushi.

Well… that was disappointing. The restaurant we had chosen was much more… particular… about the kind of sushi they serve. When asked about the menu our waiter literally wrinkled his nose, turned up said wrinkle, rolled his eyes and suggested we leave. Gladly!

We walked down the street to another sushi restaurant. The atmosphere was so much nicer. We chatted, we ordered drinks, he ordered dinner and we just enjoyed each others company. Conversation turned to curiosities and I asked Daddy when he knew I was his sub. When he was cognoscente that it was me. He said it was our first day together. That seeing my responses to his touch, feeling me react to him, he knew then I was the sub he had spent the last two decades looking for. I can still feel my responses to him from that day. To make his point about my response to his touch, he heavily placed his hand around the back of my neck. The touch was somewhat rough, but not hurtful. And true to form, I responded. He spoke more about the knowing… but I didn’t hear him… or.. rather… it didn’t connect to thought. I was too keenly aware of his hand around my neck. Too conscious of his skin on mine. Too naked when he removed it.

Daddy had chosen a dress for me to wear from among the dresses he bought for my birthday. It was my favorite among them. A modest black body con dress with white crossing details down a bare back. I stepped out of my comfort zone and didn’t wear a bra. I was very surprised that I gave that no thought at all. I mentioned once that I felt naked to Daddy, but it was not a prevailing thought throughout the night. We finished dinner, and walked back several blocks to the car. Once in the vehicle I quickly slipped off the g string I was wearing tossed it into his seat.

“What’s this?”

“My panties.”

“Babygirl, you lied to me. You said you were naked.”

“No, I didn’t”

“No, you didn’t. You said you felt naked. Well played, Baby.”

I honestly hadn’t thought it out. I did feel naked. And it was a last minute choice to give him my panties.

I Miss You…

I miss you.

I want to be there at the end of your shift, sleepy and warm, when you crawl into bed, fresh from your bath.

I want to feel your hands caress my body as I roll over to welcome you. Kiss you with slumbered lips. Pull you to me in my dreamy thoughts of your body entwined w mine.

I need to have you hands on me. I need to have you close. I want to run stupid Errands with you, just to be in your presence.

I want to caress your body with my fingers, memorize the planes and curves of you as though I’ve never touched you before. I want feel you respond to me, hear your breathe, see your eyes as my hands float over you.


I want to be with you.

The Weekend : Saturday and Sunday

Saturday and Sunday were lazy days spent Lounging in bed and watching Netflix. Daddy’s back is in need of another surgery and it was making its presence known. That doesn’t mean all the fun was gone.

I managed to coax his body past the pain – once or twice- and enjoy watching my Daddy enjoy me. He painted my face the first time. After enjoying my pussy and my mouth, thick ropes of his release coated my nose and lips and cheeks. I sat still and let him, tramping down the overwhelming need to clean my face. Daddy and his messes.

The next time I did that, my original intent was just to simply distract him… but it worked so well… I got an extra treat.

In-between these there were moments of focus on me. Ohhh… but that man and his tongue can make a puddle of me!

We started a few new series so we could ‘watch together’ later. He cooked for me. (Giggle… I made sure to distract him as much as possible while he did, so when he makes that dish again, he will think of me). We ate, we talked, we sat in silence. He watched an episode I did not want to watch, so I read in my book. We were just together. Like couples that get to see each other every day. I got to touch him and cuddle and simply breath him in.

I fell asleep on his chest, cocooned in him, taking up the majority of the bed… and he let me.

These two days of ‘nothingness’ were like finding the shoreline after a shipwreck. Honestly I would have been happy to have been on the go with him… but this time to simply soak in each other’s presence… was exactly what we needed.

So much of these days blend together. But I suppose what happened when is irrelevant. The significant part was the distance between us didn’t exist.

The Weekend: Friday

Friday through Sunday is a bit of a blur.

Friday morning – when I finally let him out of bed- he gleefully pulled out all my birthday surprises. Then opened them for me. He was too excited to wait for me to open them. There were several dresses, a shorts overall, and easily 6 pair of heels. And one espresso brown thigh high boot. Well… almost crotch high.

