Forbidden Fantasy

I have found myself in either a midlife crisis or I am having a second sexual peak nearly 10 years after my last. 

I am frequently having to use my own fingers or shower head to release the heat building up inside of me. Pulsating, the tension is gone in a instant. I am always flooded by guilt immediately following. Not because I have flushed my own plumbing, but because of the places my mind goes when I’m pleasuring myself. 

A quick disclaimer before I move on…

My husband has no problem getting me off. Our sex life is good. He’s the perfect size for me and his oral performance has never been matched in any of my personal experiences.

There are times the frequency of us being able to be intimate together is interrupted by our numerous offspring. Sex still happens and always leaves both parties satisfied. Lately though, I am always horny.

Oh you masterbate!? Everyone does that, right?

No. This goes deeper.

In my mind, I like it dark – like basement BDSM dark.
I want to be tied down.
I want to be spanked.
I want my hair pulled and my nipples bit.
I need to be called a slut for wanting this. I want to be in a position where I’m screaming ‘no’ and meaning yes.

My husband is a good man, too good sometimes. He is straight laced and blushes easily. He is quiet man, except when he’s in front of camera or has an audience, as these are the times he lets his Leo shine.

He isn’t allowed in this basement. I know for a fact, it’s way too far outside of his comfort zone. I can’t even fantasize him there. It makes it too taboo to be enjoyable, and maybe something he finds repulsive. 

Occasionally my subconscious allows him to creep in. The momentum of my self pleasure gone, replaced with overwhelming guilt. And then all hope of an orgasm is lost.

I feel like I’ve cheated on the one person who has never done me wrong so I try to minimize my imagination’s guilty pleasure by being bound up at the mercy of a dominatrix.

Yes, I have rationalized that the imaginary dark affair is lessened by being with a woman.

She’s just a little older than me. She has soft breasts, fair skin, brown eyes, and long dark hair. She doesn’t question what she wants or what I deserve. 

Even in my basement of depravity; I could never even imagine myself with another man. That makes it better, right? Probably not, since he would never consent. So the guilt goes to the grave with me. 

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