Interview With A Submission Vampire Vol.1 No.15

I’m reading about writing.

As a part of this week’s Selfish Sunday Leigh and I, once again, found ourselves at a Barnes & Noble. And I treated myself to a copy of Stephen King: On Writing (10th Anniversary edition…ooooh). From everything I have read on writing it’s considered a seminal tome on the genre. Only 30some pages into it but so far I have enjoyed it very much. A number of the passages made me smile, some laugh and a few mandated rereading out loud to my sexy chauffeur.

It’s no secret that all of this fingers on keyboard is extremely new to me. The words on TDND™ represent, by a verbal landslide, the most I have ever written. Period. Probably sometime in the upcoming month the word count on the blog may reach 200,000. No idea how that equates for any writer of any genre for twenty weeks. Leigh says that qualifies as “prolific.”

Its fun, and I feel as if I am becoming a better story shower (notice I didn’t say teller). And apparently a number of people think that my musings are good. I wish I had some way to quantify that, but truth be told I do not read nearly enough as I wish I did, or more accurately should. Leigh is voracious. She reads books like I drink coffee. And she is also 100x the writer I am. A parallel, perhaps?

In four weeks I have drawn a line in the sand as far as my first attempt at erotic fiction being available for purchase. Two weeks prior to that is the deadline for submission (that sounds like a naughty book title, doesn’t it?) for the Avon Impulse New Year’s Eve anthologies of novella length. And I want to be included.

Sounds like my weekly word count is about to go way up. It needs to. It has to. And it will. But not at the expense of Peeker™ Nation. The stories, musings, poetry will all continue. They need to. They have to. And they will.

I’m looking forward to listening to the voices (no, not like that….well, a little) as the characters talk to me when I shift from first person past non-fiction to the same but fictional for my ePub and, deep breath, third person. We’ll see if the words still flow.

But enough about me. Now for something about me. Avid Peeker™ Ms. D of Deviant Diaries wanted to know, in regards to what happened the days following Breaking Leigh:

“Its kind of like when you go to some really great spiritual retreat (kind of an oxymoron in my book)…where everybody sits around spilling their guts and cries over every wound they’ve ever had and swore they were going to go back to their “regular lives” a changed person and with a fresh perspective, and then in like a week….it’s all like a lost dream. Does your experience have any residuals like that?”

In a way, yes.

What goes up (stop smirking) must come down. Just because Leigh and I shared something amazing that pushed both of our BDSM and D/s boundaries to new heights via broken plateaus does not mean we have now set up base camp at that new altitude and live there. Nor did it become a life-changing moment with the light of the next morning. Or the one that followed that.

Are things different? Yes. Leigh was curious if she could be pushed that far, if she was capable of tears from just spanking. I, on the other hand (bad spanking joke) knew that she was. But conveying that belief pails to its being administered one spank at a time. And then there was the whole issue of the act itself. Was I capable of the administration of what it would take to get her to where I knew she could go but she did not? The physical was the easy part for both of us. It was the mental and spiritual part that proved to be the Rubicon we needed to cross from opposite banks.

And we did.

So we accomplished it. Together. I didn’t so much as work at beating the tears out of her as much as work with her to help her release them. Big difference. Big fucking difference.

Now, in its wake are we better people? I’d like to think so. But it’s not as if we were reborn. Food didn’t suddenly taste all that better, but we do spend a lot more time in the kitchen laughing, cooking and sharing. That tastes good. The air we breath is not mountain top clean overnight, but there is less fog between us as well as more words, and laughter. The exercise we now do together helps that. Time does not stand still, but the moments last longer and are more frequent. Outside forces no longer run the clock hands.

So no, the dream moment does not a new dream life make. Very few things would have such an immediate and dramatic impact. But we do dream more often, and not in the ways one might stereotypically think from a couple in a specified D/s relationship that employs BDSM.

