Controlled, But Too Much. Part II

 . . . continued . . .

I don’t really know how to write the 2nd part of this.  It feels kind of weird.   He was so damn controlling, and I let him control me because, and I’m reiterating this: I thought I deserved it.    If I didn’t think I deserved all the things he did to me, I wouldn’t have went along w/ it.  And nowadays if someone even remotely suggests telling me what to do, I tend to go off on them.  Or just completely cut them out of my life.  I have no time in my life for someone who wants to change me to fit their mold.   Accept me for who I am.

So not only was he controlling my emotional well being and my financial stability, he was controlling my sexuality.  He made me do some things that I wouldn’t have thought of ever really doing just because I would have been too shy to ask.  And he made me do some things, looking back, it kind of grosses me out. 

But I guess that’s okay since I disgusted and repulsed him w/ my past sexual experiences that he made me tell him about.  Enough so that he took to calling me a slut and a whore, because well —- when I’ve been w/ more men than he’s been w/ women, what else am I suppose to be but a slut and a whore?  (I am being facetious and rhetorical there!)

One of the things I liked sexually that he made me do was lick his asshole.  I was embarrassed by it at first.  I thought it was something that shouldn’t be done.  I thought it was just wrong.  Why would you want to stick your tongue where someone shits?   Ah, this is where taking a shower before comes in handy.  And it’s appreciated.  (Boy is it appreciated!)  The first time I did that to him, I was inanimate.  I just used my tongue.  That’s it.  I didn’t really like it because he was straddling my chest.  And it still felt wrong. 

But he made me do it again.  And this time he was laying down on his belly.  And he told me to do it and have fun doing it.  Well, I got animated this time.  Licking, kissing, using my hands, rubbing my breasts across his ass, up and down his back.  I ran my hands up and down his legs, fondled his balls.  Licked them, too!!   I actually had fun!  And I completely enjoyed it if the wetness of my pussy was any indication.

Altho, what happened after I had my fun, was of no fun to me.  He decided that he wasn’t going to fuck me.  At least not w/ his dick.  He was going to fuck me w/ his big toe, on his right foot.  (It’s amazing what I remember.)  He made me lick and suck on his toe like it was his cock.  And then he made me part my nether lips so he could insert his toe.  I felt humiliated.  I felt embarrassed.  I felt dirty.  All I kept thinking was, “Please take your toe out of me.  This is so wrong.  Please stop!”  But I didn’t say anything to him, because I knew he would just stop giving me anything altogether. 

I took what he wanted to give to me.  And like I think I’ve said before.  It wasn’t all that much.  All he would ever do was kiss me, lick/suck on my nipples, and fuck me.  My ass or my pussy.  He would never go down on me.  He wouldn’t bother to think about licking my asshole!  Or kissing my toes.

But I had to suck his dick at least twice a day.  Oh . . . no, I mean I had to let him skull fuck me.  In essence that’s exactly what it was.  He was in control, he was the one holding my head and moving his hips.   He just told me to stay put and place my hand on his dick where he wanted it to stop so I wouldn’t gag.  (Sorry, no deep throating for me, but I make up for it in enthusiasm.)   The thing is when a dick gets nice and lubed up from spit, a hand will not be a deterrent from keeping part of it out.  So in reality, I didn’t have any control over how much of his dick I sucked.  But gee, I thank him for letting me think that.   

This right there, was what made me lose my love of sucking cock.  Doing it and getting nothing in return.  His pleasure was not enough for me.  So . . . he is the reason other guys have not gotten the opportunity and experience of having my lips around their dick.   And having to give nothing in return.

***

My whole outlook on life, or relationships, has changed since him.   I will never again be in that kind of controlling relationship.  I would like a relationship that is 50/50.   If you won’t give it, you won’t receive it! 

