Edge of No Control

[We're coming to the sad and weepy part of the story soon, my little brothers, where your humble narrator gets to feel some of the pain for a change. I'm sure that's only fair given how much he is usually dishing out. This is the point where it began to become apparent (and it definitely gets worse in later chapters) that this couldn't be sustained.. Anyway, If you're just in it for the erotic part and not following the story, you will probably want to skip this one. There's a lot in here about human emotion that I was trying to sort through when I wrote this because I don't have much emotional intelligence. Back then, I was even worse. If you just want to read dirty shit, nasty stuff about humiliation and stereotypes, I have lots of other works not part of this series you could check out. This next part isn't for you if that is what you're looking for.

Sometimes I write more for other people and sometimes it's more for me, but never 100% in either direction. The work aimed more for other people is what's over the top, sensational, pure fantasy, and nearly all emotion beyond sexual desire is excluded. When writing for me, it is about trying to be real. I want to scrape away the scab, peel open the wound, and say "Here. This is what it looks like. This is how it felt to be in this situation; and I mean how it really felt, not how I will spin it in hindsight." It's an ugly story and there are no heroes in it, only villains, but here it is all the same.

So there is the editor's note. If you find this chapter more depressing or boring than erotic, you've been warned. Now back to our story...]

T and I cleaned up and got dressed.

I usually would be feeling like I wanted to escape at this point, but this time I felt quite the opposite. She did her make up and talked to her husband in IM for a while. I talked to him a little myself and at the time he seemed pretty cool.

We got in T's Green minivan and we drove to her old neighborhood in the suburbs just outside of my city. She showed me things from her childhood, and we went to her favorite Chinese restaurant on 9 Mile. She told me stories about her family and how she'd grown up. They were fascinating stories.

At one point she apologized for talking too much. It suddenly clicked in my mind that this is new for her. She doesn't get close to people, to men she plays with anyway. I could see in her face she was internally reminding herself that she needed to keep me at arm's length; I was just for fun, it couldn't be serious.

We ate and we talked and we laughed. We traded stories and opinions about everything. We had been talking for a what seemed like ages on the phone and IM, but being together in real life seemed to make it even easier for us to talk. Before long it was dark and we headed back to her room.

We went to bed and it was good, but without the build up of months this time it was a different intensity. There was more kissing and soft touching, but it was not tame or gentle by any means.

When we finished we laid in bed and watched some tv, the air conditioner making the room almost arctic. She got on her computer and composed an email describing the sex earlier that day to her husband. It was written very deeply in detail, and in it she addressed him as 'Master'. "Master, I've been a very bad girl..." it began. She left out the part about no condoms, but other than that it was all true.

They played a lot of games on a lot of levels, T and her husband. It was a pretty twisted relationship. I read some of his nasty fantasies about her that he had emailed from Iraq. It was stuff about how he wanted to watch her get gang raped by a bunch of guys, and then after they left has his way with her, and various sex acts involving urine. He also described a fantasy, prefaced with numerous assurances that it was just a fantasy he would never want to see it in real life, wherein she would have sex with a dog and then him immediately after. It was just the first of many things I heard about hubby that led me to believe he was a real scumbag, but more on that later.

We dozed off for a while, and when I got up to leave a little after 1 AM, we went for one more go round. This time it was fairly quick compared to the others. I was on top of her and I was sitting up, with her legs up on my shoulders. This time when she came it felt like someone sprayed hot water all over my belly, it literally squirted all over me. I came at the same time, this time inside her, and it was incredibly intense. T was very into how multi orgasmic I was. She told me Hubby could not do it more than once a night, and could never perform under stress. Usually the first time they met another couple he'd just watch because he couldn't get it up, only the second time would he be able to do it. So I suppose I was a nice switch from that.

I went home and even walking down the hall I was missing her already. I realized this was quickly getting away from me. I was depleted sexually so I knew it was deeper than that, it was feelings. I felt like I could just hang out with her and talk forever.

The next day we went out together again. We went around again and hung out at her father's house. Her kids played in the yard and watched videos and she showed me her family albums and scrap books. We talked more about our respective pasts. It was when she found the picture of her firstborn son that the relationship between us really changed. Things went up not just a notch but a whole new level.

T actually had had 5 children. Her first had been a son who had not even made it a whole day in this life before God took him back. She had been only 17 and the story T told me about the circumstances was truly shocking even to me, and I'm not easy to disturb.

The father of this baby had been T's own father. He was a drunk and they had carried on a sexual relationship since she had been 14 until she moved out at 17. It was even more bizarre in that when he was sober he seemed to not remember that it happened; when he was on tilt he would come knocking on her door. I couldn't imagine the level of abnormality of her family life, it was seemingly bottomless. So much so that she said to me she only realized how wrong it was when it ended and the shrinks and the social workers and the police got involved.

She did not know the picture still existed. She thought they had all been destroyed and finding it in her father's house had really shaken her. In tears she said she was ashamed that she had loved the baby and that she was sad when he slipped away. She said she wanted to burn the picture.

