January 1

Dear diary,

I can hardly believe that I'm really doing this: I'm sitting here, managing the fate of 80 employees on a daily basis, and now, like a teenager, I'm supposed to capture my deepest thoughts and feelings on paper. Keeping a diary as if I wasn't in the management of an industrial ship, but the main character in an adolescent drama.

At the end of the year, it was time for the annual health check, an internal company process that is as relentless as the tax return. Naturally, this makes no exception for the executive floor. Perhaps it's for the best. After an intensive examination and a lengthy discussion, my doctor (I've forgotten his name again), with a gaze as penetrating as the security scanners at the airport, recommended that I start keeping a diary at the beginning of the new year. Stress reduction, he says. Combat inner turmoil, he says. As if writing down my thoughts could calm the turbulence in my head.

Ashamed, I take his advice, not because I believe in the healing effect, but because I want to leave no stone unturned. So I sit here, with a pen that is heavier in my hand than any decision I have made today, staring at the blank page spread out in front of me like a pristine carpet of snow.

Keeping a diary as the boss of 80 people—it's like being advised to swap my ties for glitter stickers. But who knows? Perhaps this simple act, this retreat into your own world of thoughts, holds the key to serenity. The first entry is already done.

January 4

Now that the turn of the year and all its business turbulence is finally behind me, Jessy and I almost miraculously found time for dinner together last night. It was a small, but sweet triumph over the dictatorship of the diary.

She opted for 'La Dolce Vita', an Italian restaurant that always exudes a touch of romance with its authentic cuisine and rustic charm, or at least the illusion of it. The food was, as you would expect, a feast for the palate. I remember the risotto, which melted in my mouth, and the pasta, which was al dente, as if it had clockwork inside the dough.

The wine, a Chianti of remarkable quality, flowed abundantly, and with each glass, our mood became more relaxed. When we were both slightly tipsy, Jessy suddenly asked me if I was happy with our marriage and also with our sex life.

In my infinite eloquence, I just shrugged my shoulders. "Joa," I said. Not "Yes", but "Joa", an answer as inspiring as a gray sky on a Tuesday afternoon.

Jessy sighed and I noticed her disappointment. "Okay," she repeated, "the word of the hour."

I wonder if this "okay" is not the perfect symbol for our time. An age in which people are satisfied with "okay" while the world around them sinks into a maelstrom of chaos and instability. An age where "okay" is the new "good" because no one has the energy to strive for "great" anymore.

Suddenly Jessy leaned over the table and put her hand on my arm.

"Have you ever thought about a threesome?" Her voice was soft, but her eyes sparkled with a mixture of desire and playfulness.

I, who am used to making decisions based on market analyses and risk assessments, was overwhelmed at that moment. "In my teenage dreams perhaps?" I stammered, trying to hide my embarrassment behind a smile that looked as artificial as the plants in our office building.

Jessy seemed to enjoy my confusion. "Well, well," she said, "and would you rather have another man or another woman with you?"

She raised a finger admonishingly. "Don't answer directly. Really think about it first."

So I did.

Anke, my secretary, the first fleeting idea, was immediately ruled out.

Then, Doro, my wife's best friend. The image of her brown, curly hair and the cheeky twinkle in her eye that she so often shows crept into my mind. A beautiful image of their bodies snuggling together, touching each other. Two naked, beautiful women and me in between...

Although it seems ridiculous, I forced myself to think about another man in our bed.

I could feel my heart beating faster and a blush rising to my face. At first, I rejected the idea out of hand, shaking my head involuntarily and trying to banish the images that were forming in my head without being asked. But there it was, an unexpected excitement spreading through me.

I was embarrassed, deeply so, that the idea of another man touching Jessy, desiring her in a way that had previously only been reserved for me, awakened something in me. Something dark, forbidden and exciting at the same time. I felt weak, overwhelmed by a fantasy that suddenly seemed more vivid than the teenage fantasy with Doro, Jessy's best friend.