The one and only good thing that came out of this is I found that licking a man’s asshole is a huge turn on for me.  And, I guess I can grudgingly give him the controlling aspect of sex.  Altho, the way I see it and want it: It’s got to be non-humiliating for me.  And I have to be able to do to you what you do to me.  

50/50.

Controlled, But Too Much

A few years back I had this X. He was short (5’7″.)  He was mainly Italian.  He was older, but not by much.  His age was not something to joke about.   He lived w/ his mom, dad, and sister.  His hair was thinning.  He had issues w/ his eyebrows.   He lived 2 hours away from me.  Yes . . .  I met him on the internet, in a chatroom.  He was the one who started our conversing. He was the one who picked me.

Our relationship started sometime in the beginning March.  He had me professing love by the middle of the month.  Altho at the time, I only “liked him more than I should have.”  But he wanted to hear those 3 words.  So I told him.  It wasn’t that hard.  It was pretty easily done. And even w/out him saying it back.   And me not totally meaning it, at all.

We were talking on the phone.  Constantly.  I don’t remember a minute we weren’t on the phone if I wasn’t w/ him or at work.  And even then I was using work’s dime to phone him for an hour here and there.  Which, I do feel bad about.  I thought I had a good long distance phone plan.  5 cents a minute.  Not shabby.  (Not what I ended up thinking in the end. Er, middle.)   Sometimes while we were talking he’d have to go to the bathroom or get a drink.  Instead of hanging up, cuz I thought it wouldn’t take more than 5 minutes, he’d set the phone down and do his thing.  This one time.  Oh, this one time, he left me sitting on the phone for 30 minutes waiting for him.  He said he got to talking w/ his sister.  Hmmm, must have forgotten about me.  I did mention, this was on my phone plan.  MY. PHONE. PLAN.  Not his.  If he called me, it was to tell me to call him back.  Because he was jobless at the moment and couldn’t afford to pay for LD.

I got directions to his house. Sorry, his parents’ house.  Which I wasn’t allowed to go to if his family was there.  I did say he lived 2 hours from me, right?  I only was there twice.  Met his mom, once . . . by accident, for a passing minute.   All the other times I was w/ him, it was at a hotel.  For the weekend.  Sometimes long weekends, if he made the request of me.  Or maybe I should demand of me.  And I paid for it.  It had to have a frig in it.  And it had to be an end unit.  I had to pay for it!  Oh . . . and I had to pay for the food. That we got delivered, twice a day.  And I had to buy him a carton of cigarettes.  Each Time!

You are noticing how much money I’m shelling out, right? And you are realizing, it’s not because I wanted to, but because HE. MADE. ME. DO. IT.  

This was his way of making sure I was his.  This was what he needed to make me know I was his.  There was no ignoring it, I was his.  As long as he told me what to do, when to do, and who to do it w/.

Oh, did I mention I had to change my email account.  Not just change it, but cancel it and start another one.  To his specifications.  And I had to change my phone number.  And the only person who was allowed to have it was him.  And he grudgingly let me give it to my family.

Did I mention . . . . I went along w/ all of this?

Yes, I did.  And I did it, because I thought I deserved it.  I went nights months w/out sleep.  I stopped paying my bills.  I started smoking 2 packs a day.  I drove to him.  I listened to what he had to say about his ex . . .

His ex was perfect.  And from Colorado, or somewhere out midwest.  She had the most perfect boobs.  They were big, but there was no sag. They were perky.

I have a friend who has a nice, BIG dick.   Bigger than his.  And I told him that.  Because he asked.  We broke up.   For about 2 hours.  We got back together because I cried and begged.   (My friend still has the bigger dick! So pppfffffttttt!)

I didn’t mention it, but he wouldn’t come visit me.  In the beginning it was because he would never lower himself to be seen where I live.  Then it was because he didn’t have a car, because he had some mad-mom-in-a-minivan hit him.  (He got put on Oxycodone.   He loved them. I didn’t.  Worse woozy feeling ever, but w/ a dull pain behind it.  No thanks.)

