Thou wast that all to me, love,
For which my soul did pine--
A green isle in the sea, love,
A fountain and a shrine,
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers
And all the flowers were mine.

Ah, dream too bright to last!
Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise
But to be overcast!
A voice from out the Future cries,
On! on!-- but o'er the Past
(Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies
Mute, motionless, aghast!

For, alas! alas! with me
The light of Life is o'er!
'No more-- no more-- no more--'
(Such language holds the solemn sea
To the sands upon the shore)
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree
Or the stricken eagle soar!

And all my days are trances
And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy dark eye glances
And where thy footstep gleams--
In what ethereal dances,
By what eternal streams.

Such words... beautiful poetry. Edgar Allan Poe, one of the greatest poets.

Am I deserving of such words? Am I worthy of being sent poetry like that dedicated to me, to be put on such a pedestal?

No... they were not sent to me by The Fiancé, or Bud. They were sent to me by someone who has an alias on this here blog... someone who has confessed something to me quite recently that is very hard to deal with for me now, and who, before Poe and after this confession, has sent me many emails even more beautiful than this poem... because they came from the bottom of his heart, were composed of pure passion and emotion.

How to deal with this... how to deal with such knowledge, that changes my perspective on many things in the past, and my view of this man so drastically. To realize that there were feelings where I never would have thought to suspect them, to realize what it must have taken out of him to keep them hidden from me and everybody else for the greater good of all, to realize what pain I have caused without ever knowing that I did.

Things that I got so angry about, things that I was mad at him for, behavior that I didn't understand and accused him of... it's all explained now, and I now find myself to be the unsuspecting core of it all. The reason behind so much passion and emotion and destructive behavior as an only outlet for what he must have been feeling. The respect with which he regarded my relationship, the devotion with which he gave me advice on how to get through problems with The Fiancé whenever I needed it. Never an attempt to push himself inbetween, never the slightest hint of anything - not with a word, not with a glance - even when he had the chance to, in all this time we spent alone together and he had opportunities to.

He left me completely unaware, knowing that it was the right thing to do.

And now this revelation had hit me like a freight train, explains so much, changes so much on my view of things, saddens me over the friendship that is now lost to me in the shape and form that I always thought it to be, and scares me because I know I can never see him again and have things to be the way they were before: so comfortable, and familiar, and without male-female tension and awkwardness. And it makes me wonder if I will ever see him again at all, for I do not want to cause him any more pain than I already have without knowing that I did.

I love him like I would a brother, I have a very strong connection with him and I shared something very special with him... I always felt closer to him than to others, and I was free to open up around him and be all ME, because I never considered myself part of his "target demographic" and felt safe around him... so this revelation weighs heavily on me. I love his emails, I thrive on his beautiful words and his passion that he himself calls "beyond physical, but electric". Yet, every email boggles my mind so completely, for the sheer incredibility of such a huge thing happening right beneath my eyes without me noticing anything, from someone I would have never considered attracted to me in any way...

Passion... it comes in many shapes and forms... and it can be really scary sometimes. The thought of being put on such a pedestal by someone gives me butterflies in my stomach... though I am aware that I do not deserve such high regard, and at the same time it pains me to think that I could have been the reason for such turmoil and agony in another human being. I am sorry for having caused all of this... and I am sorry that I cannot give anything in return, or can make him feel better about it. All I have to give is my friendship, as I had before... and maybe the consolation that his words are like wind beneath my sails in certain aspects of my life which I thought were lost entirely. He is reassurance in these parts of my life.

I miss him like crazy. And I wish I would have known sooner. It wouldn't have changed anything... but he wouldn't have had to live with it secretly for so long, being eaten up by it inside, thinking it was distateful and wrong to feel so much passion.

Feeling such beautiful things is never wrong, even if this passion has to remain unfulfilled. Passion is the source and inspiration for many artists, and an artist he truly is.

Now... in more detail about last night...