The idea of another man caressing Jessy's skin, igniting her passion, while I was there to see her, to hear her... it was a thought that simultaneously repelled and fascinated me. I was torn between wanting to reject it immediately and being curious about what it would feel like to witness her lust being ignited by more than just me.

"So?" asked Jessy, who hadn't taken her eyes off me for a moment. She hadn't noticed how my cheeks had reddened. She knew the answer before I did. I'm sure she did.

I went to bed that night with a mental picture that is too intimate for me to write down here.

January 5

Today has been a strange day, to say the least. I almost feel guilty admitting it, but my thoughts have been anything but focused on work. I can't believe I'm writing this now, but my conversation with Jessy threw me completely off track. I even snuck out of the office early, a behavior that is actually atypical for me.

At home, I fled to the internet in search of porn. And the search terms I typed in... 'threesome', 'mmf', and 'groupsex.' I blush just writing those words.

The content I found was disturbing and drew me even more into this vortex of confusion. I couldn't take my eyes off what I was seeing on the screen: a blonde sucking two cocks at the same time, two men penetrating a brunette from the front and behind at the same time.

I had hoped that my arousal would disappear after a hot shower, but that wasn't the case. I need to find a way to deal with these unexpected and inappropriate feelings. Tomorrow is a new day and I hope I can refocus on what really matters.

January 10

Jessy and I were invited to a business lunch at my company today. We had both dressed up, and I have to say, Jessy looked stunning in her black dress.

The venue was buzzing with conversation, around 30 guests, all in fine evening wear. We were enjoying ourselves, eating, drinking, and chatting without obligation. But then, when we had a moment to ourselves, Jessy picked up on our topic, and I felt myself tense up inside. She wanted to know which of the women present I found attractive. I didn't answer directly, looked helplessly around the room, fidgeted, and when I didn't answer, she pointed to a man further back in the room without a trace of hesitation. I didn't know him.

He was an attractive man in his forties, athletic and full of charisma. And Jessy, with a smile that I couldn't quite interpret, said: "I can imagine that you really have fun in bed with him." I was speechless, embarrassed, and at the same time... excited.

"Come on!" she whispered in my ear. "Who from the party would you take with you?"

And, I still can't believe I said that, but I whispered in her ear, "I think your taste is pretty good."

Jessy is already in bed and asleep while I'm writing this in an agitated state. We were too tired for sex after the long evening today, but I can't shake the idea that we would have taken this man from the party with us. I wonder how big his cock is. Why does that excite me so much? I want to understand.

January 12

For two days, I took a superficial plunge into human psychology, researching, digging, fighting my way through scientific papers to understand where our desires actually come from. Kinks, sexual preferences. They are not just fleeting whims, but deeply rooted in our being, perhaps even shaped by the first years of life.

It is commonly believed that the most innocent moments of our childhood, moments of comfort and closeness, could lay the blueprint for our most intimate desires. A child who has been nurtured at its mother's breast for a long time finds security and contentment there. Later, the theory goes, this child could unconsciously evoke this same feeling as an adult and feel attracted to women with ample breasts. Isn't that fascinating? Frightening?

And I ask myself: What has shaped me?

My mother was a loving soul who looked after the house and the family so selflessly. And my father... he was a man of few words whose passion for his craft was immeasurable, but whose ability to show love seemed limited. For years, I longed in vain for his approval, for a spark of pride in his eyes. But nothing I did ever seemed good enough.

Today I'm in the management of a large company, but in my father's eyes? It's as if I've never achieved anything. No real work, he says. These words burn inside me like an inextinguishable fire of shame.

Did that lead to this dark side of me? That side that makes me feel so ashamed? It's as if the shadows of my childhood are driving me into the arms of a pain that simultaneously triggers despair and lust in me. The fantasy of another man, a 'better' man, flirting with my wife, desiring her... It is an agony that paradoxically excites me. Is it shame that drives me? The shame that turns into lust?

