Saturday, December 1, 2007

A dissertation on telephonic stimulation - The Husband

When I was young and shy and virginally pure save for an astonishing level of self abuse, I took to the anonymity of the local phone companies party lines.

Everything I needed to know about life I learned on these sexually charged lines and at the time only cost a nickle a minute. Even at 5 cents a minute I once spent 50% more than my then mortgage payment at the age of 19. So I kind of have a post doctorate degrees in most disciplines of phone sex. To say I was a obsessed was an understatement. I was fascinated with who had tried what, how it felt why they did it, with whom, how often, where, for how long, would they again, and so on. For me more than actual role play sex it was my own personal Masters & Johnson's survey. The thing that I learned most was that every woman is different in what fells good what they like what they like to hear, what they absolutely don;t like to hear and so on. Some honey kinky phone sluts prefer to be called frisky risque rompers, and some rather staid pedantic virgins prefer to be called dirty fitly cum dumpsters. One never knows. I found it helpfully to begin with a basic glossary. I would compile mental lists of words and phrases that was a turn on or a turn off. It was like playing minesweeper a bit.

Somewhere along in here, although I didn't know the term sex-addict, I recognized an unhealthy obsession for what it was. I was finding out if I could quit anytime about the time I met The Fellatio Artist. Of course she didn't then have business cards in that name so I knew her by another name, the one I sometimes call out whilst receiving her tender ministrations. At some point after our initial tentative and really very sweet courtship we were trying to find ways to respect my limits as a 25 year old virgin (really!) and for me to feel that I wasn't further adding to her long list of debauchery. She was raised with a much healthier respect for the beauty of debauchery than I, but she has changed me, I ain't like that no more as Will Munney would say.

SO looking for middle ground one day we had some sexually charged telephone conversations that probably started with what are you wearing, and ending with satisfied sighs on her part and some sticky guilt on my end. The next day I came closer than ever to giving up my cherry to her in a fit of why the hell not, but I held out until a month after my 27th birthday. She still wonders why the hell not. Well - other than the obvious benefits of keeping your orally fixated girlfriend in a perpetual state of homeyness.

When I promised to love honor and cherish, that did include phone sex in my mind, I have fallen short on that pledge a time or two, but until an awkward conversation yesterday, and always maintained a pretense of nobility in that area of putting my past behind me. I have been no phone slut, but I have on rare and extremely guilty occasions indulged when the opportunity presented itself. I believe I have more appendages (as she currently allows me to keep) than actual occurrences over the past 15+ years, but denial runs deep, and I am loath to itemize.

Now as far as the aforementioned pledge, when I took that, AL Gore had not yet invented the porn filled interweb so I am not sure it apples. On a serious note though I do consider it cheating, and have admitted to her (usually shortly or perhaps days of meekness) after getting caught each time that I have so indulged. I rationalized to myself that if it isn't actual role play, then it isn't cyber sex and no harm is done. The harm is done mostly because my wife's parents endowed her with genetics that dictated a genus IQ and therefore she is not sufficiently stupid not to know something is going on when I spend all night downstairs on a computer or I close a window on a laptop. The problem always was not so much the act but the secrecy. My furtiveness only helped to fuel her imagination to heights that I could go places that my tortured fractured existence would never conceive of as possible let alone probable.

So now I am running rampant through the web with the full knowledge and barely believed (by me) encouragement of my wife who has decided her core belief that I love her and only her always is valid and is ultimately unassailable by outside forces as is hers for me.

We are thinking of co-authoring a book. Her working title is "Reigning in Your Sex Addict by Becoming a Cyberslut." This is hereby and forthwith copyrighted 2007 so don't take it.

She has always enjoyed some online activities together such as surfing for porn and together prior to the universal availability of the Internet we had had some sexy discussions with others of various dial-up BBS. She actually dialled back her interest in these areas in an effort not to enable me.

Ok, I told you that so I can tell you this.

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