I fell face first into the kink and alternative relationship world, full-immersion baptism-style.
Stew and I started The Swing Shift together as a way of capturing the things we were doing and the emotions it brought up. This was an exciting time with a high learning curve. All new words became part of my vocabulary: Domme, switch, compersion, polyamory, non-monogamy, subspace, etc.
I did all of the setup of the site and social media accounts. I set up our Twitter account and the initial profile text read, ‘How two average middle-aged people found themselves through kink and ethical non-monogamy‘.
I loved this term, ‘ethical non-monogamy’. It was what we were doing, right? Being together, meeting others, swinging, exploring and enjoying our sexuality. But something was nagging at me about it, and I wanted to make sure I was using it correctly before leaving it as the description of what we were about.
So of course I googled, ‘ethical non-monogamy’ and then thought, ‘oh. Oh.OH.‘
Oh, shit – this is not ethical non-monogamy. Because I am married. And my husband has no idea what I am doing.
I am engaging in entirely unethical non-monogamy. ‘Cheating,’ in society’s usual parlance. This is not grown-up, open-relationship, everyone-knows-what’s-going-on-with-everyone polyamory.
This is complicated.
I have written before about the morality (or lack thereof) of my situation. This was a few months ago and life has moved on apace, with the exit of Stew and the reunion with James and our new Daddy/kitten relationship. So I am revisiting this, for myself and for you.
Life with Stewart was an incredible, nearly constant onslaught of emotions: joy, fear, panic, lust, pain, love, orgasms, pleasure, desire, anxiety, excitement, sadness, concern, happiness, frustration. I loved every second, even the hard ones.
With James my life is on a far more even keel. We are yin and yang, equally smitten. As my Daddy dom he is an incredibly calming presence. He is firm and wise and has, even in a very short time, helped me get some big things on track in my life.
I have a disabled child. I have written about sex as respite from the challenges this presents.
I am invisible in my own house, both to my husband and my child. In the last six months, I have filled one drawer with lingerie and another with lube and sex toys. I have left the house on numerous occasions with my tits falling out of a dress (this is a wholly unusual state of affairs for usually-buttoned up me). I have travelled for weekends with new fuckmates and threesomes and foursomes.
Very like a needy child, I am playing a shameful game of, ‘If I do this, can you see me? What about this? Can you see me now?’
He can’t see me.
An acquaintance found out a bit about my lifestyle and told me I am ‘disgraceful’. This word has echoed round my head for the past two months.
Go on, try it on for size: Disgraceful.
You are disgraceful.
I am disgraceful.
But – am I? I have a child that depends on me every second he is in my company. He will always need help. I have a huge busy work life, supporting a large group of very demanding, generally unhappy people.
My days are spent sorting things for my child, my husband, my community, my household.
But never for myself. Until now.
I have of course thought, ‘perhaps there is a healthier way to achieve the same result,’ (than a secret, super-kinky BDSM lifestyle).
If you have a super-kinky BDSM lifestyle, I think you will agree that taking up golf or even something more adrenaline-inducing like jumping out of planes will never, ever come close to what kink gives you.
I am not making excuses for my adultery. I am simply giving you a look in on another part of my world so that you can understand something that may be very different from what you are doing or experiencing. Or it may be exactly what you are experiencing and my writing it down will help you feel not so alone or strange (or disgraceful).
Everyone has their story. We cannot and must not judge books by covers. No one would, in a million years, see me in ASDA and think ‘I bet she’s an owned sex slave’ (I am not quite this these days but I was for a while). But why not? Everyone is a sexual being, in some way.
There is no right or wrong. Would it hurt my husband to know what I am doing? Of course. He would and will be devastated when this information comes to light, which it undoubtedly will at some point. This is not good or nice.
My kinky world has zero crossover into my worky world. But it benefits my life beyond measure. I am a better human being for living in this new world, and the knock on effects into my day-to-day life are seismic.
I cannot pour from an empty cup; no one can. This lifestyle gives me what I need – emotional stability, huge sensory input, love, attention, sex. It gives me a community I finally feel at home and accepted in. It also gives me inspiration and fuels my creativity – I have written more prolifically in the past 6 days than ever in my life.
It is not good, but it is right. Maybe not for you but for me.
And that’s all I need to worry about right now.