I feel exposed and vulnerable by admitting this. But it's the truth. It's absurd that I never realized this before.

January 15

Jessy and I slept together tonight. But it wasn't like usual.

We had let ourselves fall onto the sofa, the silence of the house around us, soft music playing from the stereo. We snuggled together, our hands found each other, tenderly, almost shyly, as if it was the first time. I could breathe in her scent, that beguiling scent that always drives me crazy.

We caressed each other, slowly, with an intensity that I love so much. We undressed, kissed each other all over and made love on the couch.

And then, while we were making love, in this act of complete fusion, she whispered something in my ear. Her words were like a bolt of lightning that struck my consciousness. "Imagine if he were with us now, the handsome man from the party..."

I can hardly put into words what was going on inside me. My mind exploded into a thousand splinters. Was this what I wanted? Was this what I wanted? The idea alone, like a wildfire eating its way through my thoughts, made me tremble. I couldn't deny that a dark, forbidden part of me had been awakened, a part that cried out for more, for the abyss of lust.

And Jenny..., she knew it, she was playing with me, with my desire, as if I were a puppet in her sensual theater.

It wasn't just my mind that exploded. My crotch also contracted spasmodically, and I poured myself into her, moaning and twitching. Normally, I'm considerate and make sure that she orgasms too, but her words had made me furious and swept away all restraint.

I apologized, gasping, while she wiped my cum from her lap with a T-shirt, but she just grinned. "Nice to see how that idea turns you on."

Oh yes, I thought. And how!

January 17

After our sex the day before yesterday, I was aroused all day yesterday too. I was constantly haunted by wild images, but when I told Jessy about my desire in the evening, she just waved me off tiredly. She didn't feel like it. No desire! After all the excitement of yesterday?

Later, we were lying next to each other in bed and my frustration was boiling inside me.

And then, like a virus, the thought crept into my head, unstoppable, exciting. What if she had someone else today? The guy from the party perhaps? Had she been seeing him while I was lying here longing for my wife?

I imagined him touching her, her moaning under his hands, her gripping his cock—and me? I became jealous and aroused at the same time by these images. It was as if I was deceiving myself, but the idea that she was being desired by someone else, that perhaps she was now too exhausted for me because she had given herself to him, excited me. I imagined that the Nameless One had fucked her sore, that they were both soaked and exhausted after their act.

And the absurd thing? I fell asleep. Satisfied. Without having touched each other, without the act of love that usually connects us. I found satisfaction in the idea of an imaginary infidelity.

What the hell is wrong with me?

January 23

I've tried to distract myself, to throw myself into work, but it's as if every spare moment draws me back to that night. To that party, when Jessy was looking unerringly at that other guest.

I'm almost embarrassed to put the words on paper, to express the thoughts that have been bothering me for days. I should actually be concentrating on my job, on coordinating my 80-plus employees.

But I can't.

My thoughts are caught in a whirlpool of desire and shame. It's as if I'm leading two lives. During the day, the manager who makes decisions, who leads and directs. And then, when the darkness of night falls, the secret voyeur of my own marital fantasies. If my employees knew about it... I can imagine the whispering, the hidden glances. Martin, the self-assured boss, the one with both feet firmly on the ground, the... the cheated-on one. The one who stands in the shower and masturbates at the thought of his wife sleeping with another man.

I blush even as I write these words. It feels like a brand, a stigma that I have put on myself. And yet, when I'm alone, with my thoughts and my longing, it's not just the thought of Jessy that excites me. It's the images of her and him, the man from the party, that won't let me go. It's a strange mixture of pain and shame, jealousy and lust that jolts me when I imagine her giving herself to him, enjoying what I can't give her.

I wonder if Jessy senses it, my insecurity, my hidden desire.