...HA! Did you think I was gonna give you details? Yeah... nevermind, for a second there I thought so too. But then I keep on remembering who reads this blog, and it moves me to refrain from getting too much into the smut-department. I don't want to alienate people, as I am sure I already have in part with this here blog.

Anyway... it's just another typical post-threesome day at the office. I am on my fourth or so espresso, and my limbs feel like they are made out of lead. The Fiancé and I are having one of those extreme lovey-dovey days, which also seems to happen after we fuck Bud's brains out. And overall I am pretty amazed at how soon this practice becomes "normal" to me... at least normal enough not to get all OHMYGODICANTBELIEVEWHATJUSTHAPPENED about it anymore. It makes me wonder if it'll be the same once I will have had my opportunity to sleep with a girl... and the prospect makes me kind of sad. I mean - if threesomes don't get me all OHMYGODICANTBELIEVEWHATJUSTHAPPENED anymore, then what much is left in the sexual department for me to explore over the course of the next years? What's gonna happen? Mass orgies? Heavy S&M stuff? Accidental death by orgasmic asphyxiation?

I can tell you, internet, I am a little bit worried about ourselves and our constant quest for new frontiers, and "taking it a step further". I wonder just how far we will go, and how much there is left to explore before it becomes tasteless, or taboo. And, all considered, it has already gone pretty far when I think about how I get off on being called a dirty slut and a nasty whore by two men who stand above me and feed me their cocks at the same time, before they bend me over and take turns in pretty much raping me using me for their own pleasure. I detect a certain masochist tendency within me that gets stronger the more I expose myself to those two, and it's scary as hell to think about. The things that my mind is willing to have them do to my body. It makes me question myself... but I also understand that it's a kind of compensation for the strong and level-headed person and leader (in certain ways) I have to be during the day. It's good to sometimes have somebody else take over and be able to be weak and fragile, and succumb to the sheer male power of two males in heat.

Dirty slut I am, indeed... *grins*

"busy practicing? when will you guys have time for another meeting? i hope i won't overwhelm you with this, but WOMAN, you exert a pretty strong appeal on me... ;-D big kiss Girl.MD"

This is the text message I just received on my cell phone... right before The Fiancé and Bud undressed me and had their way with me for the next one and a half hours...

...god-DAYAMN, do I love my life right now... *grins*

Psycho-Cuban hasn't dared to call and spoil our weekend, good thing. And overall, this wasn't a weekend to complain about at all. We spent Saturday and Sunday together with Sis and Mr. E out of town, doing the culture and nature thing, and oh, it was SO needed. Nevermind the fact that now it is 7AM and I have been in the office since almost an hour already, to make up for some time I originally intended to put in over the weekend. *yawns*

Friday turned out really well also, I think. I pulled my ovaries together, and we actually met with the doctor whom I mentioned in my last entry. It was raining cats and dogs by the time we arrived at our destination, and I felt bad, cause it was my suggestion to go there: a nice little outdoors place (with a roof) that serves very yummy foiled potatoes on a deck above the river... and by the time I suggested it, it was nice and sunny outside. Fortunately though it wasn't too cold or windy, so it turned out actually nice and cozy when the waiter distributed blankets to wrap ourselves with on the couches we were lounging on.

The chick... let's dub her Girl.MD really turned out to be nice company. In reality she isn't much prettier than her online picture, but she is not ugly or unattractive by any means either. She's as tall as me (big bonus!), has short dark-reddish hair, and an overall quite tomboyish appearance. Her stance is quite composed and sophisticated, as can be expected from a young doctor. She seemed a bit nervous at first, a bit shy, and it was really endearing to me. We talked about all kinds of things, and the breaks inbetween were just that: conversational breaks, no uncomfortable silences where you desperately fish for the next topic to talk about. Furthermore, we could be quite open and honest about bisexuality and some issues related to it. When the evening got too late and too cold I offered to take her home in my car so she wouldn't have to depend on the night bus, and to my surprise she allowed me to. The next day I sent her a text message, sending her greetings and saying that we did quite enjoy our evening, and shortly thereafter she texted me back, saying that it was one of her best dates so far, and that she's starting to feel a little bit of tingling in her general stomach area. I beamed at that. I responded again, to which she replied that she is looking forward to our next meeting. So there will be a next one, which feels good after having been ditched 100% by Amy after our first meeting. :)

For now I have invited her to come see our show on June 2, and she said she may stop by. Only afterwards I realized that I also invited Bud... and only after that did I realize that chances are that my immediate family will be around, too. Talk about awkwardness...!

