From an email to T

I've always prided myself on my ability to act like a lady in public and be a complete slut in private, just as a point of female competency, but my recent interest in D/s has of course enabled me to take that to new heights (or lows).
I now enjoy all the classics such as taking the panties off in the bathroom, wearing the vibrating butt plug, painting my nipples courtesan red beneath my clothes, letting the heels go higher, the skirts shorter, and the blouses more scooped--not to mention the fluids I've licked off hands pushed into my mouth (I think that is so hot!), the legs I've spread beneath the
banquette and table, and the petting I've enjoyed in the back of a (crowded) theatre.
The incongruity of saying to myself "Wow, am I really doing this?" is as stimulating as the look of proud delight on the face of the man I am with as we skirt the complete edge of what's acceptable behavior by two adults with reputations to protect.

Of course, most of my real experience of this is with Z, who knows I am seeing other people, but does not know that I am entertaining thoughts of another Dom, even one far away. It's amazing to me that my interest in this kind of connection, my desire to continue to explore it, has become a driving force in my ideas about post-divorce relationships for myself.

On one hand, I want to have great sex and fuck myself silly (party because this seems to hard to attain!)--On the other hand, I think of the D/s aspect as the bigger prize, shinier and more special, perhaps because it is harder to attain.

The CEO Dom

When we first met, I was so excited by his kindness and world travels.
Then, when he kissed me, I realized he bit.
He loves golf and baseball, and beer and TV, and while those are all fine, I'm skating and kayaks and hiking, wine and blogs.
I'm verbal, he's not.
But most of all, the guy doesn't seem to want to do anything!
He keeps calling but he's wanting to stop over, not to go out.
We just don't have enough in common to make this work...so I am going to cut him loose today.

Types of Doms

In my short time exploring submission and trying to meet the *right* Dom, I've made some observations about types of men who are Doms.
This is by no means comprehensive, but here's the list:
1)The Sadist
He's dreamed of tormenting women since he was small, he likes to hurt them more than they might want to be hurt, and he's looking for a relationship where he can get permission to be abusive.

2) The Scientist
He's a nerd, a geek, a freak, with poorer than average social skills and a romantic spirit. He'd like to use D/s to capture a woman, a princess he can bind to himself through such sexual intensity, much like a speciman on a board.

3) The Power Exchanger
He loves to push the envelope and the edges. Being Dom is part of his alpha male energy and hes going to be the best goddamn Dom there is, whatever that means. Oh yes, and he loves humilation and sharing...shows control.

4) The Sensualist
Wanton, in the moment, intense, the sensualist uses D/s to deepen a relationship and explore more aspects of feeling between two specific people. This is the type I prefer.

5) The Fetishist
It's not the woman, it's the whip, or the flogger, or the paddle, or the shoe, or...you get the drill.

slut slut slut slut slut

I'm gearing up to expand my sluttiness in new ways: I want to meet someone with whom I can screw myself silly, ideally someone local and younger than I am (with no sexual problems and LOTS of stamina).
I have been back in town for 4 days have have had no sex with Z though I have seen him THREE times--what is that about?
Am I losing my mind?
Yes!

Touch, or the music of my sighs

I am wearing my new black spike heels, fishnets, and the tight black satin skirt I just bought.
With the new purple sweater falling open across my bare shoulders, and my fishnet stockings, I know I look hot.
The clothes flatter my hourglass shape and the high heels elevate my calves like nothing else.
"You should dress like this all the time."
Z smiles and pulls me toward him.
His hands slide down my back, feel my legs, roam over my chest and inside the blouse, inside the innocent white lace lingerie I've chosen for tonight.
"Come closer."
Z pulls me to him.
I stand there, in my 4 inch heels, head thrown back, as he pulls my breasts out of the shirt, out of the bra and sucks on the nipples, kneading them with him fingers and his tongue.
I stand there, in my black fishnet stockings, a smile on my face, as he runs his hand beneath my skirt, up high inside my thighs.
"Very nice," Z says, and we go into the bedroom where take I off the clothes, then give him a backrub and a massage.
"Let me put some cream on you," he says, and soon I am naked on the bed, almost spread eagled, feeling him carefully rub cream into my tanned back and the (still) angry sunburn on my shoulders.
Soon, Z is kissing me, and then his hands are on my body, the fingers moving inside.
No one has touched me for 10 days, I have been away, and my breathing grows ragged and heavy.
Z is working me, he wants to make me come, he wants to hear the music of my sighs.
I watch his face as he excites me--serious, intent, loving.
Soon, he closes his eyes going only by touch, his hands playing inside my body.
I come, and then I come, and then I lie back smiling, easy and relaxed, amazed at how langorous I feel.
"That felt so good," I says."Can I do something for you?"
"Not now, sweetheart, another time," he says, and I smile sweetly, hiding the disappointment.
I want to suck your cuck, I want you to fuck me silly, I want... But I don't say any of those things.
Instead, we lie together and talk, and cuddle, and I wish, for the 10,0000th time that that wonderful man was in much better health.
If Z was healthier, stronger...I don't know that I would need to look for anyone else,
but as it is, he leaves and I feel guilty for being somewhat unsatisfied.

