My Lover has always told me that if I wanted to, I could have another man in bed.One with a bigger penis or more stamina or whatever he thinks I’m missing out on.
I can say in all honesty that I never felt like I wanted to cheat or needed anything other than him. There was no temptation. Ever.
Until he did it to me.
After I forced a confession, he expressed concern that I would have a revenge fuck.
At that time, when the wound was fresh, it was the furthest thing from my mind. But the hurt ate away at my heart until I felt like only someone else’s hands and mouth could even the score between him and I. I started to believe that the only thing that would soothe my ravaged ego WAS revenge.
Dominating Donny/Loverboy was akin to dipping my toes in the water to test the temperature.
What I did next was akin to jumping off the face of a cliff and into a turbulent ocean.
And I was totally willing to risk drowning in that manner if it meant I was gonna feel sexy again.
R and I have hit a rough patch.
We’ve hit a few in the course of our long relationship, but we always come out on the other side of it stronger and better to each other and for each other.
What has kept us together all these years is communication and the genuine and heartfelt desire to please each other and to find pleasure in each other.
There has never been a problem we can’t work out with time and effort and love and understanding.
I hope this time is no different.
Because I didn’t just even the score, I went a step further. I kicked dirt in the face of the teammate I call my lover.
I made him my opponent.
And then I one upped him by engaging in unsportsmanlike conduct.I
It was premeditated.
Or rather, I already had a game plan.
I knew going in I would be hitting below the belt.
I’m not gonna stop writing until my ugly confession is out on the table, laid out like a winning poker hand.
Only I didn’t win. I lost.
I just hope I can cover my debt.