No, the dreams born from that evening are small ones, day dreams if you will. And they have faded with time, but more from wear than distance. Day to day we are better. Nothing bordering on religious awakening, but rather small prayers said at the most unobvious and innocent of times.

That is a dream worth living.

Scot

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A Peek Back 9-1

You guys amaze me.

In the span of a week not only did the blog crush the previous single day views record but also, with month’s end, saw the one for views in a month toasted by 40%. And it’s very likely that by sundown Sunday (great, now I’m writing folk rock) the views in a single week benchmark will fall as well.

At some point this upcoming week we’ll surpass 30,000 views. It wasn’t even last month that 20,000 was crossed.

You’ll have to forgive me for all of this, but it really does make me feel very humble.

It’s cool to see that people are getting it (stop giggling). And by that I mean our purpose – to demystify the stereotypical D/s and BDSM persona and help people embrace their inner Dominant and/or submissive. With coffee.

We truly appreciate all the love, energy, honesty and general pervertedness you share with us. Things we have shared have directly impacted the lives of others for the better. Perverts, er, people we only know via bits and bytes (probably some nibbles on their end but I digress). That makes all the time, effort and coffee poured into the stories, musings, etc. worth it. To know that, out there in the dark, a couple whose sexually embers had grown dim and cold are now inferno hot. Or that someone who took a chance and listened to that voice whispering inside them. You know, the one that drives you crazy with thoughts of BDSM and D/s? Now they are the ones writing tales that inspire others.

Or questions asked either in simple curiosity or outright concern, the answers providing some assistance in their decisions. All of which, to a T (or should that be a D/s?) impacts every other aspect of their lives and for the better.

So thank you. Seriously. A 21 cake salute will be consumed in your honor. Well, not really, but any excuse for cake is a good one.

If you’re a first time Peeker™, welcome!  You are invited to peek through the keyhole. We strongly encourage you to view all of the established Pages, which can be viewed by selecting any of the tabs at the top of this page.

The Archives are an inclusive, running version of every post of note on this blog. If you have not read any or all of the stories, random musings, poetry, etc linked from The Archives by all means please grab a seat, perhaps a drink (we’re big on coffee as you will find out) sit back and enjoy.

Before I get all teary eyed and want a group hug while singing Cumbaya, its time to Peek Back:

Interview With A Submission Vampire Vol.1 No.14 – In which I answer an extremely personal question that gets asked. A lot.

A New Monday, Same Ol’ Java – Sometimes I amaze myself how cognizant I can be so early on a Monday while mainlining dark roast.

Seek And Go Hyde Act V – Things get very intense and sadistic. This Act really pushed some Peekers™ comfort level. Read at your discretion.

The Words Of Power – A BDSM musing inspired by the reaction to the above.

Soundtrack To The Looking Glass – The beautiful, ironically titled song that accompanied the magic of the moment in time that became The Looking Glass.

The Looking Glass – Possibly the most personal scene Leigh and I have shared. Not what most think of as such. You’ll see.

Our Secret – My poetic response to that which was The Looking Glass. Figured out yet that this was something special?

Chain Of Rules Act VI – Leigh’s helpless nipples continue to be a source of pleasure. And pain. Lots.

Someone Shared Our Secret – When a professional Domme/Switch thinks your erotic poem is good enough to republish, that is a compliment.

The Dom Next Door Unchained – Gina West – Peeker™ & erotic author Regina West shares what she and her husband shared as a result of reading TDND™. See? You too can play along at home!

Once again, a sincere thank you to all.

– Scot

The Dom Next Door Unchained – Gina West

Welcome to the second installment of what I hope will become a more regular feature on TDND™ –Unchained.

Unchained (not literally…geeze) is what others refer to as guest blogging, but with a twist. Rather than a blogging peer being invited to write something on or about a particular subject, Unchained has a theme:

Discourses, thoughts and reactions on any of the various offerings found on The Dom Next Door™ and how they were affected by them.

In other words, an outlet for the voice of Peeker™ Nation. Could be in regards to a story, random BDSM musing, poetry or the blog in general.

