Introducing, Number Four - Our Story but His background (by Sebastian Knight)

I’m not suggesting it was love at first sight but I cannot sleep with a woman with whom I do not have some connection.  So I gave of myself hoping to forge a stronger attraction and link.  And of course that was my mistake – well only in so much as I climbed aboard a slippery slope.  I opened a part of myself, my heart to give and in so doing allowed her to sneak in. 

Now I’ve had many girlfriends, too many – and if I’m honest with myself and with no criticism intended to some who were just not my type, my history has been one of quantity with little very quality.  I’ve been married and I’ve had a “life partner” but there had been only three occasions when I ever felt that I had lost myself in the love of another.  I was head over heels in love with three of my first four girlfriends.  And in each case they broke my heart.  I think the final one was responsible for the council moving in and boarding up my heart.  Or at least limiting the access of visitors.  Sure I loved others; I certainly felt strong love for my wife and Germaine.  I was probably even in love, no, I was.  Just that I was not totally besotted.  With Germaine, I was singled minded and dogged in my pursuit, she seemed the most amazing woman, and all of the feelings I had were strong and healthy and normal.  But until I fell for Ruby, I had forgotten how much of my heart had been off limits for 17 years.

And so it was that she became known as Number Four. 

Incidentally, it was the girlfriend during those first four for whom I have the most fond feelings still.  This even includes my ex-wife, Mavis was a wonderful woman and I realised when I met up with her recently that she was almost the perfect combination of my ex-wife and Germaine.  Yet I was a complete khunnt to her, what I did was bordering inhumane.  I wonder if it was coincidence that I should meet her again when I was in the midst of pain from a separation from Ruby.  She reminded my of the pain I had caused her – it was awful, I was worse than awful.  So what was happening to me then was perhaps karma?  Fair enough too.

And I should also explain that Numbers Two and Three were massive mistakes.  Mavis pointed out, quite rightly that No 2 was just trailer trash – and that was more a statement of fact than an insult (her Dad was returning to his wife after a week of straying and the mistress took the opportunity to all the wife and tell her “when your husband gets home, smell his cock cos I just fucked him”.  I don’t think No. 2 fell too far from the tree.  And my nickname for Number Three is Dead Horse, because whilst I pursued my relationship with her (including declining a ticket to see Nirvana at ANU Bar!!) it was akin to Flogging a Dead Horse.  So whilst I was startled by the behaviour of my heart it didn’t bode well.

Number One is exempt as she and I were too young to really understand what it all meant.  Sure she was my first true love and we had great relationship, as best you can when you are allowed a sleep over at each other’s house with parents present.  I suspect that the agony I felt when we split was more than just love and aroused our abandonment issues too.  

Enter, My Sanctum - Our Story Pt 3 (by Sebastian Knight)

When I got there, with a massive lump of fear in my throat, I was still kidding myself I could turn back.  For here I was on the verge of massive infidelity.  It’s one thing to have a one-night stand, a spontaneous act to regret when sober inth e morning, but to take time to care fully plan the act was another thing entirely.  And at that moment even the planning could be dismissed as a flirtiong version of chcken.  And I think eithr that day or at that time we boith expressed surprised that the other was serious She was just going along with it to see how far I would go, and i was doing the sme, I wanted to see at which point she was joking. So

So she met me at the door, in “those” pyjamas.  She wqws drowsy, form the painkillers.  I suggested that she may be too unwell to proceed but she threw the challneg back to me as she climbed back into her bed.

I thinmk at the time I was starting to thinkin that it was all a little tawdry and that perhaps this was not her firsdt time doing this.  Indeed her suggestions and diurections forth plans seemed to be without any reservation, nerves or uncertainty.

Oh well, what the hell me thinks.  Even a dodgy root was better than none (that is one of the phiosphies that I have had had the misfortune to carry through my life – a sex life that is based based on quantity not necessarily quality or if there hass been qualities they are not virtuous ones associated with e sacred act).

So I undressed, probably down to my jocks and jumped in.

The first thing that I found was the softest skin I have ever felt.  It was like nothing I had every touched before.  She was aware there was something unique about her skina nd said something about hair eithr the lack there of or it’s type.  A genetic thing that her dad I also had (or maybe I got that wriong).  And her curves, she had aamazing curves. 

As I recall the act was nothing amazing but certainky not disappointing.  There was definitely some promise.  But her manner was indifferent and detacthed.  I stayed in bed with her for a while and we spoke, I told her a bit about myself and a few dreams etc.  She listened, or at least didn’t interrupt.  There was a relaxing vibe about the situation and before father time took our time away I managed another quick session.