I close my eyes and see them in front of me, with him, and I... I can't help but touch myself. It is an act of self-humiliation and at the same time the deepest satisfaction. I'm ashamed of it, and yet it's the only thing that excites me right now.

I have to stop this! The words are becoming too real, the fantasy too tangible. I have to go back to the world where I am Martin, the CEO, not Martin, the...

I can't write the word again. Not now.

January 26

I feel... strange to write these words down, like I'm revealing a secret that's too intimate, too personal to share even with these blank pages. But I have to get rid of it somewhere, otherwise it will tear me apart.

Today I discovered a word, a term that initially seemed appropriate to me: Wifesharing. At first I naively thought that could be it, that could be the key to these confused feelings that grip me when I think of Jessy. About us.

But the more I read, the more uncertain I became: Wifesharing, that sounded like freedom, like a modern relationship at eye level, where the man supports his wife to live her sexuality freely.

But the longer I thought about it, the greater my doubts became: because that's not what bubbles up inside me when I think about my fantasies. It's not the pain, the shame that I feel, that consumes me and excites me at the same time.

And then I stumbled across this other term: cuckold. I hesitate to even write it here, as if it might leap through the paper and brand me. I looked up what it means on Wikipedia, and with a burning blush, I had to realize that it applies unerringly to me. This word, it sums up what I couldn't, or didn't want to, put into words. But the more I think about it, the more I feel a strange connection to this concept. It's as if a dark side of me is awakening, a side I've never acknowledged before. The shame of being humiliated, the jealousy, and the pain of knowing my wife in someone else's arms. I feel it all. And the most disturbing thing is that these thoughts not only torment me, but also awaken an inexplicable lust in me.

I don't know if I could ever dare to talk about it or even experience it. The mere idea makes me blush, and I feel small and vulnerable. It's as if I no longer know myself.

I hastily closed the laptop when Jessy came home. I couldn't look her in the eye, not after what I'd just found out about myself. This realization, it awakens something in me, a strange mixture of lust and hunger that I barely understand. It's as if I've found a dark mirror that shows me what I am, or at least what I could be.

I know I need to find out more about it, but at the same time, I fear what else I might learn about myself. What if I can never go back? What if this door that I have just opened a crack leads to a room from which there is no escape?

I should sleep, but sleep will not come. Not tonight.

January 27

Today was a good day! Jessy came home, and it was like a storm was breaking through our front door. Her embrace was stormy, full of energy. Her lips found mine with an urgency that overwhelmed me. We kissed, and it was as if she wanted to devour me like there was no tomorrow. There is an intensity between us right now that consumes me and at the same time leads me astray. I wonder what's behind Jessy's passion.

She pulled me into the bedroom and I let her, I wanted to let her take the lead. We fell onto the bed, making out, kissing, and I gave myself to her. Quickly we undressed, I covered her body with kisses and sucked on her nipples. She grabbed my hair and pushed me to her lap. I knelt in front of the bed and covered her thighs with kisses, running my tongue over her flawless skin.

Jessy moaned under my touch, clawed at my hair and pulled me towards her. She lay spread-eagled in front of me, her wet lap pulsating with pleasure.

I carefully felt her with the tip of my tongue. I licked over her vulva, tasting the first drops of her lust. She responded to my touch with greedy moans and pulled me closer.

I finally gave her what she asked for, licking and massaging her clitoris with my tongue.

I secretly imagined another man touching her lap, tasting her too and penetrating her with his fingers. The very idea brought me to the brink of orgasm.

Jessy came under my touch, she moaned loudly, wrapped her legs around my torso and pressed my face into her lap. I enjoyed her strength, enjoyed being her servant at that moment.

Finally, she let her legs drop exhausted and released me from her grip. "Give me the vibrator," she instructed me. "Quickly. I want it again."

