I wrote this a month ago. But I couldn’t publish it then.
I wish…
Never mind. Just read it. Then you’ll know.
You remember the conversation about opening our relationship up – with the inner turmoil and the final conclusion, right? You remember what or who lead to it, too?
Well… I saw him again for his big birthday party. Mister M. The party left me at first with feelings of excitement, desire and something I didn’t recognise at the time. It wasn’t the party, obviously, it was what happened at the party. Or at the after party.
I’ll interject here that I don’t know if Wonderboy reads this blog or not anymore. I’ll probably find out since this is something I haven’t told him and I’m not planning to.
Since the formalities are now out of the way, I guess I’ll just come out and say it. We have this amazingly strong pull with mister M. And although his wife, his beautiful, wonderfully intelligent and nice wife, was there too it made no difference. I actually thought I had survived. It was I think one am, when I said goodbye to lady Fiona, as I’ll call her here, and tracked down the partying mister M from the bar. We had hugged inaproppriately long when I arrived and I had lathered his face with face oil at one point (to make him pretty – I swear!) but other than that it had all been in good humour. Until I went to him and touched his shoulder on the ever so crowded wooden bar. He turned to me and kissed me passionately but quickly and then turned to purchase his drink. I went speechless.
You kinda made me speechless, I confessed.
Yeah, me too, he said and turned to face me.
I was just coming to tell you that I’m gonna go. To the hotel, I said after a long silence between the dancing and drink ordering party crowd – most his friends and aqcuintances I didn’t know.
Really? he looked at me with alarm. Just wait a sec and we’ll come with you. I just have to check on lady Fi first, he said.
And I stayed. I helped with gifts and waited for the taxi. I went to their home and ate an omelette made by lady Fi. We drank gift champange and talked. Some more people came, one of them an organizer of BDSM events, who was unfunnily enough the most prejudicial about fantasies and activities of the whole bunch. He called me crazy (as any other woman ho has them) when I talked about incest fantasies and also remarked that wanting to be strangled or strangling someone was crazy too.
Anyway, what happened was that after we’d drank and stayed up until the morning light, he came to put me to bed on their study floor on a mattress. And then I put his hand on my neck. And I said, strangle me.
And he did. And I came.
We had talked about, how we were allowed to play with other people. We had said it would be alright. If there’s no sex. And there was no sex.
Was there?
Past the Hurt 
At face value, I’d say no. Kinda like a hair-trigger ejaculation when making out (think: American Pie).
Although there’s mens rea (intent). Did you want to share yourself with him (in a mutually satisfying way). If you weren’t with WonderBoy, would you think you’d had sex with Mister M ? And, how does it affect the way you feel about them and youself ? And do you want a repeat ?
Be kind to youself, and thanks for sharing. I, er, may be a bit distracted today. 😀
No, I don’t think it was sex. But I’ve been known to over analyze my BDSM desires into something they’re not.
I wanted to play with him. I wanted for him to strangle me. I did not want to have sex with him. I don’t want any *that* kind of stuff, I said right before it happened. And what I meant by it was *sex*. I went there with this in mind, mind you. I wanted a way out. And I had the word from Wonderboy. I really didn’t think I was doing so much wrong there.
But I had no right to kiss him. Although they were not french kisses, and I probably would’ve turned him down, if he’d tried to kiss me like that.
But I know it wasn’t right, because I went behind his back. I should’ve talked about it before hand. But I didn’t. Because I was too exhausted by our relationship. I wanted to get away from it from a second. The sorrow and all. And I did.
OK, you already know that breath play is very dangerous, right? You’re careful that people you do it with have studied the dangers?
Did you have sex with him? Depends how you define sex. People always talk like everybody knows what’s sex and what’s not, but we don’t all agree – there isn’t just one definition. To find yours, be honest with yourself, what you feel about it. I changed from thinking that oral wasn’t sex to it was sex before my first marriage, at the prompting of my fiancee, and I feel better about my definition since then. Sometimes you meet a situation you haven’t thought through, and then you make a decision using the faculties available at the time; usually not your best. But they’re all you have. So you tend to have to rethink those later, and not be too upset with your spur-of-the-moment decision if hindsight leads you to a different conclusion. With hindsight you can find more ways of looking at it; like if Wonderboy could come from being strangled, or could come from doing the strangling, and he did it with someone else, would that be sex?