Daddy was most excited about these so I put them on. His eyes danced as he watched me walk across the room in nothing but these soft leather, 6.68″ heeled platform boots. Teasing him, I slowly bent over, hands on the floor, watching him behind me. His face focused in desire as he crossed the room to me, “Kneel on the ottoman, Babygirl”.

I did. Kneeling on the ottoman I was knees spread, ass up, hands on the pale wooden floor of our cabin. And he was there, hands on my hips, thrusting into me, taking his pleasure from my body. It wasn’t rough, but it was not gentle. I typically wear my hair pinned up at home. The force of him shook all my pins loose. My hair falling down my back, unraveling around my shoulders, spilling over my head- mimicking me coming undone by his touch. I became focused on one thing: his mouth on the pussy he owns.

I don’t think I’ve ever asked him for something while we were sexual. We’ve discussed desires and requests at other times, but not during. I had no idea what protocol he might want. However, before I could give it thought the words were spilling past my lips, “I want your mouth on me, Daddy.”

He stopped all movement instantly. His voice was a mixture of amused surprise, and desire. ” Lay back on the couch and spread those long booted legs wide.”

I’ve made no secret that I’ve not orgasmed with Daddy yet. I can on my own, but not with him. And he decided that was going to end in this moment. The sensation of his ministry to my clit was… overwhelming. His tongue pressing at me. His lips surrounding and sucking. The heat of his mouth on the tenderest parts of me. I found myself unintentionally edging close and it would all disappear. I couldn’t shut my brain down. Then slowly I felt it start to build. There’s was nothing quiet in me that morning. I’ve spent years ‘not waking the kids’. Holding back. Not allowing the full force of orgasm to take me. But none of those things were present. I could be as vocal as I cared to be. And I was. With my heels digging into his shoulders, the soft leather of my boot brushing his skin, one hand fisting his hair, the other caught in a passionate grip on the couch cushion, Daddy’s arms and hands locked around my hips preventing me from escaping him, I came. More than once. Daddy’s efforts were rewarded and he pinned me down further, legs caught between his chest and the couch. The hand trying to push him away, he grabbed by the wrist and held me down.

And I was surprised. Not by his action, but my reaction to him. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t remember my safe words. Did I need it? No, but I can’t remember it. Battling with myself as he moved swiftly around my body. When his hand caught my wrist and held me where he wanted me… I found myself melting into him. I found comfort in his strength, in his control. In his dominance. And I finally allowed myself to just feel. As he finished his ministrations on my pussy, and slowly moved his lips up my quivering body, he let go of my wrist. My fingers buried into his hair as his mouth caught an overly sensitive nipple. I involuntarily squeezes his head, as I made eyes contact with him, and caught his unspoken command to release him. I did. He suckled the nipple and released me.

Things are a bit fuzzy here. I know we had breakfast and left to run various errands. Daddy needed glasses. By the time we finally found the office, they were closing. We made an appointment for Monday and went to The Store. I was expecting….not that. The name of this store calls forth rather innocent images and concepts. There was nothing innocent about that store. Daddy had brought me there to look at the WeFi. A long distance toy for couples. Oh my! I’m not sure I want Daddy to have that kind of control!! I have visions of me out with the kids or at church or driving and the WeFi activating… sending me into uncontrolled orgasm in front of these people.

We stopped for some ice cream and stepped into another store to see their selection of the same. I much preferred the atmosphere and sales staff at the first store. However they had a display of items I hadn’t seen or heard of yet. A violet wand. I stood there pondering how electronics could be used in a sexual way… and simply couldn’t wrap my head around it. I pulled Daddy over, ” I don’t understand. It’s an electronic. ”

“An electrode”

My brain processes that a moment, ” Electrode not electron


I stared at the boxes locked In the display case, “Like a cattle prod??”

“Sort of”, he watched me with amusement as I turned to him, the obvious vision of him touching me with anything remotely resembling a cattle prod filling me with horror.