I obeyed, reached into her bedside table and handed her her white vibrator. "Watch," she murmured and switched the device on. I obediently lay down next to her, my eyes fixed on her wet, shiny lap, which was now being massaged by the vibrator. She energetically inserted it inside her, pulled it out again and massaged her clitoris. Then the game was repeated while Jessy breathed more and more frantically. I regretted that the vibrator was made of white plastic. How intense this moment would have felt if it had been modeled on a real penis. I felt a dull ache in my testicles as I imagined it.

"I know what you're thinking about," Jessy moaned and pushed the vibrator deep into her lap. "Admit it."

I remained silent, just stroking her legs.

"Admit that you're imagining a different cock, Martin."

"Yes," I whispered in shame. "Yes."

She moaned loudly, grabbed my cock with her free hand and then it was all over for me: I squirted on her arm and her naked body and at the same time she squirmed and groaned under the vibrations of her toy.

I had orgasmed before we had slept together.

February 1

Jessy and I had an interesting conversation this evening. If she wasn't my wife, I'd probably call it a kind of reflective conversation about the last few weeks.

"Martin, you've been feeling better lately, haven't you? You seem so full of energy," she said as we sat at the dining table. Her eyes were fixed on me, penetrating, as if they could read my every thought.

'Yes, that's true,' I admitted. I felt the shame rising inside me, a hot wave that colored my cheek. I couldn't tell her what was really going on inside me. It would have been too embarrassing.

But my wife knows me too well.

"You like that I'm a little more dominant," she said. My heart pounded hard against my chest, and I nodded sheepishly, a silent confession of my hidden desires.

"I always have to be the boss at work, Jessy. They're always asking me for advice, putting responsibility on me..." My voice broke off. "At home, especially in bed, giving up that control feels so... liberating."

Jessy looked at me, her expression inscrutable. "How much do you need this, Martin?" Her voice was gentle, but there was a power in her directness that made me tremble. I blushed, a deep, dark red that was answer enough.

She nodded, a satisfied smile playing around her lips. "Anything that makes you happy makes me happy," she said, and I felt these words wrap themselves around my heart, encouraging and frightening it at the same time. Was that an announcement? A promise? I couldn't tell, and yet I felt strangely expectant, as if we were standing on the threshold of a new world, our own dystopia, where the rules I knew so well no longer applied.

February 4

It is now 11:37 pm. Jessy has gone out with Doro. I watched her getting ready in front of the mirror, highlighting her lips with that scarlet lipstick that brings out her sensual side so perfectly. How she did her hair and slipped into a dress. It's crazy, but the sight of her getting dressed up for the night awakens something in me, a strange mixture of pride and unease. And of course she noticed me watching her.

"What do you think, hm?" she had asked smugly.

"I want you to enjoy the evening," I said, my voice trembling slightly with this dark anticipation. "Feel free, really." Her smile was deep, penetrating, and it was as if she knew exactly what thoughts were haunting my mind.

Now that she's gone, I feel like a prisoner of my own fantasies. I imagine her standing in the bar, the light playing around her silhouette and the men's eyes lingering on her. Her curves, her bottom.

I can't stop staring at my cell phone, waiting for a message from her, a sign of life that tells me she's thinking of me, while she's ensnared by the gaze of others. I've had a hot shower, I've had to satisfy myself twice in a row, but the heat of the water is nothing compared to the heat blazing inside me.

She won't be back until two o'clock in the morning, she said. But me? I'm sure no sleep will find me until I hear the sound of her keys on the door. And even then I'll wonder if strange hands have touched my wife's body, strange lips have explored her mouth.

February 6

"In future, you will only sleep with me with a condom."

Jessy and I were sitting together on the sofa, the TV had long since become nothing more than a flickering background noise. Her voice was calm but firm as she spoke the words that wrapped themselves around my heart like a vice.

"Martin, I love you very much," she said, and I couldn't interpret the look in her eyes, "but the last few times weren't satisfactory for me."

I could feel my face getting hot, the shame rising inside me. I wanted to protest, wanted to explain, but she continued. "So we'll try condoms. That might give you a little more time." Her suggestion hit me like a blow.

