I sat Jay next to me in front of my laptop, “Wanna see what your naughty wife was up to last night?”

We had a party at home. Friends came to play music. Downstairs, instruments were plugged into amps, the guys started jamming. Upstairs in the kitchen, Sam helped me do dishes.

I played the video for Jay. Sam was doing dishes, I was behind the camera, undoing his jeans, pulling his hard-on out of his pants and putting it in my mouth. I handed the camera to Sam so I could concentrate on swallowing his cock. I watched him watch me push it back and forth into my throat.

We heard a skirmish from downstairs. It sounded like someone was going up the stairs to where we were. We stopped everything. After making sure everything was all right downstairs, I went back up to finish the dishes.

Sam had already done them all so I started getting food ready. While I worked, Sam put his hands under my skirt. We rolled the camera again, this time he pushed his hard cock inside my pussy and fucked me against the sink as downstairs Jay wailed with the swell of the music.

I gripped Jay’s hard cock while he watched the video, which ended abruptly when guests knocked on our door. I could tell Jay had mixed feelings.

I had gotten drunk that night at the party. I wanted to be the drunk girl Jay fantasizes about. That one girl who still hangs around after everyone has left the party and is waiting to be taken advantage of. But I drank too much. I passed out cold. I woke up at three in the morning still wearing my party dress, and jumped Jay’s sleepy bones. By that time, though, the giddy excitement was gone.

I had a knot in my stomach. I had failed to share with Jay the excitement I felt with Sam while the moment was still hot.

The morning after the party I was hung over. I took a shower, ate a banana, took some Vitamin B to help nurse my hangover. The house was still asleep, so I laid on the couch reading “When God Was A Woman” by Merlin Stone. There were two chapters of great interest to me that morning, Chapter 7, “The Sacred Sexual Customs,” and Chapter 9, “And the Men of the City Shall Stone Her with Stones.”

The book describes an ancient matriarchal culture centered around a temple devoted to sacred sex, orgiastic free flowing sex with no strings attached. Through snippets from the Old Testament, the author tells the story of how the patriarchs violently slaughtered all who worshiped at the altar of sacred sex, in order to establish a patrilineal culture, one in which a woman’s virginity before marriage and her fidelity as a wife was imperative under penalty of death.

“I feel so guilty,” I told Jay. “No matter how far away I’ve gone from my Catholic upbringing, I still have inside me this fear in my gut of being stoned to death. I’m an adulteress. I’m a sinner.”

My man answered me, “Did you know that the word ‘sinner’ really means someone who worships the moon? Sin is a Sumerian Moon God.”

My head cleared. Words are powerful. Used as a weapon words can stone a woman to death from thousands of years away. Used as a balm words can heal a body and soul.

I love this man. How I found him all the way from the other side of the world can only be a blessing from the Gods and Goddesses of Love. Everyday he reminds me of what is truly sacred in our lives.

Jay planted a garden into a hollow tree stump today. From the deck above I saw the crescent moon shape of the new plants in the potting soil he laid. There were tiny blue flowers and blue crystal marbles catching the sunlight.

Tonight, after I got him hard I asked him to take me outside. I only had a flimsy nightdress on, he had just come out of the shower and was wearing a thick warm bathrobe. The night air was cool but there was no breeze. A perfect summer evening.

I laid on my back on the picnic table, legs wide open for his cock. I watched him above me, constellations twinkling behind him. I thought of all the Gods and Goddesses frolicking in the night sky, kissing and licking and sucking and fucking and shuddering and cumming and laughing and hugging and loving and birthing and smiting and forgiving and starting all over again from kissing.

He pulled me off the table and down to suck his cock. He covered me with his warm robe, and I swallowed his cock in the snug darkness. He bucked hard and I gagged. He bucked harder then lifted me up to fuck me from behind, pulling my nightdress off my shoulders.

“I like seeing your tits,” he whispered. “They’re so pointy outdoors.”

We fucked and fucked dirty. He pushed his cock into my ass, my pussy, my mouth interchangeably and told me how happy he is to have a wife who gives herself fully to him. I told him I let him do anything he wants to me because I trust him fully.

“You dirty whore,” he called to me while he rammed his rock hard cock into me.

“I like being your dirty whore,” I am starting to like that name. I’m claiming these words as mine now: whore, adulteress, sinner… I take them as words of power and freedom. Love has set me free.