This is just the icing.  This is what I didn’t like about him.  This is the controlling part I abhor when I look back on it.   I ran up a $3000+ phone bill on him for 6 months.  I bought him a $250 air conditioner.  Plus some football paraphernalia.  I paid for motel rooms at $60 a night, I bought food at $25-30 a meal. I bought him $25 cartons of cigs.  I paid gas money, tolls, oil changes, etc.  I even got cable TV so we could watch shows together.  All in all, I wish I never got w/ him, he wasn’t worth the monetary value.

. . . to be continued . . .

900 # expires NOW!

I learned September 30th, 3 days after my X’s 27th birthday that he has cancer.  Or at least he says his doctors say he has it, cuz they did a biopsy.  I don’t know what they did the biospy on, but they did… So now he’s coming home from Iraq – he’s in Germany now, getting ready to head home to the Northeast to go to a hospital.

Here’s the thing w/ all this cancer talk, I don’t actually know how to feel about it.   *I don’t know how to  feel.*  Should I be upset that he has cancer?  Yes.  Should I worry about him? Yes.  Should I be there for him? Yes.  Now here is where it gets tricky: I love him because he was my first love, but at the same time I can’t stand him.   So that in and of itself is making this feeling problematic.

I met him on the internet, 4 days later I’m practically fucking him on my living room floor, only to fully beg him to fuck me in my bed later that night.  (Yeah, he gave it up!)   Three days later I had to e-mail him to see what exactly it all meant to him.  I suppose if he would have answered in the negative, I would have turned and said “Nothing new.”  But he didn’t, instead he had to say he really liked me…  Two weeks later we’re professing our love to each other on, no less, my living room floor.  And from there it became 2 years of my life.

In those two years, I got bad news upon bad news.  He joined the military. He didn’t really want me to meet his family.  Three months of boot camp. Five days of his dad. Fifteen months of being 1,000 miles away from each other and seeing no more than a months total him.   On top of it all, I didn’t talk to him like I wanted to.  This had to do w/ his unwillingness to answer the phone. His unwillingness to call me back. His unwillingness to delete his messages.  His unwillingness.  This was my long distance relationship.  (I did splendidly.  Him, I’m not so sure about.)  Then after we broke up, due to his lack of communication, a month or so after his birthday, I didn’t speak to him until he showed up on my doorstep in the Spring.   Yes, he apologized, then proceeded to try to get into my pants…  Which I was having none of it.  (And at the time, he had been the best sex I’ve ever had……… I turned it down, Gah!)  So ok.

It comes to this.  While he was away in Iraq, I took the time to email him, which made him get an IM name to chat w/ me on.  He showed up every Saturday and proceeded to treat me like his very own cyber sex slave…  But he didn’t have the decency to say he wanted me, or what he wanted to do to me.  I had to spell out what I wanted to do to him.   I had to tell him what to do.   This reminded me of the last few months of our relationship.  I was nothing more than a voice on the other end of the line to get him off.  Now I had become just another secretary typing up turn on lists for him. 

It has irked me to no end that he can sit there, say he loves me – or whatever – and then to forge ahead w/ my pleasuring of him.  The whole relationship was him tryin to get into my pants, and if he didn’t, finding ways of making me feel bad.  Making me feel guilty.    (Or maybe that’s just my projections of perception?)   Oh and don’t forget…… the incommunicado bit – obviously once he’s apologized for that, I’m to forgive him and move on, to pleasing him.

I’ve tried some tactics such as being bossy, suggesting I tie him up, blind fold him, have him pierce body parts, etc.  I told him of my growing interest in the D/s lifestyle.  Maybe being a switch.   He was all for it, he wasn’t scared. He said it was sexy.  My plan did not work!  I don’t know why, why this man has latched onto me in the sex department, but I’m about to go off on him.

I can’t tho – I’ll feel bad. He has cancer.