This blog begins because I am feeling thoroughly morose after what should have been a memorable New Year’s Eve party. I’ll write about that later, but I suppose my first blog post here should start with an explanation:
I am a shared wife.
The aforementioned party was a swingers party and I am feeling morose over a man who isn’t my husband. It should have been a straightforward transaction like most of my encounters are. This one got royally fucked. Unlike me.
But I digress.
Being a shared wife is mostly awesome: as long as I adhere to our mission statement. It’s a lifestyle filled with immense fun and immeasurably satisfying sexual exploration. There’s certainly never a dull moment choosing random cocks to enjoy.
Did that sound crass? If so, I recommend moving on. This blog is going to be full of candid descriptions of what happens in the recreational sex scene. This blog isn’t erotica and nor is it intended to titillate. If you still get a buzz out of it, then knock yourself out.
This blog is my new sexual confidant. I used to have real confidants in my earlier days of being shared which were sometimes fraught with angst. In my post-NYE hour of need, I soon discovered I had no one to talk to about the feelings I wasn’t supposed to be having.
This blog will house the truths of my world. If your moral compass points firmly at monogamy, then please feel free to stay but don’t judge.
Most of all though, this blog will remind me that while emotional attachment is delicious, it’s wholly devastating.