So we are a married couple, 34 yo (both), married for almost 9 years now... Have two kids, one 8 years old and the other one around 1 and a half. Since second child was born, me and wife we barely had any moment to get any kind of intimate time what so ever... We are very much kids focused parents and naturally most of our time belongs to them but this often exhausted us as kids sleep with us (that's by choice) so any intimate moment after they are asleep was always rushed and not so fun. And it was frustrating as it would go months (literally) before we stumble into sex somehow and that too would be quick and in fear of them waking up and seeing us in the moment. Honestly we forgot about what a couple's life is and what romance actually feels like. We started with taking few hours each weekend by going to the movies and breakfast to get our time back somehow. We liked this time together and got fond of this time. This is also strictly defined by junior's day nap time. One day just out of nowhere, idea came, why not instead of movies, we just go to some hotel or airbnb and spend time there, some nearby area. But since we only had limited day time available Saturday Sunday, it was an awkward and pricey deal but was worth a shot. So for a test run, I booked a small airbnb apartment around 10 minutes drive from our house. It took a lot prep too, I'd go there one night early to have the room checked out properly. I'd do movie setup there, snacks and cold drinks. First time we went, it was AMAZINGG. It felt like an affair but except this time, it wasn't. It felt very very natural. We felt connecting, that first day we were there, we had s*x three times in short three hour window that was available to us. We both came back happy and excited that we just unlocked a major pleasure in our lives which was missing. 9 years married and we are sneaking around like teenagers, and honestly I recommend it. Update: A lot of people asking "this time?" so just a quick clarity, she and I used to date before marriage and had visited hotel rooms before we got married which is a very big thing here in our culture so at the time that indeed an affair as per our culture.

