My sex-life is causing me nothing but trouble these days. (The trouble is not new, it’s the “nothing but” part which is unusual.)


‎‎First I had a little falling-out with the Anal Rapist. I had modeled some new lingerie for him and finished the Helmut Newton photo-shoot he’d requested a while back. He was delighted, but then somehow, over the course of our usual sex-talk, he discovered that I am “still seeing” Cherry Popper. He was particularly miffed when I (inadvertently) admitted that I last saw Cherry Popper the same day I saw him. All right, so that does sound pretty slutty. But is it slutty for an escort? To see more than one client in a day? Perhaps I just don’t know anything about escorting, but it always puzzles me when guys make comments about how I should just “get a hotel room and invite a bunch of guys over” to have sex with me one after the other – as though this were something so incredible. It’s true that it would be something quite incredible for me, but isn’t it all in a day’s work for most escorts?

Anyway, I’m not that surprised to find out that the Anal Rapist does not want me to see any other clients. What I find amazing is that he was apparently expecting this kind of fidelity from me without even discussing it with me beforehand! Until I’ve had That Talk with someone, I assume that the default “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” rule applies. Silly me. I did promise him not to see Cherry Popper again, as indeed I had already been thinking I might not.‎ But he stormed off in a huff (well, as much as one can “storm off” on WhatsApp).

Then there’s hubby – this albatross around my neck. After months of interrogation, and repeated assurances that I can trust him, that he’s emotionally healed enough to handle whatever it is I want from him, I finally admitted that I want my sexual freedom. He broke down in tears and angry remonstrance, saying he can’t understand how I could be willing to tear apart the family and literally kill him (because he’s vowed to take his own life if I leave him) just for the sake of my “selfish sexual exploration”. This is coming from someone who, when he first started seeing me, had one girlfriend in Atlanta and another in Prague, and neither knew about the other (or me). But that was different, he says, because he didn’t love them.

He accused me of being “like those businessmen who associate their wives with the kids and the home, so they go fuck their secretaries instead, and the wives are like, ‘oh no, but it’s okay because at least he comes back home at night'”. YES! That is exactly what I’m like. If only he were more like the wives. It’s not that uncommon. There’s even a term for it: mari complaisant.

And that what he really can’t understand is: why now? Why can’t I wait until the kids are grown up?

‎Sixteen years. He wants me to wait sixteen years for the kids to grow up…

But then he was sobbing, he loves me, he loves my face, he had always wanted to grow old with me… I don’t have a heart of stone, after all. I ended up promising to mend my evil ways. Perhaps I should try harder. But I always fail. It is NOT because I’m so addicted to sex. It’s because I truly don’t see the point. It’s not that I don’t ever feel jealous or possessive. In fact I am insanely jealous and possessive, all the time, of everyone I’ve ever had sex with, even the people I hated and never want to see again! But I know it’s crazy, so I just keep it to myself!!


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