For the meantime, we have invited Bud over for tonight. Yee-Haw!!! *grins*

Okay, so the internet so far has brought us many things, not all of which were entirely bad. Bud, for one thing, is something entirely good. So is Girlie 2, of which I realized I haven't even told you about yet. On the other hand, the internet can also spew forth many bad things. It can relay messages to you whose content you would much rather not have been privy of, and it can put a real flesh-and-blood meaning on the word "stalker":

Remember the person who I dubbed Mr. Cuba/Mr. Creep on here? The one whose incredible calculated sleaziness drove me into The Fiancé's and Steven's arms that same night for compensation, and who then kept on harrassing us with countless phone calls, before he got the point? Yeah, that one. Guess who emailed me the other day. After, uh... 5 months or so? Yeah, that one. And the audacity of this email of his is still boggling my mind in all the wrong ways, and drove The Fiancé to cursed promises of physical violence should he ever see his smug face again. Basically, he said that he "just waited until my boyfriend left town", and that he "just about should be gone by now"... but "hey, even if he isn't - why don't you meet me anyways, say, tomorrow around 10pm - that's no problem, is it?"

Wow. You'd think that after 37 unanswered phone calls dude should have taken the hint? And 5 months of not hearing one goddamn thing from us? And which logical calculation in the world makes him think that 5 months is enough time for The Fiancé to "just about be gone by now", and WHAT THE HELL makes him think that I would even consider cheating on my husband-to-be, who is all a woman could EVER dream of, with his Cuban sleazy ass? Who the hell does he think he is? And how fucking desperate does a man have to be to get back to someone after 5 months who couldn't have sent him to hell on any more clear terms than we did?

Yes, I am aware that in the process of getting to lead the lifestyle that we have in mind we have to weed through tons of the bad to reach the few good that we are looking for, and that it won't always be pretty. Mr. Creep is a very good example for this, and it makes me a bit apprehensive about approaching any more men through the internet. Bud was a lottery jackpot it seems, and it's not like we want to really experience and abundance of different partners if we have one that fits like a glove. Men are just too unpredictable that way.

On the good side, though, I have made contact with another girl. Her picture didn't captivate me at all, but her profile said she was tall (even taller than me, in fact), had a boyfriend, and wanted to make her first bisexual experiences. And since I am desperate and not picky, I leave all tall bi-curious girls in a relationship with a man a message and offer my services, lol. Turns out, Girlie is not only tall, bi-curious and in a relationship - she is also a medical doctor. And she writes the nicest emails. Unlike the girl with the sweet smile I mentioned earlier, she seems to genuinely be interested in meeting me, and she writes long and interesting emails that actually have something to do with the questions I asked her previously, and asks a bunch of new ones in the process. Through the course of our emails, through which we figured out that we like much of the same types of women, and are both intelligent girls who don't seem to run out of things to talk about (at least in writing), she gave me her work schedule for next week along with her phone number. I sent her a little text message yesterday just to say hello, and she texted me back in the evening saying how much she liked having heard from me that way. Honestly, she scares the bejeezus out of me (or rather: the thought of what may finally loom on my horizon), but I am eager to meet her and see if in reality we get along like that as well. She recently broke up with her boyfriend though, so the premises have changed a bit, though from what I have learned this may make things actually a bit less complicated.

So, I am positive. At any rate, I have dug out Mr. Creep's phone number again, just so I could recognize it, should he really be stupid enough to actually give me a ring after my response email to his unbelievable affront to The Fiancé. Let's hope he drops it now once and for all, The Fiancé highly pissed off really isn't something one may want to be faced with under any circumstances.