Eventually it is my hope that the entirety of all the Unchained submissions (heh) will weave a lovely quilt, each square or patch as unique and beautiful as it’s stitcher. When they are combined into a rich tapestry of experiences, thoughts and opinions, they metamorphosize into something greater than the sum of its naughty parts, their main delineator of TDND™ being the thread that makes them one common voice.

Yours.

So link by link, we are forging a chain of such tales. Stories that are at the core of what this blog is really about. No, not coffee. But rather the demystification of the stereotypical D/s persona and dynamic, as well as helping Peekers™ find their inner Dom or sub.

This Unchained link started with a simple, innocent  (stop smirking Gina) Twitter message regarding the BDSM On A Budget series. When a Peeker™ says  “About The Chains™? Um, thanks. Yeah…” it sure sounded as if someone had a positively naughty experience as a result of the blog. Which is everything Leigh and I stand (kneel? lie down? arch?) for. And it also screamed (seriously, just….stop it) potential for a perfect Unchained post.

I was right. Holy shit was I right. You’ll see.

So without further adieu The Dom Next Door™ Unchains the aspiring romance/erotica novelist, mom, wife, avid reader, student of classical guitar, seeker of knowledge and wisdom and introvert (Ha!) Regina West:

My husband and I read and discuss nearly every TDND™ post. Like Scot and Leigh, we have been married for many years and have embarked on a similar sexual journey. I won’t say what drove us to explore BDSM because it’s almost cliché at this point, but I will say that we are definitely exploring and that we are brand spanking (pun intended) new at this. So far, we’ve found ourselves adopting more of the BD aspect than the SM. Some might consider that plain old vanilla, maybe French vanilla, and that’s fine. I refuse to participate in a pissing contest about it. We like what we like.

Which leads me to the latest TDND™ post that kindled a fire in our household.

After reading Chain Of Rules Act II, I admit I was having visions of cuffs and eye bolts and chains (oh my). I found myself dreamily staring at doorways, wondering if anyone would notice if we put eye bolts at the four corners. The wooden rafters in our basement suddenly seemed like the perfect place for an entire bondage set-up leaving plenty of room for a Dom to circle his prey . . . um, I mean sub.

Then when Scot posted BDSM on a Budget – The Chains™, he mixed the two best words in the English language – chains and budget – and that was our cue. The next day, my husband went to Lowes and came back with a variety of chain lengths and a pack of snap hooks, all for around $30.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t launch into kinky home remodeling right away, nor could we use our BDSM-unfriendly bed. Years ago when we bought it for its minimalist look, we weren’t considering its bondage possibilities. The headboard is one huge slab of wood with no legs around which one might wrap a chain, and even the mattress, a Tempur-Pedic which is fantabulous for sleeping, doesn’t have handles on the sides. What’s a horny married couple to do? Improvise, that’s what.

By the time we could ditch the kids and have some alone time, I’d already been thinking about those damn chains for hours. Then my sadistic husband decided he needed a shower. More waiting, and worse, he ordered me to touch myself until he was done. Thank God he takes quick showers. Once he joined me, it only took maybe four nasty twists on my nipples to send me skyrocketing.

But I’d made a mistake. I hadn’t asked if I could orgasm (another thing we learned from TDND™). I swear I meant to ask, but I’d teased myself into a frenzy and then he did all the right things to my body and . . . well, you try stopping a speeding train!

After that, he ordered me to stand up, spun me to face away from him, and pushed me down onto the bed on my stomach. With my wrist and ankle cuffs already in place, it only took a moment for him to bind my hands and feet behind my back with the one-foot chain. Hog tied, boys and girls. That’s right. If you’ve never tried it, you are seriously missing out.

Flat on my stomach, arms and legs bent behind me, completely immobile.

