Sometimes I Hate MyselfPosted: August 2, 2013
Sometimes I miss religion.
I miss having a clear-cut set of dos and don’ts for my life. I miss not having to think. Of course, once I really started to examine Christianity I realized that it is no more clear-cut than anything else. That most of modern ‘Christian’ values have nothing to do with the Bible, a book which promotes polygamy, slavery and genocide, among other things. I could no more force myself to attempt to live by that book, once I knew what it was truly about, than force myself to live by Mein Kampf.
Without strict rules on how to behave in life, and in sex, I have found incredible freedom. But I am also up against some questions that would have before been cut and dry, and are now. . .not.
For instance. I’m married. Some men are married. My husband is cool with the fact that I do what I do. Most wives, unfortunately, are not. Is it my problem if I am sleeping with a man who is screwing around behind his wife’s back? He is the one cheating, but am I culpable? This is one I try to ignore. I don’t know his life, and things are clean on my end.
What happens, though, when I am sleeping with a man whose wife I know? She is not my friend. But maybe we’re friendly. Maybe I respect her. Maybe I know she loves her husband–at least, all signs point to the fact that she does. This is where, if it wasn’t iffy before, it gets a little dicey.
My stomach starts to hurt. I feel a little sick. I put myself in her shoes. I imagine her face if she were to find out. I think about him. How I know he is just horny for me but that a little hot sex isn’t worth throwing away what they have. How, whether or not his woman ever finds out, he will look back on me as a mistake. As something he wishes he could erase. Because as soon as we are done fucking, and I have gone home, he will want to shower me off him. He will want to go back in time.
Then I think about the fact that I know his cock is enormous. How badly I want it to fill me. How hot it would be to do something so naughty.
Sometimes I hate myself.