A scarcity of screws

The other thing about the men I met is most of them don't seem to be into screwing.
Or, there are reasons we don't.
From my perspective, this completely sucks.
I would like nothing more than to meet some really cool and passionate guy
whose free time pleasure was to fill..me...up.

Screwing S, a memory

In college, S used to show up at the door to my room late at night, I'd let him in, and we'd make love in the dark, often without talking.
God, was it hot to make love without speaking, suck his cock without a word, help move him inside me and feel his hot cum spurt...and then silently pull apart, separate and kiss.
With our friends--because we were friends and part of the same circle--we pretended there was nothing between us, but then we'd slip off and have hot NSA sex.
I remember grappling on the waterbed in his room, his sharp hipbones jutting into my soft thighs until we made the parts fit together just right.
One night I woke up and there was a man in bed with me, fingers on my thigh, and it was him.
He'd hold my hands down and fuck me and I would do anything--anything--for the pleasure of feeling his fingers pinning my arms down and back as he pressed his cock in and out until I closed around him, coming hard but without a word.

I need more sex: Right now

I've been visiting family for a week, and am feeling amazingly horny.
For a woman who's involved with three guys, my selection seems awfully thin:
--One is home ill, having blown off tonight
--Another lives 30 miles away and is busy, busy, busy
--The third is 3,000 miles away and--ugh-- married

I seem to careeen from having too many men to having too few.
My fantasy of having a wonderful male sex toy, someone 32 and rugged,
just doesn't seem to be working out
I'd like to meet someone who needs a lot of sex, especially fucking, and who's
into coming over, having hot, hot sex and then taking off.
I had a relationship like that in college and it was incredibly hot--how do I get myself
a guy like that now?

Phone sex

Away from home, tucked into bed, and talking to Z
I am tucked under the covers naked, my hand under the sheet, fingers
resting inside me.
"Z, I want to come for you, would you like me to do that?"
Yes, my sweet girl, yes.
I circle my fingers over my clit, rubbing and rubbing, then dip two fingers
deep inside, trying to reach the g-spot.
"I'm touching myself, Z, thinking of you, imagining your hands on my skin,
your fingers insider me, imagining your pushing my up against your bedroom door."
As I talk, I hear myself breathing, hear the little moans and sighs my passion sings to Z,
on the phone 3,000 miles away.
"'I'm imagining you inside me, your putting a big plug up my ass, a dildo in my cunt and making me suck your cock."
We talk dirty and I touch myself as I listen to him.
I touch myself as I describe submitting myself to him, say I want him to use me for his pleasure.
I enjoy the feeling of putting myself on display for Z, want him to feel my passion through the phone, want him to know I am touching myself for him, something else I have never done.
There is no holding back, no stop sign in this game, only a rush of passion across the telephone lines.
As I touch and I rub and I dream, I hear myself gasp, then I sigh and say "I'm coming Z, it feels so good."
The orgasm is like a feather, no it's a wave, taking me away to a place that's near and yet also far.
"Yes, my sweet girl, yes," he says, and I think I want him.

Passion and submission

So this was a new experience: making love with my scientist, spread eagled on the bed, his tongue and fingers inside me, his mouth fast on my flesh.
Sensations were coming fast and furious when all of a sudden, I realized he's taken control.

Dom or not, the man is inside me, driving me toward an intense series of climaxes,very much in control of my (sexual) energy.

Maybe it was the first time I understood how much D/s is in my head.
Maybe it was the moment I recognized power exchange isn't just about spanking.

I want to be your slut, I want you to dominate me, was what I said to him silently, in my brain, as I moved toward orgasm, but I didn't mention it till later when we lay side by side on the bed, basking in the afterglow.