He positioned himself between my legs and slid into me, reminding me once again that I had come without his permission. He then grabbed the flogger, and I paid for that error with several lashes. When he decided I’d had enough of that, he took hold of the chain, the handle he would use to manipulate my helpless form, and yanked. My back arched, my arms pulled up behind me. His fist wound through my hair and tugged my head back, and he pounded into me with enough force to bruise my hips.

Heaven help me, it was glorious!

I was completely at his mercy, the chain his leverage. He muttered filthy things while he doled out this most pleasurable punishment for my disobedience.

The pounding reached its peak, and we were both moaning when he gave the final push. You know the one – when he buries himself so deep in you, you wonder if you’ve become one being. With a final roar, he held himself in that place for a long moment before he collapsed over my back and pressed his cheek between my shoulder blades. Gasping for air, the chain still twisted in his fist, my husband said the first words that came to mind. “Holy shit!”

My sentiments exactly.

This is generally how it happens in our house. We read something on TDND™ and let it percolate in our minds until we have no choice but to try it. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. But it’s been a blessing to have as a guide the blog of two regular married folks who approach this with caution and knowledge but without brutality. I look forward to many, many new adventures.

– Gina West

Anyone else need some fresh air or a cooling shower? Damn! And to think the blog played a role in this? (does that make this role play?) Humbling.

Thank you Gina for sharing that very personal and extremely erotic moment, one I hope is just the first of many more for you and your Sir.

– Scot

Soundtrack To The Looking Glass

On Monday’s coffee infused ramblings I made allusion to the fact that, over the weekend, magic happened within the candlelit confines of our bedroom.

One of the most amazing experiences of my sexual life transpired.

Tomorrow I will write the opening Act to it entitled The Looking Glass. Read into that what you will.

Anyway, as part of this slightly atypical scene I asked Leigh if she would like some music, an offer that was eagerly accepted. In that we still do not have a playlist  we both agree with, I’ll often cue up Pandora’s Ambient feed. Aside from the possibility of the occasional sounds of bird chirping and surf breaking on the shore (which apparently is a Pavlovian sound to Leigh’s lentil sized bladder) the music very often fits both our tastes.

At the height of the aftermath of the scene, right as we finished (do the math) a particularly haunting song played mournfully in the background. It fit perfectly to what had just transpired over the course of the evening.

So as I attended to a completely exhausted and spent Leigh (meaning I fetched the sex towels) I glanced at the screen to see what song had just serenaded us with soulful, beautifully seductive sounds that dovetailed so lovely with our lust filled activities.

And I about fell over from shock.

“You are not going to fucking believe the name of this song and the album it’s from!” I exclaimed to Leigh.

Can you believe that? Seriously?

So I share this with all of you this evening in that, for the first time in the blog’s short history, there will be a soundtrack to a story. As you read each Act of The Looking Glass I’ll ask that you play this so you too can share what we did.

Until tomorrow.

– Scot

The Words Of Power

I know, it should be “The Power Of Words.”

And they are powerful. Physical wounds will mend, but the ones caused by verbal cutting? They linger, cripple, haunt. The scar that never quite heals.

I thought of this last night as I wrote the climatic ending (pun intended) to Act V of Seek And Go Hyde:

“You may come.”

And with that Leigh exploded in a primal grunt all over me, her hands practically tearing her nipples loose in the process. They were almost cartoonish in how far their delicate skin stretched from being pulled so violently. But nowhere near as violent as the drenching orgasm that consumed us both.

With a massive gush Leigh screamed “I’M A PAIN SLUT I’M A PAIN SLUT FUCK I’M A PAIN SLUT.” She was practically hysterical with lust, the waves of each multiple crashing into her repeatedly, their damage measured in how badly her swollen cunt leapt out to suck in my cock.

The spray from her ejaculate hit me in the face. I licked my lips at the shock.

Told you it was sweet.

All the while she kept repeating her kinky mantra over and over, each time more guttural, deeper from within her, until out of nowhere she literally screamed at the top of her lungs:

“I. LOVE. WHEN. YOU. FUCKING. BEAT. ME!!!!”

And with that collapsed into a seething, panting heap on the bed.

