Brunette Stripped Bare

In my late-teens and early-twenties I was the Queen of Flirt. Seriously. I would set my sights on a target, and before too long I’d be hooking in. Not a conventional beauty and tiny boobs to boot, I truly believe it was a talent… one that I have recently mourned the loss of. Still not sure just how I achieved some of the hook-ups I did.

Anyway, there are only three serious crushes in my lifetime that were not reciprocated at the time. Incidently, all three of these crushes have since admitted that they did fancy me, but the timing was just not right. Now I sleep at night.

Despite being married, I guess I sometimes think that one day, these crushes (two in particular… the third I really went off him) might actually come to fruition. Think might not be the right word.. maybe daydream, or fantasize? These are not really something I want to come true. Just something to add a little spice to the mundane life I currently lead. As much as I love the hubster and we are very happy together, the life we lead is just so incredibly NORMAL. To keep things interesting, I’ll admit I occasionally let my mind wander into something more resembling the Bold and the Beautiful.

Something ruins these fantasies though. That thing… is children. Not my own.

So in my imagination, the scenarios vary. I am still married and therefore delightfully unattainable, therefore making me even more attractive and desirable to my former crushes, despite them also being in relationships. By some convenient coincidence, both of our relationships end at the same time and we are brought together by a twist of fate. Or, I am no longer married, deciding instead that yes, my true love was the guy I had a crush on when I was 16 years old and leave the hubster. I then barge back into their lives and they, of course, immediately leave their partner who was really a fill-in until I came to my senses and finally the timing was ‘right’ for both of us. We’re instantly sexually compatible and wonder how we lived without each other for all these years. Old partners are quickly forgotten.

This fantasy is MUCH harder when children are involved. They’re just such a permanent obstacle. Even in my daydreams, I can’t bring myself to be a homewrecker. All’s fair in love and war… except, THINK OF THE CHILDREN!

Oh, and this is already working! We can’t believe it… it’s making me so happy. And horny.

I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be horny more than once a week.

Once a upon a time, I wanted sex all the time. I would only have to think about sex and there would be that dull ache in the sweetest of spots, anticipating what was to come (’scuse the pun). I’d always heard that a woman’s sexual peak arrives much later than a man’s (I think late-30’s for women vs. late teens for men), however that didn’t seem to be true for me. Whilst not wildly promiscuous, I was in no way a prude either and as long as there was an attraction there, I was up for it. The fact that I was on The Pill only made life easier - no need to worry about the condom breaking, as there was always a safety net anyway. No worry about pregnancy = free abandon in the bedroom. Or the car. Or at the beach. Basically, wherever the mood struck. 

Sex was good with my then-boyfriend, now-husband from the beginning. I was his first, and I have moulded him to be my ideal lover, hopefully I have done the same for him. He was and still is, teh hotness. My type completely… tall, broad shoulders, dark hair, dark eyes, quiet and shy… delicious. But for some reason, the sex+us equation was starting to not add up. For one, we were having sex a lot less. And I was the problem. I never initiated sex, and when he did I either refused altogether, or simply obliged. But he and I could both tell it was becoming just that - an obligation. My vajeeen (thank you Borat) just didn’t want to come to the party. Not exactly what we envisaged for the next 50+years of our lives!

The kick up the arse for me came when my husband revealed his concerns for our marriage. While everything else about our marriage is literally perfect, it seems pretty empty without regular sex, particularly in your mid-20’s with no children, and therefore, no excuses! We have often said that we are each other’s best friend, but he was concerned we were becoming just that - best friends, not husband and wife. I started assessing where we could be going wrong.

After doing some research, it seems that the very thing that initially gave me sexual freedom may now be taking it away. The Pill. The secret libido killer, ruining marriages the world over. There is anecdotal evidence that The Pill is responsible for lowering the libido of millions of women, particularly after long-term use. I have been on it for around 10 years. Long-term enough for you?

