stepmother desire by anonymoussname on Fri May 23, 2014 4:56 am
Ok, so I'm pretty sure there is something wrong with me. I have had this feeling toward my stepmother since I could remember. Like a desire. I know it's wrong, it's not right because she is married to my father and she is my stepmother. My father cheated on her and I just wanted to tell her so bad how I felt about her, and how much she deserved better but they got back together. My father married her without telling her he had a vasectomy. And all these years later she really wants a kid, I wish I could help her have a kid... I am 21 years old, and I moved back into their house about a year ago because my roommate moved out of state and left the bills all on me. I go into their room sometimes when they go to work and I smell her freshly worn panties, and masturbate to them. I found a box of her toys(dildos) and I masturbated to them and licked them. I also found their sex tape and watched it so I could see what she looks like naked. Sometimes when my dad leaves to go to work, I hear her getting into the shower and I fantasize going in there and joining her, or going into the room and waiting on her to get out. I have control enough to never do anything to crazy, but what should I do? Should I just get help, or tell her what I have done/ how I feel, or nothing? Please don't comment how sick I am, and how I need to find god.. I know I am sick, I just can't control myself sometimes.
About me and how I need help psychologically... by bookofwildthoughts on Tue Feb 21, 2012 2:44 pm
About me and how I need help psychologically... So this page is all about me, myself and my book of wild thoughts. Obviously my name is not Bookof!! I’m intending to keep anonymity at least for now; that’s because I’m a bit ashamed of what I write! I did not even link it to my own personal Facebook profile, I preferred to create a different entity, and this is being applied onto all my self-owned social network profiles. Besides, it’s in my constitutional rights to do so and if anybody’s got a problem with that, well…. Door’s open, please go !! So what is book of wild thoughts all about, I can hear you mumbling… As said above, this book is all about me and my personality and how I’m intending, with the help of all my readers, to achieve in linking them harmoniously. There are other areas I’m looking forward to improve as well: my own English writing style, some books and stories I wanted to publish. So this website is all about gathering enough courage in me to really do what I always wanted  !! I’ll probably add some more text in the future for that’s all I feel like writing at the moment; my wife’s nearly finished with cooking dinner and it’s about time to wrap the napkin around the closet, oops sorry! I meant around the neck; Just to let you know how it took me days before I started to lay my hands on my own personal blog, I even threw up out of eating whatever came in, I think it’s the stress LOL ! I don’t know why such a reaction would occur to me, maybe I got too lazy to start working on it… So you can guess by now, or I can already hear you screaming, “How am I supposed to know that?? Ain’t you old enough to know it (oh, btw, how rude of me, I’m male, thirties, and married. Where were my manners!?) yourself why are you asking me??” So here we go: my answer is exactly your question, I don’t know myself enough and this has caused me (and is still causing me) tremendous trouble in whatever I do, whoever I lived with, in all what you can think of! This lack of personality, of self-esteem has brought me to where I am at present, a lousy web developer after 10 years in the field and writing this blog! Of course, I managed to get a nice girl to fall in love with, a little plot of land I managed to get on a good opportunity, but ‘all’ this achievement (LOL) seems so small as compared to the $#%^ I brought to my family, my wife and luckily no kids so far! Imagine the disaster, for my wife: 2 stubborn kids in the house! So many of my friends have excelled in the field, they took courage, had the balls still have, and grabbed life with firm hands to build their dreams and be happy with their life now. It would have sounded so selfish if I had ended this sentence with “except me”!! I have a great family, wonderful parents whom I never blame for where I’m standing now, a wonderful wife who has accepted to bear me for three years now and a nice work atmosphere, what more could I want? What more would a man need to start flying on his own ship and start his business ‘happily ever after’ ?? So all these lines of thought, these wild thoughts (I’ve got more, don’t worry!!) have led me to share my life and my own thoughts into a small book which I’ll update online of course, from time to time. I’ll be pretty close with it, since I’m intending to use it anywhere I’ll be, using my mobile phone; yes, even when I’m taking a $#%^ ! That’s because it’s better to be writing something than doing anything else #######5, how about that !? Thanks for reading my article down to here and hope I can get to read your comments very soon!
projecting? by tiredwife on Thu Jan 31, 2019 7:08 pm
I have always heard that when being accused of something (that you aren't and haven't done,) it's more than likely because your accuser is guilty of such. I'm certain this doesn't apply to every situation, but realistically, how often does this actually happen to you?
Based upon my husband's past experiences with a wife that cheated, drank, and drugged herself into a stupor, I understand his skepticism. I however, do not do anything at all similar, don't look similar, don't act or speak similarly. We are not the same. I am his second wife.
