Wonderful Life With My Gorgeous Hotwife (revisited)

[john jasson]

I'm eating this all up, it's the most wonderful starter, main course and desert all in one, absolutely delicious. How do I become a fully paid certified member of the sherrie red fan club? That's my new ambition in life.

ChrisLydi

Happy Sunday, Chrislydi. To test your gastronomic metaphor to its limits, we are actually just nibbling the starter course at the moment; a little mixed fruit served with some tasty melon slices, perhaps, that are whetting our appetites for tastier morsels to follow.

The next course is much more substantial, and the odd thing is that Sherrie doesn’t appear to exercise free will in selecting this one. It’s something that she normally wouldn’t ever choose at all, in fact she would steer well clear of anything so substantial and bitter tasting on the menu. It almost seems to choose her and draw her in. It is heavy going for me just observing the effect on my sunny, bubbly sweetheart as she plows into it. However, she is soon comprehensively seduced by it, by him, shocked to find herself intoxicated by the crude taste and texture to the extent that she can’t resist bingeing to a dangerous extent, until it seems almost as though the fare has been spiked with drugs.

Watching on virtually powerless, I am entranced at her gorging herself on this diet of depravity and wondering when or if she might stop before she makes herself sick or does herself some permanent harm driven by her constant craving for him. She, of course, doesn’t see the dangers, and simply can’t get enough. She just wants more. We're soon heading into very dark corners of the restaurant.

[Chrislydi]

I'm eating this all up, it's the most wonderful starter, main course and desert all in one, absolutely delicious. How do I become a fully paid certified member of the sherrie red fan club? That's my new ambition in life.

ChrisLydi

Happy Sunday, Chrislydi. To test your gastronomic metaphor to its limits, we are actually just nibbling the starter course at the moment; a little mixed fruit served with some tasty melon slices, perhaps, that are whetting our appetites for tastier morsels to follow.

The next course is much more substantial, and the odd thing is that Sherrie doesn’t appear to exercise free will in selecting this one. It’s something that she normally wouldn’t ever choose at all, in fact she would steer well clear of anything so substantial and bitter tasting on the menu. It almost seems to choose her and draw her in. It is heavy going for me just observing the effect on my sunny, bubbly sweetheart as she plows into it. However, she is soon comprehensively seduced by it, by him, shocked to find herself intoxicated by the crude taste and texture to the extent that she can’t resist bingeing to a dangerous extent, until it seems almost as though the fare has been spiked with drugs.

Watching on virtually powerless, I am entranced at her gorging herself on this diet of depravity and wondering when or if she might stop before she makes herself sick or does herself some permanent harm driven by her constant craving for him. She, of course, doesn’t see the dangers, and simply can’t get enough. She just wants more. We're soon heading into very dark corners of the restaurant.

My brain has gone into some kind of crazy overload mode, flashing images of Sherrie, her blazing red hair framing her face in a wild halo as she lies submissively on the bed being gloriously ravished are on repeat, my appetite suitably whetted.

I bet she's far from submissive too haha

Had to get in appetite somehow

[john jasson]

I bet she's far from submissive too haha

She's a glorious contradiction. Assertive, intelligent, articulate, feminist without being fundamentalist about it, because she loves men. A formidable negotiator and strategist in business. My equal in every way, in every aspect of our lives.

Submissive? Certainly not in general, but faced with the the right (wrong?) man, she will become enormously, frighteningly, uncontrollably submissive and compliant to his will. I still call it the Damien effect. While she's under the spell, she craves it. It's a primal facet to her being which she cannot understand or explain. It annoys her sometimes, but it enchants me. It's part of the spectrum of the many Sherries that I adore. It would be nice if she were to be a bit submissive to me just now and then........

[Chrislydi]

I bet she's far from submissive too haha

She's a glorious contradiction. Assertive, intelligent, articulate, feminist without being fundamentalist about it, because she loves men. A formidable negotiator and strategist in business. My equal in every way, in every aspect of our lives.

