He's still... the one

It finally happened.  After over six years of friendship by phone and by internet, my Jeff and I got to meet at long last.  It was easy and casual - lunch at a local restaurant.  I'm not sure when I last encountered such a perfect gentleman.

There are certainly a lot of gentlemen in my history - darling men who'd hold doors, open car doors, invite me to order a meal first, and one gentleman would always walk on the outside of the sidewalk, between the street and me.  That one was memorable, because I generally don't like holding hands with my left hand, as I normally carry my purse on that shoulder.  Some say chivalry is dead; I know three men who give a complete lie to that myth.  And for those who believe that chivalry makes women feel unequal, I'm here to tell you, "Hell, NO! it doesn't!"  When these gentlemen were acting chivalrous, I felt special and cherished.  As we sat together over meals or coffee, debating politics, foreign policy, religion, business or any of a myriad host of other topics, I was every bit their equal.

Anyway, back to Jeff...  Sure, I'd primped and was feeling a little nervous.  I was sporting a cute pedicure that I showed off with black strappy heels; and the outfit showed off my shape, offered access should it be necessary but was far from slutty.  Just in case, the panties were lacy in his favorite shade of green.  He didn't know about those until after the fact, though.

I don't think it's necessary to go over every fine point of our lunch.  We talked, we laughed, we hugged (held?) a LOT and, yes, we shared some kisses.  Again, no details, but he was every bit the gentleman from start to finish.  And his scent...  I'm really sensitive to smells, and his was soft, well-balanced and just enticed me to stand closer, to keep my nose buried in his neck to savor that delicious fragrance.  My body reacted to his scent, his closeness and the spicy delight of his kiss.

That meet was two days ago, and I'm still smiling - and horny.  Being a WAHM with two children doesn't afford me a lot of time to take care of my more primal urges.  It does give me a lot of time to walk around with this big-ass dopey smile on my face.  My heart's smiling, and all those first-crush feelings from six years ago have come back, but they're deeper than just a crush.  I'm still not in love with him, but the relationship that started over six years ago has deepened with wonder and amazement, and Tuesday just reinforced my belief that he and I are meant to be together just as we are.

Related articles

• Chivalry explained: from knights of honour to women's lib (telegraph.co.uk)
• There are lots of things I like about being a girl. (thehappinesscomplex.wordpress.com)

Who IS he to you?

We were having a fight, my best friend and I.  This was back in, oh, July (I think) 2007.  I didn't know what had happened.  We were chatting as we did two or three times a week and he'd wanted to see some pictures from a recent trip.  I showed them to him and he almost immediately said "Good night" and signed off.  My initial thought was that his wife had come home or one of his children had called out for him.  I waited for him to come back, and when he didn't, I just figured it was the wife and we'd talk later. 


I got up the next morning and was surprised to see I had an email from him.  He just doesn't email that often; it's too easy for someone else to see.  The gist of the email was, "I'm not going to be online for a while and don't expect to hear from me.  I may email you occasionally.  Take care."  My heart shattered in my chest as tears streamed down my cheeks.  I called my boyfriend of the time and told him what had happened.  In his usual no-nonsense way he asked me, "Who IS Jeff to you that you're crying over him?"


I replied, "He's my best friend.  Or, I guess, he was."


At the time, that's exactly what he was and it's what he is now.


Jeff contacted me a week later.  He'd been upset and jealous over the pictures, which took him by surprise.  Neither of us realized he felt quite so possessive of me.


Things are different now.  Sure, he's still my best friend, but he's also the only man in the world to whom I'd want to be married other than my husband, and as much as I love him, I would never want to trade my husband for him.  In fact, Jeff can say of me:

I know she loves me.  I know she loves her husband more.  I know her husband and girls come first.

As for me, I can say of Jeff:

I know he loves me.  I know he loves his wife more.  I know his wife and children come first.

This is the way it's supposed to be, and this is the way it's been for 4 1/2 years now.


That experience taught me something very important, though.  It taught me that Jeff does feel a sense of possession, and you know, he has a right to.  He fully understands his place in my life as I do mine in his, and he shouldn't have to put up with other online lovers like he has in the past.  After all, I wouldn't want him to play with anyone else while he's with me.  We've been through a lot together, he and I, and we have something special between us.  Why jeopardize that?