I put my hand on her shoulder and said one word: "don't". I'm trying to describe it here, but I can't be doing justice to the nuance and emotion in the air. It really was the kind of moment there were no words for. She cried and shook and I held her while the storm passed. I knew people much better at the interpersonal thing than me could not say the right thing, there just was nothing to say to somebody that upset about such a situation. So I just held her tight and I hurt for her. I don't do that often. I don't connect on that level with people usually.

She showed me the picture and I told her he had been beautiful. She said thank you and began to get more composed as the kids could be heard getting restless in the basement. I switched to charming mode and, many cheesy jokes later, I wrestled a smile out of her.

I had to split before her father and step-mother came home; they were not aware of her swinging lifestyle. We hooked back up later and we had a few drinks and had sex twice. This time I stayed the whole night and we slept together. She tossed and turned in her sleep, making small fearful noises from unseen fears. I pulled her close when it would happen and she would cling to me, and it felt like peace.

"Know thyself" is the key to happiness. You can't ever be happy if you can't be honest about what it is you want. I have learned that much in my crazy travels. I thought I did at this time, but I didn't. Looking back on the way the whole thing with T played out that is really clear to me in hindsight, particularly the next few days.

All these powerful feelings were new and frightening. I was really getting scared. I was not comfortable being this close to somebody, especially this fast. I was not supposed to be getting this into anybody. I was married. I figured the best way to distance myself was to meet with somebody else. I told T I couldn't meet with her because I had another date.

I could tell right away she was hurt but she really hid it well. She made a date of her own and we both acted like we were fine with it. She would later tell me she was terribly hurt that I hadn't wanted to spend every waking moment of the vacation with her. Looking back it was crazy, we both had ads saying we were married and just looking for fun, no strings, no commitments, when in reality we were both desperate to fall in love. We both wanted connection, yet we both denied it to all, most of all ourselves.

As it turned out my date fell through but hers did not, and I spent the night in a bar feeling sick to my stomach. Only it wasn't the large amounts of booze making me sick; it was thinking of her with other men. I was jealous and hurt and to make things worse I knew I had no right to feel that way since it was my idea to see other people to begin with. (Present day note- It is an odd sensation being a cuckold, which is basically what I was in this situation. She was "mine" in a sense, and I had given her permission to be with another man. I wonder how close the wretched self-loathing I felt is like what the cuckold guys whose wives I've been with feel. do they get turned on by that or is their internal feeling altogether different. I wouldn't say I liked the pain I felt but I also wouldn't say I hated it...Regarding Masochism, There are more ways to be hurt than being whipped or having wax dripped on you. The emotional hurts are much worse in life, or better as a masochist might say?)

The next day, hung over and confused, I penned a letter to her saying I was getting out of the life and I needed to split. She called and ripped me to shreds when she got it, and even then I didn't fault her for it. I didn't fight back even a little bit. It was cowardly of me to do it that way. I owed it to her to tell her something like that face to face. I let the abuse flow over me until she hung up on me. I sat in my basement and felt my stomach slowly untwisting, the knots I'd carried since the night before loosening.

I was in love relieved that we were over. I should have been much sadder. I was sad, but it was the kind of sad one expects. It was the kind of sad you felt when you saw an oil spill, little arctic animals all covered in sticky mess; you knew it was wrong but what could you ever do about it? I knew I wanted to be with T but our lives would never allow it.

And then my IM buzzed in the back ground. It was her, and now she was calm and wanted to talk. She said she respected I wanted to stop playing around but she wanted to be friends. It was along talk, like most of ours were, and it the end of it I had agreed because I was missing her already, only a day gone.

She went and had sex with a woman in Brighton the next day. I believe this was to show me how tough she was, that I hadn't broken her heart. She said she wanted me to come over and have dinner with her later that night, to which I agreed. We had tacos and watched National Treasure. It was awkward but it was comfortable in a way.

She asked me to come lay down with her, to hold her in bed until she fell asleep. Having no illusions of how that would end I got under the covers and spooned her. It wasn't long until I heard her weeping quietly. I asked her why she was crying and she said she was sad it had turned out this way. I told her it was going to be ok. She turned back to face me and I kissed her, softly and sweetly. She was warm and the sweet vanilla scent I had grown so familiar with was heavy in my nostrils. She turned to face me and wrapped her arms around me. Rolling over and pulling me onto her, she said "I'm not letting you go", and we kissed hard.

I am often thinking at times like this. Maybe partly thinking partly feeling would be more accurate; but there is calculation. I listen and feel and sense what my partner wants, needs, goes wild for. It is not without thought. This time was different. I did not think about anything I was doing, I only felt. This is why I feel I do not have a direct memory of the experience, only that it was emotional and intense on a level beyond even the first time with her.

The relationship changed again after that night. We were friends and lovers again, and we both began to tell each other more. The truth about our unhappy marriages became a topic of open discussion. She poured out her heart to me about the abusive past she came from, the traumas she had been experiencing all her life, and the self mutilation habit she hid from everybody. I told her my bones as well, the bad things that had happened to me and the bad decisions I had made myself.

