Rocktober Day 1

It started out innocently enough. A three month bout of some plague last spring had me coughing my guts out (literally) and was not conductive to sexy times. My mom reacted badly to medication and ended up in the hospital. Multiple week long trips to help care for both parents and deal with doctors, nurses and 24 hour care kept me from our bed too many nights. Even when I returned home, I was consumed by phone calls with my parents, siblings, and nursing homes. Throw in three kids, a crazy schedule, and work and it’s obvious why sex moved farther and farther down the list of priorities.

After a while, I stopped thinking about sex at all. I’d ask TN if we could just cuddle in bed instead. I still needed the skin-on-skin contact (we sleep naked) but it was for comfort and security, not a turn on. I’d lay my head on his chest or shoulder, he’d run his fingers over my back and ass and I’d fall asleep, exhausted mentally and physically.

I realized last week that we’d even stopped snogging. We still had the predictable perfunctory kisses, but I couldn’t remember the last time a kiss had stolen my breath and left my knees weak.

We’ve been down this road before. This new exhaustion is not unlike mothering babies and small children. Everyone needing a piece of me, no time for self-care, burning the candle at both ends. It becomes a sort of survival mode and only the most urgent needs are tended to.

By mid-September, not only did I not care we were barely having sex, I started actively avoiding it. Just like when the kids were small, I’d claim (truthfully) that I was too tired or I’d fall asleep (or pretend to) before he’d come to bed. When we would lay in bed together, I’d be mentally begging his touches to not go to far, for him to not make any move so I wouldn’t have to rebuff him.

It’s somewhat shocking to me how easy it was to fall back to this state. When I had my reawakening three years ago, I swore we’d never get back to this point. Yet here I was hovering on the precipice and part of me was hoping I could just fall into the abyss and not think about our sex life once again.

When we first clawed our way out of the void, TN couldn’t/wouldn’t keep up. Some was purely a mechanical issue, which was an easy fix once sex was more regular. More importantly, I also needed to earn his trust back and prove that my change wasn’t just a flash in the pan, but truly permanent. I did and things were on a steady, upward path. However, the process of basically starting over (for him) was slow, and I’m nothing if not impatient. A kinky friend I met even before Twitter recommended I track our sexual exploits so that when my brain started freaking out about another massive dry spell, I could see that in reality it had only been a few days. I’ve continued that tracking the past three years. Well, I did until the summer, when it became just too depressing to even open the file and and see the long list of ticks in the Nothing column.

If I dig deeper into those feelings, I’m certain a lot of it was guilt. It was the same way back in the dark days. My mind would suppress just how long I’d been avoiding any sexual contact with TN so that I could avoid feeling guilty for rebuking him yet again. Out of sight, out of mind was never so true.

Last week Andy from Ruffled Sheets started talking about a month long chastity celebration he’s calling Locktober. Chastity is not something TN is remotely interested so I knew we couldn’t do that, although I did suggest it. As expected, he laughed that off. However, he was more enthusiastic about my next suggestion. Since we had spent the month of September chaste, albeit without a cage, I suggested a full month of at least one orgasm every day. Happily, TN agreed. We didn’t specify who gets the orgasm, but odds are on a day where we’re both too tired, I’ll be the one to take one for the team. I’m calling it Rocktober.

We discussed this on Saturday morning and began our streak on Sunday night. It’s amazing how just talking about it and making a plan has changed my thinking. We kicked off Rocktober on Sunday night and it was a-fucking-mazing. Ten orgasms and a thorough fucking later I was in that post-coital haze of happy hormones wondering why I always forget just good it feels. I have no real answer to that other than perhaps Newton’s First Law applies to more than just physics.

I know this isn’t some huge revelation and that it does indeed take work to maintain a happy, healthy sexual relationship with a partner. I also know I’m not the only one out there who struggles like this. I’m making no promises to post every day about the transformation in my thinking and my actions, but I have good intentions to write and reflect about how my life and attitude change during our little challenge. I hope that sharing some of my experiences will help my friends out there who know what it’s like.



I Want

Yesterday I was chatting with someone I like and respect a lot. After awhile, he asked me what should have been a simple question, but we all know it’s never that simple. Well, not for me anyway.