Tw: abuse, r4pe, Csa, grooming, ect My name is Leah, (20f) and when I was younger I was a part of a group of adult men, one of which introduced me as basically his daughter. This man was the one to eventually introduce me to pornography, drugs, and other horrible habits. Around age 11 my family had just moved and we were homeless for quite some time. I grew up with around 3 siblings most of the time and I was the 3rd oldest, (I have many more siblings who stayed with their father instead of their mother) The majority of my life was just me and my 3 younger brothers, and our mother and many father figures. She was dating a man and also pregnant at this time which left me mostly in charge to care for my younger siblings, this was just the norm at the time and I got used to being the responsible one whenever the current "Man" of the house would eventually leave us. My own father abandoned me when I was around 2-3 which definitely caused some daddy issues for me, as well as me continuously getting attached to whoever my mom would date only to lose them again. This cycle caused me to seek out attention that I lacked from my mother and father(s) online. I was a very quiet, timid, but smart kid and I was particularly gifted using the Internet. I got my fist smartphone during homelessness as a small gift from my parents to keep me distracted from the world falling apart around us. This was a mistake. Once we finally settled down in a small house in a very poverty filled area, my parents at the time started showing the early signs of a relationship ending, and she had also just had her baby as well, leaving them very distracted and usually busy working or taking care of the newborn. I was lucky enough to be the oldest and also a girl so I got my own room in the house. It was peaceful, but lonely. I was behind in schooling due to missing a few months while we were searching for a place to stay, but I didn't struggle with school work surprisingly. However the school I was going to was very low class, like super shitty low class. Which made it easy to just leave even as an elementary schooler, no one cared enough to stop us. The phone I was gifted was my main source of happiness, I made a ton of online friends on sites like discord, Twitter, amino (never let your kids use amino), but discord was the worst. I met a guy in the Minecraft discord server, who was interested in building like I was. I was 11 when we first started playing together, he was 18. We'll call him Gabe. Gabe was everything I was looking for at the time. I was neglected, and felt unwanted but those around me and he knew exactly what that was like being pretty much disowned by his parents for being bi. He was just relatable, and he knew I was desperate for attention, and some kind of love no matter how fucked up it was. Within months I was "in love", we played with a group of friends who all knew each other IRL except for me, but me and Gabe would talk all day, play with just each other, and even talked about meeting someday. His friend group knew I was younger than the majority of them although I never explicitly said how young I was. Only Gabe knew that, but he didn't care. We only grew closer over the next roughly 8 months all while my family fell apart. I kept him informed on how my life was going and he did the same, telling me how he'd rescue me from this "hell, and how we'd run off together but I always thought of it as a nice thought and not a reality, until he excitedly texted me one day that he got a bunch of inheritance money from some family member dying. This was good news for me since he'd often mail me gifts and send me money that is spent on stupid shit like robux and snacks at school. But with the money came a car, and he felt free enough to leave his grandparents house and travel. A few months later I turned 12 and for my birthday he sent me 100 dollars, and told me that he'd be seeing me soon. This scared me but I was so blinded at the time that I didn't care. My parents were strict, they didn't allow me to have a boyfriend or use any mainstream social media like Instagram or snap, but this only made it easier for me to hide the apps they didn't even know were chatting apps. They went through my phone when I got into trouble once but because I had nothing technically bad up there they didn't even know what to look for. So I got away with chatting in secret with my pedophile boyfriend. Over the next couple of months me and Gabe planned on how we'd see each other. I was going to go to school and then leave to meet him. He booked a hotel in the town I lived in and drove 5 hours to see me. I was so scared of actually seeing him in person because of the stories I heard of getting kidnapped or killed by meeting someone online so I chickened out the first few times. I was horrified of my parents finding out and getting Gabe as well as myself into trouble. But one night I got lucky. My parents, who were still constantly fighting and stressing, informed me they'd be gone for a weekend and they got us a baby sitter. Being the oldest with my own room I knew this was the perfect chance to leave. I told Gabe about this and he told me he'd pick me up and we'd go to a "party" together. And everything went according to plan. I told the sitter who was busy watching over the new current infant in the house, that I wasn't feeling well and I wanted to go to bed, I faked taking melatonin and told her please not to bother me because I woke up easily and she agreed. My siblings were excited just to meet a new person so they were distracted bothering the sitter. I was free to leave and I did. I snuck out my window, went through the back woodsy area of the neighborhood to avoid being seen on my neighbors camera, and met Gabe by an old abandoned house. The meeting was horrifying, I snuck out before but only to go to 7/11 to steal candy but this was scary. But I was already dedicated. He was so excited to see me, complimenting the outfit that I stole from my mom. Although later he went to Walmart and picked out a basic black skin tight dress because he said the one I got looked like it was for grandmas. He did this a lot, contradicting himself. We talked in his car for probably about an hour before he started getting touchy. He would compliment my body, even though I was somewhat underweight at this age, I hadn't even begun puberty yet. He'd touch my arms, and legs, and chest, which he said was because he loved how "small" I looked. I was uncomfortable but I was too terrified and "in love" to do anything about it. I'd never had sex before, or even really talked about it with anyone other than my older brother who used it as an excuse to sexually assault me when I was around 5. Gabe was being more creepy and touchy than I expected so I constantly tried to avoid talking about sex or anything sex related, bringing up this "party" we were supposed to go to. Eventually he gave up on trying and finally told me to sit in the backseat while he drove, not sure why the backseat probably to hide me though. We ended up at some random house that was in a secluded area with a lot of very high and/or drunk people. I thought I'd stick out being a literally child at a house party but I was around 5'5 at the time, spoke very maturely, and apparently I didn't "look my age" I'm sure I couldn't have looked older than 15 but ig that was enough for everyone, plus Gabe was only 19 and could easily pass for younger. We went in through the back area of the house when my anxiety skyrocketed. He tried calming me down but I was crying and hyperventilating in the upstairs bathroom. He grabbed my shoulders, looked me in the eyes and told me I was beautiful, before kissing a pill into my mouth. I tried to spit but he held on until I swallow it, which only made me panic more, now scared that I had just taken something illegal. The pill was ecstasy, which kinda just makes you really happy and excited about everything. I'd never touched drugs before and this was an insane first one. I cried until I couldn't anymore, and in like 20 minutes of sitting on the toilet seat begging to leave my mood completely changed. I was very depressed most of the time and the drug made the world seem so much brighter, although the party was less of a party and more of a bunch of cracked out teenagers and college dudes, it felt more fun because I was high as hell. I danced a little, talked to a few people and I'm 90% sure I had alcohol. But eventually Gabe drug me back upstairs to some dirty, gross bedroom. There was already stains on the bed, leftover clothes, and someone's fucking panties were on the floor. He locked us inside, and took my Innocence while I cried and couldn't fight back because of my mental and physical state. Afterwards he just got up and went to the bathroom while I laid there, still high, but instead of euphoric I was disassociating. I regretted everything and I felt disgusting. After that night, I was unable to look at myself without crying. I still confided in Gabe because he was all I had at the time. I couldn't go to anyone to talk about what happened but him, and all he did was tell me that's what couples do, and how it was "amazing". He even used it as an excuse to get nudes from me, telling me that he'd already seen me naked so it didn't matter now. Over the next month hed have me skip school, and he'd assault me in his car, at motels, and eventually he even convinced me to sneak him into my room so he could photograph me. I was in too deep to go back now. He'd keep me satisfied with money and compliments and I'd stay quiet and do as he said. Eventually I started asking why he needed so many photos and videos and he go super defensive about it, later on I went through his phone where I found a telegram group with probably 50 other men sharing CSAM with each other. He even seemed disgustingly popular in it. People were asking for more, even fucking paying him for videos of him raping me. I threw up, cried and waited until he awoke to take to back to our dropoff point. Later I just asked if he only recorded me to show others, which shocked him. This is where he explained to me that I could get money from these videos, and that his inheritance money was running out, he had no job and loved buying stupid shit and apparently also buying a lot of CP so he made the money back using me. He blackmailed me, manipulated me, and even eventually started to physically abuse me if I didn't comply. So I did. I'd smile on camera, do whatever was requested of me until one day my parents decided we were moving to another state. This was nice for awhile being away from him, but because I was so used to the abuse I told him where I was, and again we started the cycle over. But unfortunately over the few months we didn't see each other I turned 13, started puberty, and gained weight, which he absolutely hated. (Not a crucial detail but, he was gay and fighting that, he only liked me super skinny and prepubescent because I looked like a little boy) He literally told me multiple times how much he missed my 12 year old body. Told me I was disgusting and that I should try and eat less. And I did. To "help" me we started doing drugs together, he was only getting worse and worse. When we first met it was just weed and the occasional molly but now it was coke, ket, zans, oxys, fucking everything. Which he only encouraged me to do. My grades deteriorated, my grades deteriorated, as well as my health, and weight. I'm sure someone noticed the change but no one investigating anything. My mental health was so horrible, I'd wake up after peeing in bed from nightmares. I would eat then vomit everything back up, I was constantly in a daze, I didn't talk to anyone, I barely left my room unless I had to. Yet no one did anything. A little after I turned 14 my parents finally broke, my stepdad cheated and my mom who was pregnant again couldn't take it anymore. We moved again, this time we remained homeless for a while until my stepdad left us completely at a motel to be with the other woman. I was devastated but I saw it coming. That day, the entire family was crowded into the car, my mother cried, my siblings cried, and I stared blankly at myself in the rear view mirror, my emotional energy was just too used up on my own problems. I knew my siblings were hurting and I wanted to stay strong for them, and I tried, so hard. We did find a place eventually, 7 kids and our mother moved into a 1 bed 1 bath trailer. It was dirty, cramped, and in the middle of nowhere but it was home. And just I did before I told Gabe where I was again. This time however, was way worse. I was in an even worse school, and quarantine had just ended so the schools didn't even care if you didn't show up because they assumed you had covid. I didn't show up to school for a month and all I did was call and lie saying I had covid. My younger siblings were all in elementary and middle school and the youngest were in daycare all day while my mother worked two jobs to support us. This was the peak of my abuse, having so much alone time with Gabe made him worse. The regular "sex" videos weren't cutting it. He'd cut me with razorblades, make me hurt myself on camera. He's burn my legs with cigarettes and candle wax. He'd slap me, punch me, kick me, make me humiliate myself. Once he wrapped a belt around my neck and straggled me just because he could. Id usually get high before recording, which he didn't like anymore, he got more violent to provoke a reaction out of me, telling me to fight back, or beg for him to stop, and I complied. He had a friend who I'll call Mike, who was his best friend and dealer. They began spending time together getting high and doing whatever the fuck. Eventually I met Mike, and he was confused naturally as to why a now 21 year old was banging out with a 14 year old, and Gabe explained that I was a relative that he basically adopted. We'd all get high together and play video games. Mike had a really nice place, and I spent a lot of time over there just lounging and getting fried out of my mind, even sometimes asking Mike to bring me there instead of Gabe. My problem with drugs started to spiral, and they both knew that I was eventually gonna move on to something worse than oxys. Gabe then decided to teach me how to crush and snort pills instead of just taking them for a better, faster high, which I loved but it also made the possibility of ODing an even bigger problem, but at least I wasn't doing heroin yet. One day after being assaulted again, Gabe slapped me berated me and yelled at me for not reacting during sex. I was already high during this, and the abuse made me even more stressed out, (this happened at Mikes house btw, he was at the store) I ran to the bathroom where I snorted 5 lines of oxys and passed out. I woke up back at home in someone's shirt. Mike told me he found me convulsing on the floor in my own vomit. And gave me narcan hoping to save me, thank God he did because I would've died if he didn't. Eventually in school I did make friends one of which I actually told about what I was going through, and instead of HELPING or saying something, they got ahold of a video of me being assaulted and spread it around the school. I skipped more, got even worse into drugs and now alcohol, and tried to kms by ODing on purpose, it didn't work but wtv. I still did have friends one of which I got very close too, and she tried to convince me to break things off with Mike and Gabe. I tried to and Gabe hated this, so I went to Mike and confessed everything that happened. Mike was infuriated, disgusted and all he did was try to comfort me, and when Gabe showed up at the house, Mike beat him relentlessly, like horribly, he was unrecognizable after. He then left him cover in blood on the living room floor and he drug me out the house to bring me home. I'm forever grateful for this. However being 14 I was horrified, and I knew things couldn't end that easily, a few months later, Gabe contacted me again, and began seeing me in secret. He was on the run from the cops for something completely different but I thought it was because of what happened with me. My family ended up getting reported to CPS Thank God, so a few of us were taken to live with our father but the rest moved again. Now there were only 4 of us but we did find a better place to stay eventually. However the damage has already been done. I'm currently diagnosed with anorexia, bullumia, PTSD, Extreme anxiety, and a bunch more bullshit that Im going to deal with for the rest of my life. I only ended up writing this bc while I was searching on Twitter for porn (don't judge me, I'm human) I saw a bit in the comments selling CP with trigger me so badly that I spiralled again, for months. I graduated highschool, but now that I'm an adult it's even harder to keep going, I had 2 suicide attempts this year, and many relapses. The only thing keeping me going at the moment is my pet cat.

