There is something about the honesty that I promised you that has stilled the pen in my hand. The truth is much more embarrassing than I care to admit, and I’ve been hesitant to put this out into the universe, because it means I have to finally face all of the skeletons in my closet, but also because the one person in my real life who will read this might look at me with different eyes.
You see, all of my life I’ve pretended to be good…most of the time I was good, so good that when I finally started to drift from my moral ways, no one noticed, or really believed that I would do those things, or cared that I was drifting because “they never had to worry about me.” Over the last 5, no 8 years, I’ve walked a path I didn’t think I’d ever find myself on…and although for the most part I recognize it as looking for myself, searching for my identity, the way I went about it is not something I’m proud of.
Remember I was lucky, none of my stupid stunts ever left me physically wounded…..emotionally perhaps, embarassed to no end, to sick with guilt to look at myself in the mirror but never physically worse off than when I started. I’ll go into how I found my way to the few sites that led me on this path in another post, for now I want to tell you a little about the first man I thought of as my Dom; although not the first man to lie to me, he was the first one whose lies affected my life. Significantly.
At the time I was in a relationship, a bad relationship. My boyfriend spent his nights in front of the computer, playing video games or watching porn. He spent every night on the couch…..every night on the couch. I would get the occasional kiss, but he wouldn’t touch me, wouldn’t sleep with me, didn’t desire me. I thought at the time it was a natural progression of our relationship, but hindsight has shown me that the relationship wasn’t much to begin with, and I was holding onto the strings because I was afraid of what would happen if I struck out on my own.
I struggled with the idea that anyone could love me, accept me with all the faults I have, with the twisted fantasies that are so far from my once mainstream life that I felt like a pariah. I thought my boyfriend, with his addictions was the best I could ever hope for, the truth was he wasn’t a bad man. He paid our rent, on time most of the time, my EI and side work kept our other bills paid and food on our table, we were roommates, but the pretense of our ‘relationship’ was eating whatever was left. Unemployed and lost, I turned to the internet to find some semblance of human contact that would fulfill the ever growing need within me.
On one of my many days alone I happened upon a website that spoke to a certain fantasy that was floating around in my head. Impregnation.com was a sordid source of delight for me, hundreds of men who pretended to desire me, desired my body and wanted to do the one thing that was consuming my thoughts, filling me with their seed and making me theirs in the most permanent and carnal of ways.
At the time, I believed that my destiny involved becoming a mother, conforming to societies designs for me as a woman. My heart wanted to be wanted in that way, to be with a man who desired more than anything to be in me, filling me and making me his. My reality was the total opposite….a man who spent every payday he could at the strip club, not interested in sex until he’d been there all night, then coming home to request a blow job; which he would enjoy with his eyes closed, and his hands at his sides, and if I was lucky a quick few minutes that were all about him, and never about me.
This site was addicting, as a writer it was easy to craft something that inspired responses, I’m good at weaving the tales these men wanted to hear. I teased them and tempted them with the stories, role play and images they asked for and in return they gave me what I needed most…..attention.
It was here that he found me, he had my attention instantly. With every word he typed he demanded my full attention and soon I was talking to no one but him. He told me that he was a sales man traveling the West Coast for work, which worked out great for me, all of the attention without the stress that he would turn up at my door. I wasn’t interested in cheating, I just needed to be wanted.
He was everything my boyfriend was not, taller than me, broader, strong, hairy…..don’t ask me what it is but a man with hair on his chest has always been a turn on for me. He looked like he could squeeze me, hold me down and have his way with me. He had a thick dark beard and a smoldering look that even in pictures stole my eager breath. We exchanged pictures, emails and instant messages, he told me that I was sexy, that he loved my body and coaxed, enticed me to be more daring for him.
At first he was everything I wanted him to be, charming, erotic, attentive, seemingly devoted and just dominant enough to get my feet wet…………at first.