Submissive? Certainly not in general, but faced with the the right (wrong?) man, she will become enormously, frighteningly, uncontrollably submissive and compliant to his will. I still call it the Damien effect. While she's under the spell, she craves it. It's a primal facet to her being which she cannot understand or explain. It annoys her sometimes, but it enchants me. It's part of the spectrum of the many Sherries that I adore. It would be nice if she were to be a bit submissive to me just now and then........

Now I see the significance of thst scene in the pub. It signposted the future as the precedent was set, the red signals were flashing and the precursor played out. The future pre-destined and explosions inevitable.

Have you written an ode to Damian yet or maybe get submissive Sherrie to have a go?

[john jasson]

Now I see the significance of thst scene in the pub. It signposted the future as the precedent was set, the red signals were flashing and the precursor played out. The future pre-destined and explosions inevitable.

Have you written an ode to Damian yet or maybe get submissive Sherrie to have a go?

No. But the funny thing is that despite the fact that he never got his hands on her, the incident in the pub had such a profound effect on me early in our marriage that the very thought of Damien with her is still a hard red line for me. If she had been alone with him that night, I'm sure she would have let him do whatever he wanted, and she'd have lapped it up. He wasn't, he didn't, and even though we've done some heavy duty stuff over the years, I've always been determined that it should stay that way.

The arrangement I have with Sherrie means that we don't have a veto over each other's sex lives, but we do take the other's wishes and advice into account. She knows my feelings about Damien, and she wouldn't go there, but if she was in her devil mood there is always the remote possibility that she could do him just to give me a massive mindfuck. Push comes to shove, I couldn't stop her, and she knows I would still love her afterwards, but I wouldn't be happy about it.

It's entirely hypothetical. He isn't in our orbit anymore, and there is every chance that he's become the type of slob with a beer gut that Sherrie wouldn't touch with a barge pole. Another thought occurs to me, though. What if despite going to seed and looking grotesque, he STILL had that effect on her? Now that would be a bit scary.

[nekkedoutdoors]

Now I see the significance of thst scene in the pub. It signposted the future as the precedent was set, the red signals were flashing and the precursor played out. The future pre-destined and explosions inevitable.

Have you written an ode to Damian yet or maybe get submissive Sherrie to have a go?

No. But the funny thing is that despite the fact that he never got his hands on her, the incident in the pub had such a profound effect on me early in our marriage that the very thought of Damien with her is still a hard red line for me. If she had been alone with him that night, I'm sure she would have let him do whatever he wanted, and she'd have lapped it up. He wasn't, he didn't, and even though we've done some heavy duty stuff over the years, I've always been determined that it should stay that way.

The arrangement I have with Sherrie means that we don't have a veto over each other's sex lives, but we do take the other's wishes and advice into account. She knows my feelings about Damien, and she wouldn't go there, but if she was in her devil mood there is always the remote possibility that she could do him just to give me a massive mindfuck. Push comes to shove, I couldn't stop her, and she knows I would still love her afterwards, but I wouldn't be happy about it.

It's entirely hypothetical. He isn't in our orbit anymore, and there is every chance that he's become the type of slob with a beer gut that Sherrie wouldn't touch with a barge pole. Another thought occurs to me, though. What if despite going to seed and looking grotesque, he STILL had that effect on her? Now that would be a bit scary.

Does kinda makes one wonder doesn't it? Think maybe that at some point over the years Sherrie hasn't done the odd Facebook, instagram search to calm her curiosity. Or perhaps you have, just to add the occasional log to the fire to keep it burning.

[Chrislydi]

It's entirely hypothetical. He isn't in our orbit anymore, and there is every chance that he's become the type of slob with a beer gut that Sherrie wouldn't touch with a barge pole. Another thought occurs to me, though. What if despite going to seed and looking grotesque, he STILL had that effect on her? Now that would be a bit scary.

