First thing first: I dyed my hair purple and fucking loved it for two months until I had to fully transition in my life and be professional again.
I went skinny dipping a lot…
…On a related note: I’m getting sun burned on parts of me I never have before. I make very sure to put sunblock on my nipples, but have completely forgotten my bottom – and that hurts when I’m trying to sleep, sitting down, or getting spanked (which this summer has happened surprisingly frequently).
Having pool sex…
…Actually, I rock at pool sex. I straddled Mr. Texas‘ hips, gripped my heels around his upper thighs, my hands at his shoulders for balance and rode, grinding against him until he came deep inside of me with a groan, the water splashing around our bodies.
With no children around, he and I had sex with me bent over the kitchen counter, then he swooped me up in his arms and laid me down on the cold hard tile as he slipped between my thighs.
He slipped my skirt up and pushed me over the end of the couch, pushed himself into me.
I went cherry picking, the cherries tart and sweet in my mouth as my teeth puncture the tight skin and the juice trickling down my throat. In the dirt brown backdrop, the red a sharp contrast.
I visited quite a bit with The Wanderer, who seems to be a calm shelter amid my tempest summer.
I went to Las Vegas twice: once with The Wanderer, and once with a friend who turned out to be an asshole – he expected sex because we were sharing a hotel room, even though I stated that I wasn’t interested. I ended up completely disgusted by the pressure and asked to be brought home early.
I visited some local dungeons and have made some great friends and new experiences.
I met some old friends and made some new ones from Twitter.
I hooked up with my husband, a lot. He has broken up with me and my heart three times in the last month alone, still as wishy-washy as ever. He goes back and forth between his girlfriend and me, playing us in his quest to not be lonely (my perspective). He and I still continue to talk about our future and love…and I truly do believe that despite everything he loves me. Fear keeps us apart, I believe, and a fucked up past neither of us know how to overcome. He also has no clue who he is outside of the military, and I don’t know who I am outside of him, so we both are suffering an identity crisis that is shaping our stupid decisions. He didn’t want our make up to be a secret anymore, so if we try it, dammit we’re both being very public about it.
I love the fuck out of that man, I can’t stress that enough. He fulfills me in a way that I have never felt before, fits into my life like a puzzle piece meant to be there. Honestly, I want to be fully monogamous with him and live as happily ever after as possible in a real society where we have to work hard to keep our love alive – a thing I still believe in.
I committed myself to him for life, and if nothing else, I believe in that commitment to him still. We could make it. But I don’t have faith anymore that he would allow it, and even though each and every time trying to be back together again is his suggestion and persuasion – by this point I’m terrified of hoping we’ll make it only for him to break us up again within a week.