So there he was, the self-assured boss, unable to satisfy his wife because he cummed too quickly.

And condoms? I wanted to protest, but hadn't I just asked for their dominance a few days ago?

But before I could come up with a suitable answer, she continued. "If that doesn't help, Martin... there are also condoms with anesthetic gel, then you wouldn't feel anything at all."

I couldn't speak. The idea of not feeling anything down there, of being completely under her control, was horribly humiliating, and aroused me in a way I didn't understand.

I nodded silently, and Jessy smiled the way a teacher smiles when a student gives the right answer.

She reached behind her and suddenly held a condom in her hand.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" she giggled. "We'll have to practise that first."

I was too perplexed to react.

"Come on, get undressed. I want you to put it on." Her eyes rested on me with a mixture of sternness and a kind of affection that I couldn't quite interpret.

At first I thought she was joking and hesitated, but when she just raised her eyebrows sternly, I stood up and pulled down my pants while she watched. I couldn't take my eyes off her, again it reminded me of a teacher waiting for her pupil to complete the task assigned to him.

I reached for the condom with trembling hands. My heart was beating so loudly that I thought it would jump out of my chest at any moment. I opened the package and there it was again, that feeling of insecurity. I carefully slipped the condom over my half-erect penis. I was embarrassed that it wasn't even standing there in all its glory.

I stood half-naked in front of my wife, at the mercy of her scrutinizing gaze.

"Very good, Martin," Jessy said in a voice that simultaneously sent shivers down my spine and ignited a warm feeling in my stomach. I bowed my head, ashamed of my submissiveness and yet somehow proud to be praised by her.

She grabbed my penis with one hand, lifted it up, swiveled it left and right like a materials tester from my company. "You're not quite ready today, are you?"

She effortlessly pulled the condom off my penis. "Not that we need to buy a size smaller."

When Jessy slept next to me later, I secretly pleasured myself next to her in bed. I had never been so humiliated and excited at the same time.

February 9

Phew! I've read through the entries in my diary so far: I don't know if this is what our company doctor had in mind when he asked me to keep a diary at the end of last year. Has my anxiety increased or decreased?

I imagine I'm feeling better. I'm bursting with energy, have unbridled lust and have never felt so good. I masturbate three to four times a week and still remain strangely hungry and unsatisfied.

But this diary... I have to find a place to hide it so that nobody finds it. Imagine my wife reading my thoughts. Unthinkable!

February 13

I can't help but think about the last few weeks, about the changes in my life that are dragging me deeper and deeper into a sea of uncertainty.

I spent hours researching on the internet to understand what was happening to me, what was happening to us. I researched 'cuckolding' longer and more intensively. A word that is now part of my life, a label that sticks to me like a shadow that I can't shake off.

I found out that there are different gradations. C1, C2, C3... Categories that are supposed to define what the followers of this kink experience. A plethora of forums, video snippets and photos flooded my mind like a massive tide. Where in the mass of images of men and women fucking do I find myself?

I keep thinking about the fact that during the day I am a manager, someone who makes decisions, who bears responsibility, and yet... At home, in bed, I dream of a completely different role.

The C1 category describes men who are sexually active, a part of their wife's sex life. They enjoy watching, as is the case with wifesharing, but they enjoy humiliation and become more and more of a spectator, a marginal figure in their own bed. I ask myself whether I really want that, whether I could bear it.

And then there is C2. You become a servant. The pleasure of the woman is the sole focus of pleasure. Sex deprivation. A 'female lead relationship'. The idea that I'm no longer allowed to participate, that I have to watch her, that I'm kept chaste at times, it's humiliating and yet... why does it also feel right in a twisted way?

The fear of C3 paralyzes me. I read about giving up my own masculinity completely and only being a pleasure slave for my wife and lover, the so-called bull. Quite a few users wrote on the internet that they had given up their role as a man to such an extent that they would happily be taken from behind themselves. Others dreamed of having their wife impregnated by another man. The thought of losing all rights, of watching my Jessy fly off on vacation with her lover...