Xleglover once recommended a story from another author on the Literotica site, and going on the premise if he thinks it's special then it almost certainly is, I gave it a go.

Without giving a full precis there are similarities to the ugly man but fuck him anyway idea because there's something that you need that he has, predictably in this case it's an absolutely gigantic cock, ok that's pretty clichéd stuff but it's like so many of Xleglover's own, the tale sucks you in - no pun intended lol.

I'll have to edit the link as I think they frown on it being another site - I'll just insert a space but just copy and take out space as usual.

I know you don't have lots of time and it's possibly too long to attempt unless you can speed read through, it's in 5 parts each subdivided into sections or chapters - very memorable

This bookmark points to the end of the fourth part so just press on the author's name as it's all he's written and start with part one.

He's actually just added the fifth part and I remember thinking i so wanted it to continue after finishing the fourth, so I'll probably catch up with it again next week, maybe something to read going or coming back from London - beats working

https://
www.

literotica.com/s/ neighbor-chronicles-pt-04?page=10

[john jasson]

I was very kindly invited to a get together by PM for myself and Sherrie. I thought my reply would be worth posting here as it gives a little insight into Sherrie's confused ambiguity towards her sexuality.
===============
A meet up is certainly a stimulating thought, but I am sure that “her indoors” would not be amused if I set up such a celebration of her nefarious activities. Worse, I’d be in jeopardy of her separating me from my testicles as a consequence.

You see, for most of the time she isn’t at all proud of her glorious sexual emancipation and her default is to hide from the reality of it behind the wall of conventionality and reserve she grew up with. She can be a very shy and contrite girl when faced with enormity and extent of her infidelity. Even now she’s capable of a deep blushing session when confronted with the aftermath of how bad she’s just been.

In our case, this is a large part of what makes it irresistible to me, incidentally. The good girl being bad; the exquisite inner struggle between her reluctance and her libido and her inability to quite believe that she is actually doing any of this is a joy for me to behold. Naturally, I revel in egging her on until her arousal finally gets the better of her and only then, overwhelmed by desire, can she go to extremes that will often shock both of us. I suppose an analogy would be a rocket needing to reach escape velocity before it can overcome gravity and reach orbit. All of her adventures happen with her in these states of high excitement.

Reviewing it all in cold blood afterwards over drinks and a hard cock might work for me, but I know that she would prefer the Earth to open up and swallow her.

[Chrislydi]

What an exquisite explanation of the paradox within. I think im falling all the harder for the sexy contradiction that is Sherrie, I'm in love (No pun intended )

[john jasson]

S: There’s one more development.
J: And what’s that?
S: (looking intently at me ready to gauge my reaction): I asked him for his number and I sent him a text. Now we can contact each other any time.

J: Interesting. So what are you going to do with that?

I’m expecting her to come back with a non-committal answer or to say she’s going to do nothing with it, or at least hesitate. She doesn’t. She’s really going for this.

S (confidently): Well first I’m going to text him while I’m relaxing in my bath this afternoon. (No asking me if I think it’s alright this time, I notice.)

Ever since I’ve known Sherrie, she has locked herself away with her candles and aromatic oils for a long soak in the tub each Saturday afternoon. I often joke with her about what she’s doing in there for so long with some of her thicker wax sticks, and she’ll give me one of her coquettish looks.

S: Wouldn’t you like to know!

I decide not to push the ‘texting Paul’ line of questioning any further and just let it lie. It seems to be doing ok without any urging on my part. We turn our attention to drinking the tea she’s made for us and, inevitably, end up fucking in the highly fevered mood we’ve created.

The fucking ends, of course. It always has to eventually. Even wired as we are, we can’t carry on all day, but the heightened sexual buzz of arousal remains around us like the anticipation of a child on Christmas Eve. We know that something is going to happen. It’s understood between us now, but we try to keep a lid of normality on it.

After breakfast, we take ourselves out in the sunshine to our local park which is about 20 minutes’ walk from home. It’s long been one of our favourite spots, and the scene of some of our early courting.

