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| Mr_Bone |
The Reality
I've always been highly motivated by sex and have invested a great deal of time and effort in its pursuit over the years. Unfortunately I am absolutely rubbish at getting it, for one reason or another. Not only that, but at some point in the past, sex and love became inextricably intermingled in some very confusing ways and I get besotted with girlies and dream about them for years and say really stupid stuff and I'm rambling aren't I?
My sexual awakening occurred at the ripe old age of 5. Those among you who - for whatever odd reason - have read my blogs over the years, will remember this happened whilst looking up my auntie Hilda's miniskirt and dry-humping the sofa. I had a few girlfriends, starting with Marie (when I was 9), but it wasn't until Michele (when I was 18) that I managed to unlock the magical doors to that holey of holeys and bask in the sacred light of her secret ladygarden... And then I fucked her. A lot.
We were 'together' for over a year, but I was so distraught when I found out she was seeing another bloke that I ended up in trouble with the police. After stalking her for a few weeks I subsequently went into 'hiding' and there followed a 'dry season' which lasted until I was approaching 27. Can you imagine that? Those years are the fuck years, I'm told. They certainly were for my brother and friends, bringing girlies back to the house and shagging them in the next room while I laid in bed wanking and trying to remember what 'female companionship' felt like. Those years are a man's prime, and I spent a great deal of mine in front of the telly or working my arse off as a warehouse manager. The rest of the time I spent taking drugs, feverishly masturbating, or making obscene telephone calls and carrying on in a frightful way. The less said about all that the better.
Then I got stalked. It was an old girlfriend who'd been trying to track me down for several years and eventually caught up with some friends who'd let slip the name of the village in which I was living at the time. She then scoured through the electoral roll for the entire village and appeared on my doorstep one day, declaring that her ladygarden was mine for the taking. Suffice it to say that I was in no fit state to refuse such an offer, but her suffocating nature drove me away after a few months and I was back at the wanking post. A few more moons alone and I was ready to try anything, so I looked in the local paper at the 'Lonely Hearts' pages and found myself a new companion. Much strumping was had and love followed. I upped sticks and moved to London to be with her while she pursued a degree in fashion, but she broke my heart after three years when I found she'd been seeing an ex-boyfriend behind my back for a year or so.
I moved back to Cambridgeshire and got myself a nice place, at which point the depression came. I was so upset at the betrayal of this lover that I took a huge overdose of sleeping pills and was astonished to find myself waking up a number of hours later, with no other ill-effects than an excruciating headache. Gradually I started to pull myself together and within a few months I was back on my feet.
Then I got stalked again. The ex-girlfriend of an old friend of mine managed to track me down through another old friend and after a few drinks and three days of fervent humping she moved in. We bought a house together and things were great for a while, but it wasn't to be and after three years there came a parting of the ways. That is to say, I parted from her so she parted me from my job, my house, my dog, my car and my driving licence. Et voila! Alone agin, jigetty jig...
Sometime around this point I became acquainted with the internet and - of more relevance - the world of BDSM. I'd experimented a bit sexually over the years and could see this was exactly what I'd been looking for, for more than one reason. For almost a year I read everything I could find on the subject and cultivated online relationships with several experienced lifestylers, before opening an MSN chatroom and a couple of groups. One night I got chatting to a bright and stunning young Mistress and we arranged to meet. Within minutes of arriving at her house she was naked and I was spanking her over my knee.
Once more I upped sticks and moved to be with her. My Queen. My Lady.
She was the love of my life and over the next six years my feelings for her only grew, but I was foolish and threw away a lifetime's chance. The perfect woman, and I, the perfect twat.
Yet if I wish to visit her I need only fall asleep...
| 13 Jan 11, 7:28 PM xXx_scarlet_xXx UK, 4 yrs |
I truly have missed your ramblings and honesty. It's like a breath of fresh air. x (º•.¸(¨*•.¸¸.•*¨)¸.•º) «.•°•. feleena .•°•.» (¸.•º(¸.•¨**¨•.¸)º•.¸) |
| 13 Jan 11, 9:27 PM Betony UK, 7 yrs |
I agree! Glad you're back. 'I'm somewhat contemptuously convinced that sentimentality is the refuge of those without genuine emotions' Nigella Lawson |
| 13 Jan 11, 9:57 PM Mr_Bone UK(CB), 6 yrs |
I'm glad you're glad. The plan is to stick around this time, so more ramblings and honesty could be imminent... I've seen things people wouldn't believe - yet all such moments will be lost in time... Like tears in rain... |