“No! No no no no no no… No!”

He chuckled at me.

We headed back to the cabin. I don’t remember what we did for dinner. I don’t remember a lot of the rest of the evening. But I do remember the shower.

I stepped In to wash the day away. Letting the hot water run it’s soothing fingers over my body. Daddy joined me. Silently, he picked up the lavender soap that felt like silk and began to wash me. There was nothing overtly sexual about his hands gliding across the planes of my skin, but I’m rather susceptible to Daddy’s touch as it is. The mixture of Daddy’s hands and the heat and the scent and the silence… I was lost. I was not capable of coherent thought. I was not able to move without his direction. As he rinsed me off and set me out of the shower to rinse himself, I had a recollection.

I remembered the first time he washed me. I talk about our shower the first time I got to spend the day with him in Our Day. ( update: I’m leaving this link, but realized last night I never wrote the post about the first shower. I will be doing that soon, and will link it.) I remember not being able to breath with his hands on me. His touch has always scrambled my thought process. I talk about that in every post I discuss being physically in his presence. This incoherence isn’t new, but this felt different. It felt… more… it felt… vulnerable. In that place Daddy could ask for anything, and I would give it to him. A part of me knew he knew this. He knows the power he holds with me. He knows the depth of trust I give him. He knows how deeply guarded my trust is, and cautiously it’s given. He holds it in safety… this was one of many manifestations of that trust he now guards. Realizing that… made that moment feel huge. Almost… intoxicating.

I don’t remember much after the shower. When we were in the cabin we rarely had clothing on. If he was close by I needed to touch him. Feel the warmth of his skin under my finger tips. I wish my memory of the little things was better. Actually I wish the distance was gone so I didn’t have to remember the little things.


I got in late Thursday around midnight. I had hoped to see him at the gate, but knew he would be there as soon as he got off work.

I went to baggage claim and waited… with 150 of my new best friends. I could feel myself fading. I had been up at 4am to finish packing and organize children. The tension of the last nine months seemed to have settled into my shoulders, my exhausted brain had little coherent thought left, and bags were taking forever.

I stood there rubbing the Day out of my shoulder… waiting on bags, waiting for him, waiting for us to be able to start our lives together… waiting… Then there was a gentle touch at my waist. Startled, I looked up to find his blue eyes beside me. I couldn’t help but to melt into him. Then I couldn’t bring myself to let go. If I did, he would disappear again. So I held him, and wept.

We painted a rather intimate picture, standing there in public, desperately entwined around one another. Oblivious to what cares or thoughts or notice others had, choosing, instead, to make our moment a priority. Simply relishing … he’s here. As I finally allowed myself to step away, I notice more than one person watching us. Smiling. Daddy said, “Nine months is too long.” I saw nods behind him.

We gathered my bags and left the airport. Daddy had rented a little cabin on a lake for us. Secluded, quiet, peaceful. Perfect. We arrived close to two in the morning, and as we got closer I struggled to find coherent consciousness. I had thought we would arrive, settle and crawl gratefully into bed. But I neglected to consider the way we both respond to a simple touch.

He asked me to wait in the car while he opened the cabin, checked it’s security and came back for me. I slide from my seat as his hand moved to my body. His lips to mine, suddenly he was all I could think of. I needed to touch him. I needed to feel him, to taste him. I wanted to tease him.

“You want me on my knees, right here, don’t you?” He didn’t respond at first, he was too focused on my touch and my kiss. I teased further, ” You want your cock in my mouth, don’t you? In my throat. You want me to suck you. Right here, on my knees.” I kissed him, nipped his neck and his shoulder. Relishing his instinctive response to me, pushing him with my touch, standing there in the gravel driveway. And I heard his voice, thick with need, “On your knees Babygirl”. I smiled, I eagerly complied and hungrily took his cock in my mouth.

It had been so long since the smell of him enveloped me. The velvet of his cock on my tongue, the thickness of him filling my throat. Oh how I had missed servicing him. Gurgling his cock in my throat, making a mess of both of us ( I must admit, I despise the mess, but he loves it). I was intent to make him cum there, but he stopped me.