A remnant of an historical woodland, boasting some very tall and ancient trees, it was domesticated in Victorian times, set out with charming arboreal trails, and infused with a gentility and civilisation of its day that even now is highly reminiscent of that age. A quaint café still offers silver service, and cream teas; a boating lake with children and young couples in canoes, kayaks and pedalos that can be hired by the half hour; old ladies sit chatting or even knitting on the heavy wooden benches amidst the lovingly tended flower beds and neatly lawned garden areas. Over the wall in an adjacent field, we notice a cricket match getting under way. It’s a genuine old English oasis and an invigorating antidote to the modern lifestyle. Apart from the changing fashions of dress you might be walking there in any year from about 1850 onward, as a collection of archive photographs on the wall in the café attest.

As we proceed further, passing by the small playground thronged with parents watching their boisterous kids on the swings and vintage ornamental helter-skelter that I well remember riding in awe as a nipper, my mind is swirling around in the atmosphere of the park, around tradition and decorum; around devoted couples and close knit loving families through the ages plying these same pathways. We pass youngsters obviously lost in the earliest days of their love, just as Sherrie and I were 7 or 8 years ago. I’m holding her soft, dainty hand, needing the touch of her, and I look down at her long, shapely legs, perfectly in step beside my own, and I think to myself: What on Earth are we doing? How can I possibly want my perfect woman, my soulmate to do this? Why does she want HIM? It’s an acute turmoil that feels physical in my stomach.

Rounding the end of the boating lake, the ice cream kiosk hoves into view, and Sherrie shakes me from my troubling thoughts by squeezing my hand harder:

S (smiling that familiar loving smile): It’s so hot. I’d love a wafer. Do you want one?

J: Yeah. I don’t mind. Here, I think I have some change.

S: Nah. My treat. (It doesn’t matter who buys because we don’t do separate his and hers finances anyway. Everything we have is ours, and always has been from a couple of weeks after we met. That’s how quickly we knew that we were for life.)

She runs on in front of me; so young, so carefree. Because of the heat that Saturday, she’s in shorts. She’s actually wearing a pair of her running shorts from when she was in her mid teens. She’s very proud of them because they bear the area star badge from when she won the county cross country race at the age of 16 against all comers. At 26 now, with her womanly hips she fills them a lot more snugly than she did 10 years ago, but she’s still in great shape and proud to be able to get into them, and naturally, she looks wonderful in them; a sight for any man to behold. (Yes. She STILL has them today, and yes, she can still get into them.)

This link gives the idea of the appearance of them, but they are genuine running shorts, so not leather.

https://www.shein.co.uk/PU-Leather-Shor ... gLGDvD_BwE


On top she’s displaying her slender bare midriff beneath a boob tube that definitely has its work cut out to contain her breasts.

I watch her rear view in action as she slows down near the kiosk. She really is poetry in motion and, God, she’s so beautiful. Did I mention that? It only heightens my dark thoughts about what the hell we are doing. What would I do if I lost her to another man because of this nonsense? I’d probably kill myself. In this second, I know now with clarity that I can’t do this. I just can’t. I really am chicken shit, just like she said.

Soon enough, she’s purchased the ice creams, and she’s heading back to me with an angelic smile on her face, a few locks of her hair blowing cutely over her eyes as a wisp of the almost non-existent breeze catches her. This innocent vista makes my heart ache with love for her. Her smile and the sparkle in her eyes tell me that she is nothing other than mine.

Then I look down pausing briefly at her jiggling tits, to her legs, to the tight shorts, to her thighs reflecting the bright sunshine. I stare at the tightness of those shorts in her crotch, and it takes my mind to her red hot excited reporting of her misdeeds of only a few hours ago in those similarly tight jeans. It hadn’t been sunny last night, it had been dark. She wasn’t a loving wife walking through a prim and proper English park holding hands with her husband and about to share an ice cream. She was about as far from that virtuous image as she could have been.

