Prologue: How did I get here? Letting the days go by  

4monarch 54M
10 posts
3/30/2006 1:41 am

Last Read:
4/5/2006 12:39 am

Prologue: How did I get here? Letting the days go by

I began life as a child ... well I guess we all did that so skip a few years ...

I grew up a very repressed Mormon behind the Zion Curtain (Salt Lake City, Utah) who believed that my life's destiny was to tread the straight and narrow get married and have children, lots of them all while promoting the Church of Latter Day Saints and their prophet.

Unlike other children I had the fortunate experience to have a non-Mormon friend, a best friend, who although younger than me seemed to be hooked up with all the important answers to life's questions. When my bishop would interview me to see if I had "petted" a girl I would say "no" because I didn't know what it meant and then I would go and ask my friend. His mom was a liberal ex hippie divorcee and between he and his mom I got the low down on petting (sounded fun, but who would I practice on?), masturbation (I have to try that when I get home and then maybe my pajamas wouldn't be cold and sticky when I wake up in the morning.), oral sex (You put your mouth where? She does what?) , intercourse (That's for makin' babies right?) and HOMO-SEXUALITY (Something that if admitted to in public got one beaten if not killed; that is why I had to see Brokeback Mountain I had to see how they didn't get killed. )

Slowly I went over to the dark side ... in high school, I would rebel and go to Salt Lake's only art house theater The Blue Mouse and see "one of them faggy, long-haired, communistic, god-less art films" or the ultimate act of rebellion and perversion itself -- the midnight showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show. I was shocked and intrigued ... it was so wrong ... but it looked fun ... my two heads argued incessantly about its demerits and merits.

Upstairs was even more sin and depravity the Cosmic Airplane the only alternative bookstore behind the Zion Curtain. They had all the books that were banned and unspeakable and that I just either had to own outright or furtively glance in.

About this same time I had my first love AP the perfect package of femininity all wrapped up in a cashmere sweater and a pair of blue jeans. I was sixteen and she was fifteen and we were both topped off with hormones. We spent endless hours kissing and hugging ... well, I was getting a bit of frottage at having her perfectly formed and warm sweet smelling breasts in my face. I am sure she also couldn't help but notice that my erections kept trying to rip through my corduroy pants (didn't wear blue jeans yet; they were for bad boys). Her parents didn't seem to mind we did a lot of this in her room with the door closed.

They say girls are more advanced and I believe they are actually hornier than guys they just don't like to let us know because it gives them a sense of power to make a poor choad beg ... but I digress. AP wanted me to take her cherry and she mine. We loved each other so much but I had one little problem ... GOD ... everyone knows he doesn't want sex outside marriage. I was a prick I picked GOD and got screwed. She got mad, broke up with me, calling me several nasty names and insulting my masculinity in the process and within the week ran away with a nineteen year old who didn't have the scruples I had and was ever so happy to oblige her.

I have often thought if I had a time machine that is the moment I would go back to and change, forget meeting Buddha, Jesus, Lincoln, Beethoven, or Mozart. I would go back and utter one simple word "yes" and my life would have zigged rather than zagged. But don't we all have such moments? I console myself thinking even though it would have been sweet intoxicating sex, I probably would have knocked her up within the year and I would be now living with a 350 pound, bitter, drunken, muumuu wearing, mother of at least six teenage juvenile delinquent children, living together in a beaten up mobile home in a trailer park in West Jordan, praying every night when I went to sleep that I would die before I woke up for another job in the copper mines.

I heard sometime later through the grapevine that she is living in the Bahamas with her ex military husband and a couple of kids. I still picture her as an older more mature but still beautiful and perfect specimen of womanhood. I fantasize that someday we meet up and revisit that critical moment with another outcome and we live happily ever after ... I am a romantic and a dreamer ... it could happen ... and monkeys could fly out of my but too. But AP if you do read this and you fit my fantasy description please feel free to drop me a line. I have a little more experience now and I don't ask GOD's advice on sex anymore.

As TT my best friend once said about why masturbation is okay he said: "Why do you think he (God) put your hands so you could reach your dick? He wanted you to have fun when there was no one around. He could have easily given you arms like a Tyranasuarus" Profounder words were never spoken except maybe the Ben Franklin quote: "Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." Well I am working on the theory that God or evolution is pro sex and wants it to feel good but it was a long time getting to this position.

