outing

MSR is Miss Sandi Rowe. It started off as a way to hide our affair. I confess I had one and it wasn't my best face forward. When I first wrote down the initials, Sandi had even thought it meant My Secret Romance. It was a romance, a very torrid one, and it was a nasty secret that nearly crushed everyone around us.

I fell in love and she did not. My biggest mistake was ever believing that she could be in love with me or love anyone completely. She will always hold something back, something you give to her privately that she will use to thrash you later.

There were signs from the beginning and signs throughout our affair and attempt at a "relationship" that could have told me I was playing with a pathological lover. She lied throughout the affair about what she was doing and even slept with my ex to cover her tracks. She ridiculed my ex for being hurt when the affair was "outed".
She once asked me what my biggest fear was about moving in with her. I told her that I was afraid she would lock her bedroom door to keep me out. She did just that when we had our first argument and our last. She kept a separate bedroom as her safety net. She asked me once what I held sacred in our relationship. I answered, "everything I have written for you: the poems, the letters, the stories."
In our last argument, she took them out of her storage trunk and filled the tub and threw them in. Her heart was cruel.

She continued to lie after I left. I once had a long conversation with one of her lovers whom she told that she had slept with my ex before she slept with me. She lied that had we moved in together as lovers, insisting that we were roommates who had developed a sexual relationship.

I wouldn't be writing this now if I had felt at any time that she had owned her part of the hurt and pain we both caused but she never has and never will.

I apologize Miss Sandi Rowe for keeping you a secret when I should have not and for begging you to love me when I knew it was lost. I apologize for yelling and I apologize for taking us down a road that was never going to work. I loved you with my whole heart and that was my greatest error.

Life moves on however, and I did find that I could love again but it's with a wiser head and hopefully, a lighter heart.

dueling dreams

I look at the pictures and recall our more intimate moments. I recall the cane splintering on my backside. I recall binding your hands and feet and your disappointment every time I untied you.

I see my pants around my ankles, bending over the saddle at the sex club, my hands in cuffs and J's belt sending my brain running and my high begins. You, making me your boi bitch in the club, with my boy shorts stuffed in my mouth, my ankles bound and my legs hoisted and tied to the pipes above us, your hands punishing me until I frank.

J in the shower, taking me from behind, and I'm holding onto the bar so that I don't fall and her arm is wrapped tight around my waist, holding me and with her other hand, she opens my vulva, grabs my clit and I am cumming.

J bound to my frame, spead eagle, and her sex is pouty and pretty. She strains against the ropes, sending her silent signal to tighten them. Her full honey colored breasts shine and the nipple rings beckon me to play. I ride her vulva with mine and we kiss. I touch her entire body, stopping at each place that calls me to fuck. I ride her hips, and suck her lips and fill her ass deeply and she calls for more. Thoughts of big red fill me suddenly and I see you pushing him in my ass in the mirror.

I put on my corset today and thought about our shopping excursion that hot day in July. Then the image of it torn up in the garbage hits me. I put on my leather vest and breathe deeply.

i guess you read the blog

i guess you read it from time to time....

battlefield

Miss R,

I doubt if you ever read this blog but just in case you see it, I am going to tell you how I see things.

You wanted a friend, a roommate, a part time fb, and when it didn't work like you thought...you did everything you could to try and push me away.

I wanted a lover, a friend, a confidant, someone to trust and hold me dear in her heart. When it didn't work out that way...I held on and begged and cajoled and cried. It wasn't pretty but it wasn't mean. I begged to be loved. Pathetic but not mean.

Mean is knowing how much someone loves you and just letting them hang there twisting. Mean is pretending to be a friend and then saying you can't. Mean is letting someone think it might work but knowing that it won't. Mean is giving someone false hope. Mean is saying abusive words and then telling that person they are abusive. Mean is stomping on someone when you know they are down. When you know that the person may not make it to the next day.

You made passes at my friends and then pretended that I was just jealous and crazy.
I wanted to share my life with you and you tell me that I keep people away from you. You push me away and tell me that I want too much. You pull me into your bed and then tell me I shouldn't expect anything. It was your rollercoaster. You invented it and kept it moving.

I was always expendable Miss R.

I feel used and cheated Miss R. I'm hurt and angry and I know that I'll survive but there will never be trust in my heart again, ever. My heart is broken and will never recover the way that it was in the beginning with you. You know what I'm talking about Miss R. My heart leapt for a chance to love you.

This blog was my only witness.

truth and consquences

I loved you MSR. Truth. It broke my heart. Consequence. Please be careful with my heart MSR is all I asked. We started our relationship in secret. It was an affair. It continued. I was your lover. Then we shared more time, friendships, and then lived with one another. I should have known when the bedrooms were separated that I was being held hostage by my own desperation. I never wanted that separation. It hurt me to the core. It filled my psyche with division. I only wanted to share and be wanted like I wanted you. To love and be loved. A redemption for all the years I spent loving someone who never could love.

There were shared moments of love and kindness but I couldn't let go of that distance between us and now here I am forced into that distance beyond any abyss I've known. I cry but mostly I ponder why I loved that much, that hard, so full of desire. MSR will always be my special love.

Noodles and other shared language

You are MSR. It was my password. My secret romance. The ring of it in my ear kept me smiling.

That secret is gone now.

Our secret language has been broken. Noodles. I even made a mixed cd with the noodles on the cover to show you how I felt for you for christmas last year. Noodles were mine. Other folks could call them magic circles or something else, but to me they were noodles and when you asked me what I was doing to you, that is what I said...noodling.

You have broken that secret MSR.

Where is the language that we shared? It is piled in a heap that you tossed away.

You meant the world to me and it's gone.

secrets

We share secrets. Secret fantasies. Secret histories. MSR. I share this only with you.

Use me MSR. Play. Gag me while I'm on all fours in front of you, your pretty feet resting on my back while you watch the television. Have the belt or cane by your side just for kicks. Stick you toes in my cunt and I'll noodle you slowly. Still gagged.
Whip me for fun. Force me on my knees to clean the floor, the toilet, the shower while your piss goes down my face.

Demand your servant sleep on the floor or send her home.

Your knock at my door could only mean one thing. Bring you the wine, feed you, noodle you. No words are needed MSR.