“What do you want?” 

I want his hands in my hair pulling me into his kiss.

I want to take control of his cock and make it mine.

I want him to strip off my clothes and throw me on the bed.

I want to sit on his face and pleasure myself.  

I want his hand gripping the back of my neck, moving me where he wants me, showing me he’s in charge.

I want to use him and be done with him. 

I want him to stop thinking and start using me as he wishes.

I want to ride his cock till I soak him and then leave him there twitching for release. 

I want his hands on my throat, squeezing just hard enough to constrict a bit of air.

I want to make him beg. 

I want him to tease me so long that I cry while I beg to come.

I want to hurt him. 

I want him to hurt me.

I want to consume him.

I want him to consume me.

I want him to know all of this. 

I want him to want it too. 


Postlude of Sorts

Two weeks ago I wrote about a snippet of conversation that I knew would lead to a fight with TN. It’s a fight that was desperately overdue. It’s also a ridiculous way to get your spouse to communicate with you, but that’s how we roll at the House of Nerds.

If you look up stiff upper lip in the dictionary, you’ll see a photo of TN. He has that British stoicism down to a science. That’s not to say he’s not emotional. His humor is vast, witty, intelligent and at times biting. He loves deeply and isn’t afraid to show it. He’s empathic and sensitive and a gentle soul. But when he’s unhappy about something, he buries that so deep it takes dynamite to dig deep enough to get to it. He doesn’t hide it all that well. He becomes sullen, withdrawn, and generally crabby. Normally I wouldn’t share something like this, but he completely owns this side of himself so I don’t feel like I’m speaking badly of him.

The only way I can crack the wall he puts up is to pick a fight. It can’t just be any fight and it doesn’t happen instantly. It has to be snide comments and frustrations aired over a few days so he knows I’m annoyed. It has to start with him thinking I’m the one in the wrong, I’m the one being bitchy.

I’m sure you’re thinking why don’t I just ask him what’s wrong when I see it happening. Trust me, I try. Sometimes he starts talking, but then he gets upset, adds another row of bricks to the wall and says, “I can’t talk about this right now.” It’s not that he doesn’t want to, he actually believes he can’t.

So I play along with this dysfunctional game. I get annoyed by his behavior. I start making snide comments. After a couple of days, I finally say something that breaches the wall and he explodes. I don’t even cry anymore when it happens. I used to get so upset by the things he’d say in anger. My heart would hurt and tears would burn my cheeks.

Not anymore.

Since we had the reset to our marriage and sex life two years ago, we’ve not really had one of these huge, days long fights. Some of that is because we have just gotten along better. Not to toot my own horn, but a large part is because I have made a conscious effort to not hold onto annoyances and anger. It’s not always easy, but I have managed to change my thinking most of the time. The fact that I can and do choose happiness over other emotions tells me that my own mental health is well managed right now. Another first for me.

Perhaps that’s why while he responded in anger, saying words that in the past would have angered me and cut me to the core, I was able to just sit, listen and watch him. As he threw his barbs, none penetrated my heart and I realized that I am stronger than I knew.

The end result of the fight was good. He’s addressing his unmanaged anxiety with his doctor. New medication is slowly starting to work. He’s making an effort to be more open and willing to talk. It’s an ongoing process and I am not naivé enough to think this will never happen again, but I am confident that we will work through the usual marriage issues.

Perhaps even more important than all of that, this realization of my own strength has been comforting and empowering in ways I never expected. That’s going to come in handy when we finally start facing the differences in our sex drives and comfort with kink.

Stay tuned.




I am trying to write about where things stand with TN and having a helluva time getting it out. No one cares about the minutiae and I don’t need to air ALL of our dirty laundry. And yet it’s difficult telling the story without some of it.

For now I’ll just say that things are slowly, and I mean s l o w l y, improving. He’s followed through with something that has been a sticking point for a long time so in general our relationship is improving. Our sex life is another story, but I’m hopeful that it will follow. We essentially had two days of arguing and fighting over a week ago and still haven’t had make-up sex. So yeah, S L O W.


Prelude to a Conversation

TN gets out of bed at 10 and enters kitchen. 