I resolved, albeit foolishly, to save myself for marriage and refrain as much as possible for masturbating. I did have to give a little on the latter resolve to make life tolerable but I did offset it with feeling the appropriate amount of guilt and shame to offset any pleasure derived.

Midway through high school it became apparent to me that I would not be able to go on a mission for the LDS church as all men are supposed to. The only honorable way to get out of it of course is to get married. I was best friends with a homely but intelligent girl whose mother and my mother thought we would make a good pairing and with the blessing of our families announced our engagement. No one ever said that was the dumbest thing to do in high school. I missed all the wild antics and proms and we abstained from sex as best we could. By senior year we were heavy petting, fingering, and attempting hand jobs with no success.

I had figured out a way to get laid, for sure, in my sexual prime rather than be cooped up with an equally frustrated guy for two years trying not to think about sex let alone masturbate. This might be the reason there are so many closeted gay Mormons because of the early male bonding imprint, just a speculation. I just had to graduate High School and spend the rest of my life with someone, who although I liked as a friend, I was by no means sexually attracted to her, but I would make due.

As soon as I turned eighteen my parents kicked me out of the house; having my own place proved too much of a temptation. After demonstrating to my fiance one too many times what I looked like masturbating and ejaculating, she seemed fascinated to watch, I cajoled my beloved into giving me her wedding night "gift" early. She was tense and wanted to get it over with. I wanted to get on with it before she backed out. We put on a condom and I tried to ease in slowly and gently but when her hymen broke she just gritted her teeth and said, "Hurry up and finish." It started to feel really good to me and I came. When I withdrew the reason it felt so good was apparent, the condom had broken leaving pieces inside her. I fished out the condom remnants and she fled to the bathroom to make a bath which she sat in and cried. Outside the bathroom door I worked out this was Gods punishment and she was probably knocked up and that would preclude a temple marriage which would shame us in front of church and family.

After that we had sex periodically and she grew to like it after a fashion although she always preferred oral more, I found out why later. I was hooked on sex and as she didn't want to have it so much she gave me permission to sew my oats elsewhere which primarily meant taking my best friends cast off girls and poking them until they decided to get married to someone else. There are other sex stories here but I’m trying to move the narrative forward without too many diversions.

Long story short, we eventually got married even though by the time we did we didn't want to. We moved to Long Island, New York where she was a Mormon nanny and I a software guy. We were both miserable. I wanted to have children and she couldn't seem to get pregnant. One day she decided she had to go home to help her sick mother leaving me alone in New York but being the loyal block head I was I didn't stray. When I got lonely enough I moved back home to Utah to be with my wife. After a health crisis of mine we started to really drift apart and one day we were talking and I realized we were either going to kill each other or we were going to have to get divorced.

It was during the divorce I met the woman who eventually would become my second wife. I asked my sister to set me up with one of her friends to go to an art film to which I had two tickets. My sister interpreted this as: "Set me up with the loosest party girl you know. I desperately need to be laid proper." My sister had picked out someone who looked remarkable close to my first love, AP.

The date was a disaster she wanted to eat but we didn't have time so we went to McDonald's; the projector bulb burned out and they cancelled the film; I asked her to my apartment to see my synthesizer (she thought this was a line, but it turned out it wasn't); the evening ended I took her home and didn't even kiss her. She took this as both an insult and a challenge and the next time we met one thing led to another and I got a blow job that cleaned my pipes and blew my mind I thought I was going to dry up and blow away. The next date I invited her to sleep over (she was 17 at the time so we had to engage in some subterfuge about her going camping with friends) which turned into an all night fuck-a-thon wherein the second time I lost the condom and in a couple of hours lost my mind. This sex was like nothing I had ever had before it was passionate, skillful, etc.

Over many successive dates wherein she was arriving home later and later (she lived twenty miles from me) until the point where she wouldn't even bother sleeping before going to work (oh, for the energy of those days again) it became apparent that we should just grow up and move in together. She wanted to get out of her parents house and I needed someone to take care of me (Big mistake, now in retrospect, but love makes the smartest of men idiots). So we started living together and our love grew and the pressure from my parents and her parents increased about getting married. We had to wait until my divorce was final and why spoil a good thing.