This happened couple months ago and it is still bothering Me to this day. For the record, i totally regret this and wish I never done this, but i never could’ve guessed that this Would happen. I had a two week relationship with this girl who was Incredibly sex driven, all she wanted to do was to get Intimate. At uni, at my apartment, at her place, in public, it Didn’t really matter to her. And every time we had sex she Wanted to try something more and more intense. We pretty much did everything in the book, and on the Second week she literally wanted to black out from a Deep throat. I was really uncomfortable with that, but she Insisted, so i just rolled with it. For the first 10 minutes she Couldn’t bring herself to commit to it, every time she got Close to blackout, she just backed off, so she asked me to Forcefully hold her head, while she was doing it. couple Times i let her go, cause it was seriously messed up, but On a final try i didn’t, because she got angry at me, and As she was blacking out tears started dripping down her Face and just like that she was out. When she woke up she just started crying, crawled up on Bed and started to whisper stuff to herself, while she was In tears. That was the end of it, the day after i ended things and Told her to get some professional help, cause the way she Was acting wasn’t normal at all, it seemed like she was Trying to avoid some trauma through sex and i hate that i Was part of it.

My parents have a hallway with twenty framed photos. Four years ago I replaced one childhood picture of myself with a recreation: same sweater, same pose, but fifteen years older. Nobody noticed. Now I do one each Christmas. Last year my brother recreated a beach photo in his bathroom using a blue towel and desk lamp. Mom dusts the frames alot and has never said anything. There are six fake childhood photos in that hallway. I’m no longer sure whether the joke is on my parents, or on two adults spending November hunting for discontinued wallpaper. We shoot number seven tommorow.