TN: (Loudly to drown out the news on TV that NDG is watching.) I am so sick of this election. (For approximately the 273rd time this week.)

NDG: I know you are.

TN: I won’t say it again.

NDG: I just don’t know how to respond to that.

TN: I seem to be pissing you off all the time lately.

NDG: Yeah, kind of.


* * * TO BE CONTINUED * * *

Obviously that was my subconscious picking a fight because it means we will eventually be forced to have an argument and then a conversation. In the bad old days, the only way I could get him to talk about hard stuff was to pick a fight. He’d stew over it for awhile and then would sit down and talk to me about the real issue. I don’t think I realized until I typed that just how far back we have slipped. Even worse, I’m now realizing how much I’ve been letting stupid annoyances fester like I used to do. For the past two years, I was able to get over them by choosing to ignore and focus on the positives. I chose to be happy. I have a knot in my stomach because this Sunday morning epiphany is that he’s not the only one who has regressed. This shit has been festering in me. I’m not proud of that.

Intellectually, I know that acknowledging there’s a problem is the first step to repairing it. Emotionally, I’m bruised and hurt and defensive and want to hide from all of it.

So yeah. Happy fucking Sunday to me.




Here We Go Again

As I look back at my writing over the past 18 months, I can see that I tend to write more when I’m feeling down about life, relationships, sex. (I’m counting the numerous posts that I never publish in this.) When things are going well, I tend to not even think about sitting down to capture my feelings. I guess that’s good because I’m fully in the moment enjoying life. The downside is that the blog has started to feel like the place I go to whine or complain. A friend has told me that even the sad posts have an underlying optimism, which I do think is true, but I never really celebrate the good times here.

I posted a few days ago that I’m struggling with balance, but in hindsight I think might be the wrong word. Yes, life is hectic and I’ve overcommitted myself this fall. I like to be busy; I like to feel like I’m making a difference in the world. I don’t get paid for the things I love to do, but that doesn’t matter because I see the fruits of my labor in other ways. As a grown up, as a mentor, hell, even as a parent, I am incredibly satisfied right now. Everything else is falling apart.


Four years ago I started seeing a therapist. I said it was because my depression was back and I needed help to get it under control again. That was definitely true, but I had another motive. I went so that I could find the courage to leave TN. We had just been going through the motions of a marriage for quite awhile. Intimacy was all but gone. We were living like roommates. He didn’t contribute to the partnership around the house so I didn’t contribute in the bedroom. Despite the issues, it wasn’t all bad. We liked each other a lot and we had good times as a family. We came together as we dealt with our son’s illness and supported each other through the scary times. We were excellent friends, but there wasn’t much there in the way of a marriage.

Somewhere during two years of therapy, I realized I didn’t want to leave. I stopped trying to change him and instead worked on changing my reactions to him. It took awhile and my therapist later confided that at the beginning, she didn’t think I’d stay married. Somehow I found what I was looking for so when I ended therapy two years ago, I was once again excited to be married. I was looking forward to growing our relationship. As I’ve written over the last 18 months, we have done that. There have been fits and starts, but we were always moving forward.

I can’t pinpoint when it happened, but sometime over the summer I became complacent. He had already stopped really making an effort to do the hard work required in a happy marriage. I don’t believe it was deliberate on his part. His work has been extremely stressful for several months, our son was in the hospital, and his own anxiety spiraled out of control. It continues to be barely contained most days. He stopped helping around the house, he became more irritable with the kids and with me, he withdrew into his den and his head much of the time. I felt like I had to nag to get him to do the most basic things. Even then they rarely happened and I ended up doing them myself so resentment has set in. Between chest pains and stress headaches, his health has been declining but he stubbornly refuses to seek additional help from his doctor or his psychiatrist. Eventually I stopped trying as well. I stopped managing my expectations and started not caring because caring just hurts too much.