For the past year, it has turned into him yelling, screaming "shut your f***ing mouth" "listen to me when i speak to you" "you will respect me," and things of that nature. He tells me not to talk over him, not interrupt him, and then when I ask for a moment of his time, he cuts me off and uses his hands as a "stop" gesture to end what I have to say. In all honesty, I do not feel as though my husband respects me, or cares at all about the things I say. I am a very brutally honest and blunt, and some would say pessimistic person. I believe I just know better how to prepare for situations, and expect others to disappoint me, so I work things our in such a way that I do not get disappointed. I look at life with a very real sense of what can and cannot be accomplished in a given amount of time. I am very time-oriented. My husband tells me that I assume to much. An example: I tell him one thing in the A.M., he forgets by lunch 5 days in a row, and tells me that he forgot every evening. I tell him the same message on the 6th day, he gets bent out of shape because "I assumed he would forget and now I am nagging." I personally do not find that nagging or assuming. It is using deductive reasoning or taking what was learned from first-hand experiences, and applying it to the situation. This is something that happens every week.
He accuses me of being childish, immature, and needing to grow the f*** up. I do not raise my voice at him. I am the mother of his child. I keep the house running. I am overseer of all of the financials. I went to college. I make more money than him. I have two college degrees. I am a female in a predominately male professional trade, decisive, direct, and dedicated. I have more real-world experience than he does. I am literal. To the point. Callous, if you will. I do not mince words. I say exactly what the situation calls for, and I use the correct vernacular for emotions and feelings. I had to grow up fast, and by whatever means necessary, while he grew up in the same house all his life, was the youngest of three children with a stay at home mother, and overly religious upbringing, had no responsibilities, and never been told no. I do not play games. He says I do. He is the one that plays games, blatantly ignoring repeated phone calls and going out of his way to make me feel inadequate.
Really, that's just two examples..but just this morning we had the biggest blow-up of our relationship because I asked for clarification on what he meant by a statement, and it turned into very seriously hurtful words and screaming.
Any advice, folks?
Ending Silence by maat888 on Sun Feb 17, 2013 7:40 am
From what I have been told, I was talking and walking by 9 months old. Perhaps it is an exaggeration, but I can attest to the ease I have experienced in school, with dealing with problems, and assessing the “right” behavior in situations. I have had one imaginary friend, from what I can remember, since I was about two years old. I remember when he first knocked on the door, a back door with a mud room in my house, and I let him in. I would tease my Dad that he was my boy friend. He kept me wonderful company and was an enlightening, safe harbor. I remember another time when someone entered through this same door. I remember that I was handed a stuffed animal by this man, but I cannot recall any more. When I was seven, I remember feeling sure that I could survive on my own, if only my parents would let me alone. In kindergarten, I could read chapter books and would forge my mother’s signature on the homework list each week. I remember wanting the independence from my mother to moderate my own life. My favorite thing to do at that time was read. I had a children’s encyclopedia and learned about sexual reproduction in this fashion. I discovered an obsession with looking at Michael Angelo’s “David” sculpture. I would sit and look at it for different durations each day. Between seven and nine, my parents split up (though, I had suspected it for over a year). At this time I began having very sexual, very vivid dreams. One dream I remember was of my self in a hotel room, seducing a much older, ugly man. I believe between six and seven I was sexually abused again, by the same close friend of my family that had been in my life much earlier, and that I had let into my home through the mud room door. I cannot remember it happening, but I have returned to a certain event when I remember I was alone with this person, and there are blank spots in my memory. I started touching my self with my dolls or stuffed animals around this time, I don’t really understand why. I would “tell” my sister’s fortune by looking into my crystal ball. Around the same time I stopped feeling normal. When I saw myself in the mirror, I felt an intense, unnatural feeling. It was almost disgust. It increased when I had on feminine clothing. I still feel it, sometimes seemingly random and sometimes by noticeable triggers, to this day. When I was nine, I realized that my father was not scary. I saw that he would raise his voice to intimidate me- and, I saw that it was just that- and that I was capable of it too. This led me to a strange relationship with aggression. I began to “dominate” my siblings, feel an anger that was confusing and overwhelming. I felt as if something in me was red fire hot, and I had no control over it, nor the ability to stop it, nor the knowledge of how it started. I felt like a victim while I victimized other people. And still, though less frequently and with more control to mask it, I have this sensation of being a puppet. At this time I also began trying to study witch craft and wanted to be a vampire. I would mediate and attempt to make spells. By the time I was eleven, I was not only participating in on-line sex and wishing to be kissed by a boy at school, but I was finding attendance at school more difficult, as well as having increased bouts with anxiety and depression. This only worsened as I got older. And by fourteen, I was full blown suicidal. My parents attempted to get me help, but the doctors, therapists, teachers, and medication were so easily manipulated that no one could touch me. I would get into these crazed, raging fits of frustration and aggression. I would yell, scream, shake, cry, weep, sob; I was frightening. I started “cutting” which was mostly scratching. I started messing around with older guys. I started lying and going out and trying to drink/party as much as possible. When my father would have a chance to sit and talk to me, he would try to hug me, but I would yell insults until he would give up. I remember ... [ Continued ]
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