"Remember when I told you I had a sexually submissive side?" I asked.
He said yes.
"Well, you know, when you were going down on me, one of the things that got me excited was my feeling like you were in control--making me have all those orgasms--and I realized that's my submissive streak--thinking that made everything more intense."
My scientist smiled. "That's why sex is all in your head," he said, and bent to kiss me again.

Conclusion: The scientist and I have mad chemistry. He lives kind of far away, but I would like to have the chance to ravage him, to explore him again...and again.

How to savor the moment

So this afternoon, a man I have seen once before is coming over again.
My hope is we will spend the afternoon in bed, then go for a walk and eat fruit or roast chicken before he heads home.
He interests me, and he seems like a great, considerate and fun lover.
Of course, I suppose I should care that I could barely tell you what he does, or who his friends are--but he's nice, he's smart, and he makes me smile.
It's amazing, after all these years, to be in a place where I can pretty much do whatever I want, see whomever I want, set my own rules.
I'm curious where things will go with this man, but I am planning, above all else, to savor the moment.

A new ambition

Z says: "I want to make you squirt."

Biting

His hands are on my breasts, his mouth tugs at my flesh, his tongue tight against the nipple.
Again and again, his mouth sucks the flesh, his teeth flick against my skin, he presses with his mouth, kissing--and devouring.
"I love your breasts," he looks up and says, pulling away for a moment. "I love them so much I could just eat them up."
You could bite them right off, I think, but I smile and say nothing.
When he tells me he wants to suction the nipples and put clothespins on the aureole to make them big and sensitive, How would I like that? I smile and nod my head.
Yes yes yes.
After the spanking.

This is bliss, this is everything.

He comes over after work and admires the black corset and the sheer black shirt I wear above my jeans and belt.
I know he likes the black beaded collar, though he never says a word.

"Before we go out," he says, "I have something. I want you to wear this."
He draws out the buttplug with the electronic control and I say yes.
When I am bent over the bed, smooth white ass in the air, black sheer panties pulled down, I look in the mirror--and I look hot.
Red hair, white skin, black corset, shirt, lingerie--and that classic pose, head down, ass in the air.
Soon, the buttplut is inside me and we are at the movies.
He flicks the switch on and off.
No one knows but us.

Later, at home, he makes me suck his cock.
I love to hear him moan.
"Talk dirty to me" he says, "Tell me about filling your ass with that big plug.
Tell me about how you like me to fuck your tits."
Soon, he is inside me.
I ride him as we both cry out, as the orgasm explodes, and we both come.
This is bliss, this is everything I think at that that moment. And then, I want to be your slut.
And then You own all my holes.
Bliss, yes.

Strap-ons: Heathcliff is hot

Heathcliff: "I want to kneel as you smear lube over your strap-on and get ready to fuck me. You push me down on all fours and take my balls in your hand, squeezing them gently and looping your index finger round the base of my cock. My ass is open for you, waiting to be filled, wanting to be owned. I can feel sweat pooling on the back of my neck and trickling down my spine, the anticipation almost too much. My face is buried in the pillow, but I beg you to fuck me anyway, reaching back to spread my ass and invite your cock inside."

Yow.

Welcome, Fleshbotters

If you are here from Fleshbot, welcome.
Some hot posts to check out
About me
Waiting to be whipped
Passion and control
Make up sex

Enjoy.

He likes to bite

D is at my house.
He's a senior exec at a large tech company, works 100 hours a week, has been a Dom for six years.
He seems to really like me--possibly because no one has held him in a long time.
Possibly because I am one of the few submissives he 's met online who are affluent on their own.
Possibly because I'm available.
Who knows?

We kiss for what feels like an hour.
He won't let me suck his tongue, but he likes to bite my cheeks on the inside, and hold and nip my lips with his teeth.
"You like to bite," I say.
"Yes, but have I hurt you?"
I say no.

He puts his hands on my ass and squeezes, pinching in slow motion.
He turns me around and spanks me.
First one cheek, then the other.
The heat rises off my body.
My pussy is getting wet.

I want him to overpower me, bend me over the couch and put his hands under my panties, edging the creases aside until his fingers are inside me.
I want him to put two fingers in, then three, then grab my hair and shove his hand into my mouth.
I want him to unzip his pants, push my face to the crotch, and tell me to suck.

But none of this happens.
"I guess I should take off," he says. "I'll take you out to dinner next time."
Okay, I respond, smiling. Give me a call.