We were inseparable again. We hung out all day and did fun things with her kids, and after they went to bed made love all night. As she had promised she broke out the leather and the whips and chains and taught me a thing or two about BDSM.

The last day we spent that summer was my birthday. My family had come back from vacation so I couldn't be out all night, but I had plenty of personal time still so I pretended to go to work and took the day off. I went to her hotel and we had sex twice, trying to hang onto every moment we had left before reality raised its ugly head. Around noon we showered and checked out, and picked up her kids from their grand parents house. We ate at a restaurant.

When it was time to go back and drop me off at my van she followed me around the van so we could say goodbye without her kids seeing me. I was afraid it was going to be awkward but she smiled the brightest smile and told me she loved me, and would email me as soon as she got home. We hugged and kissed and I was so relieved neither of us had cried and brought the other down I smiled all the way home.

That night I had sex with my X and she said it was amazing. For me it was depressing and robotic. I didn't want to but it was my birthday; to turn it down would have been too suspicious. I was barely there mentally. I was with T the whole time in my head, hearing her voice echoing in my head "I'm not letting you go" over and over.

After T went back to down south, communications between us became nearly constant. We were 800 miles apart, but mentally we were nearly inseparable. While I was at work we talked the entire time I wasn't in conversation with customers; I actually went out and bought a hands free little headset and mic so I could talk to her and use both hands while working. When I was home with my X I emailed and messengered clandestinely. And in a wonderfully unexpected twist, my X actually went out and got a job working afternoons at a grocery store. I was stunned; it had been nearly ten years since she had worked. So I spent time with my kids when she left around 5, put them to bed around 8, and jumped back on the phone and webcam until she came home around 2 AM.

Things were good until around the time her husband came home from Iraq. I remember T calling me one afternoon in a panic because they had called her in about him. She thought he was dead or maimed...they don't tell you that over the phone, it's always face to face. As it turned out it was an injury he got playing basketball with some of the other guys in his unit.

When hubby came home from Iraq, things quickly went bad. T and I had talked about a threesome between us, and said that he had sounded really up for it. While she had revealed to me that things between them were not nearly as cool as she projected, I still felt at this time like they were secure and I was too. I had no intention of us running off together; it was just not practical. With all the stateliness and kids with other people, something like that was not even a dream to me. This is the part that makes me sad even today looking back at the whole ordeal.

I felt like I had somebody that I loved, a best friend, a special connection with, not to mention great sex. I felt like I could have that and both of us still be married. Relationships have tremendous costs, and I'm not talking about money. Love costs. That is the reason it's great in the beginning, and a struggle to maintain over any length of time. The reason relationships deteriorate is that people stop working at it. You stop talking to each other, more importantly you stop listening. You stop being excited every time the other person opens their mouth. In the beginning you can't wait to hear what they're going to say, you want to know all about them, their thoughts, their stories. After a while it just gets old. You begin to take each other for granted and you begin to get bored...at least I do anyway. I get bored.

When the object of your affection is so far away, it keeps it special. When you have only so much time the time is special. When there's nothing but time it becomes like grains of sand in a dessert...you have so much how could it be special?

I honestly thought things would continue the way they were, but hubby quickly got really threatened and jealous. He began to make snippy comments and to pout every time he saw us talking.

If he had been a man about it the whole thing could have been handled much better. If he had called me and told me to stay away from his wife, that he had rescinded his blessing for us to play, I would have been cool. Instead he made that ultimatum to T, and she rejected it. They argued for days and she eventually wore him down...Hubby was weak. He backed off and let us remain in contact. How he elected to deal with it was trickery; he faked emails to me from her telling me to fuck off, he spied on our communications and tried to find ways to use the information to win her from me. For example, T told me she wished she could reverse her tubal and have a baby with me because of how good I got along with her kids. She said she had first thought it at the park, watching me play with my son. Days after writing that to me, hubby out of the blue starts talking about how much he loves kids and how he wants to have more with her. That was how she discovered his spying on her.

He also faked webpages to try to make me look bad, myspace and stuff like that. He doctored headlines and such of mine to make it seem like I was just using her and didn't really care. You can download nearly any webpage on the net, and if you know anything about html, change it to whatever you want. That was the kind of shit he played in. saving fake screen shots and trying to say it was really me. Every time I tried to confront him over the phone he would hang up. He was a coward and a hypocrite and just generally very annoying.

All this nonsense made things very rocky between T and I. I can't recount all the details of how many times we'd get frustrated and say we weren't going to talk to each other, get mad at each other, get mad at hubby. What I do remember is deciding at one point that I was not going to worry about it. I had wanted things to stay friendly and reasonable, that weasel hubby had insisted it be a big drama thing- him or me crap. I think it really stunned him that she didn't drop me like a bad habit.

Life went on for me back here. I went my friend's daughter's birthday party towards the end of the summer. It's weird because he lives in a really bad, scary part of Detroit but his yard is huge. The outskirts of Detroit used to be all farm land, and his street is one of the few with a big backyard in a kind of wooded area near the Rouge River.