Years ago I forgot one of my closest friend’s birthdays. I felt terrible, so I immediately put a yearly reminder in my phone. Every year since, I’ve messaged him first thing in the morning.He’s mentioned several times that I’m one of the only people who “always remembers.” I’ve never remembered once. Last year we were talking about friendship and he actually used it as an example of how thoughtful I am. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that somewhere inside my phone is a recurring notification doing approximately 90% of the emotional labour in our friendship. The reminder is currently scheduled until 2032

I have to get this out for my own mental health. I am coming down from using “Tina” for the first time, (F/39/5’2”, 147 lbs)I went on a second date with a guy that you’d never think does Meth 2 nights ago. He was clean, nice teeth, and fucking SMART. Said all the right things- nowhere near a “tweaker.” He’s also fucking gorgeous. The second night we hung out he offered me to smoke some “Tina” and being in the insanely depressed state of life right now (I won’t get into details but know I’m at a low, scary point in my life) and just wanting to feel SOMETHING, I said fuck it and out my lips around the pipe and hit it. We did this a couple time driving to the motel. (Yeah I know. We both have clean sexual recent records so don’t judge my asss) I felt nice but not like insane from the couple hits we smoked. At the hotel he offered me “hot rails” which I can barely remember… I think I did like 2 of those? As He was walking to the table when one of his rig caps came off and fell on the bed. I noticed it right away and he admitted freely to using intravenously recently for about 7 months . (I have been a former IV heroin but sober since 2009) At this point I’m so fucking lit from the the meth, the high on crushing on him and the fucking seexxx…HOLY. I keep Telling myself “I need a night like this. I deserve it” and before I knew it I asked if I could have a shot. Without hesitation and my consent he said he was dying for one- perfect timing and loaded a .5 shot. And of course, I flew into a world of swirling heat and pure, hot, bliss. My pupils dilate so fast the room actually becomes lighter. I have to stand up to catch my breath, not afraid, but delighted. By this time I’ve now taken meth for the first time in my life, in 3 separate methods: smoking it, hotrailing it and lastly- IV shots in the span of 10 hours. Next thing I knew is that it’s 4am and he’s like chilling’ on this shit. Laying on the bed flaccid of course and I’m talking like a spaz. My insides legit vibrating. And we smoke some more and touch each other some more as we had all night until 930-ish am. As we’re about to leave the motel I ask for one more shot and happily obliges. This time I ask for “a little more than the last) he makes a somewhat surprised face, asks in I’m sure and I hand him my arm. He sloooowly pushes .65 in to me and again, I’m booted back into the hot, blissful universe I was not only hour ago. He drives me home. I talk the entire way, way too damn much… I couldn’t stop. I’m so cringed out by how many fucking topics I brought up yapping away a mile a minute but not as cringed out and disgusted I am with myself now. I asked him how much he thinks I did this past Saturday (bc idk wtf meth even looked like until now)- two nights ago and he said probably about 2gs…over 9-10 hours, which I’m assuming is a pretty heroic first time dose? I took seroquil and 2 Xanax after he brought me home around 10:30pm after not doing any more since 930 am. The euphoria was gone and I’m left riddled with guilt, tired eyes but a an intense feeling of anxiety like no other. I feel hollow but still high…it’s hard to explain. I smoke weed and it makes me feel worse. More strung out. I was like in an afterglow high all of yesterday and had to work 9 hours. My body is aching like the flu. I go from normal to sweating super fast and I’m trying to put down a yogurt and keep drinking water. I’m still not sure how I pulled that off. Any time I moved quickly my face would get hot and I get lightheaded. I came home repeated the seroquil and Xanax and I got about about 6 hours of sleep last night. Today all I feel is anxiety, I have to keep telling myself to breathe, drink water, and eat what I can. It’s like I can’t even nap yet without a benzo. I’m riddled with guilt. My mind keeps replaying scenes of that night and part of me wants more while the other is like “WTF ARE YOU DOINGGG?!” How much longer do you think I’ll feel like this? I’ve definitely almost completely come down and now I’m left with a sore body, a racing mind, a want to sleep but can’t.. I fucking hate myself. For all the people who say I’m stupid for doing this- I KNOW. I have been self-destructive my entire life. There’s nothing shitty you can say to me that I haven’t said myself. The WORST PART? I feel like bc of the chemsex, it was delicious I feel connected it him bc my serotonin receptors were being flooded to the max while we’re together that night. I’m cooked aren’t I? There’s no damn way this man feels the same way. My gut tells me he really likes me, but he likes meth more. He’s also Pansexual. And veryyyy openly sexual. If I’m not strong enough to never touch this shit again, I’m so afraid of what’s going to happen with my life. I don’t understand why I cant function without drugs in my life. This is my own doing and I’m certainly paying for it. Any tips or advice is insanely welcome