As he leaves I am thinking to myself, how can I go out with someone who doesn't seem to get what a horny little slut I truly am?

And then we made mad, furious love

Z took Viagra, we cuddled and talked and 30 minutes later, we went at it again.
There was a moment when his cock woke up, knew it was on drugs, and got harder and longer than it's ever been.
In that sweet spot, I sat on top of him, feeling him inside me, thrusting as his hands squeezed my breasts, feeling my pussy contract and throb against his hard warmth.
There was the moment when he pinched my nipples and my pussy squeezed around his cock, and as he came, his orgasm pushed me over the edge and I came as well, so happy, so greatful to have this wonderful man inside me.

Dommed by Z

I dress for the visit...
Black and purple lace bra R bought me, matching panties.
Scooped-neck top, fitted cargo pants.
The red high heeled sandals he likes tucked into my orange bag, along with fresh lingerie, a crotchless mesh bodysuit, lace-topped stockings,my red high heels, a garter belt and a purple fishnet shirt.

When I arrive Z is in the shower.
The bag of toys is on the bed.
The restraints have been put out.
The sheets are clean, the pillows fresh.
I lie down and smile and wait.

"Take off your shirt and pants," Z says.
Soon, I am in just my lingerie, bending over the bed.
"I want you to lie down and touch yourself for me," he says.
At his instruction, I put three fingers in my pussy, then four(tough).
He pulls me to the edge of the bed and I suck his cock. Alot.

Soon after, Z lubricates and then inserts a huge plug up my butt.
It hurts like hell going in with the lube, and I scream.
" I want to tie up your breasts, and tie you to the door, blindfold you and whip you," he tells me.
Yes.
Soon, I am wearing a lovely black rope harness he's made on my body, my nipples are clamped and the lingerie is missing.

Z shows me the restraints, puts them on my wrists, and measures me against the door.

If I wear my heels, I'll snap into the o-rings without stretching.
I put them on.
Blindfolded, naked, I am pressed against the door, arms stretched overhead.
I can't see anything.
Without warning, alnost silently the flogger comes down across my ass.
It makes a sound as it lands, and a woosh as it draws back.
Again and again, Z whips my ass, my back, the inside of my thighs.
"Stick your ass out," he says. "I want to whip your pussy."
The flogger cuts under my butt and flicks across my cunt, it stings and hurts, but the pain feels so good.
I don't want Z to stop, I don't want to need my safeword, I want to lose myself in the strokes of the flogger across my ass, and Z's hand, tugging the big butt plug deeper in, making me gasp.

"Let's turn you around, "Z says. "I want to whip your tits."
He helps me circle, and snaps me to the door again.
At the first cut, one of the nipple clamps falls off.
"Can't have that," Z says.
With one mighty swoosh, he brings the flogger down on my breasts.
The clamp bursts off my breast and I scream, feeling the whip on the tender nipple.
Soon, there is a dildo inside me, Z's hand at the end of it.
He thrusts deep inside me.
The pain is enormous.
I feel impaled, writhing, as if it is his arm reaching inside.
And yet, I am more excited that I have ever been.
I arch my back against the dildo, angling it toward my g spot.
His hands are sure, experienced.
Double penetration.
I can feel him watching me closely as he brings me toward an edge.
Whipped, impaled, slapped, rubbed--I come and come, hanging from the restraints,
sobbing with sexual thrills.
"Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease."
I know the neighbors can hear us, know I am gasping and screaming sometimes, know that I am almost beside myself, so keenly in a place of intense pain and pleasure.
"Come, sit. Enjoy the afterglow."
When he takes me off the door, I see I am unsteady.
I can stand, that's not it, but my reality has been altered.
I feel like I have become someone else, a new version of me, someone who feels differently.

Z gently removes the cuffs.
Soon he pulls out some new ones and attaches them to my hands.
"I am going to restrain you spread-eagled on the bed," he says. "Is that okay?"
Yes.
He snaps me in place, then takes out a ball gag.
We've talked about them, but it scares me a bit--but I accept it anyway.
Soon I am tied down, gagged, completely exposed to him.
Z puts his fingers inside me.
As they move furiously, I push against his palm.
Almost against my will, this man is making me aroused, making me want to come.
The steady pressure of his hand builds my excitement.
I hear myself gasp, it feels so good.
I come.
Then, he's put something else inside me, something hard, and he is working me again, I can't turn away, and once more my excitement builds.
More double penetration.
Unnnh, unnhhh, I moan beneath the gag.
I must have come 3 or 4 times before he stops, gets up from the bed, and comes back with a little sharp wheel of an instrument.
It's a razor-sharp circle, with spokes, and I tighten with fear, afraid Z is going to cut me.
I watch him closely, eyes narrowed, as he traces the wheels across my breasts, down my stomach, and across my thighs.
I submit because I want to, but the little wheel scares me.
As he drags it across my sensitive pussy lips, I am too nervous to feel anything, and happy when he puts it away.
I know he can see I don't like it.

