Sometimes, when I think about The Truth, I have to step back and remind myself of who I really am. That I am a strong, professional woman. That losing access to a great cock, and fuck was did he had a great cock, is not the end of life. I still yearn for him, my body aches and pulses when I think of him, I dream of him often and wake up wet, pulsing, dry humping my bed. That young man, with his delicious chocolate cock turn me into a junky. I would do anything, even after aborting our child, to be with him. To serve him. To experience a euphoria like I have never experienced before. He spoke to my mind, my body, my pussy. He would grab me by my pussy, hand around my throat, and always ask, “who owns this.” Like he even needed to ask. I was his.
My Truth, he was a bit of a bad boy. I may have avoided him for the required two weeks physically, but we still talked and video chatted. I lied to him as to why I could not meet. I told him that I had become pregnant by my husband, miscarried, and had to wait. I think he knew. He was well aware that my husband and I rarely had sex. I think he knew, and he was a little scared. He made his own confession during that time, one I should have listened to my gut instinct about. He was married. He had a son. He had lied. When we first began talking, I asked him point-blank if he was married or in a relationship. He had said no. When I questioned him after his revelation, he said that he was in an open relationship with her, and that she didn’t care. My intelligence took a back-burner to my addiction. My brain and gut were screaming he was lying, that if they were open then he would not have lied to begin with, but my heart and my pussy shut those bitches up quickly. I craved him regardless.
He was Army, lived on base, had gotten into a bit of trouble and was confined to base during a holiday weekend. He called me one night to say his wife was going to visit family with their son, and he wanted me to come spend the weekend with him. A friend of his would meet me off base, bring me to his house, and we would have time. Finally time! To do all of the things we had wanted and then some. I asked my husband, he was worried about it, but gave in to my needs. He was worried about me after terminating the pregnancy, but hoped this would help my mood.
I had barely walked into his house when he was on me. My shirt was ripped from my body, by bra shredded. My pants and panties fared little better, and they lay in rags around my ankles. His hand on my throat, he bent me over his kitchen counter, shoved his cock in me bare, kept asking me who owned me, and had me crying tears of pain and pleasure as I repeatedly said over and over in response….”You do baby. You OWN me.”
For hours that night, we christened every surface in that house. He strapped me to his bed and filled me over and over again, gave me rug burn on my knees and elbows from the ares rug, fucked me in every position on his couch, on his table, on top of the counters with him between my legs. My pussy was swollen and deliciously sore and red from his spankings, my tits and neck and back marked from his mouth and teeth, my ass ripped and bruised from his brutal final fucking. I. Was. Used. And I was so fucking blissfully happy and drunk from vodka and orgasms, when I called my husband to tell him I was heading home, he laughed at my euphoria.
It wasn’t until later, when I had another missed period, that I realized HOW FUCKING STUPID we had been again. I am a grown ass woman. I knew better. I knew this could happen and condoms were needed until the birth control I had been put on worked. I took a test, and I wanted to die. Again, a test showed that I was pregnant. I didn’t tell the husband first, which would later prove to be my biggest mistake in this all. Instead, I reached out to The Truth. That was when I realized I should only ever rely on the man who truly loved me and would die for me. My husband rallied and supported me when I told him. The Truth, well he ran. Answering messages only if the husband emailed him to update him on the situation. Turns out, I wasn’t pregnant. Having no information from the clinic that performed the abortion, I had no clue that for months after I could still be without a period and give a false positive on home tests. Again, I WAS FUCKING STUPID. My husband was hurt that I had not confided in him before any others. That I had taken the risk of my health and life again by not using a condom. That I had ignored my gut and brain and let my pussy control all. Let my sub frenzy control me. I had no clue then what sub frenzy was, but I quickly researched and learned. Too little, too late. The Truth signed out of our D/s relationship and ghosted me. I was in full-blown sub drop, emotional from everything, and the one I thought I needed most was gone. I was wrong. The one person I needed most wiped my tears, held me every night, comforted me when I could not let go, and assured me that it was normal, that he still loved me, that I was only human and would make mistakes. The one person I needed most, he is the one that hurt himself, but made sure that he was strong and there for me. I did not deserve my husband then, I would prove again later that I still didn’t.
There is more to my story of The Truth. We would reconnect once more, months later. That was just before I found out how much people truly hide who they are on the inside. The rest of our story will remain untold for now. He is no longer free. He hurt another and took her from this world. He let his demons loose in a way that neither he, nor she, nor those who loved either of them can ever recover. For now, this is all I will say on The Truth. For now, I am using this last post on him to final close the chapter on him. If I could sit down with him today, if I could have just a few minutes behind those iron bars to tell him what is in my heart, I would say…..
Why? You had your whole life ahead of you. Why would you let someone else’s demons meet your demons, and why would you throw away it all for something so stupid? You showed me your heart in spurts. The gentle touches, the kind words, the laughs and conversations. You showed me this gentle giant. You would never have hurt me, I know that better than I know myself. So why hurt another? My heart bleeds for you, for her, for all destroyed by this one act of violence. I miss you. I miss our sexy and quirky texts and calls and videos. I miss the you that I created in my mind. I miss your touch and our kinky ass sex exploits. Mostly, I miss my friend. The one that I knew before. Before we fucked up together. Before you fucked up all on your own. I miss that euphoria, for though I have been with others, none will ever come close to you. This, this is my way of setting you, us, all of it free. I will always care for you, hold a piece of you in my heart. I have love for you my friend, my gorgeous, gentle giant, MY TRUTH.