If you don't care to read about how this situation came to be, skip to the 3rd to last paragraph. Everything goes well leading up, but we trip over the finish line Me [M25] and my wife [F24] have been dating since high school and we have only had sex with eachother. She was in a few lesbian relationships before, and a while back she told me how she kind of regrets never having the chance to, rather specifically, eat a girl out. Flash forward a few months and over a few drinks we discuss with one of our friends [F24] that we are looking for a threesome. She tells us that one of her friends [F23ish], we'll call her Caroline, had been eyeing the both of us when all of us went on a boat trip a while back. We get her number, we hang onto it for a while and don't do anything with it. Flash forward a few more months to last week, and Caroline texts me Friday night about a possible threesome. I add my wife to the text chat and we hash out the details (expectations, boundaries, we do a little sexting), and by early Saturday afternoon she rolls up to our house ready to get fucked. Now in the beginning it's going well. We have a couple of drinks to loosen up and it's off to the races. Of course it's my wife's first time with a girl and my first time in a threesome, so we kind of struggle with trying to fulfill all our fantasies in the first five minutes. But we settle into our rhythm and after a while it seems we got it figured out. Everyone's giving what they want to give and receiving what they want to receive. I won't go into much more detail than that, but we definitely learned a lot about ourselves. One agreement we made before hand is that because both of the ladies are on the pill, we don't need condoms. The plan is for me to finish in my wife, our new friend to eat it out of her, and then kiss it back into my wife's mouth. Just as a hot reminder that my wife is in charge, not her. But what happens is I'm doing missionary with Caroline, my wife is kissing me and sitting on her face. I realize I'm about to finish and the easiest thing is to pull out and take a quick break. But Caroline reaches down, gives me a few quick strokes and I finish all over her stomach. My wife licks it up and feeds it back to her. Now it's not really that big a deal to me, but with how big consent is with sex, I was more concerned with the fact she broke our agreement. But she was a nice lady so I let it slide. Our aftercare routine pretty chill. We put on pajamas and I start a French onion soup on the stove (I caramelize onions in bulk so it didn't take long) and we watch Christian Slater in Pump Up The Volume. At the end of the night she goes home. No more than 2 hours later she starts texting me (not my me and my wife, just me) about how her door "and legs" are always open. I text back telling her how my wife and I enjoyed it and we think she's a wonderful woman. She texts back saying that my wife was okay and she'd really prefer if it was just the two of us next time. I don't know what to think so I show it to my wife, she doesn't know what to think either. So I just end up texting back "maybe you outta come back and teach her a little more" she reacts with a 😈. Seeing it all written out like this looks pretty bad, but it seems worse case scenario we can just admit we had a fun one night stand and call it at that.

​ I never thought I would be writing something like this. My husband and I have been married for years. We built a home together, shared responsibilities, memories, struggles, and plans for the future. I believed that despite our problems, our marriage was something we were both committed to. Then I found out he was having an inappropriate relationship with a female coworker. At first, I tried to convince myself that maybe I was misunderstanding things. But I eventually saw messages between them that crossed the boundaries of a married relationship. The way they talked to each other made it clear that this wasn't simply a friendship between coworkers. What hurt me most wasn't only the messages. It was realizing that while I was trying to protect our marriage and our family, he was emotionally investing in someone else. I confronted him. I was angry, devastated, confused, and completely heartbroken. There were days when I couldn't eat or sleep properly because my mind kept replaying everything. I initially chose to forgive him and give him another chance. Part of me still hoped that he would understand what he had done and fight for our marriage. But eventually I realized something: forgiving someone doesn't mean I have to stay with them. I started thinking about myself, my future, and my child. I realized I cannot keep sacrificing my peace while constantly wondering whether my husband will betray me again. So I made the hardest decision I've ever had to make. I'm walking away. I've stopped contacting him and removed him from my social media. I'm returning the things that belong to him and taking back the things I personally bought. I'm trying to separate my life from his little by little. I'm not doing this because I stopped loving him overnight. I'm doing it because I finally understood that loving someone should not require me to abandon myself. Right now, I'm focusing on rebuilding my life, preparing for my nursing board exam, taking care of my child, and eventually becoming financially independent. I don't know exactly what the future will look like. I still have moments when I miss him. I still have moments when I feel angry. Some days I question whether I made the right decision. But I know this much: I didn't deserve to be cheated on. I didn't deserve to compete for my own husband's attention. And I don't have to stay in a marriage where my trust has been repeatedly broken. I'm choosing myself now. Maybe this is the beginning of the hardest chapter of my life. But hopefully, it's also the beginning of a better one.

This is not my confession, but a good friend. I am in a situation where I'm keeping a secret that's a real giant. My friend 'Samantha' and I have been close since high school. She met a good guy several years ago. It got serious, and now they're engaged. She was one of those girls who always wanted a magic wedding, so she has been a bit of a bridezilla. They had a good sex life, according to them both. She wanted the wedding night and honeymoon to be really special, so she decided that they would abstain from sex for the entire six-month engagement. He protested, but it she decided for them both. This was hard on them, and they'd been frustrated and cranky. With two months to go, we had a bachelorette party. We went to a few nice clubs and did the normal drinking too much. She was dancing with several guys, which I guess is a grey area but not uncommon. Then, she went home with one of them. We tried to stop her, but she was very set on this guy. So, she had 'an amazing time' according to her. I thought this was BAD, but just a one-time thing. Well, it wasn't. She's been having regular sex with this guy all the time. She is infatuated with him, although she says it will be over when she gets married. She's just 'having fun' right now. Well, her fiancé is burning and craving her touch. He keeps begging for 'at least a blowjob'. She loves his yearning and laughs about it to all of us. He's desperate and begging and she seems to be really turned on by that (I get it, I'm the same way with guys begging). But she's having all the great sex she can handle and teasing her fiancé relentlessly. She keeps taunting him about not getting any, and she pretends to be frustrated too. He obviously doesn't know and there's about five of us keeping her secret. I hope this is temporary and she comes to her senses when she marries.