Last night, a rampant young woman was off the leash and behaving sluttily in the sordid setting of a shop doorway, with another man’s hand in her knickers, and his finger straining to get into her wet cunt as she opened her legs to help ease his access. She’s already told me she’d wanted them to fuck. I suddenly realise I am standing here in the park with a serious hard on. My cock is thinking for me. The dichotomy between these two extremes of Sherrie is becoming my cocaine. I know now with clarity that I have to do this. I have to support her all the way and enter the rabbit hole. I need to know what happens. I can’t stop this compulsion. I thought I could, but I just can’t.

Sherrie and I share a sharp telepathy, and I am sure her feelings mirror my own. She can’t help herself either, and right now she doesn’t want to. She wants Trevelyan to possess her sexually, and it looks like she means to make it happen. It’s come from her although I’ve egged her on. It enthralls me, but it knots my guts too.

S: Raspberry ripple alright, Babe?

J: Yeah, perfect, sweetheart. You look an absolute picture. I love you.

S: I love you too, John. Thank you for being you. Thank you for loving me.

And she gives me the sweetest smile I think I’ve ever seen, but it’s probably the mood messing with my head. We are both overcompensating in demonstrating our sacred love to each other before we deliberately risk smashing it to smithereens on the altar of lust and excitement.

[subtoall]

Hot! I love how you lay out your internal contradictions with the various versions/visions of Sherrie here.

[Chrislydi]

You bring her to life on the page, coquettishness personified and a joy to observe. Walking in the park on a sunny afternoon, cricket matches and Ice creams, so English and yet so naughty, who could ever know what's really going on?

ChrisLydi

[john jasson]

Hot! I love how you lay out your internal contradictions with the various versions/visions of Sherrie here.

Hi Subtoall. Thanks for your comment. I always appreciate it when folk take the trouble to leave a note. Yeah, that's kind of the essence of it for me. They do say that the brain is the largest erogenous zone and 95% of sexual activity is there. Sherrie seems to be better at putting her "bad girl" in a box and getting on with her "good girl" life the rest of the time. It's tougher for me to do that, but I do get better at it as time goes by. I think I learn to trust her judgment. I have to otherwise she would have driven me to the madhouse years ago.

[john jasson]

You bring her to life on the page, coquettishness personified and a joy to observe. Walking in the park on a sunny afternoon, cricket matches and Ice creams, so English and yet so naughty, who could ever know what's really going on?

ChrisLydi

Hi Chris. I greatly appreciate your encouragement for my humble efforts as ever. I love that you enjoy Sherrie's exploits so much!! A happy weekend to you. (Or are you already halfway through Saturday?? )

[Chrislydi]

You bring her to life on the page, coquettishness personified and a joy to observe. Walking in the park on a sunny afternoon, cricket matches and Ice creams, so English and yet so naughty, who could ever know what's really going on?

ChrisLydi

Hi Chris. I greatly appreciate your encouragement for my humble efforts as ever. I love that you enjoy Sherrie's exploits so much!! A happy weekend to you. (Or are you already halfway through Saturday?? )

If only we could all have two wives, oh well it's just not to be. I'll have to be content with admiring her from afar.

I can't get enough of her, you lucky, lucky man

It's Friday (here in London) 12.25pm

[john jasson]

We walk back around the far side of the lake. It’s quieter over here away from the attractions and a longer distance to walk from the town, so not many will exert themselves this far, but the peace and tranquillity is worth the effort. Our ice creams are finished now, so I take advantage of the sudden privacy and pull my girl into my arms. We kiss, and I crush her body to mine feeling like I want to crawl inside her. Not in a sexual sense this time, but emotionally I need her closeness. When I release her a little, and she can breathe again:

S: Hey. What brought that on?

J: Just you. Looking so lovely and being so wonderful.

She chuckles sweetly at me, taking my hand again, and silence reigns for a few seconds as we walk on.

