Originally written and published several years ago. Republished today just because.

It’s been over a year since Henry and I broke up, and I’ve said very little about the relationship that was, since that happened.

This is not me breaking my silence. Not exactly. But i feel moved to write, which happens less and less frequently these days, as I feel my world slowly crumble before my eyes — so I let the muse speak from within me, and I lay myself bare before you.

The nature of the connection between Henry and myself was incredibly real and intense, and the break-up shook me to my core. Having now — finally — achieved closure, due in no small part to him, I believe I can start moving on emotionally, and mentally.

Physically was never really an issue. Which is odd, and yet unsurprising. The physical aspects of sex, while utterly fabulous while they last, have a habit of being short-lived and fading to the level of distant if fond memory, causing a mysterious smile to play about the lips of the one remembering, and a knowing glint to sparkle in their eye. It’s the mental shit that screws you over. Yes, indeed.

Henry was my muse. My soul mate. He understood what I was thinking before I’d had the chance to articulate it to him. He knew how I worked, how I ticked, how I’d react to any given situation. He cared for me very much, in a manner that I was both unused to and blown away by… he loved me so much! He wanted to protect me from any and all harm, which, of course, he couldn’t do, but it was his wish that I should be happy. More than anything else, he wanted that.

At one point there were nasty horrible people who wanted to harm me. Henry wanted to banish them and all memories of them from my life. He was the Walter Raleigh to my Queen Elizabeth, as he gallantly, if metaphorically, laid his cloak over the shit-strewn puddles of the blogosphere so that I might walk without soiling my dainty feet. (And considering the size and heft of my ass, my feet are comparatively pretty damn dainty.)

He was the John to my Yoko. We were constantly together, always thinking each of the other, living only until we could be together again when separated. He would be with me at work, in the bottom corner of my screen and I frankly wonder how it was that I ever managed to achieve anything at work, since talking to him was infinitely preferable.

I missed him. Over the last year I used my experimentation to block out the searing pain of missing him. I met others, some who may even one day take his place in my heart. But no one replaced him because he’d not gone anywhere. I was angrier with him than I think I’d ever been at anyone before in my life — besides myself, against whom I had an ongoing viciously rude dialogue for many years, until therapy helped me work out that particular kink in my system. He had betrayed me in the worst way precisely because I relied on him more than I’d ever allowed myself to rely on another.

He hurt me more deeply than anyone else ever has — because he loved me more than anyone else ever has. As I loved him. As clichéd a qualification as it is, I loved him. Truly. Madly. Deeply. With all my heart and soul… with every creamy-skinned centimeter of my body and mind.

I loved him but I had to let him go. The reality was too much for him, the fantasy not enough. It took me a good year to get over him, and now, thanks to him and the honesty that always prevails with him (if occasionally somewhat tardily), he stepped up and took responsibility for what he had done, thus quieting my rage and soothing my deep hurt.

I miss him. I always will. I was June to his Henry Miller — yes, that is the source of our names. And in some way, the love I had for him will never be extinguished entirely. I owe him so much; were it not for him and his fabulously perverted mind I would never have been able to melt down the final barriers of my repressed upbringing; nor conduct such a carefully constructed sexual experiment.

I thank him publicly for everything, and acknowledge equally publicly that he will always own a corner of my bruised and battered heart.

Goodbye, my darling. I will only ever wish you well.

The first moments of 2011 were spent naked, panting and kissing. Traditionally, in other words.

The new year thing was by-the-by — it was a tryst much longed for by all parties concerned, and the new year was another excuse to get together and get naked. And you all know only too well how I loves to get naked.

There is a myth that with age, the sex drive wanes. This is simply not true. Separating us chronologically are 17 years, although you wouldn’t know it to look at him. Or to fuck him, come to that.

He calls me “jailbait”. I’m 42.

In terms of experience, we pretty much match each other, thanks to my often wistfully remembered slutfest. And then every so often I surprise him. Or he surprises me.

Yesterday was my turn to be surprised. A confirmed kinkster, although he refers to himself as “conservative”, he took vanilla and spiced it up to a level beyond anything that had gone before. He gave me an all-over body massage that rendered me speechless. I murmured as much, from within my stupor-like haze, and he giggled.

“Good to know. So if I ever want to shut you up, I now know what to do.”

I would have fired back one of my trademark smartass comments, but I truthfully didn’t care. If it meant that I got to experience this fantastic and sensuous hand rub again, I’d gladly remain silent.

At one point he lay down on top of me. I was face down, and so was he — but he held off from the obvious poke-and-prod-with-cock scenario — he’s classy like that.

“Is this what you mean by a full body massage?” I whispered into the comforter.


At which point he flipped me over, and grabbed me by the cunt.