So Girly has written me back twice since my last post. Admittedly, her mails are short and don't offer a whole lot of information, but at least the overtone is positive: her boyfriend doesn't mind that I will not be "to have" by my lonesome, and she mentioned she would like to be friends. So I cautiously suggested the weekend for a face-off, for then at least I can see if in real life she's as greedy with words as she is online, and if there's a point in even trying. I kind of start to like the idea of "courting" her if I like her smile as much in real life as I do on those pictures, bit by bit, until I get her to where I want her to be: sprawled out in front of me, legs spread wide, and squirming under the gentle explorations of my virgin tongue. Of course that's just me fantasizing, but dayamn, you should have seen that smile of hers.

And speaking of liking ideas. The more The Fiancé and I explore and fantasize the concept of having fun together with other people, the more I feel the lifestyle slipping over me and fitting like a glove. I never would have thought that I was that "kind of person", but the more I think about it, the more it seems like the perfect way to go for me. I know there is no such thing as an "insurance" of sorts to make a relationship work, to keep the boredom at bay, and to ensure that the partner doesn't cheat... but I think our concept comes as close to this as ever possible: I allow him to bang whoever he wants, whenever he wants - as long as I am right there with him, enjoying the show. And believe it or not, to see your partner enjoying himself with another person can be a huge turn-on, and it has been for me. It changed my definition of love, excluding physical exclusivity and focusing much more on the emotional, and it had widened my horizon by a huge leap. To be able to accept and to enjoy your partner's enjoyment with somebody else is, if approached with the right attitude, a considerable enrichment of your mental well-being: you shed rigid ideas that forge jealousy and distrust, embrace what you previously perceived as a threat, and use it to your advantage. It is a very liberating experience to open up such an intimate and exclusive part of one's relationship to somebody else, it elevated us above and beyond the average. Our bisexuality and our ability to share this with "people" as opposed to "genders" takes this liberation even a step further.

In my every day life I notice the change as well. I am moving through the world with a self-confidence and contentment that I haven't known to such an extent before. I feel free to check out whomever I like and to whatever extent I like, and I don't feel threatened or jealous when I notice The Fiancé noticing somebody else. I accept the underlying nature of such behavior in males, and don't use it as a source of constant arguments and disagreements. I am aware that he will not be attracted to me exclusively for this lies within human nature as well, and can accept that fact without having to worry about him acting upon his urges behind my back. In the same context I do not have to feel guilty either if I turn around after some guy or chick, or grab some guy's ass on the dancefloor in the spur of the moment. In the process of all of this I am learning to truly differentiate between love and sex, and this freedom that we are giving each other binds us together much stronger and deepens our desire to be with each other all the more.

I guess it's true what they say: things are only truly interesting as long as they are "forbidden". The mysteries of the unknown, the thrill and excitement of doing something bad without getting caught. Take away the "forbidden" character and suddenly things become far less enticing than they were before. It's like the boss Tom Leykis says: gambling is forbidden in most parts of the US, and so is showing boobs on television. Alcohol isn't sold to teens under the age of 21. The obsession with the average American with both gambling and boobs is tremendous, and the second they go to Europe all they ever do is get fucked up in bars and write excited postcards to their friends at home about all the chicks walking around topless on public beaches, and nudity on afternoon TV. And the European teens? Rather spend their evenings socializing with friends instead of getting fuck-faced, have one relaxed beer or two, and the casinos are generally empty. Nude boobs cost them not even a glance, and they grew up with nipples on TV since they were small children. The point? Gambling, boobs, and booze are not forbidden, are not taboo, they are part of our every day lives here. The result? We generally have a relaxed and chill attitude towards these things, and being involved with them is no big deal to anybody, whereas Americans call for a state crisis when Janet Jackson's patched up nipple is visible on public TV for a nanosecond. I guess you get the parallel from this to how The Fiancé and I approach our sex life: fucking others isn't forbidden, therefore it isn't a predominant thought in neither of our heads. It's kind of like going to a bar for a beer: if we want it, we simply go and do it, end of story.