J: When you said you would have gone anywhere to fuck him, did you mean that literally, or was it just a figure of speech?

I feel her hand tense up.

S: Oh, John. Do we need to do this now? This is us time, and I don’t want that crazy stuff interfering with us every minute of the day.

J: Just answer me that though.

S (rolls her eyes at me, and removes her hand from mine): It’s just the way I was in the moment. You know what I’m like when I totally lose it. Yeah. Right then I needed him in the worst way. I think if he’d really taken control and pushed me I’d have done it right there in the doorway. Obviously the thought horrifies me now…….. But he isn’t like that anyway.

I don’t hear the bit about him not being like that. The imagery from this response almost floors me. There’s such a brutal honesty in her matter of fact answer. My mind’s eye immediately sees her bent over in the semi-dark of a shop doorway late at night in the centre of town, her jeans and knickers pushed down to her knees. She's partially obscured by a stranger who is gripping her tightly around her hips and plowing his meat into her from behind as she moans her approval. It’s a tawdry scene, and it’s driving me to the edge of reason.

J: Shit. Are you wet thinking about it now?

S: No. Stop it, you freak!

J: I bet you are. And you’re going to text him this afternoon?

S: Yep. (Then gives me a disapproving look.) You keep telling me you’re good with this, and that it’s hot. You’ve been saying for years that the idea is hot, but now I’m getting bad vibes from you. Fuck’s sake, John. It was you that pushed me into making the appointment with him to do my gynae exam. We wouldn’t be here talking about it now if it wasn’t for you doing that. You have to make your bloody mind up. At every turn I’ve asked you if you’re ok with it and you’ve not only said yes, you’ve been more up for it to happen than me, if anything! This is your last chance to stop it. I don’t want to stop, I’ll be honest. I really want sex with him now. I’m kinda revved up for it after what we’ve done. It’ll make no difference to my feelings for us and what we are, but I’m not going to put up with a load of drama around it. If you say the word I won’t go any further. I’ll be frustrated and probably be a bit miffed with you for a while, but I’ll survive. You now how I hate mixed messages.

J: Noooo. I’m good. I’m sorry to give you hassle. It’s just it’s a big thing, as you’ve said yourself. But it IS fucking hot.

S: Alright then, but no more drama! When there’s something to report, you’ll be the first to know. Right? Till then let’s just drop it.

Moments later, we happen upon a robin singing his heart out sitting on a branch just at Sherrie’s eye level. He’s about 18 inches away from her and not fazed in the slightest by human presence as he continues his serenade for us.

S (halo back in place and angelic persona instantly restored, smiling at the little creature as she tries to persuade him to come and sit on her finger in her most calming, euphonious voice): Aww. Come here, little one. You’re so cute, aren’t you?

And so this mind boggling juxtaposition of slut Sherrie and innocent Sherrie forges ahead dragging me along in her wake. Talk about butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. She’s so cool in the face of everything that’s happening that it astounds me. Like she can keep it in a box and not let it interfere with other aspects of her life. As we make our way back home for lunch, hand in hand once more, I resolve that I’m going to try to be the same as her. I’m not going to obsess about it all day. I’ve been just as bad as her in getting us to this point after all. It excites me, but I owe it to her to be strong for her and not pressurise her. Well, that’s what I tell myself. I’m going to let her drive it and wait for developments. If I don’t get control of myself, we are going to lose the innocent togetherness that we cherish so much. I hope to God that I’m equal to the challenge.

[nekkedoutdoors]

Hello John, I've just returned from a few days of living out of a tent and backpack with out access to the internet. I have to admit that more than once I wondered how you're getting along with Sherrie's adventure and if she had found out from the Doctor if his Tardis is Bigger on Inside yet.

Your writing is an absolute study in perfection. Thank you for sharing it with us.