Instead, I’ve filled my life with even more volunteer work. I recognize that it for what it is: a way to feel satisfied and fulfilled. I’m so busy and exhausted these days that I don’t care that he only wants sex once a week. I stopped initiating sex months ago because the rejection hurt. My maladaptive coping mechanism is to be so busy that I can use that as the reason for the lack of intimacy in our lives. It’s a stupid trick and my rational brain knows exactly what I’m doing. But it does help quell the feelings of sadness as the minutes and then hours tick by as I lie alone in bed at night, naked, waiting for him to join me.

I can separate myself from the situation and look at it as an outsider. I know what I would tell a friend to do and yet I don’t do it myself. I know that nothing will change without talking about it, yet I keep quiet. I make half-hearted attempts, lots of them actually, but always hold back what I really want to say, what I need to say. I don’t want to add to his stress. I don’t want to hurt him. I know how he reacts to hard stuff when he’s in this state of mind. He doesn’t hear that WE have a problem. He hears that it’s all his fault and then he gets depressed on top of anxious. That kicks in my nurturing mode so I end up comforting him and saying it’s OK just to make him feel better while I’m suppressing my own emotions. If it were anyone else, I would say that he’s a master manipulator, but I don’t believe that he is. His feelings are genuine and there is no way he would deliberately emotionally abuse me like that, but I end up feeling that way regardless.

So here I sit in this weird place. On the outside, I look busy and dedicated and happy about the chaos that is my life. It’s not a total lie. I do love that part of my life. I just wish it didn’t feel so out of whack with the rest of my life.



I’ve spent a good portion of the day writing, trying to sort out feelings and problems and ways to cope. All I’ve really managed to do is make myself even more depressed about the state of some parts of my life. Instead of posting that dirty laundry for the few people who still bother checking this blog, I’m posing some questions.

How do you balance the various roles of your life? Spouse, friend, daughter, professional, parent, breadwinner. Whatever it is you do, how do you make it all click? What do you do when it’s not? Do you even think it’s possible to maintain them all at a level that sustains you?

For all of the navel-gazing I’ve done today, the only thing I’ve realized is that I will never be satisfied. I will never find that balance I crave. And I don’t know whether to be happy I finally realized that or bawl my eyes out that it’s never going to happen.

Insert Relevant Title Here

Subtitle: My brain is tired and that’s the best I can come up with. 

I can’t even tell you how many thousands of words I’ve written over the past two weeks. It’s been a nearly daily struggle to express the thoughts and feelings rioting in my head in any coherent form. Today feels like it’s the day to finally get them out.

Two weeks ago yesterday, TN and I checked our son into a day into a day program at a local hospital for treatment of depression and anxiety. It’s been coming for awhile but we were hoping that therapy would help. Under advisement from his therapist, we finally made the decision to get him more intensive help. We could see the light in eyes get dimmer and dimmer and we knew couldn’t wait any longer. Over the past two weeks, he has spent 11 days on a locked ward doing five hours of group and individual therapy, learning coping skills, improving his communication skills, and identifying his triggers. He’s done art therapy and practiced mindfulness. He’s talked, he’s listened and he’s done the work they’ve required of him at home.

He’s also been exposed to kids who have attempted suicide, who have scars from cutting (so much cutting!) and all sorts of things you never want your 10 year old to know about let alone hear and see first hand. In a sadly perverse way, those experiences have been beneficial for him. When he was at his lowest and believed his life could never be better, he still didn’t consider suicide or cutting. He now realizes that as low as he felt, there are others who have experienced far worse. He’s always been a very empathic kid and that jolt seemed to help him realize that his life wasn’t so bad after all.

TN and I deal with stressors very differently, so of course I was worried how this would affect our relationship. We’ve been down a similar road with our older son and we clashed often because of our different styles. Maybe clash is the wrong word. There were definitely arguments about stupid stuff, but mostly we just existed together. We held hands and cried on each other’s shoulders, but there was no intimacy. We were a united front to our child showing him that we would do anything we could to help him, but the distance between us was alarming. Our bedroom was completely dead during this time and I don’t remember, but I suspect we didn’t have sex for close to a year.

On the drive to pick up our son at the end of his first day, we were quiet for most of it. And then I whispered that I was worried we wouldn’t survive another period like that the last one. He promised that this time wouldn’t be the same. That we were stronger now. That we know what we’re dealing with. That we’re different people in a different place.