So, I made the difficult decision to try life without The Pill for the first time in my adult life. I have many concerns. Pregnancy, acne, the size of my boobs (if they get any itty-bitty’er, I might as well be 9 years old). I can deal with these worries if it means making my husband (and me!) more satisfied. But I think the scariest thing of all is the ‘what if’? What if it doesn’t work? What does it it mean for ‘us’?

Ever done something you think you’ll regret forever? By forever, I really do mean that you’ll be an 90year old granny and it might be something that still plays on your mind.

When I was much much younger, and well before my and husband and I had even made it onto each other’s radars, I was involved in a relationship where I could be considered ‘the other woman’. Now, I was pretty young at the time, only 16 years old, so it’s not as if the guy was married. But he was in a serious relationship, and seeing me at the same time. I myself was on the rebound, and the only thing I don’t regret about the relationship was that it gave me the ability to forget about my ex completely and move onto bigger and brighter things. But before things got bigger and brighter, they got decidedly darker.

I posed for him, nude and with a pornographic flavour. It was something I wanted to do, but I don’t think I fully realised the possible consequences. I certainly didn’t imagine I’d still be thinking about them almost 10 years later. Somewhere out there are graphic images of me as a 16-year-old and I think about them quite frequently. Everytime I do, I think that it’s only a matter of time before they return bite me on the arse and ruin everything I have. My husband knows I wasn’t a virgin when we got together, but I doubt his imagination stretches as far as the content of these photographs. The person who has them is obviously not the trustworthy individual you would hope to be the custodian of such a personal insight into yourself. I have no idea if he still has them, I wouldn’t even know how to make contact with him… I can’t remember his surname at all. I could probably trace him through mutual friends, but that would stir up curiosity I just don’t want to stir up.

I know he has told a couple of people we used to both be friends with about them, but I don’t know how many people know and how many people have seen them. How many people in my outer circle of friends are looking at me, wondering if the rumours are true? How many people want to ask me, but don’t know how to broach the subject? If they did… what would I say?

I feel this secret sometimes prevents me from doing things I want to do. I don’t want to become a successful business owner or win a huge lotto prize, in case they come out of the woodwork and try to blackmail me or something. I would never go into the Big Brother house or any other reality TV show - not because I don’t think it’s my scene, but because I’m worried that once I was on TV he’d sell the pictures and they’d be published for everyone to see.

The irony is, I never saw the pictures myself. It’s as though a stranger owns a piece of me that even I don’t know or understand.

Recent conversation with close friends have proven I’m a little bit unusual.

They seem to be using sex as a tool to get what they want out of their relationships. I try not to play these games.

When I say I don’t feel like having sex, I mean I don’t feel like having sex. Not that I might feel like it if you tell me something I want to hear. If I’m not in the mood, there’s very little you can do or say to get me in the mood.

I’ve recently heard a number of people state that oral sex is off the list at various cut-offs in the relationship. One woman said that out after six months, she no longer needs to suck cock. As though it’s a chore. A guy at my husband’s work told him a joke - “You know why Brunette was smiling so much as she walked down the aisle on your wedding day? She knew she’d never have to suck your dick again”. It’s like people see oral sex as the one thing no-one wants to perform, but everybody loves to receive. The thing that hooks people in. Then once you have what you want, you give it up.

I prefer it to actual sex. Sex is good, but oral, both giving and receiving, is better. Giving head makes me feel horny. Receiving head makes me cum so much harder and faster. Often when giving or receiving, I’ll imagine intercourse… which then makes intercourse so much better because of the anticipation and because I’m linking it to wicked pleasure in my mind.

For some reason, I’m not the dirty girl. I can’t tell people this stuff. When I disagree, somehow I end up feeling like my opinion is a little warped, and I shouldn’t say it aloud. Instead, I talk to my husband about it afterwards. It helps him to appreciate me a little more. And together, we say “poor bloke” about the other guy.