Yes, she actually screamed that. And I can assure you that was Leigh as about as raw as I have ever seen her. The physical duress she was enduring via being forced to countless squirting multiple orgasms was brutal. But it was my insistence that she verbalize what she hates to admit that, I feel, pushed her to a point where she screamed what she did with the conviction of an executioner.

This is part of the beauty of D/s, especially when heated to a melting point in the forge of BDSM. I experience it as well. For everything Leigh and I share behind that closed bedroom door, for all the perversions, sadistic pleasures, sweet pain, there is one thing that I crave more than her vaginal fluids soaking through multiple layers of bedding all the way to the mattress.

Her manners.

I am addicted to hearing her beg permission to orgasm. And that pales in comparison to when she thanks me after each one.

Now, don’t get me wrong. The physical is amazing. Ironically in a post about the power for words I am at a loss for the best ones to attempt to describe how fucking intense all of this is. Which I guess speaks to the strength of our D/s dynamic. It’s more powerful than words, which is really saying something that can’t be said with words!

What?

I need more coffee. Un memento, por favor.

And my favorite part of when we share each other’s dark side? The aftercare. When she is so far gone inside herself that it’s my turn to drown her in sweet nothings. And often all she can say is a meek “Thank you Sir” through a doll’s eyes before she goes away to the land of floaty floaty.

Right there. Looking in those empty pools of blue, when she says three words to me. That’s when I start to soar, my wings full on the wind of her beautiful submission. And I fucking fly into Topspace.

But that night, when she threw that one raw statement at me like a dagger, that was different.

Sitting here, right now, coffee within reach, it just occurred to me that when Leigh screamed “I. LOVE. WHEN. YOU. FUCKING. BEAT. ME!!!!” that Hyde had an orgasm.

(For you virginal Peekers™ a little history about Hyde)

Of course he can’t actually come. I do that. But in his own sadistic, perverted manner, forcing Leigh to that admission at the height of a brutal squirting orgasm was his own release. Whatever the chemical biology of satisfaction and its counterparts are, imagine that multiplied 100x. Now detonate that inside your soul like a kinky roadside bomb.

I came without coming. And it stopped me fucking cold. After that it was my turn. You’ll read about that later this week. But the fucker wouldn’t let me come until he did. All over both of us. Inside my head, soul and spirit, and out of Leigh’s mouth. The saturated mess around us both was just icing on his cake.

And, sadly, there are also the way in which certain words will forever be raw, open wounds to some. A few Peekers™ know this too well, including a special one that is near and dear to a number of us who blog in the darkest corner of the WordPress basement. For them, Leigh’s statement yelled at the height of consensual arousal conjures up bad memories, feelings and emotions. Very bad. Not consensual. Or asked for.

I pondered sharing what Leigh said, but ultimately decided to allow you all to react as you will. I did feel strongly about adding the * disclaimer at the end.

BDSM has been long thought of in a similar manner. And given the phenomenon of that certain neutral hued book series interest in WIITWD is likely at an all-time high. It’s important that those who have been here all the while be careful with how we present what can easily be misunderstood as sexual assault, or worse. They need to know that the key is communication.

Or, in other words, words. Just like the written ones above.

– Scot

A New Monday, Same Ol’ Java

It’s fan quiet here.

Leigh and I awake early. Not by choice but still we are up with the sun. And before you all smirk yes, very often that means three of us if you count a certain appendage of mine.

It’s a chance to groan, stretch, snap and crack, snuggle, doze, grope, mumble, giggle, sometimes fuck, occasionally be manually or orally uncramped. Very often a hour passes as we delay the inevitable reality of the day.

But, either post snuggle or after cleaning up the mess with hand towels, the sound of coffee beans being ground, egg shells cracking, butter sizzling and smart ass commentary being made fills the house. JD will stagger in from the couch (not too spoiled) looking as if he could use a cup of java himself. Scones (the cat) has already been in the bed with us and now wants breakfast as well.