I was leery after the way he had spent the day. I know that him shutting down for a few hours is how is overactive brain copes. I also know that after that happens repeatedly, I get resentful. I start to feel like I have to support him so much that I cannot deal with my own grief and worry. (He never asks for that, but my way of coping with stress is to take charge, find solutions, work, work, work to the detriment of my own emotional well being.) Obviously neither of our methods are stellar, but we are who we are. My son’s descent into depression and the ensuing angry behavior that resulted have been hard to handle, but overall I did a better job coping with it this time. (Barring an embarrassingly long and obnoxious display of anger in a Twitter exchange a few weeks ago.)

I’d love to report that things were completely different this time and in some ways they were. We are definitely stronger as a couple now. We didn’t have nearly as many petty arguments and the few we had fizzled out without lingering anger and resentment. We do know what we’re dealing with and have maintained a more optimistic and realistic outlook. And yet, things are the sadly the same. He withdraws into his mind and video games too much, leaving me feeling alone and like I’m carrying the weight of the world. I’ve buried a lot of my feelings about the whole situation and only cried briefly once. I’d like to think that it’s because I’m in such a better place emotionally, but I’m not positive that’s the reason. I’ve had to push him for intimacy and he’s been more than content simply cuddling, which ultimately ends up feeding my own insecurities and anxiety about the state of our relationship.

On the plus side, our son was discharged this afternoon and is quite literally a different kid. The twinkle is back in his eyes. He laughs more. He tells us when something we say or do bothers him. His delightfully wicked, dry sense of humor is back and he’s making all of us laugh again. Having battled my own depression, I know this isn’t the end of it for him. It takes effort every single day to maintain balance. I hate that he will likely deal with this his whole life, but I am optimistic that he has the tools to do that now. We will continue to love him, support him and get him the help he needs.

Despite how thrilled I am that the crisis is past and how well Son2 is doing, there’s a part of me that’s more anxious now. I don’t like how easily we reverted to old (bad) habits. I am worried that we’ve lost a lot of ground and that it will take a long time to regain it. I’m scared that we’ve become complacent about intimacy and this has become our new normal. I’m even more scared that TN thinks that’s OK.

A friend once told me that even when my posts are about difficult topics, he can always see my inherent optimism in them. (I tend to see myself as more pragmatic, but there’s definitely a new level of optimism that has emerged the past couple of years.) Since right now my only optimism is for my son, I guess it’s time to fake it till I make it. I don’t really have another choice because I’m not giving up on TN and this life we’ve been rebuilding.

But tonight? Tonight I’m going to pour a glass of wine, take a bubble bath and cry all the tears I’ve been holding inside for the past few weeks. Tomorrow I’ll put on a smile and start again.




Elust #83

Elust 83 Header Holden and Camille
Photo courtesy of Holden and Camille

Welcome to Elust #83

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #84 Start with the rules, come back July 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!


~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

London Crows and London Kisses

I am Her. She is Me.

You Say You Want to Cook for Me


~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Unusual Liaison

Community. Respect. Friendship. Fucking.

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Dirty Little Secrets

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!



You Know

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

My Bed
Secular Submission
My therapy
from “hard limit” to “want”
We Measure the Nostalgia
The Cure and The Cause


Smut in the 6ix – Porn Conference & Gala

Erotic Fiction

Typing Errors
La Belle Dame
Sex and chocolate
The Imprisoned of HIM-HER-THEM
The Gift
Becca’s Story
Rope and Fixtures
As salty as his cum…
Dominating the Doctor

Erotic Non-Fiction

Teen Sex in Woolly Tights with 60s Beat Music
Dear Sadist: Your Cruelty Is Your Love
A male dom, the straight girl and the bi girl
Owned, Leashed, & Beaten
Jan 2015 Owned & Collared by Mistress Claire
Rinse The Days Filth Away
Power On
Keeping tally

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Formative Kink Epic Fail: “Buck Rogers”

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

If it was easy anyone could do it
What’s a service submissive?
Prescient Words

Writing About Writing

What if aspirational meant something else?


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I am Her. She is Me.