So my (M19) gf(F19) is going to start school in the spring to be an astronaut. I love this for her and want to push her, but I know she will not be able to unless there is a significant change or scientific advancement on the part of Nasa. My gf has heart problems, irregular heart beat, POTS, as well as other psychological disorders which I will not name but are restricted against in NASA's astronaut selection process. I know she hasn't looked into this yet because she doesn't show any concern besides the amount of work that she will have to do. I don't have it in me to be the one to explain to her that she won't be able to be an astronaut because of her health problems, I don't want to be the bad guy. But also, I don't want her to get too far into it that she only finds out on the brink of reaching her dream.

I didn’t get to know my wife for very long before she died. Around 3 years. She wasn’t at all an in-your-face person about her past; I wanted to know more than she shared. I figured we had a lifetime to learn each other. I learned the hard way that a lifetime is relative. After she died, I found a stash of about 25 journals. Were she alive, I’d have been a respect that boundary human, but I wanted to know anything more about my wife and they were far enough before me I mostly knew no one she wrote of. I read them all and mourned/validated my wonderful pick of a human. I know y’all mighta been hoping for something spicy, and tbh, writing this out has given me fodder for a couple different genres of short stories. But I broke a code I thought I held and I don’t regret it and I don’t think she would ever hold it against me. I am grateful to have had those to know her a little bit better.

I'm a single mom, divorced for nearly 7 years now. I spend most of my time either working or taking care of my two teenage daughters. A few weeks ago, I stumbled across a video chat website where you can talk to strangers. Before I knew it, I was going on during my late night free time just to chat. I never showed my face on cam, just from the neck down. Initially, it was just flirtatious talking and teasing. But that quickly escalated into watching and encouraging men to masturbate and cum for me, alongside dirty talk. As time went on, I got way more comfortable with it. This past Friday night, I matched with a really attractive 23 year old guy and took it a step further than I ever had. I got fully undressed, and we spent the next 40 minutes or so basically having video sex. When I’m on these sites, I get this intense rush and high, but it’s always followed by immediate shame. I haven’t got back on since Friday, but I can already feel the urge pulling me back.

I’m in my twenties now, from India and recently I’ve been seeing people on Reddit sharing their childhood stories. It made me think about something that happened to me when I was a kid, which I’ve never really talked about before. I was in Class 3, between 7-8 years at the time. My grandfather used to do this about once a week, usually on a weekday when my mom would go out for some work. I would be at home with my grandfather. This went on for a few months, until my mom stopped going out on those weekdays. Before my bath, he would touch my private area and apply coconut oil there. He told me it was good for health and that the area should be kept clean to prevent infections. He specifically told me that the clitoris was a sensitive area and that applying coconut oil would keep it healthy. He would also tell me to spread my legs so the area would be clearly visible while applying oil.. I was just a kid, so I believed him. I didn't really understand what was appropriate or inappropriate. He was my grandfather, so I trusted him and didn't think much about it at the time. Now that I'm older, I sometimes think about it differently. Was there actually any legitimate reason for doing this? Is applying coconut oil to the clitoris really something that is medically recommended for keeping it healthy? And why would he need me to spread my legs so he could see the area? The fact that it happened repeatedly, usually when my mom wasn't home, is something that makes me question it now. I honestly don't know how to interpret this memory. I'm not trying to make a serious accusation based only on something that happened when I was a child, but looking back at it now, it definitely makes me uncomfortable. I’m sharing this because I saw other people talking about their childhood experiences and thought maybe I should finally share mine too. I'd genuinely like to hear what others think. Was there actually a health or hygiene reason for this, or does it sound like his intentions were inappropriate?

So my wife and i were having adult fun last night. during sex, she told me she felt naughty because one of her co workers recommended a regular movie for her to watch, and she threw it on the day before. I was like umm, okay … She then goes on to tell me she was imagining fucking him. I didn’t say anything i just kept pounding. I am still thinking about it this morning at home and she went off to work. i don’t think she will do anything plus she wouldn’t risk her job or her marriage. So i believe her when she says it was just a thought that she used so she can cum. p.s. I asked her what his name was and after she told me she started riding me harder. I liked her riding so why would i complain.

I’m 29 married with a kid but did something while in college I’ve always felt guilty about. Especially because I never told my husband and don’t plan on it. When i was 20 i had an on and off fwb who i really liked but he wasn’t looking for anything serious. One weekend his friends and him were all going to a strip club. Trying to impress him and be cool i offered to go too. I didn’t know much about it figured I wouldn’t like it. It was as seedy as i thought. Lots of truckers and older men. However something strange happened. Maybe not unexpected since I had a thing (unexplored) for attention from older men and objectification. But seeing women with tons of eyes on them and getting paid for it gave me an obsessive new fantasy that i would keep replaying for weeks and months later. I looked up online all about strippers and how it was. I even found there was a thing called amateur night that i could just show up and try. It sounded like such a perfect safe way to explore a fantasy. I would play it out in my head. What i would wear. But every time i would chicken out. After all most would call me shy. What if someone i know saw me! The fwb fell off and it was lonely and cold. I had just finished my finals and had a stressful semester. Thats when something changed. I said fuck it and decided im young once im going to do it. On a random weekday I drove to a further away club called rebels. I sat in the parking lot and hyped myself up. Went in and it was like a blur. My heart was pounding. Mouth totally dry. I got some drinks at the bar. Felt tipsy. Got signed up and ushered to the dressing room. The dressing room was bright and messy and smelled of smoke. I changed into this tiny outfit I brought, hands shaking the whole time. When they called me out I walked on stage and just did a couple songs. Nothing fancy and probably awkward. Moved around did what I thought would be sexy and collected the money that got thrown or had it placed on me. But the whole time my head was spinning with a mix of pure excitement and shame. The eyes on me felt exactly like the fantasy I’d been replaying for months but it was weirder than I can describe. Part of me was high off the attention and the objectification like I was finally doing the thing I’d obsessed over but in a way it was so different. I felt dirty and stupid and like I was watching myself from outside my body doing something I couldn’t take back and how stupid I must look. The two feelings crashed into each other so hard I almost couldn’t breathe and the whole thing turned into a blur. The alcohol didn’t help. I got off stage after the second song, changed as fast as I could and left with the cash in my purse. Sat in my car in the parking lot feeling the regret already settling in. Some parts of still excited me and honestly still do. But the reality was too real and I had a long time to reflect on it sitting in my car to sober up. I never went back. Never told anyone. And now it’s years later. I’ve always considered telling my husband. I guess this is selfish but I never found the right opportunity to bring it up and he never asked. I just know he has a picture of me that’s just not true. I’m also afraid of his judgement if I do tell him even tho he didn’t even know me when I did it.