And with all this freedom I am getting, all the possibilities I am having... who's in my thoughts and fantasies 24/7...?

Right.

My future husband. :)

So The Fiancé's on his way to my dad's workshop as I type to start my process of fat-burning and shaping up. Today he'll strip my ugly bike of its paint, after he assessed it to be an otherwise quite good bike on Saturday. The paint, however, is just laughter-inducing, I swear. I should have done a before-and-after pic, but I didn't think of it when I had a chance to. But there are still OLD, OLD pictures of my 14-year-old self on that thing in existence though... for a good giggle on not only the bike, but myself too. I think on the particular picture I am having in mind I am wearing neon-pink plastic shades from McDonald's... just fitting to go with my neon green bike... OY VEY!

Anyway. He'll be busy sanding it off today, and taking it all apart. Oiling the breaks, the chain, the gears... maybe my dad has already bought new tires. When we had a good look at it last Saturday, I realized just how bad of a shape it really is in. I guess it's true what they say about mechanical pieces not being used deteriorating really badly. My bike currently sports two flats that no aripump in this world could fix, cause the rubber of the tire is old and dry and porose like tree bark. If I tried to pump them up and then use the bike, they'd probably explode on me. The breaks squeak like a door that hasn't been oiled in a good half century. Where the dynamo that generates electricity for my lights should be there is nothing but a chewed off cable dangling away. The list goes on and on. The Fiancé's given me a list of suggestions for improvement besides the obvious need for fixing, and we have settled on a nice burgundy-black combination for the new look. Not to mention the heavily gel-padded saddle for my sorry ass. My current (neon green with black sprinkles!) saddle is hard and narrow enough to ride up my asscrack the second I sit down on it, and it was hard to deal with even when I was in shape and used to it.

Me, I am psyching myself out to really go through with my plans for fitness this time. Seeing as I am a quitter at the first sign of inconvenience, and a lazy ass who likes her chocolate and couch way too much as well, I really need a mental plan to go through with this. So I am visualizing myself on my bike when I drive to and from work every day. I imagine the errands I could run with my bike other than work, which friends I can visit that are within biking range, how I will save myself the pain staking process of looking for parking around my apartment, how much gas money I will save. I go on the internet and look at bike routes and specially marked bike paths on my way to work, trying to figure out the shortest connection. I try to imagine the calories I will be burning, and how my thighs will respond to this treatment, and I feel positive and excited about how I will look in my wedding dress. I reveled in the pain of the sore muscles I got from the fistball game last weekend, and tried to visualize my fatrolls melting. I tried to imagine my body all toned and nice... and these kinds of thoughts are making the pain I will experience a little easier to bear in my mind.

30 minutes of moderate biking burns about 300-400 calories. Going to and from work will be approximately 2 hours of easy-moderate biking for me a day... so we're talking about approximately 800 calories a day, 5 times a week. Considering what I shove into my piehole on a daily basis, the difference should be noticable quite soon, even if I don't change anything about my eating habits. Not to mention the circumference of my thighs and stomach that I am hoping to lose. My BMI is currently at 25, which isn't out of range, but really at the uppermost level before I can call myself life-impairingly overweight. I don't want it to get out of hand, and I wanna feel good about myself again when I look into the mirror, and not have my eyes magically be drawn to my nether regions all the time, where the fat and the cellulite live quite comfortably.

As long as I keep these positive thoughts present in my mind, it will be easier to go through the pain until my body is used to activity again. I really don't wanna end up a lazy and fat blob on my couch who fondly remembers the days of when I still had the build of a model - which I actually did... some long summers ago.

Now, to keep myself from calling The Fiancé every half hour to inquire about the progress... lol.

Wow. If there is such a thing as insta-lust-attraction-crazies induced by a mere foto on the internet, then that's what struck me today, big time.