We spent today apart — family commitments, prior engagements and so on. Yet all day long I could feel his touch on me. His fingers between my thighs. His cock in my cunt. His breath on the back of my neck. His legs entwined with mine. It was like an indelible print — it kept me in a permanent daze all day. Thank god for multi-tasking, or I’d not have achieved anything since this morning that didn’t involve sitting and staring blankly into space.

All in all, a most auspicious start to the new year.

I raise a glass to you all — to the new year, to new challenges, to new experiences and new forms of fun. May 2011 be a great year for all of you.

Juno x

Updated: Voted Reader’s Top Pick on Sugasm 57.

Updated 2: Fleshbotted by the very lovely Jefferson. Thank you, you sexy thang!

Fetishes are, to those who indulge, fun and arousing — a way of enhancing a sex life, maybe even a way of bringing two lovers closer together. On a more personal note, they can be a part of who a person is; in other words, simply the way they are wired. Which takes much of the issue of choice out of the equation, although not necessarily any of the arousal and/or fun.

As those of you who read here will have noticed, my darling Mr. Henry has a hotwife, or shared wife, cuckold fetish. He thrives on the combined double whammy of the jealousy at the thought of me sharing my body with another man, and the arousal that this creates; knowing that my heart and soul will always be his, that my body will always belong and return to him, and that in part, i do this for the purpose of arousing him.

What lover does not do things for their partner, for the purpose of arousal? Be it wearing sexy lingerie, or attending a public black-tie dinner function sans panties… we all do things to make our lovers glassy-eyed and panting with desire.

Henry has been known to wear a cock ring for me, for example. In public, although not on display.

However, there is another side to fetishdom that isn’t always considered, or acknowledged. Reality. And here, I speak specifically of the hotwife-cuckold fetish, since i am not experienced or equipped to write of any other.

When i say Henry gets jealous, i mean that he really gets jealous. Bang around the house, slamming off the walls, steam escaping pressure-cooker-like from his ears insanely jealous. This goes through several incarnations, and only ever happens when we are separated. The jealousy affects him in a manner that can only be described as full-blown, and the first time it happened, I was quite frightened of the effect of this upon him, and how he appeared to change.

This was, after all, something he had been encouraging me to do for many months. Something that I would never have considered doing if not for him. Not that I haven’t taken to being a hotwife like a duck to water, but the initial suggestion was his. Because of how he is. Because of who he is.

He had not so much subtly hinted as thrown giant boulder-sized clanging comments around about how he would be leaving a pack of twelve condoms in the desk drawer, and when he came back, he would be counting them and wanting to know where the missing condoms had gone, if any were missing.

“And what if none are missing?” I would routinely ask.

“That is entirely your choice,” he would reply, ambiguously. “I will never tell you what to do.”

This is all very different to his behavior in the past when we have shared a male lover. Then, the issue of covert operations, elicit despite his knowing of their occurrence, rarely made it onto the radar.

And yet he kept insisting that this was what he wanted. And so, when the occasion came to pass that Henry was overseas, and i had the opportunity to be with someone whom I had picked up via Craig’s List, I went for it.

And immediately i told him, I could hear the change in his tone. A slightly stunted timbre, a catch I was unfamiliar with. However, he repeatedly denied that anything was wrong, and so, rather obtusely, I must confess, I continued arranging to meet and fuck this young man, and then eventually did just that.

Henry went off the charts. He was fevered at the thought, motivated by his innate jealousy. But it all made him so hot. Since he had been so cavalier about it prior to my ever actually going through with such an event, I had given almost no thought to how it might affect him.

There followed what can only be described as a mandatory period of adjustment. And it was not smooth sailing. Not at all. Bear in mind that he was stuck in the Far East for an extended period of time, which made it all the more difficult for him.

We lurched from one day to the next — skimming the highs of our true love for one another, and the troughs of his jealousy and depression at his perceived inadequacy, since he couldn’t be there, that I would waltz off with the nearest cock that grabbed my attention.

Or, conversely, the nearest cock that i grabbed. Or sucked.

Naturally, his fears were completely ungrounded. I don’t think it helped that Billy was so much younger than he — I’m in my late thirties, and he is a good fifteen years older than I. Billy, being a mere 24 years of age, and single, made him far antsier than he would have felt had I been fucking a married college professor in his early forties, for example.

Eventually we managed to talk it out, once he’d managed to get past the white heat of the initial blast of full-on envy. And we began to return to normal.

He admitted to me:

“There are no guarantees, of course. But, for now, I’m okay with the new dynamic. It was inevitable. A natural progression. I accept it easier now. I know you only intend to cuck me as a means of making me hot and aroused. and it does. I just have to accept that I really, really get off on it in real life … not just as a fantasy that you purr into my ears as you slowly fuck me into delirium. I know i’ve put you through a lot. And i’m sorry for the roller coaster ride … but it’s all been new to me. The fantasy versus the reality, you know.”