He removes the gag.
We hug and kiss. We lie together on the bed and talk.
I nestle like a cat against his shoulder.
"I forgot to give you your pebbles to throw," he says. "I could see you didn't like the medical instrument."
"I made sure I could spit out the gag if I had to," I say. "It made me nervous, but I didn't think you would really hurt me."
"I like to bite," he says," and I thought the wheel might be kind of like that, but I could see you were uncomfortable."
I stretch against his arm, still quiet.
"You like pain," he says. "I can see doing bigger, more elaborate things for you--I was hitting you pretty hard--and you seemed totally into it. Have you ever come so hard before? And so many times?
No, I say, nothing like this.
I am still, calm, almost numb with sexual release and happiness, amazed and grateful that after so many months, Z has finally, and with great success, given me exactly what I want.

My (new) sex life

So 5 months ago, I was leaving a (long) marriage.
I had been with one person for more than 20 years.
I had no idea what might interest me outside of how I thought about my sexual relationship with him.
D/s, top/bottom, BDSM--they were all the same to me.
Rope, restraints, clamps, spanking--I had no clue about any of them.
The catalyst for my discoveries was meeting R.
In talking with Z, I realized there was an aspect of myself that had been there all along that was
sexually submissive, attracted to (some) pain, and fascinated with power exchange.
Suddenly, there were words for what I wanted to try--which meant I could now name it.
Which meant--well, everything you are reading here.

Z was the man who has helped me gain my freedom and find myself--a process that is continuing.

My hand, my computer, Z's DVD

A few months ago, soon after we met, Z gave me a DVD of The Fashionistas to watch.
I took it on a business trip, watched it over two nights and thought it was erotic and amazing.
In fact, it made me feel so hot I masturbated at the computer in my hotel room, something I adored describing to Z.
Now, 3 months later, I got out the DVD last night, set it up on my computer at home, and gave myself an amazing orgasm watching the orgy/backroom scene.
Did I mention how sexy I think Belladonna is (she's the star)?
Or what an enhanced appreciation I had of watching the chubby girl's ass turn bright red as she was throughly spanked?
And how when the ponygirl's mouth was pushed right up against the big guy's cock and she took it down whole, his hand gripping the back of her head, I could imagine exactly what it felt like?
It was good.
And Belladonna is beyond sexy.

Passion and control

Driving in the car, freeway, talking on the phone with Z
He says:
If I tied you down, spreadeagled on the bed and put a butt plug up your ass and spanked you, would you like that?
Yes, I say.
And would you like it if I tied your legs together and then your arms, and pulled you to the edge of the bed and fucked your face?
Yes, I say.
And would you like it if I tied you up and whipped you, and whipped those big breasts, and then fucked your ass?
Yes, I say.

I take a deep breath.
I want you to use me in any way you want, I tell him. I want to be your slut.
Uhhh, he moans. "My sweet, submissive slut."
Yes.
You belong to me, he says. Your pussy and your ass and your mouth and those big breasts.
Yes, I say. "You can do whatever you want."

I don't know exactly why I crossed the line on giving myself to this man, but I do know when.

It was two nights ago, when I forgave him for posting on Craigs List and decided to give the relationship another shot.

We have new words we're trying out now, words he has probably said before, to other women, but words that are totally new to me.

Belong is one new word, as in I belong to you.
Use is another, as in use me as you want.

The erotic charge I get from saying these things to Z amazes me-- as does the vigor of his response to them.

What if the passion I have been seeking has been here all along, waiting for the moment when I gave up control?

What if R can be the dom I seek, the safe place where I can let go?