Cabinet doors squeak, voices strain as sttttrreeettcchhhhh the day’s first stumbled steps occur, lunches made, plans for dinner discussed, random topics bantered about.

Often I will sing. Badly. Off key. Flatter than last week’s root beer. And with a zeal that makes Leigh wince yet smile, all the while thinking to herself “WHY did I choose this one? WHY???”

In other words, the same morning that I will bet happens in countless millions of households every Monday. When the coffee and its life-giving fix of caffeine become demigods worthy of sacrifices. Or at least that’s what I say to Leigh. “But the coffee gods would be pleased if we fucked!” I mean, what self-respecting religion doesn’t require the giving of something precious as an appeasement to its deities?

After that some alone time. And it’s so quiet right now. As I said, “fan quiet.”

Enjoying a second cup of religion in the calm of The Pingback Chair™ located in our sunroom. A reading nook now offers it safe harbor. Tucked away in the corner of the room, a wall mounted light directly over my shoulder to read by, a nearby antique plant stand serving as the altar for the magic elixir we both worship, or in the evenings a stem or pint of liquid I like. The only sounds discernible are the grasshoppers singing to the new day as the heat rises with the whirl of the blades of a ceiling fan on percussion. It may be like this for hours.

When we first moved here the silence was so deafening at night I couldn’t sleep from the tympani of my own eardrums pounding along with my heart. But now I adore the silence, a rare treat in today’s world. And its even better with coffee.

And with it some musings:

– The growth (stop it) of the blog continues to amaze me. August has seen us crack 10,000+ page views in a single month for the first time. I believe it took us May, June & part of July to reach our first 10,000 views. Now we have received that many in three weeks. I cannot even begin to thank you all for the love, support, comments and overall debauched pervertedness you bring.

– Along those lines I also cannot express how much we both appreciated the reactions and comments to the latest Interview. To be honest I fully expected the potential for backlash as well as people choosing to no longer peek through the keyhole, which would be fine in that’s their right and own choice. Your positive and even heart-warming comments (especially you Mrs. Soft Bottom) made what could have been an awkward exchange a pleasant one. Again we thank you for understanding and respecting our choice.

– Leigh bought me a copy of Screw The Roses Give Me The Thorns as a gift. From just flipping through its pages I can assure you all that it will be a gift that keeps on giving. And taking. And flogging.

– Is anyone else been enjoying the height of summer’s harvest at their local farmer’s market as well?

– If you have access to locally grown produce and still buy your vegetables and fruit at some Super Duper Mart…bad Peeker™! Bad!

– I Unfollowed a number of Twitter accounts this past week. If you are one of them it’s because having three Tweets in a month isn’t  going to make the cut, nor is constantly shilling, RTing or posting quotes not yours. And don’t get me started on people who lives exist to collect Followers.

– This week my second attempt at erotic fiction will begin. I’m going to submit (no, not like that) to Avon for their New Year’s Eve anthology. The storyline is set, characters are talking to me (this is why you writers are all batty, huh?) and even doing some research (not what you think). Leigh likes the storyline a lot, and thinks it may not be able to to be told in novella (<20K words) length. We’ll see.

– Leigh has undertaken a unique challenge from me. She is just over halfway through it and if the first four evenings were any indication it will be make for great reading. So much so that…

– …Leigh & I shared magic a few nights ago. Almost beyond description for me. I was honored to be a part of it. So you will be reading the first Act of The Looking Glass this week, as well as additional acts for Chain Of Rules, Seek And Go Hyde and The Butterfly Chains. We received more blogging awards so, yes, more Scot Trivia. I should be finished rereading The New Topping Book and have a review, Leigh will get a poem, the flogger should make an appearance, probably a random kinky musing and, last but certainly not least, a new Unchained is in the works for the end of the week.

And the sounds I mentioned earlier? The only ones I heard while writing this, aside from the emptying of my coffee mug. So cue the sounds of footsteps on hardwood to remedy that.