I hugged him and held him close.

“Oh, my sweet darling, I know. I’m just so pleased that you’ve come full circle. That we’ve come full circle. It feels so much better now that we’re back on the same page.”

“I appreciate your patience and understanding, my darling Juno. And i love you more than my life.”

You see, Henry had realised that the reality of the situation was what he had wanted all along. That I would stray, but always return to him. He couldn’t believe that the reality would bear out the fantasy… but it truly did.

The following story is a contribution written by none other than Mr Henry himself. Enjoy.

Fleshbotted again.

Juno stood blindfolded with her arms mildly restrained behind her in soft rope and remained next to a mahogany-toned high back leather chair, wearing only high-heels and a wireless Swedish butterfly vibrator.

The arched French windows opened to provide an audacious view of Juno for astute members of the immediate neighborhood.

Standing no more than 25 feet away, I watched her squirm helplessly in front of her nude lover, enjoying her exquisite discomfort as I gently toyed with the remote control at irregular intervals. Wearing a grey suit, a blue shirt with button-down collar, and my well-worn Chelsea boots, I circled Juno, triggering the vibrator against her aroused clit, and catching her eye whenever I could.

The moods and objects throughout the room inevitably brought to mind that most resonant of adjectives: Lynchian – as in David Lynch. The spacious area was minimally lit, and propped against one wall was an Abstract Expressionist canvas.

I turned to her lover. “Dorian,” I said, “Would you like to stand close enough to Juno that she can feel your cock throbbing against her ass?”

He said nothing, but silently did just that.

She moaned. “This isn’t fair. At least untie my hands so I can stroke his gorgeous cock and fondle his balls.”

“Oh yes,” I said, “I know how much you would love to feel his dripping cock in your hand.”

I walked over to Dorian , and whispered discreetly in his ear. He knew exactly what I expected from him. I stepped away to watch, and disrobed as i did.

“Juno,” he said, standing directly against her rousing backside, and leaning into her. “I want my cock deep inside your pussy, fucking you, pumping you, stroking against your hot excited clit.”

Juno trembled visibly.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she said. “Please, please untie my hands. Please take off my blindfold.”

Ignoring her, Dorian turned Juno around gently and caressed her large breasts. He squeezed her pale-chocolate nipples with two fingers from both hands. Juno gasped, and then swooned.

I moved closer to the couple, buzzed Juno’s vibrator, and handed her lover one of two small, adjustable nipple clamps. I fitted one, and he applied the other. Dorian moved his face so that it was very close to hers.

“I’m going to make you so hot, by playing with your nipples” he murmured, “as I fuck you, driving my cock into you, harder and harder, because I lust for you, lust for your pussy, lust for your ass … the ass I’m going to fuck, the ass I must fuck … because Henry is so jealous that anyone else might fuck your ass, and you do want to cuck him.”

“Yes,” Juno said … panting, biting at her lover’s lower lip, as he tugged lightly on her nipple clamps. “My darling Henry can’t stand the idea. Yet it makes him so very hot. We’ll do it. You know we will.”

“Oh yes,” said Dorian said, as his cocked throbbed from aching to be inside her. ” I know we will.”

Juno’s knees buckled with pleasure from the double buzz to her butterfly vibrator I administered from a few feet away.

Doran ‘s cock throbbed relentlessly. He led Juno to the oak dining room table, where he untied her hands and removed the vibrator from her waist.

“Sit on the edge of the table, and wrap your legs around my hips,” Dorian ordered Juno, not unkindly.

Juno gripped her nude lover, as instructed. His thick cock parted her labia naturally, and provoked an audible moan of approval.

My clothes remained on the floor by the couple after my earlier disrobing, and I masturbated single-mindedly.

“That’s right, pull me in closer,” Dorian directed. “Force my cock deeper inside your wet cunt. My cock will not cum until I have brought you off. I can fuck you endlessly, pounding your cunt, balls slapping against you, against your hot, sweaty thighs … pounding your cunt that I so want to fuck.”

He ceased fucking her, and led her promptly to the arm of the nearby leather couch. He bent her over without formality and inserted first one well-lubed finger in her ass … and then another.

Dorian reached over to my crumpled suit pants on the floor where he retrieved a small square package from the pocket.

This aroused me in a strange way: Juno’s lover using my condom to fuck the woman I adored.

“You know what’s next?” Dorian asked, fitting the condom snugly onto his swollen cock.

“Yes,” Juno answered almost dreamily.

“I’m going to fuck your ass in front of the man you love.”