Z Make up sex

"I want to belong to you," I whisper to him. "I want to be yours."
His hands are on my breasts, full hands that cover them and seek out the nipples, teasing and touching and stroking.
His mouth is over mine, his tongue holding mine, gentle, yet ready to devour.
We kiss and his hands move to my pants, reaching inside the low-cut bottoms, squeezing, stroking.
"Turn over."
I bend and he lays me across the bed, pulling my pants down. The spanking is hard; I put my knuckle on my mouth so as not to cry out, but it feels so good--I love it.
He turns me around and slaps my breasts, watching the pale red-head's flesh turn pink, smiling intently.
His hand in inside me, pushing, digging, filling me with an intensity that makes me gasp.
He is fucking me with his fingers, I realize, in a way his cock cannot, and the idea makes it feel so hot, makes me feel so connected to the man in the chair.
My orgasm builds and I almost cry when I come, the relief feels so great. At the end I feel wrung out, limp, calm.
Ater a few minutes, I turn to him and say sweetly, "Please, may I suck your cock?"
"No, I'm sorry sweetheart, not tonight," he says.
"Well," I pout just a little. "Can I just kiss it?"
I need to touch him, to be close, to hold our connection.
He agrees, removes his pants and underwear.
I bend to his cock, the pink rosebud lying still and small that I know will come to life in my mouth, awaken into something hard and exciting.
Like a delicious piece of fruit, I lick and suck him, nibbling at first daintily and then with greed at the warm, hard flesh until he is gasping with pleasure.
"Ooohhh," unhhhhh" he moans, "Don't stop, just do that."
For the next 15 minutes, I touch and tease him, stroking his cock, sucking it, nibbling the tip with my mouth, rubbing it with my tongue.
I kiss and tease his balls, running my fingers along the side of his legs.
I hold my hand at the base of his cock and plunge him into my mouth.
I hold him and rub, press him between my big breasts till me moans with pleasure.
He never comes.
After a while, I stop.
We kiss and hold one another tenderly.
"You have a bruise on your backside," he says."And it's still red."
I think about seeing him this weekend and adding another mark.

Freya: On submission

Freya is one of my favorite--and most admired--erotic bloggers and this post by her partner MFC about their relationship and her submission has given me much to think about in relationship to my own headstrong, saucy ways.
MFC writes:
"I made it clear that I was not interested in continuing to explore the D/S path unless she was going to truly submit. I'm not interested in playacting D/S where Freya maintains control over how/when we have sex. I'm not interested at all in being "topped from below." This was her idea so she's going to give herself fully or not at all. Unless Freya uses the safeword, I expect her grateful submission.

I cannot take what isn't offered to me (without using physical or emotional violence). Her submission is her gift to me and it is my responsibility to use that gift to bring her pleasure.

Freya LIKES to be dominated but finds it difficult to actually submit. Therefore, it is my job to help her submit."

There's more, but the essence is that you don't choose what to submit to--you choose whom to submit to--and then, otside of the times you need safewords, you go for it.

This makes great sense--I would like to have that relationship with someone.



More on Freya (she rocks)

Another date with D

D and I planned to meet tomorrow.
Given the problems with Z, I realized I was upset about men in general.
I thought about cancelling and then realized all I had to do was say whatI wanted.
(Why is that so hard?)
So I called D and said "You know, before I embark on this really intense sexual relationship with you (Mr.Dom),
I need to know you better. Except for the fact you like tennis, I know very little about you."
D didn't miss a beat. He chuckled and said, "Okay, why don't we meet somewhere for dinner?"
"That would be great," I said, thrilled at home well being straight-forward can sometimes work.

Yes, Z was looking

So the man who asked me not to do D/s with anyone else (and I've honored that up to now) has been advertising on CL.
Yes, it's over.
There is nothing it can be besides over.
How can I give myself to someone who lies?
It's one thing not to be exclusive.
It's another thing to tell someone you are happy and you care for them--and at the same time
be looking for other women--and sending them your picture etc.
This is bad.
And the end.

There were so many things I wanted to do with him--
And now they are not going to happen.
At least, not with him.

G is sweet, but

Getting sweet emails from G, who is clearly thinking of me--alot.
But, hey, the guy is attached--he's a play pal, only.

Going to see Z and D this week...wishing there was someone I was head over heels with--how do I meet that person?
Kiss alot of frogs? Ugh.

Trolling on CraigsList?

Spoke with my longer-term guy this week; he's been distant and unavailable.
He says things are fine and he's been ill, but there's a guy who sounds an awful lot like him who has some ads on Craigslist.
I did the thing I should not have done tonight and sent a fake email from a fake person.
I KNOW I am probably going to regret taking this step, but I have to know if it is him.
If yes, he's an amazing liar.
If no, major relief.
This way is madness, but I seem to be driving myself there.