Chapter 1
I have a perfect life, the perfect husband, and the perfect kids. We are not wealthy and things could definitely be better financially but we are happy and that's all that matters. My husband might not be the most attractive man on earth, he does not have abs sculpted by the gods and biceps that can lift you and put your naked ass on the kitchen counter to fuck your brains out or anything like that. He is perfect for me though. I find him downright irresistible. He has a dad's body. A perfect beer belly. I myself love a beer belly.
Having dated skinny guys before, well-toned guys, bodybuilders, and also beer-belly guys, honestly out of all of my experience, these are truly the best. Most of the time they tend to have better personalities. Not full of themselves and believe it or not they are normally pretty funking great at fucking.
Skinny guys make one feel like you are having sex with a skeleton, bones poking in everywhere. I am a big fan of everything Tim Burton and thought I find it interesting. I cannot say that jack skeleton turns me on in any way, added most of those skeletons do have a lot of stamina. Well-build guys look that way for a reason. Everything is exercise! If they can find a way to get a good sweat in, they will. Only after having them on top of you and tasting more sweat than cum coming out of their body you realize the issues.
Then there were the "gothic" guys that wear leather cloaks and more eyeliner than me. Constantly in a mosh pit, headbanging and acting all rough, but as soon as you get off of them, they’ll tell you that they actually prefer it gentler. Like what the actual fuck, or as soon as you get to their places they have more stuffed teddies on their beds than what you owned in your life. That I must admit freaked me out completely. A sister can steal your makeup, you don't need boyfriends to do the same. I love rough sex. I love being bent over and having my hair pulled, being bitten is a huge turn on and so is being scratched. I’m good with any surface, any angle, any position, and any hole. What I am not good with is having to make love when all you actually want to do is fuck.
Making love with one's husband and all the emotions that go with it is something completely different and should be sacred. I love kissing. I don’t care if you are bad at it because let’s face it, most men are, whereas women, not so much. Having never kissed a woman that did not know exactly what she was doing. Even considered swapping my preference, but soon realised that though women could kiss and touch you in a way a man could never there always tended to be something missing. A raging, bulging, veins popping, mushroom-headed cock. I love the cock way too much to ever do that.
Honestly speaking though, women do know exactly how to touch another woman. Not that men don't, some including mine are very talented in that department it just, different. Memories take me back to one of the best threesomes I ever had. I have had a few threesomes and foursomes, but this was the one time I almost begged the man to disappear as this woman did magical things with her hands no man had ever even tried.
Men have no problem fucking you in any hole presented to them and often joke about things they do with their hands, but this was honestly the first time someone has ever done exactly what was meant by two in the pink, one in the stink, and the digit to carrels your clit. It felt awkward at first as it had never been done to me before, but then it started feeling good. Amazing even! I thought I might break my back by the convulsions of orgasms evacuating my body. It felt so new, so unexpected. I felt sorry for the cleaner of that hotel room the day after. Nothing was dry afterward, not me, not her, not the bed, not even the floor. I squirted so much, so often I thought we might be swimming out there.
That was a one-night stand I will never forget. I cannot even remember what the guys names were. But soon after the first guy had passed out from pure exhaustion I could not help but join the couple next to me, it just seemed so inviting, a good choice. One of the better choices I have ever made in my life.
Not always having been a very good judge of character, be it friends, jobs, or situations I found myself in, having done some dodgy shit. The fact that I had not been arrested, killed, or in a drug rehab somewhere in my life is a miracle and now look at me: a wife, a mother, and a small business owner. I got my white picket fence, dogs, and all.
It has been a series of ups and downs in my life. From birth to where I am now. A roller coaster of epic proportions. Circumstance and finance wise, though a lot of the high were artificially inserted through my nostrils. It was a coping mechanism.
If only my husband understood that more, understood me more. That might be the exact reason I am writing this book. For him to have a better perspective of who `I am. He is not one who likes to bring up the past much. He prefers to look at the future but to truly understand me. Who I am and see life the way I do you need to see the entire picture, not just the parts you deem fit. He knows crib note versions of what happened, but he also needs to know the gray versions, the emotional side. The only way to really know me is to know my life story.