– Scot

Interview With A Submission Vampire Vol.1 No.14

Another Selfish Sunday™ for Leigh & I.

You may think you notice that blog posts & updates decrease in frequency over the weekend. If you did notice such you are correct. I’m selfish with my time and my lady on the days between Friday and Monday. There may likely be a story update or a musing, and I do try to do so with regularity. But given the Saturday AM Peek Back post plus Sunday’s IWASV™ there is typically room for just one more, if that.

It’s possible that I may write 10,000+ words over a typical seven day stretch for the blog. At least in the high thousands for sure. I refuse to word vomit for the sake of page views or an update, as well as try very hard to not do any of the following:

  • Treat the blog like it’s Twitter or tumblr. A photo with a thirteen word caption or the like a few times a day is not my style.
  • Flood a posts with images, especially animated GIFs. Again, not what I consider blog material for my tastes.
  • Vent. My life is my life. With it come problems, just like all of you. They are not your concern, nor do I want to force them upon you.
  • Reblog. What has been said by others is just that. Adding a few lines of commentary to someone else’s 1000+ word effort is not something that interests me.
  • Copy/paste. A number of blogs rape Wikipedia and other online sources, than add a few hundred words to make easily found web content “theirs.” Not my cup of blog. Sorry.

If any of that rankles or pisses anyone off that was not my intent at all. Please note that these are just my views on what I want to present on TDND™ and are in no way meant as a dig, slam, etc to those who may employ any or all of the above. It’s your blog, you get to post what you want, how you want, when you want. That’s totally cool with me. I just choose not to do so.

Which leads us to today’s question. It’s not from anyone in particular, but has been asked numerous times over a variety of media. So to once and for all answer it (as well as give me something to reference when it invariably gets asked again in the future) I will address this commonly requested piece of information:

“Do you and Leigh have any children? And if so, how does that affect your D/s and BDSM?”

First, it’s a legitimate and valid question. Many blogging peers, especially the married ones who also partake in WIITWD, are parents and acknowledge as much. A great many Peekers™ are as well. So I can see the interest in not just knowing but also the potential for advice and information.

The answer to this question is this:

It is a hard limit for us. So I say Red. Scene over. Now.

A great deal of a very private aspect of our lives is shared with energy, enthusiasm, honesty, openness and with full acknowledgment of what we are doing. I do this on a regular basis, and I love it. The blog and what it has spawned has been nothing short of amazing. Not only are Leigh and I having a torrid affair with each other’s spouse (shhhhhhh, don’t tell my wife) but many others have benefitted from what we have shared, my musings, etc. Spouses have shown their significant other my musings and stories on the blog as way to broach similar topics in their own lives and marriages. That’s fucking humbling. The outpouring of emotion, reaction, concern and compassion from all of you has been overwhelming. Thank you one and all.

I’m sure a number of you will, by the fact I am drawing a line in the blog, draw your own conclusions as to whether or not we are parents. That’s your prerogative. We very well could just be a man and a woman rediscovering each other after years of same old same old marriage. Or we may have a house full of small faces and little feet that do not belong to the canine or feline species.

Could be we’re empty nesters enjoying the rediscovered peace and perversions allowed when Junior goes off to college.

Or its possible that, after years of trying and thousands of dollars spent in the process, we still haven’t been able to conceive and its a very sore issue that we don’t know the joys of a 2AM feeding that many of you do. And finally, it’s not out of the question that after years of trying we finally did succeed…only to lose the baby. So yes, we might be a little touchy about it.

So just as I choose to not blog in certain ways, I am sure you will choose one of the aforementioned as your belief. That’s fine, pick one. Or more. Maybe its all of them. Or not. I have no power what you choose to believe, but I do have some over what you will know. And I politely ask your respect and consideration of our wishes to make this topic a hard limit.

If you feel any less of us for this I totally understand and completely respect that. You are more than welcome to Unfollow us. But I hope you all stick around. We like you perverts a lot.

– Scot