You did some things you say were wrong. You were in a terribly tempting position, and no one’s made of iron. Staying up drinking and talking about kink with someone you’re very attracted to is going to make anyone stumble at least a bit. The only way to avoid the result is not to get into the situation; to find your comfort from things that are less tempting. Has it made you feel better, or worse?
You’re going through a very difficult time, and things are not always going to go the way you would want them to. And that’s something that I and I’d imagine all your commenters understand. You’re going to need to cut yourself some slack, and we love you whatever happens. But the more you can go into things with forethought and preparation, the better things are going to turn out for you.
Best wishes! ❤
You’re going to need to cut yourself some slack, and we love you whatever happens.
I needed to hear this. I need to think about what you said more, and what I feel about what happened. But this I needed so bad.
But the more you can go into things with forethought and preparation, the better things are going to turn out for you.
Yeah. But how to handle, when you trick yourself into not thinking about it? It’s a pickle.
And thanks.
❤
OK, you already know that breath play is very dangerous, right? You’re careful that people you do it with have studied the dangers?
Hmmmm. I hear this and I agree of course… But the way I play I rarely feel any danger. It’s much more of a thing of overpowering for me than of suffocating, really. Except sometimes. But that’s solely with WB, and that’s something that makes me scared and makes me need aftercare and duringcare and everything. So, I’m pretty certain you don’t have to be worried about me ending up in a hospital, because of breath play. It sounds more serious than it is, I’m sure.
I don’t think the question “was it sex or not?” is particularly useful.
Questions that are useful:
“Why do I feel guilty about having done this?” (that, you already seem to know: because you didn’t expressly talk to Wonderboy about it beforehand.)
“Why did I feel the need to play with this other man in the first place?” (that, you also know – to escape from problems with Wonderboy).
“If I didn’t have problems with Wonderboy, would I still have wanted to do this?”
“Did doing this help my marriage [by giving you some escape, by taking the pressure off Wonderboy to be everything to you] or hurt my marriage [by adding extra hurt feelings and drama]?”
“Do I want to stay married or not?”
“Do I want to be monogamous or not?”
etc.
I hope you can find all your answers and follow the path that’s right for you – whatever that may turn out to be.
*hugs and love*
These are really great and helpful questions even though I’ve already answered many of them. It also makes me happy to be able to answer some of them yes. (All the last 3.) I really think this was necessary for me, now, at the place I’m in. It was less than I would’ve done in a similar situation, before. And I do think it only helped. It helped me draw lines again, to understand better what I want and need – and what I do not want.
I feel trapped and unfulfilled without the 24/7 d/s. This makes me look for something else. But sometimes it’s just too damn complicated and even dangerous for our well being to do that kind of power play with the infertility treatments and sorrow. I have to accept that. But I have to try to negotiate something small, something that will keep me happy even when things are really hard.
I can’t imagine that *any* kind of fantasies are “bad” or “wrong” unless they bother you. Incest, rape, strangulation… those are all pretty common in the BDSM world, actually. You’re not alone. For me, these fantasies help me work through trauma in my past. Luckily my Dom does not judge me like that jerk was judging you.
Sexpertskitten,
at first I thought it was so completely misguided of him that it didn’t affect me at all. But it has in the slight. I know there are people out there, most of the people, who don’t want to face having those kind of fantasies and can’t face anyone else having them either. I’ve noticed that what was once a real, real, real big fantasy play for us – to play dad and daughter who barter about sex with gifts and promises of no chores – I can’t even utter the word daddy to him anymore. And sometimes I really want to.
I guess it’s just such a taboo fantasy that even I who can defend it in a conversation very easily have a hard time reconciling the reality of playing it out, when I get the slightest sign of disapproval. I know it’s okay – and I don’t even stop to think about him judging being strangled, too, the jerk! – but this is more difficult, because it’s quite embarrasing to play the roles even when you don’t think about all the people out there judging you. And I don’t get off on embarrassment like some submissives. It takes my boner away, so to speak.
Sometimes I know we’re both thinking about it, we’re both playing the parts in our heads… but neither of us has the courage to spit it out. It’s too scary. Sometimes. When you’ve been trashed by the very people, who should support you.
Sigh.