He sent me inside to bathe while he unloaded. I began to protest he let me help… that was quickly refused before I started. I did as I was told.

I found myself sitting in a boiling hot claw-footed iron tub, just this side of big enough for the two of us. I let the hot water drain the ‘aloneness’ of the last nine months from me. My brain began to clear. The exhaustion lessened. I couldn’t yet focus on where we were. So much had happened in nine months. A few times I thought we wouldn’t survive. But we had. We were together. I could hear him tramping about the cabin with our various supplies and baggage. And then… in the quiet, he was there with me. His fingertips gently pulling at me.

We chatted, letting the day settle away from us, letting us settle into each other. I have no idea what we talked about. I was more focused on his voice, there next to me. I do not remember exiting the tub, and the rest of the night is a bit fuzzy. He wrapped a towel around me as I got out, I suddenly needed him. I needed his touch, I needed to touch him. I needed his cock inside me. I needed to feel him. I don’t remember pushing him against the wall, I do remember wanting every part of my skin touching him. So much need pent up between us. He told me to bend over the table. I hadn’t even seen the message table behind me. I did and was reward with his cock sliding into my pussy. The table proved to unstable for the force of us. I don’t remember where we moved to, but I do remember him cumming inside me. That glorious sound of his release filling the cabin, filling me. Him dripping from my pussy as he continued to thrust against me. His hands on my hips. All I was aware of was him.

At some point I ended up bent over the over stuffed chair with Daddy in my ass. I don’t remember moving from there to the bed. I don’t remember collapsing into slumber beside him.

I do remember knowing I was home. There in that rented little cabin by the lake. Filled with the scent and sounds of us. I knew I was safe and protected. I knew I was treasured and cherished. I could slumber unclothed, touching him, knowing he would still be there come daylight. And slumber I did. Blissfully through the night. I knew the world would come calling us… but for now…it stayed in the distance.

A Mighty Weight

Daddy and I have had some rough moments the last few months. A friend left, unexpectedly, returned with his thoughts and new boundaries ( with which I was happy to comply and respect) then disappeared again. Though the second time was not quite as unexpected.

We’ve had a miscommunication … or five… we’ve had a few arguments… or ten….one even about my wedding dress and whether or not he gets to pick it out.

My legal battle had heated up- Again.

And Daddy found us a house. It will be perfect for our blended family of children spanning a decade in ages, our three dogs, the chickens, the ducks… and whatever creatures the kids drag home.

Yesterday Daddy and I started to play- something we don’t get to do often now, as he works nights and I School when the kids are conscious. In the midst of that he incorporated an idea that I have struggled with since it was introduced. I have played with those parameter, and even enjoyed it. However… afterwards… I fight demons. I fight doubts. I fight my view of myself. So when this popped up… I had to shut play down.

And what ensued was one of the best, most open conversations we’ve had.

“Not everything needs to be open to exploration…even in play. You’ve come so far with the things you’ve learned to enjoy, even when you still struggle sometimes. Not everything needs to be on the table..even for just play. We do things to be the couple we want to be. There is so much in you, in us that I have found that far exceeds my expectations for trust and exploring who I really am, this is a VERY small thing, relative to all that. and we may get to a point , especially when we are together where we can discuss that and you can see, feel and hear me…we may not..and thats still ok…REALLY..”

I love this man.

Death of Forever

He wasn’t always this way… there was a time… he loved me…

I promise…. Those were the last words of his vows.  He had promised to love and honor and cherish and treasure. He promised to give me benefit of doubt and grace. He promised to chose to love me on those days I was unlovable.  He promised me his heart. Forever.

And, in the beginning he did… mostly. He had just turned 40, and I was 29 when we married. I was a first wife, he a second husband.  We had orchards full of promise, Fields full of future before us.  I couldn’t imagine him ever choosing anything or anyone above me. I couldn’t imagine doing that myself. I couldn’t see a future without him. So I let him write his name on my heart. And I took his last name… and we started off on adventure together.

