The three stages of life

As the story goes, when i was younger so much younger than today, I really didn’t need anybody’s help in any way. I did fine thank you very much.

My legs were long and trim, rarely closed and I was always blushing. For me it wasn’t true that sex made me looser, I set high standards, made the boys work hard but that didn’t mean I was monogamous.

The weeks one spent courting me, were filled with the guy who’d come a few weeks before. He was rough, deliberate and satisfying but never long standing. Did he become boring or was I just keen for a new challenge, it was a nice chicken and egg problem to have.

Eventually I grew up a little, one-offs became repeats until I reached a point where I wanted to progress. I wanted to be owned, I wanted to be fucked on a schedule, I wanted the same cock to explore me in different ways.

He became soft and gentle, caring and willing. He was desperate to keep me knowing my past but he also understood me completely. I think we may have created a baby or two together in our heads first before putting one inside my pussy, we got what we expected and I became a mum of 2.

Motherhood drained me of my selfish ways, sex became less about me, less about enjoyment and more about doing my duty, keeping my man happy. A happy man is a happy home.

After twenty years of loving intimate family life, the kids started to remind me of my adolescence. They were fickle and flippant with love, they were happy and nourished by sex and they never kept the same girl for long. I don’t think they ever shared, I may still have one up on them though my sister never knew.

The husband adores his garden more than he adores me, the flowers he once bought me grow rampantly, but never get gifted. We have supermarket sex every second thursday, after the news and before midnight otherwise its cancelled.

My lover doesn’t have a garden, he has a wife that adores volunteering. A good cause is food for the soul just waiting to be consumed. He speaks of her in a tone that reflects his ultimate deepest love, she can do no wrong and he feels guilty to ask for more than she wants to give.

The sex we have is spontaneous, sporadic. We both wait eagerly for the chance to steal a golden moment without interfering with our respective partners. We are teenagers again but this time experienced, I’ve had more interesting and fulfilling sex with this man than with any other.

He seduces me everytime we meet, its not assumed that sex will come, he has to work for it and I have to lead him on. I dress for him, I want him to want me, I wear underwear that I know will arouse him. He pushes the boundaries of my desires, I get wet talking to him, there are no shades of grey, we want satisfaction in new and interesting ways but can always fall back on the tried and tested.

There is no hesitation in my love for my husband, it is complete. He is a part of me that I can never be separated from. He is my rock and my soulmate, he has done the hard yards, he has earnt his patch of grass. I love him so much that I seek sexual satisfaction from another, it makes me complete as a person, makes me happier and I am a better person for my husband.

Sex isn’t the highest priority in a relationship, it is something some people do well, others not so. It is something people grow out of or grow into. It seems odd to be saying that it has less importance to me now, given the way my life is today, than when I believed in princesses.

It is an activity I can’t live without, I refuse to be a lesser, sadder and lonelier person because of someone else’s morals. I refuse to be controlled by sex, I am it’s master and I will fuck whoever makes me happy because I want to.