I seem to recall that she denied me when I tried to go down on her.  Her excuse was that it’s beverf very good and she’s not a fan.  On subsequent occasiosn, Once I had priven myself worthy and the act worthwhile for her, she would occasionally deny me with excuses about not showeringand feeling dirty.  This is understandable but it was used inconsistently such that I later came to the conclusion that when I was denied it was because she was worried that “the room had not been properly cleaned since the prevous occupant had checked out” – yup, I was not alone.  Over time, I recognised that her inability to be exlusive for part of something much biiger, and such was my conern for her that any jealousies were cast aside as I tried to help her.  Don’t het me wrong, she wanted to be faithful and her heart was faithful (at least to me and GRegor *(TBC)).

  

But I diverge and we will explore that side of Ruby and me later on.

I think after that first time there may have been an awkaward silence between us for a few hours or even days as we digested what we had done. Knowing her now, she would have been filled with both remorse as well as hope.  More of that revlentaion later too

Wanna Go Halves in Two Kids? - Our Story Pt 2 (by Sebastian Knight)

One day I was chatting with Ruby’ and others near her desk and we realised we both wanted four kids – she had too, Lou Lou and Charlie.  I trotted out my witty standard response: yes, I want four and Germaine only wants two, so I gave her the choice of which two she could provide before I find a mother for my other two.  Maybe we could go halves one of us said.  Everyone laughed, but only we shared a very special look.

It was around about now too that she joined Facebook and I was invited to be her friend.  Her request mentioned that she had very few but that was not why I accepted; it was another avenue to contact her. And I took her request as a hint, if not almost an invite to something more – ahh, wishful thinking, or is it fantasising?  As all good users new to Facebook I received a few lame contacts – a punch or a drink or such like.  Then I received an invite from her to do a quiz.  I think it was Top Ten Turn Ons asking to rate each of a series of acts.  I got it all mixed up or maybe I was thinking too far ahead but I ordered them by the things I would do them to her – the sequence by which I would seduce her and make love to her.  I soon realised my error and rearranged the order although they were only minor changes.  I sent her an FB email explaining and we exchanged one or two more assessing the relative merits of each.  It turned out she didn’t like having her toes sucked.  Now this is not something that is necessarily a part of my repertoire but I argued passionately in favour of the act and suggested the reason she had not enjoyed it until now was because she had not experienced my toe-sucks.

I Have This Mate....

From there we started a few emails through work.  It wasn’t long before the content became suggestive.  She knew I had a partner and so she was appropriately circumspect, if such a thing is possible while flirting.  Well actually it is because we started working out how she could receive a good back massage and perhaps other pleasures.  Initially we established the sorts of things she’d need then we considered how it would be possible to find a person with such skills,.  Then of course I remembered a “friend” who could provide everything she was after and more.  I started to describe the various skills and qualities of this friend which extended into the qualities that I felt sure she was seeking in a man.

By this stage the content was too hot for work email so we were using private email – my paranoia meant I used an alias (really? Go figure) so via my pseudonym of Mike Hum we started to escalate things until it got to the point where I came clean with her.  I explained that my domestic arrangement was very important to me and could do nothing to jeopardise it.  But I also explained that I desperately missed passion and sex in my life.  I proposed that, if interested, we could maybe pursue something together.  She responded that she understood and perhaps stated similar views in so much as she was not seeking anything permanent but certainly wanted physical companionship.  And so it was agreed.  But when? 

Hot Pix

Around now she sent me a photo, a rather provocative photo of her in her panties holding her amazing breasts.  She was on her knees on her bed.  She explained that the photo was taken by a friend, a male friend but one she didn’t sleep with.  There were distant alarm bells ringing in my head.  If nothing else my paranoia thought it may have been the photo she used for an online dating bio (I had recently taken a temporary foray into the dark world of online “dating (aka, sexual encounters with no strings).  But damn ed if I was going to pay $14.95 a month to chat up men posing as woman).

The photo nonetheless further aroused my desires and interest.  For surely here was a babe with an attitude that suggested great sex ahead.

She also told me of her outfit used for washing the car – short denim shorts and a white t-shirt.  The alarm bells went mad.  But she explained it all too easily as it was a comfortable outfit but could see, she supposed, how it could be appealing.  IF she was faking her innocence, it was convincing, and especially as I was keen to be convinced.  She also described her pyjamas – little shorts and a tight top with lacy bits across the boobs, it sounded hot and I told her so.  Once again she just explained that she liked them and they were comfy.  Butter would not have melted in her mouth but I was hoping I soon would.

We eventually (quickly) settled on a Monday lunch time, at her place. 

When the big day arrived there was no sign of her, she was not at work.  I think I received either an email or text explaining she had a migraine.  Taking it at face value I considered not going but she encouraged me and off I went.  She texted to check where I was and to advise the door was open.

It is worth noting that all the arrangements for the first time were done without talking – either TXT or email.