Although im now recovered, during the worst of it i used to make myself throw up down the shower drain. Only when the water was running, but i dont think that helped considering i probably did it hundreds of times. Now, if the AC is turned on and someone takes a shower, it spreads the stench of pure sewage throughout the entire house ( i still live with my parents ) im 95% sure this has to do with the vomit. Now my parents are probably going to try to fix this and im just going to continue pretending i have no idea why it smells.

I posted this in response to a “what’s something you wanna get off your chest?” post, but I wanted to post it here. This whole situation gives me a laugh every single time. I can hear my neighbor leave her apartment, then rip some gnarly farts in the hallway, and then go back in. I work from home 2x a week and my desk is next to my front door. One time she did it 3 times in an hour. I know she lives with a boyfriend, I see them in passing sometimes and I have to put I a lot of effort to keep a straight face. They are both very fit and from all the Whole Foods bags I’ve seen them carrying, I assume their diets consist of vegetables that make you fart. Sometimes I’ll wait 30 seconds, leave my apartment, and check my mail just to hopefully make her embarrassed, not to feel shame, but just a funny “oops haha”. I will say, they reek. They are strong and putrid. The hallways are small too. My girlfriend one time was home and heard it too. We both died laughing. We both went out after 10 minutes and it still smelled terrible.

I’m 44, my dad is 76. Before anyone jumps straight to me treating an old man like a child, my dad has always been VERY independent and I actually admire that about him. He still lives alone in the same house I grew up in, does his own shopping, goes fishing with two mates every other sunday, still insists on cutting his own bloody hedge even though I bought him an electric one because the petrol one is apparently “better made”. Hes not helpless at all. The problem was his driving had become genuinely frightening and absolutely nobody could get him to admit it. It started with smaller things. He’d park with one wheel on the pavement, scrape the passenger mirror and swear someone hit HIM, miss turns he’s been taking for 30 years. Then last year I was in the car with him and he pulled straight out of a junction because he genuinely hadnt seen a van coming from the right. The van slammed its brakes and missed us by maybe a couple metres. Dad just went “bloody idiot was flying” and carried on driving. I remember sitting there thinking, no, that was you. A few weeks later my sister rang me because he’d reversed into one of those metal posts outside a supermarket. Nothing serious, cracked the bumper, but apparently he didnt even realise he had hit it until somebody knocked on his window. We tried doing this properly first. Me, my sister, his brother, all of us spoke to him separately because if we went together he would immediately think we’d held some family tribunal behind his back. He wouldnt hear it. Every single conversation turned into “I’ve been driving since before you were born” and “you lot think because I’m old I cant do anything anymore.” Which wasnt what anyone was saying. I told him I didnt care if he drove to the shops at 11 in the morning on quiet roads, it was him going through town in rush hour and driving at night that worried me. He basically told me to mind my own business. Then he clipped a parked car. Again, not some huge crash, he caught the side of it while squeezing past on a narrow road and knocked the mirror off. The owner happened to be standing nearby and stopped him because Dad was going to keep driving. Dad said he thought he’d hit a branch. That was the moment I stopped thinking this was just me being overprotective. About 6 months ago he rang me because his car wouldnt start. I went over, got it going and drove it around the block, everything seemed fine. Couple weeks later it happened again. This is where I did something I probably had no right doing. I realised every time his car gave him trouble, he just rang me and stayed home until I sorted it. He didnt borrow anyone elses car, didnt call a taxi to go collect parts, nothing. If that car didnt start, Dad simply wasnt driving. So I started making sure sometimes it didnt. I’m deliberately not going into exactly what I did because thats not really the point, and I wasnt damaging the car. Everything could be put back exactly how it was within minutes. Maybe once every week or two I’d be at his place for dinner or helping with something, and before I left I’d make it so the car wouldnt start the next morning. Then I’d get the inevitable phone call. “This bloody thing again.” I’d tell him I couldnt get there until after work, offer to pick up his shopping or take him wherever he needed to go, then later I’d “fix” it. This went on for months. The stupid part is Dad started blaming the car rather than himself. He’d had it for nearly 12 years and suddenly decided it was unreliable. He started asking me whether he should replace it and I kept saying at your age do you really want to spend 20 grand on another car when you barely use this one? Get taxis, let me drive you, use the bus pass you’ve had sitting in a drawer since 2016. Somehow THAT argument got through to him in a way “you’re becoming dangerous behind the wheel” never did. Then something happened I genuinely didnt expect. He started enjoying not driving. There’s a little community bus that runs near his house that he had apparently considered beneath him for years. Now he takes it into town because he’s become friends with another blokewho uses the same one. My sister started taking him grocery shopping on saturday mornings and apparently they now get breakfast afterwards. If he wants to go fishing one of his mates picks him up. I take him to appointments. His world didnt collapse the way I think he imagined it would if he stopped driving. About 6 weeks ago he sold the car. He got a decent price for it too. He told me afterward, “Shouldve got rid of the bloody thing years ago, more trouble than it was worth.” I nearly choked on my tea. He has absolutely no idea. My sister knows now because I finally told her last weekend. She stared at me for about 10 seconds then said “You are actually insane”, then started laughing. After that she got more serious and said I should probably never tell Dad because he would see it as a massive betrayal, even if it ended up being for the best. And shes right. He would be FURIOUS. I did interfere with his property. I lied to his face multipe times. There were mornings he genuinely thought his car was failing when actually his idiot son had been round the night before making sure he couldnt use it. But I also remember that van. I remember him saying he’d hit a branch when there was another mans wing mirror hanging off. Maybe there was a more respectful way to handle it, but everybody tried respectful for nearly a year and he simply wouldnt listen. Dad would rather blame a 12 year old car than admit he might not be as sharp behind the wheel as he used to be. So I let him blame the car. He thinks giving up driving was his idaea. I’m perfectly happy letting him die thinking that.