Sure, she posted herself bare breasted and laying on a bed... and those were really nice breasts I must say - but those breasts were nothing in comparison to that smile. I haven't seen such a smile in... well, a while. So natural looking, so sweet, and almost innocent despite her bare breasts. After I was done scraping my jaw off my desk, I went to emailing her immediately, even though what she is looking for isn't exactly what I have to offer: I am not a single girl, and I cannot be in threesomes with her and her boyfriend, cause I have a boyfriend of my own.

But I explained to her that I, much like herself, am craving to make my first real bisexual experiences, and asked her if I could be her guinea pig. In so many words. I gently brought up the subject of a foursome, thinking that this goes so against what she stated in her profile, that I will probably never get to read a line from her. I finished it off by attaching a pic of me that sports a more beautiful smile than most others, but unfortunately also me striking a silly pose with a new jacket I got for Christmas, and sent it off.

And waited.

You see... girly is not only gifted with a smile to light up my entire computer screen, she is also almost as tall as me (a few centimeters short, and let's face it, ladies... a woman of my caliber needs one of her own, not fragile little fairies, beautiful as they may be), and looks to be about my body type as well: not fat, but no flat tummy and bony ass either... so I wouldn't have to feel bad about myself in her presence. The only bad thing about this is that she is only 22... and therefore a bit too young for my tastes. People don't usually have their act together until they are about 25, and with her being even younger than my sister I felt like a dirty old hag for emailing her in the first place. However, she is a university student, and as such probably on a higher maturity level than other people her age, so let's not worry about it for the moment.

I waited for about 25 minutes until my mailbox flared up with an exciting (1) new message. It was a short response, but at least it was a repsonse... and she said that she found me to be very interesting. She straight out asked me about my threesomes (of which I of course told her in my first email), and told me I could ask her anything else I wanted to know about her. She didn't offer any other information, which isn't too good in regards of conversation, but I tried my best in my response email.

So far no response... but maybe she's in a lecture right now. Oh, those were the days...

Oh my, getting all frisky again. Interesting sensation... after our experience with Steven I really didn't long for a repeat, but I do have to admit that my craving to be with both The Fiancé and Bud again is quite noticeable right now. Bud and I have since been continuing to email each other, so there is no awkwardness or anything. We just haven't found the time to meet again ever since, we all seem to be really busy individuals with a tight schedule that keeps us from being able to hook up as we would like to.

Now that the new band keeps me busy 3 evenings out of the week and the remaining 4 have to be split somehow between my own business, our wedding preparations, my family, and some friends that are already complaining that they never see me anymore, it is already hard enough to spend quality time in our relationship as it is, without even thinking about booty-calling Bud over. The Fiancé hasn't been too much into the idea lately either, but since a couple of days ago I have caught him talking about it again more and more, with a certain twinkle in his eyes, so I know he really wants it again just as well.

I am looking forward to next time. I think there will be a whole different level of excitement involved, seeing as I will very likely have intercourse with Bud this time around, the thought of which really makes me tingle inside. To be fair though, we have started a single profile at the same provider Bud found us through, posing as a trio looking for our #4. A girl, obvioulsy, and a bisexual one, too.

I am not sure where this is heading. First Steven, now Bud... and it doesn't seem to stop there. And none of us seems to mind. And the more we do it, the more we think of this lifestyle choice in terms of "normal". I think of going back to that swinger bar as I would think of going to the coffee shop down the street, and I am not sure if I should be worried, or excited. I am thinking about having sex with another man and watch The Fiancé have sex with another woman, and there is no tiny little alarm bell going off in my head, no moral voice that tells me that what I am doing is wrong. I am starting to slightly pity those who are trapped in relationships that could be so wonderful, wouldn't their major source of tension and arguments revolve around sex and jealousy and the quite natural need that arises in everybody at some point or another, and the need to sneak around each other's back and suppress everything that's so natural. I don't like these feelings of pity for they are arrogant and slightly holier-than-though, but that doesn't change the fact that I feel them anyway.

At any rate, I hope that some cute girl will find us and join us soon. Who would have thought that this blog, which was intended as nothing but a documentary on my journey to myself will lead me to a self that I didn't even know was within me.