“Yes, I know.”

“And you love the idea.”

“Yes. Please, fuck my ass. Right now. I want it badly.”

Dorian carefully worked his thick cock into Juno’s ass and fucked her slowly and gently. As he took her ass before my eyes, Juno had a heavenly look on her face.

I couldn’t possibly deny my love such pleasure. At the same time, I tugged gently on her nipple clamps as she flashed me a smile of purest complicity.

Fleshbotted again.

The blindfold covers my eyes, and world goes dark at the same moment i hear the door slam shut. For a moment my heart stops; my breath caught somewhere between my lungs and my lips; my head a-whirl and spinning… Then i feel the telltale breath on my neck, as a hand runs deliberately and slowly down my arm, coming to rest on my abdomen, pulling me tightly into him.

I’m not afraid. i know what is happening. Fear of the unknown is something that has never troubled me during the various experiments that we’ve tried. He could easily overpower me, but he won’t. This isn’t about BDSM in any way. This is about the element of surprise.

I lean back onto his chest. I can sense that he’s taller than I am, and much stronger. His free hand raises to my face, and traces the outline of my cheek, allowing me to smell the heady scent of the soft Italian leather of his jacket. His finger brushes my lips, pausing just long enough for me to enclose a finger between them, and softly lick it.

His torso presses into my back, and his hips tilt towards me seductively. I melt back into him, knowing that i can only remain passive for so long; desperately hoping he can sense the urgency i feel; the need to be taken, and taken now. Hard, fast and furious; this was the brief.

My doubts linger for a second, but are suddenly dispelled, when in one movement his hand moves swiftly to my neck, and rips my tee shirt down the front, exposing my unfettered breasts with their erect and tingling nipples.

The gentleness he exhibited prior to this latest development has abruptly halted, but his movements haven’t. He pivots me 180 degrees, bringing my face to his and kissing me urgently, his hands still roaming my body and ripping items of clothing away from it.

No slack myself in the urgent desire stakes, i match his ardor and grapple wildly at what i fumblingly find is his crotch in a vain attempt to unzip him, and release the hard, throbbing cock that i had felt digging into my ass only moments earlier.

My plans are foiled, however, when he pulls his pelvis away from my eager hands. I feel his head at thigh-level, as he moves himself down me to a crouching position, all the better to pull off my shorts and expose my neatly trimmed pubis to his inquisitive tongue.

I’m momentarily dumb stricken as he pushes his mouth into my cunt, his probing tongue reaching deeper than i would have expected. His hands manage to simultaneously grasp my buttocks, and feel between them, his long fingers sneaking into my crack and stroking between it, even reaching my now sopping wet labia in their enthusiasm.

My speechlessness ends as i hear myself yelp with pleasure. I feel my knees weaken, and grasp his thick red hair just above his ears to let him know that if he doesn’t situate me horizontally himself, it may happen in a manner more uncontrolled – something I’d rather not experience in my state of enforced darkness.

Taking the hint, he removes one hand from my ass and cunt, and cuffs me behind the knees, catching me as i crumple, laying me on the rug, and in doing so dislodging my blindfold. I see he is still fully clothed, apart from a gaping maw of a fly from which protrudes his cock; a most appetizing spectacle that i suddenly need inside me more than i ever needed anything before. I don’t have long to view it though, as he rapidly shrugs off his jacket and jeans, and his black shirt, then repositions the blindfold before returning to his continued worship of my cunt, as i resume my squeals of delight.

I wrap my legs around his head, holding him fast to me, arching in ecstasy as his active tongue strokes my clit. One of his hands slips a finger into my anus, and the other enters first two, then three, then four fingers into my cunt; the combination of which sends me to an even greater plane of ecstasy. My sightlessness only accentuates the feeling, and i feel the spiral whirl me yet higher.

I feel myself edging closer and closer to orgasm with each ruthless lick of his tongue; in my continued darkness i feel the myriad colors of exquisite orgasmic joy explode around me as it hits. Prism-like waves of bliss wash over me, and I am vaguely aware of a distant voice praising various religious icons and saviors… a voice, it later occurs to me, that is my own.

I release my grip on his hair, relaxing my fingers from where they are currently tightly entangled, and slowly uncross my legs so that he can move up towards me. I feel him gradually inch his way up towards me, languorously, methodically slowly; in sharp contrast to his earlier frenzied and fevered offensive. Delighting in this metered approach i wait patiently until i feel his lips against mine once more, and taste myself on him as he kisses me passionately.

Surreptitiously I undo my blindfold, knowing from the brush of his eyelashes against the curve of my cheekbones that his concentration is focused elsewhere. In a lightening movement, i cover his eyes with the slip of black satin, thus rendering him to now be the one surprised.