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Basic Vanilla



So I’m definitely very vanilla.  I’m not one for kinky shit, give me a normal relationship in the bedroom, with a little bit of a change here and there, and I’m pretty happy.

I mean, I don’t want to be on the bottom all the time, as I do like trying different positions and being on top like a cow girl can sometimes be more pleasant in the fact that I can sometimes get in the perfect position for me to maybe cum along for the ride, but this is a very rear occasion for me.

At a young age I learnt that my Mum had been raped when she was 18 years old, by a male family friend.  I learnt all about the birds and the bees at that time too and so my thinking when I was old enough was that sex was to be mostly vanilla and also was really only for making babies.

I was nearly 19 when I lost my virginity.  Was all pretty straight stuff, different position’s and I was comfortable with everything we did.



Met my husband and everything seemed normal and straight forward with him too, but after our 7th year of marriage and a few months to go before giving birth to our first child, he started to change.  He was suddenly walking around the house naked all the time, with a full blown erection.  He was watching shit loads of porn, downloading videos and wanting to do kinky stuff.  I thought maybe my pregnancy had made him hornier and this was his way of getting attention from me.  But after our girl was born, he spent more time sitting around the house naked and again with full blown erections.  It was so difficult to even get a photo of him with our daughter, with clothes on.  He would get so angry with me when I would take a picture and it would be mostly of our girl and not him.  He would say, take a picture of the both of us… and you always did what he told you.  I can’t even look at her baby pictures now, without feeling disgust and shame.  When my Mum came to visit, she even had to endure the sight of his nakedness and also try and sit in the lounge with him showing his erection off and even witnessing him rubbing himself.  He even paraded himself around naked, when a girlfriend from Auckland came to visit, I thought when I had organised her to visit, it was going to be my weekend of not having to see him flash himself, but I was sadly wrong.  When our daughter was over 1 years old, I had moved out of the marital bedroom and was sleeping in the spare room, my excuse was his shift work and of course I was full time responsible for caring after our girl. 



I started to dread the weekends.  He would get up early and spend hours on his computer upstairs viewing porn.  I could only get into the shower whenever I had my girl settled and I was able to leave her.  I tried every time to get in and out before he knew, but most times I was visited by him and every time he made me feel violated.  He always wanted to do things that I hated and I would cry, no wonder I had such bad depression.  My Mum stopped coming to visit, as she couldn’t handle what she was subjected too and I don’t blame her.  Nearly four years after Sasha was born, I think the one and only time we had vanilla sex as I call it, I fell pregnant with our son.  I was so hoping that having another male in the house and an extra child would stop him from gallivanting around the house naked and invading my weekend shower’s.  But it didn’t, it just made things worse.  When he did come into the shower, he took longer and all I could think of was my 4 and half year girl was sitting out in the lounge, keeping an eye on her baby brother, while her daddy sexually assaulted me.

Over the months after our boy was born, my depression got worse.  I was sleep deprived because our boy wasn’t sleeping longer than 20 minutes at a time, I was working full time and doing everything for our kids.  While he worked four days a week and then spent the rest of the time watching sports, drinking beer, playing with himself whenever he was “airing” out his groin as he called it.  If he got too aroused, he’d go upstairs and go porn searching.  With my depression, the doctor thought it would be a good idea to see a counselor, as she knew of my concerns about my husband.  She even thought that seeing a sex therapist would be a good idea.  But my ex saw nothing wrong with what he was doing inside the home, in front of his daughter or in front of his mother-in-law; if she ever came to visit.  I was the one with the problem and depression was just an excuse.



By the time my boy was nearly 2 years old, I finally had the energy to say enough was enough.  The decision came easier after two major things that had come to my attention a couple of months before.  Our girl was nearly 6 and half years old and she ended up being able to go on a holiday with her Dad to Samoa.  They were away for over 7 days and they were visiting both Islands.  The other Island of Samoa is so far behind the times, that the communal shower houses, were just hoses stuck to the walls.  When they came back, my husband was showing me all their holiday trip photos.  There was some great pictures until we came to the communal shower photo.  He said he got these photo’s to show me how back in time the village was, so I see a hose attached to the wall, then the next one is him standing under the shower naked with an erection, then the next one he’s pulling the foreskin back on his erection.  Then there are one or two more of him drying himself, still with an erection.  I asked who took these photos.  “Our daughter did” he answered.   He had asked our nearly 6 and a half year old, to take pictures of him having a shower.  WTF!!!
And then on top of that, I came across a DVD he had burn't, titled “Teenage girl’s first time”.  I started to watch this video and I was physically sick.  She looked no older than 11 or 12.  So I started checking his browser history and over 50% of the porn was titled teenage girls….

So I packed up and left him.  Moved back to Wellington Oct 2009.

Not till Jan 2015 did I start thinking that it might be nice to date again and hopefully find my soul mate.  Two years of being on different online dating sites and nothing.  Sick of sex being the only thing that matters, yeah I do like sex, I like it heaps more than I did when I was married.  But with all the guys that I have let inside my pants, they have left me wondering what the fuck and why the fuck.  Most of them lied just to get into my pants, some went to the point of making me think that we were wanting the same thing, but that changed once they had their fun.  Too many players out there these days, too much porn showing shit that isn’t really the norm.



So after my last disappointment I came to the conclusion that sex is not on my agenda.  If I start to date someone or see someone, it’s going to have to be pretty special to the both of us, before sex is added to the equation.  If they truly love me and want to be in my life, then they will be willing to wait until it feels right.  I’m doing this to keep myself safe and also to be able to tell my daughter that there are kind hearted guys out there, you just have to be patient.  If they can be romantic, enjoy my company, make me laugh, enjoy cuddling, dancing, listen and loves kissing passionately.  Then they have a good shot of winning me over.  And the less they push the sex subject onto me, the more likely it will happen sooner rather than later.  But my luck hasn’t been great, I have this crappy habit of liking someone heaps, but them not liking me back.  Or they like me heaps and I don’t like them and when it’s a mutual like…. It’s either them that are married or they only want booty calls and not an actual relationship.



Onto the subject of sex for me…. Hmmmm, talking about me in this context is hard.  I have ideas that I like, I have certain fantasies I like and then there are a lot I have no interest in at all and no trying to convince me into at least trying is going to get me to change my mind.  I’ve had a bit forced upon me and so if I happen to say I’m not interested in doing that, it may not necessarily mean I’ve never done it, it may just mean I had to do it and I did not like it and don’t want to ever have to do it again.







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