No, that must not be my future. I cannot and will not allow it. And yet, when I listen deep inside myself, there is this voice that whispers: "What if this is your destiny?"

I am torn.

Where does this longing for pain and shame come from?

I am a man who is successful in the business world, who makes decisions, who leads. But at home? At home, I'm lost, insecure, weak. I don't know how to deal with it, how to regain control, or if I even want to.

What will become of me?

What will happen to the love I feel for my wife? What will become of the husband Martin, the manager Martin, the... Cuckold Martin?

February 16

This morning, Jessy pushed me against the worktop in the kitchen and opened my pants. Without a word, she pulled down my pants and drink and knelt on the floor in front of me. Then she reached for my penis, which was so surprised I was slow to erect. Her fingers encircled the shaft, she gently pushed back my foreskin and looked at the glans. She slowly brought my penis to her mouth. Her lips opened sensually as she touched the tip with her tongue. She closed her eyes and let the glans circle in her mouth, exploring every vein and every furrow. The moist warmth of her mouth enveloped my cock as she lovingly caressed it. Jessy's tongue glided over the shaft as if she wanted to capture every inch, every nuance. Her expression reflected pure lust as she took in the drop of pleasure.

I moaned softly and grabbed her hair. I had rarely enjoyed oral sex before.

"I want more," Jessy breathed. "Much more."

She slowly let my cock slip out of her mouth and a shiny thread of saliva connected her lips to the glans for a moment. She licked her lips sensually and took me deep inside her again.

I felt a pulling sensation in my abdomen, my penis pulsated but Jessy didn't release me. She sucked on me intensely and didn't let go even when I was gasping as I approached an orgasm. She clawed at my bottom, pulled me closer to her and I squirted my hot semen into her mouth.

Panting and with weak knees, I leaned against the worktop in the kitchen.

"If I have to taste your sperm," Jessy said and stood up. She looked at me with a cool gaze. "It's only fair if you have to."

She grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me in for an intense kiss. I felt the warm, salty taste on her tongue and it took a lot of effort not to pull away. But Jessy didn't give me a chance, slipping her cum-soaked tongue into my mouth and forcing me to taste my own juice.

Her dominance excited me so much that I could feel my blood flowing back into my penis. I would have loved to come again straight away.

"That was nice," she said and released me from her grip.

February 19

Tonight, after an endless day of meetings and decisions at work, I came home to find Jessy waiting for me with dinner. As we ate, she suddenly started one of those reflective conversations that I love so much about her. Her gaze was so penetrating, as if she wanted to look into the depths of my soul.

"Martin, I want to know how you really feel," she said in that soft voice that I had fallen in love with over fifteen years ago.

I hesitated, my insecurity eating away at me. "Jessy, the last few times have been... incredible," I confessed, feeling my cheeks grow hot. "The one with the condom in the living room, the game of control, and then in the kitchen, it was... I can't even describe it."

She nodded, smiled, and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "You can say 'stop' at any time, Martin. You know that, don't you? I love yo,u and I don't want you to do anything against your will."

Her words were so full of love and care that they touched me deeply. There was that sense of security, that trust that I had longed for since I was a child. Here was someone who didn't judge me but accepted me. Unconditionally.

"I don't want to stop, Jessy," I whispered, my stomach tingling. "I want more, I just... I just don't know where the limit is."

She took my hand, her fingers intertwined with mine. I longed to give myself completely to her, to lose myself in her presence. But where would that end? Where were my boundaries? Where were hers?

"I love you so much," I said, my voice shaking. "I trust you with... everything. Lead me wherever you want, but please, don't let me get lost."

She pulled me into her arms and I felt all my insecurities dissolve for a moment in her embrace. "I won't lose you. I won't lose us. We're on this journey together."