[Chrislydi]

Walking through the park hand in hand with the sun gently warming, the joy of seeing an ice cream vendor, the small things, people watching, the quiet deserted lakeside location, the enchanting robin, - the cute smile. It's all of those things that make the smallest hint of naughtiness so electric.

Before i was merely falling for her, but now I'm completely lost to reason, I'm infatuated.

Never was a portrait more beautifully painted, marvellous John.

[PaNic]

Beautifully written and I love the way you capture the excitement of this contradiction so well.
I think we all identify with loving both the sweet wholesome aspects of our women and sharing their raunchy slutty side.
Congratulations!

[john jasson]

Hello John, I've just returned from a few days of living out of a tent and backpack with out access to the internet. I have to admit that more than once I wondered how you're getting along with Sherrie's adventure and if she had found out from the Doctor if his Tardis is Bigger on Inside yet.

Your writing is an absolute study in perfection. Thank you for sharing it with us.

Hi Nekked. Your excursion sounds richly therapeutic in a mad world! Thank you for the kind words about Sherrie's adventure and my attempts at doing it, and her, justice. Your encouragement is nectar to the bee!!

[john jasson]

Walking through the park hand in hand with the sun gently warming, the joy of seeing an ice cream vendor, the small things, people watching, the quiet deserted lakeside location, the enchanting robin, - the cute smile. It's all of those things that make the smallest hint of naughtiness so electric.

Before i was merely falling for her, but now I'm completely lost to reason, I'm infatuated.

Never was a portrait more beautifully painted, marvellous John.

Thank you, Chris. Your comments are approaching virtuoso level in their quality. Your generosity is outrageous, and my head swells so that soon I shan't be able to walk through the door. Good thing I have Sherrie to keep me grounded. Or whatever it is she does to me........

[john jasson]

Beautifully written and I love the way you capture the excitement of this contradiction so well.
I think we all identify with loving both the sweet wholesome aspects of our women and sharing their raunchy slutty side.
Congratulations!

Hi PaNic. So nice of you to leave a comment. I do appreciate them. It absolutely is the mindfuck involved, isn't it? It's her falling in deep and her bewilderment that she has no idea how deep is the well of her desires. We can only watch on in tortured fascination as each scene plays out. Our insurance is our love for each other that we believe to be unbreakable. We hope against hope that we are not testing out our faith to destruction.

[PaNic]

Of course there is a risk, but it doesn’t sound like you’re “testing... to destruction” at all. You are supporting, encouraging and enjoying each other in a mutual adventure, that’s normally great for a relationship!
One thing I would suggest is to listen to her request not to let “that crazy stuff” interfere With your “us time”. As a couple you’ll probably both need time and space just about the two of you and your love for each other

[john jasson]

Of course there is a risk, but it doesn’t sound like you’re “testing... to destruction” at all. You are supporting, encouraging and enjoying each other in a mutual adventure, that’s normally great for a relationship!
One thing I would suggest is to listen to her request not to let “that crazy stuff” interfere With your “us time”. As a couple you’ll probably both need time and space just about the two of you and your love for each other

I am thinking in general terms about the risk from this to all of us who indulge. At the moment I am relating stuff from early in our experiences, more than a couple of decades ago. Things do turn a lot darker, and there are times when it does seem like much more of a risk. Our love held it together in the end, I'm happy to say.

[afagehi7]

Of course there is a risk, but it doesn’t sound like you’re “testing... to destruction” at all. You are supporting, encouraging and enjoying each other in a mutual adventure, that’s normally great for a relationship!
One thing I would suggest is to listen to her request not to let “that crazy stuff” interfere With your “us time”. As a couple you’ll probably both need time and space just about the two of you and your love for each other

I am thinking in general terms about the risk from this to all of us who indulge. At the moment I am relating stuff from early in our experiences, more than a couple of decades ago. Things do turn a lot darker, and there are times when it does seem like much more of a risk. Our love held it together in the end, I'm happy to say.

I wish we heard more about the dark times from everyone. We only hear the good news but we learn so much more from the bad.