I lost my William in early 2001.
He was a writer who, one day, planned to use my diary's, which I kept through our young courtship and beyond, as a basis for a true erotic story.
William and I enjoyed reading erotic stories of this type.
He planned to use the pen name Billy Hand.
As a means of therapy for dealing with his loss, I took up the project.
Though not as accomplished as William as a writer, I too, write professionally for travel and vacation guides.
Originally his plan was for a genus story, CARREE LOVES BILLY, and then 10 stories of our sexual adventures and life.
After his death I reworked his outlines and added a few things I remembered and few things he never knew about.
After finishing 7 of the stories, I cannot continue.
I feel it is only fair to tell you all the reasons why and a few of the circumstances.
The support I received from the readers of the sites that posted the series was just unbelievable. Some of those who wrote made a difference in my life that lasts even today. There are two in particular.
One is a woman in California, my age, who taught me that life is NOT over when you are 28 and seemingly out of options. There are plenty of options and lots of fun to be had, and lots of things to be discovered about our personal selves, and our sexual selves. She made me realize I could feel like a young woman, and even dream of becoming a young bride again. All of this because she dared to do things a little on the edge, and give me blow by blow accounts. She made me think, THAT COULD BE ME.
As low and as stripped of life as I was, she made me smile, she made me wonder, she made me feel sexual again (I didn't think that would ever be possible). Thank You G, I love you.
The other was an older man from across the pond, who had related a similar story to mine that was experienced by his sister. He wanted so to comfort me, but was so afraid of sounding like he was coming on to me. He just wanted me to know that my pain was shared by others and that, like it or not, life goes on. His sister had a hard time dealing with the situation. He felt I could do better, because he thought I showed a better outlook in my stories. He showed me how I could sink to a pretty wretched state, if I let myself. He was so cute, especially when I considered how much older he was than I. He even scolded me like a Daddy for my one indiscretion in my relationship.
Thanks RM - "Dad".
In between the fifth and sixth story I began to have a relationship with the character in my story I call "Russell". It was he that I had an indiscretion with during my time with William. Most would not have called it cheating, but I always felt awful that I never told William.
As things got more and more serious with "Russell", I failed to tell him about the stories I was writing and the "triple life" I was leading, 1) the grieving widow, 2) the tell-all erotic story author 3) the new paramour for my old college friend.
Since he was a subject in one of the stories, I felt I could not share them with him. The part about him was not in the outlines William made from my notes, because William didn't know about what happened. He knew "Russell", but only as the college friend he really was to us then.
In any event, it was something else I was hiding from another man who was falling, or had fallen in love with me. ME, who always preached to others that the key to a relationship is honesty, no matter how deep the pain, was hiding something again.
As I finished Story 7 I was aware that it was harder and harder to hide this from "Russell" because we were just about living together, although not totally sexual yet. As I finished that story I also realized that the therapeutic part of the stories was over. They caused me more pain, not less, at that point.
Things happened fast then. The travel concern I called "Arens and Ponds" in my stories made me an offer I could not turn down to move back to "Baltimore". They offered me a two-year deal, that I am sure will perpetuate if I please.
I asked "Russell" to quit his job or transfer (government worker) and go with me. I was ready to commit to him, even though I was keeping the stories and my pen pals from him. It was a dishonest mistake. I kept telling myself that it wasn't his business.
When you sleep with someone and tell them you love them (and mean it) and share bodily fluids and a roof - EVERYTHING IS THEIR BUSINESS. As far as he was concerned, if I wasn't honest about this, what else??
I made a slip up and didn't cover my tracks like normal, and he
True Story /