We lived and breathed love and sex. Every spare moment was taken lolling about entwined, enmeshed, intoxicated, and happy. When the divorce was final I proposed and she accepted and we began to try to get married. I say try because both my mother and her mother began fighting about the details of our wedding neither one was offering to pay anything for this privelege, yet they felt they should have the control of its outcome. The stress between us became too much and we cancelled our plans and went back to cohabiting bliss.

I have always hated Utah especially Salt Lake it is a naturally beautiful scenic place made ugly by the people and their cultural wasteland. I wanted to return to New York to Manhattan, to freedom. She wanted me to be happy and one day suggested we move there. We told our respective families and her mother freaked out and not so subtly explained the Mann Act and her desire that her daughter be protected from potential abandonment. With the proverbial shotgun to my head and being madly in love with her I agreed to get married.

We had three days to plan and execute a wedding as well as prepare to move. We had a small wedding in a local park inviting only family. Her more distant and detached relations were speculating that our quick marriage was because she was pregnant and were sorely disappointed when no child was forthcoming less than nine months later.

The night before the wedding was filled with such anxiety for me I didn't want to have another marital debacle. I got so worked up by morning I was so pale from vomiting blood that she had to put makeup on me so the pictures would turn out all right. We survived the wedding and had our "Honeymoon" driving across country with my truck loaded like the Beverly Hillbillies on our way to the big city.

Again eliding in the interest of time for the reader ... we had many happy years. I ended up working and living in Paris. I would come home every four to six weeks for some heavy duty romance or she would come visit me there. I was loyal to her in France and looked forward to our trysts.

The company I worked for got sold to a California company and I was part of the assets sold (I thought slavery was illegal). We moved to the Bay Area California where I kept trying to strike it rich in Silicon Valley. My wife entered a successful career here and we had two lovely boys. Post Internet boom I finally stumbled on a winning company at about that same time I and one of my sons had health problems that required I become a stay at home dad. We had the money so there was no real strain except on our marriage it turned out that my wife didn't want to be married anymore and wanted to go back to her party girl ways.

We separated last year in April and have been fighting (mostly her) viciously over every detail. She acquired a boyfriend, who is a major psycho. I on the other hand have kept pining for her and wishing we could have saved the marriage.

It was in the midst of this darkness that Monarch was born. Ever since I arrived in California I heard about Burning Man from a friend. He had never gone but always wanted to go. I didn't have the children that week and invited him to go. He couldn't but I knew another friend, someone with an alternative lifestyle and "married" to two wives. They invited me to join their tribe in the Blue Light District.

I choose Burning Man because it was the craziest non-me thing I could think of doing. Something I was interested in and yet scared of at the same time. When we arrived I had one task left I had to have a Burning Man name a moniker... my friends picked "Monarch" because I was like a butterfly coming out of its chrysalis. This was appropriate for more than one reason, among them I was really into butterflies as a child and used to catch them and raise them live, and my favorite was the Monarch.

My friend had put me on a "catch and release" plan. I was to catch the girls, bang them, and release them apparent BM is a good venue for such activity. As we were erecting his tent a tall black supermodel female came over from a neighboring camp to help me (us) put up the tent. We got talking and one thing lead to another and soon my friends were urging me to clinch the deal and move on. But I found someone who was better than catch and release she was more like a missing piece and under the spell of BM we became and are fast friends. We didn't have sex at BM principally because of me. I was: 1) still married; 2) She was black. Sorry, to inform you, but Mormons are, or, rather were white supremacists that don't believe in miscegenation. I wasn't that much of a bigot but I honestly couldn't see sex with a non-white person.

Don't worry dear reader I got over both of these anxieties and now I have a FWB (Friend with Benefits) who has been introducing me to things I just dreamed about and is helping me accept being bi. We are now in an open, poly relationship. I am still not divorced although I hope to be in June. But I have my friend and we play together and separately. I joke with her that she is Gods consolation prize for my wrecked marriage. I would have preferred to stay married because I promised that if I had children I would regardless of how uncomfortable and how many opportunities I would miss. But this life now is not a bad one altogether and I have done more living and growing in six moths than in the last ten years.

A couple of months back my FWB and I were talking about acquiring more friends both intimate and otherwise and AdultFriendFinder was one of the venues. I have taken the leap first and thus my joining tonight and I have decided to log my adventures, or lack thereof, so that others could vicariously get their thrills and see how it might work for them. I look forward to interacting with all you good people and I hope together we can generate many erotic, sensual, titillating tales together.


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