I never intended to write about my personal life on a public blog. I’ve mentioned before that I created a Twitter account so that I could comment on blogs that I read and follow the authors on Twitter. Eventually I started tweeting as well and suddenly people were following me back. They became more than just a vague writer of words I enjoyed, they became real people. Along the way I met lots of people superficially, totally open about who they are, others who keep their identity secret from everyone.

I’ve always journaled as a way to work through my thoughts and emotions. (The ennui from my college journals makes me laugh now.) At this point, I can’t remember the impetus that finally pushed me to start making some of my writing public. Overall it’s been very positive for me. It’s rewarding to hear that my experiences resonate with people for whatever reason. It’s good for the ego to read comments. I’ve made some connections with people and even call some of them friends now.

Through all of this, I’ve remained anonymous to all but a handful of people. TN is unaware of my alter ego and that has been weighing heavily on me, which is actually why I have only posted sporadically since January. When I first started the blog, I didn’t feel guilty about it at all. It was an outlet for me and me alone. I didn’t and still don’t view it as a bad thing. He and I are independent people and have both had a web presence for a long time. We both have online friendships from the multiple groups we participate in and they are every bit as real as the friends we see in the flesh.

I know opinions are varied about whether it’s healthy to maintain a secret identify in a marriage. (Go ahead, you can tell me what you think.) Those opinions are all valid, but every relationship is unique and I don’t think it’s that clear cut whether it’s good or bad. I don’t think I’m rationalizing it. Maybe I’m just good at seeing shades of grey . (There are very few things I see as black and white.) In my own case, NDG was an outlet when I needed it. It was a source of fun and friendship that I couldn’t get from my real life friends. It was a place to test my voice, to gain the courage and strength to reveal my true self to TN. It’s the place where I finally got the courage to talk about the abuse, to own what it did to me, to take back the control that it held over me.

And yet, NDG has been weighing heavily on me. My writing is honest and real. I don’t write fiction on here. I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve written, but I have been wondering how TN would react if he knew. He’s a very private person so I’m sure that he would be bothered by me sharing so much of our personal life. On the other hand, he’s also very rational and would (hopefully) recognize that I have been very careful to protect our identities so there’s really no way anyone could know unless I told them.

During a conversation with a friend yesterday I said that there’s a part of me that just wants to shut it all down and move on. Sometimes Twitter is just too much, too fake, too perfect, too much drama, too many unsolicited dick pics. I haven’t pulled the plug because I do see the positives that come from it as well. It’s been great exposure to perspectives that have helped me accept myself and my desires. The sex positive community has been tremendous for my own self esteem and identity. I know that writing and sharing about my own childhood abuse has had a profound impact on my recovery. I’ve established some real friendships with real people that I never would have encountered otherwise.

In short, the lines between these online friends and those in real life are getting blurrier again and instead of freaking out about it this time, I kind of want to just step out from behind the veil and be me. Not to all of Twitter, OMG, no, but to the people I truly admire and respect and trust.


I wrote the above yesterday. Like I said, it’s something that’s been weighing on me and ultimately, I think this dual identity has been contributed to the writer’s block that has plagued me for months. As our relationship has improved, it’s been harder to write. In some ways, NDG was created as an outlet for my frustrations. I’m not the same person I was a year ago and I struggle with what to write. (I’m so NOT a sex writer. I try, but it all ends up reading like a user’s manual. Insert Tab A into Slot B. Blech.)

I didn’t realize just how much it was weighing me down until this morning when I read a DM from someone I greatly admire. He has given me good advice, he’s been supportive and encouraging and I absolutely consider him to be a friend. As I read his message, I burst into tears and had a big, ugly cry. Not because I was sad or hurt, but because he made me view my alter ego situation in a slightly different perspective and that made me realize just how great the burden has become.

Just like yesterday, I still say that I have no regrets for creating NDG or for anything I’ve posted on here or Twitter. TN and I have made so much progress in our relationship and NDG absolutely deserves some credit for that. Without this outlet, I doubt that we’d be where we are or that I would feel so healed.

I am Nerdy Dirty Girl and she is me. I’ve finally realized that she’s not really an alter ego, she’s an extension of myself.

Perhaps it’s time to share that with TN.