​ I work as an accountant at a mid-sized company. After a few years there, I was promoted to a better position within the finance department, and with that came my own office. My office isn't exactly luxurious. It’s basically a desk, a computer, some cabinets, and a small bathroom in the corner. And when I say small, I mean *small*: it has a toilet and a sink—no shower, nothing fancy. But of all the perks that came with the promotion, I think this is one I’ve come to value the most. I’ve always been someone who uses the bathroom a lot. My digestion works well, but my system is very active. I usually need to poop once or twice a day—sometimes more, depending on what I ate the day before—and I also pass a lot of gas; nothing out of the ordinary, but naturally, it smells pretty bad. I was never embarrassed about using the communal office restrooms or pooping at work. But I think everyone knows that feeling of being in a small stall with people walking by, trying to be as quiet as possible, and hoping no one walks in right after you. I used to work in a shared office. I liked the environment, but sometimes I’d feel uncomfortable because I’d start overthinking things: "Did they hear that fart?" Once I got my own office, I simply stopped worrying about that. I can close the door, poop in peace, and go back to work without feeling awkward. The funny thing is, when I know I’m going to be in there a while, I take my laptop with me to handle work tasks—answering emails, reviewing documents or spreadsheets, or finishing up simple jobs. There have been days when I stayed in there longer because my digestion was acting up; in the past, that probably would have made me really anxious. Now, I just think: "Thank goodness this bathroom is mine." I never told my colleagues about this because they probably would have laughed. But the truth is, this small change greatly improved my work routine.

Some context. I (40M) have been with my wife (42F) since 2003. We have had ups and downs, good times and bad. Deaths, births, once in a lifetime memories, kids, a house and dreams. These all came shattering down, last year. I was SA’d last year by a fellow employee at our facility who was a supervisor. She started to treat me unkindly and belittle me to the point of hurting myself after it happened sending me threatening and demoralizing messages to hurt myself, no one loved me and that sure was happy I was raped as a kid, because before then she was a very nice lady and we worked together with no issues before. One day after work, she followed me in the parking lot talking about life and ambitions. Nothing crazy but I was giving cheerleader advice like “you got this” and “don’t let anyone take your eye off the prize” nothing leading or acted as if I wanted something from her. As she was taking her boots off in the parking lot. She grabbed my genitals and tried to make me put protection on while still holding me. I tried to back up even slightly from my pelvis and she squeezed harder. Nothing happened as she seen I wasn’t actively participating and wanting it she moved away and let me go. My problem? I didn’t tell anyone. Not even my wife because of how scared and insecure I was to tell her what really happened. And that me as a man locked up when someone forcibly grabbed me against my will. I’ve been SA as a kid and my wife barely found out last year after 21 years (at the time) because of the shame and guilt behind it. There were things she seen that were coping mechanisms after my rape that she thought were fantasy rather than trauma responses. So she assumed must have wanted something sexual, which made her second guess my responses when SA’d as an adult. This was something I never wanted in my life. I had loved and forgave myself and to prove to my wife so much that never wanted this, I went to our local court and placing a protective order against that lady after she left our job. She was served the documents a few months afterwards. Me holding onto these stigmas as if women won’t believe that we as men can be SA’d too. Taken advantage of when we are being nice. Hurt when we are just trying to help. And as man blamed right off the bat. I’m told I’m the one with the penis. I must have wanted that to happen. She wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t lead her on etc. have now placed a barrier that we cannot come over. She feels me keeping it from her was me hiding and wanting it. I never in 23 years have ever done something like that. This is why I have no trust in the outside world anymore. I help people and my kindness is taken for weakness which in turn hurts me. My wife and I had a conversation the other day and I told her that I cannot continue fighting over something I never wanted to happen. She said she can’t trust me and that things will never be the same. Another happen just a few minutes ago and she woke me up at 3 am knowing I have to work at 8 to tell me she doesn’t trust me and wanted to argue. I’m over it. So, as much as it pains me. On the 17th of August two days after my birthday I will give her the paperwork to set her free from me and all of this after 23 years together.