The first few months were hard. His job was demanding and the hours were crazy-making. He worked the ‘nightshift’. (In his industry, that started at 2pm and went until it was done. Sometime that was 3am, sometimes it  was midnight. But never before). On more than one occasion I would call him at the office, ” Hey! Remember that thing you got to do with your cock in my pussy? Yeah… that was Bc we’re married now. You need to come home.” Sigh… I should have known.

We had been told children were not an option for us. When you’re told your body can’t conceive, birth control is a non-issue. So when we discovered I was, in fact, pregnant, on his birthday, we were shocked, elated, terrified and amazed at the grace of God.  We had that moment three times. Three beautiful miracles.

Somewhere between Miracle One and Miracle Two, he developed a porn habit. Between Miracle Two and Miracle Three… it became an addiction. His promise to forsake all others fell apart. He had no interest in the soft less-than-perfect mom body I now possessed. Even in my youth, I never had a lingerie models body… I’ve always been more of a runway build.

I discovered this addiction one sunny morning… I asked for his iPad to look up a piece of information relating to our conversation.I took it from him before he answered, and I was greeted by a busty blonde creature with her pussy exposed for his viewing, looking as though she was in the throws of an orgasm. I was stunned. He knew how I felt about the sex industry. Knew my very solid stance on porn. As I sat there, speechless, he said not a word. No acknowledgement. And the first brick in the foundation of my marriage crumbled.

Weeks after Miracle Two was born, his health became an issue. We were told how to deal with it, how to prevent further damage to his body. How to prolong his life. And I jumped on board. I learned everything I could. Changed everything that needed to be changed. And he rebelled. He would not allow his health to dictate his life. If it killed him, so be it…. and no thought for me left behind with two children to raise alone.

I don’t know exactly where in all of this his affection for me waned. But wane it did. We had a regular fight… every 90 Days… like clock work:

Me: You’ve got to engage! You’ve got to be a part of the family! You’ve got to give a damn!

Him: I know, I’m sorry! I’ll do better!

Me: You leave me vulnerable, Husband. You remove your affection and your love and you leave me vulnerable. Some day some man is going to walk into our lives… and I won’t be able to say no… because I’m so starved for love and affection.

Him: That’s not going to happen.

There were men that crossed my path and made overtures. One specifically asked me to leave my children and my husband for him, no preamble, no relationship, just request. One was also in a troubled marriage and wanted to leave together. One was a younger man, a Dom, that was in the midst of an affair with another family member. I confidently said, “No” to them, even when I didn’t want to. The only one I told him about was the first. He responded by claiming me as his territory. For a few days. Then his interest waned. Again.

He became an angry bitter man, feeling trapped in his world… taking his frustrations out on us.

I did everything I could think of to get his attention. I lost weight, I made myself up, I chose hard projects and accomplished them, I begged, I pleaded, I consoled, I demanded, I yelled and screamed. Nothing reached him. And finally he stopped seeing me at all. I tested this theory that I was invisible to him for a month. I went to bed without panties on in a nightgown for a week. No notice. I went to bed naked for a week. No notice. I intentionally left a wet spot on his side of the bed, while climbing into bed myself. No comment. No notice because he didn’t see me.

I had come to the realization that I was a trophy collecting dust on his bookshelf of life. One of the many things he collected and set aside, forgotten. Over the years I had dragged him to five different marriage counselors, each promising to help, and each telling me not to bother. I desperately wanted my marriage to work. I desperately wanted my children to have both parents. But it seemed I was the only one that wanted that. And so… I started piecing together a plan. And stashing away money and I hired a lawyer… and I asked him to leave. He refused at first. He made promises we both knew he wouldn’t keep. He reminded me of promises made in the undiscovered knowledge of his addictions.

He told me he would fight for me, which we both knew he wouldn’t do, because he never really did. And as we sat there, listening to him grasp at anything to keep his family together, including the lies he told himself, I watched my forever slip into its coffin and close the lid. I listened to it gasp it’s last breaths and die. And everything within me shattered.