Sometimes Things End

Chris and I lasted as long as we were meant to. The situation bears a remarkable resemblance to one that happened three years ago with another gentleman and another wife finding out and that gentleman's desire to do what he could to tend to his family. Yes, it's sad; there was a great foundation of friendship there. However, I certainly can't fault him - either of the "hims" - for making that choice, because I'd have made the same one. Come to think of it, I did myself one time.

The first situation - the one three years ago - led to tears and a reunion in just a couple of months. That was three years ago, and I just spoke to the gentleman last on Thursday. Chris and I are hoping that history will repeat itself with us, that things will settle down and he and I will be able to resume the friendship. As with Jeff, though, there's not really any telling when that will happen, but I sense it will. I cried the tears for my loss, but I also cried the ones that he couldn't shed. After all, big bad Naval officers aren't supposed to cry in uniform.

The Massage

His eyes pierced me, his green gaze gazing into my soul as he poured the massage oil into his hand, watching me hotly as he warmed the cool liquid before letting it slowly drip from his hands onto my skin. My lips parted on a moan and my eyes fluttered shut at the first sensual caress, the oil making his hands glide effortlessly over the dips and mounds of my waist before they moved up to cup and rub my full, aching breasts. He kneaded the pale globes, his fingers occasionally brushing the darkened aureolae, taunting the sensitive peaks with the touch they were craving.

Leaving my breasts, he slicked the oil down to my belly, softly caressing the firm mound where the baby grew. Responding to his touch, the baby kicked against his hand. With a soft chuckle, he continued to rub oil over the taut skin before moving his hand down to my bare woman's mound. Oil-slickened fingers parted my folds, finding the hard nubbin hidden in their depths, before venturing further down to my slit. The oil mixed with my juices as he teasingly slid just the tip of his finger into my hole.

He left my core to refresh the oil in his hands before slicking the oil down my legs, rubbing and caressing the muscular, curvy limbs. I rolled to my side on his request so he could work his magic on the back of my body. Fireworks went off as he rubbed the sensitive bottoms of my feet, his fingers slipping in between my toes. His hands kneaded my calves, then teased the hollows behind my knees, soliciting a groan of pleasure. Strong fingers lightly massaged the backs of my thighs, working up to the soft, firm globes of my ass. A single digit dipped in the valley, teasing the tight pucker.

Unable to bear the teasing any longer, I rolled over suddenly, taking advantage of his momentary surprise to grab the bottle of massage oil.

To Be Continued...

A Monday Morning Surprise

The frigid cold winter air snaked under my full-length black wool coat as I stood by the gas pump. My day’s to-do list ran through my head: Grind the meat as soon as I get home, cook it for the chili and get that going, load the dishwasher, shower and make soap. Music poured out of the speakers overhead, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. Cars drove in and out, just as normal. In fact, it was pretty much like any other stop at this particular gas station. I thought.

Soon after I started filling my tank, I noticed a taupe minivan pull up on the other side of the pump. Pretty unremarkable. Then I caught a flash of… blue camo? Considerably more remarkable, as I live at least three hours from the coast. Underneath this uniform was… Hmmmm… What’s this? A pretty attractive 40-something man. The morning just got a bit more interesting. Then I saw a patch over his chest that read “U.S. Navy,” even more remarkable, as we don’t have any Naval bases in our state. Something about him looked vaguely familiar, as did his minivan. I peered around the gas pump to check out his license plate. Oooooh! I’d seen this guy in his van a million times before. He’s got a personalized plate, and I used to always see him – at least 3 days a week, sometimes twice a day – on this one stretch of road I’d go down. From his profile at 40 mph, I’d decided he was rather nice-looking. And now… Now I was getting to see him at a stand-still, in person, only a gas pump island separating us.

Surreptitiously, I kept going up on tiptoes, hoping for a better look at him. All too soon, my pump clicked off, signaling the end of my fill-up. I was replacing my gas cap when I heard his click off, too. With a sigh, I turned to go around my car and head home. Then his voice stopped me. “Visitor, where?” I’d forgotten I still had my visitor’s pass on my coat from when I’d taken my daughter to school. I told him where she attends, and he asked me how we like it. From there, the conversation segued into a brief discussion of interests and work, eventually culminating in an introduction and the exchange of business cards, then the possibility of setting up a play date with our kids. We had to part company, him to go to work, me to home.

I laughed all the way home, marveling at how I’d ever been able to attract the attention of such an attractive man. I mean, I was one notch more presentable than “fresh-out-of-bed,” and that notch was simply the fact that I was dressed. I wore no makeup, I had a case of bedhead going on, topped off by morning breath laced with coffee. After all, in the daily drop-off, I don’t ever actually get close to anyone. Still, the memory of Chris stayed with me all day.

It’s been a whole week – a week of text messages, emails, phone calls and face-to-face moments. We’ve talked about a little of everything and we’ve grappled with new and growing feelings that seem to be taking both of us by surprise. Thanks goodness, we don’t agree on everything, but at least we can talk about it. One thing we can agree on, though, is, we don’t want this wonderful thing to end.

I'm glad you're a part of my life, my precious Gent, and I'm quite happy being your dear Lady.

Is this you?

I've been thinking in recent days about the past three-and-a-half years and the people - male persons, in particular - that I've met online. Some have been just simply amazing men who I still talk to, laugh with, cry with and enjoy. Other men are also great guys, but perhaps we don't speak anymore like we used to, though we would if we had the chance. Some of those guys showed themselves to be flaming pricks - mentally unbalanced, jealous, possessive, demanding - just generally high drama.

I thought about Jeff, one of those I still talk to, and all that our friendship has endured over the past 3+ years, not the least of which was his tour of duty in Iraq. If it can withstand that, it can withstand anything! Then there's Jim, arguably my best friend in the world. He deserves his own post, all to himself.

I thought about Psycho Ex (aka, "He who shall remain nameless") - speaking of mentally unbalanced, jealous, possessive AND demanding - and how he's done every substance known to man and is proud of it! If it can be snorted, injected, smoked, ingested, inhaled, whatever, he has. Might explain a lot. Over against him is Jimmy, who's hung out with some of the biggest names in classic rock history - Santana, Grand Funk Railroad, among others - yet has never even smoked a cigarette. That's character, right there.

I thought about how each guy handles a fight or me in a hormonal mood swing or doing an admirable immitation of a stressed out bitch. From the low-drama set:

"I wish you'd trust that I'm NOT breaking up with you just because we're having a fight."
"OK, so you want to vent. Go ahead." (I strongly suspect this one was watching a Braves game while I was ranting.)
"I hate fighting by IM. I'll be there in 20 minutes."

Then there's the high-drama group:

"Apology NOT accepted!"
"We're through!" "No, I want you back." "We're through." "I want you back." (I broke that pattern by agreeing we were through and there'd be no going back.)

I'm being nice and not mentioning names here, but if you're reading this and you're one of the guys, chances are you can pick yourself out. The second one above in the high-drama group is the psychotic one. Actually, he wouldn't be clinically psychotic - more like clinically borderline personality disorder. Think Glenn Close's character from Fatal Attraction. Yep, he has serious bunny-boiler tendencies.

The other high-drama one is really just a grossly overweight, middle-aged, balding, perverted drama queen who has no idea what he wants. The one opportunity we had a few years ago to meet, he cancelled at the last minute because his momma needed him. In fact, he has lived his entire life in the same town. I know people do that, but most people at least go away to college or join the military for a while. He's the type who'll tell ya he loves you one minute, then two days later will be pissy because you're demonstrating... uh oh... no, it CAN'T be... that you're *gasp* human! His life is nothing but a fantasy world, and he expected the same from me. Sorry, babe, but after the fantasy's worn off, there's nothing left but the reality, which Jeff, Jim, Jimmy and a whole slew of others will tell ya is MUCH better!

Writing, Writing and more Writing

Patience, patience... I haven't gotten anything new finished this week, but I'm working on it. I have an email writing buddy and we shoot emails back and forth containing segments of a story we're messing with. I've spent time, too, on Mike's Enlightenment (Ch. 2), a sizzling hot BDSM story to follow one I wrote last winter. That one will have my brother-in-law with a cameo role as someone's "pet," which I can't wait to write! If you're reading this and you know anything at all about my brother-in-law, then you'll understand why I'm looking forward to making him a submissive. >:) Bwahahahaha!

In addition to these writing endeavors, I'm also working on a story that I'd started a couple of months ago. That one I ended up scrapping, because, while I had all the sex scenes worked out, the beginning was puny and weak. So, I trashed the beginning and went after the story again, and now I've got the beginnings of a hot sex scene and a story that's going to really roll.