The next morning Brandon was already gone by the time I woke up at 0645. I couldn't say he was lazy or didn't provide, he did. Just not emotionally or physically. It was becoming clear that after 7 years of marriage that nothing was going to really permanently change. I was 26, finally becoming what I had always hoped to, slightly attractive. This realization while saddening was also hurtful and made me angry. Thinking it through I calmed down and reminded myself, that Brandon had been like this ever since I met him back in High School. He hadn't changed, except for working even longer hours while owning a business. It dawned on me that it was me that was changing. Last night was out of the ordinary but it was just a one off. This wouldn't be a repeating thing like I hoped for and I just had to make peace with that.
I got up and went to the bathroom, still upset and down right mad if I'm being truthful, I peed, weighed myself [still 114lbs], and started brushing my teeth. The longer I stared at my self in the mirror the sadder I got, and the madder I got as a result of being sad. I rinsed my mouth out and grabbed my oral DT toy from under the sink. Taking it out of the bag, I grabbed it and started going down on it with a fury or anger I'd never had before. Some people cry, throw, or hit things. Until now I didn't do anything when I got mad. I never saw this coming as a reaction to anger I thought and I violently hammered the end of the semi rigid dildo in my mouth. I hit the back of my throat with it and gagged, but I didn't stop, my eyes watered, but I didn't care I did it again. Again I gaged, and coughed. I kept doing it almost as a punishment for I don't know what, but as a reaction to being mad. After I hit the back of my throat with it several times and tears were streaming down my face, and my nose was running, I realized I was also crying because I was upset and mad. I guess it was sort of my form of self harm? At least I didn't burn myself with cigarettes or cut myself. Looking at myself in the mirror with the tears and my nose running, I took 1 big breath and shoved the dildo into the back of my throat and held it there. I gagged, but refused to budge pressing even harder. I gagged again, still I wouldn't let up. I blew snot out of my nose as a gagged a 3rd time and tilted my head back. And that was all it took, I tilted my head back just a bit and the next time I gagged while pressing the toy to my throat I felt it pop past the opening that separated my throat from my esophagus. I froze, with a mixture of surprise, accomplishment, happiness, and eve some fear.
I could tell that only the head of the false penis had made it past, which was about 1" from top to crown but it felt like it was 10 feet long to me. I tried to pull it out and my throat closed around the shaft and the ridge on the tip felt like it was stuck. I started to panic, I could just rip it out I was afraid of damaging my throat. Try explaining that at the emergency room. So I calmly relaxed, I concentrated on relaxing my throat and let out the breath I took a few seconds ago, and breathed in slowly. I gently pulled on the dildo that felt like it was lodged down my throat and gently tried to relax my muscles hoping they would let it slip out. It felt like it almost worked but not quite. Staying calm and taking another breath I did the same thing again, but pulled a little harder, and with a little pressure I felt it force my throat muscles open just enough to get the rim of the head of the false penis pop out of my throat and back into my mouth. I was relieved that I got it out with no major issues. I then immediately vomited in the toilet.
Well that wasn't going to be a good way to end a deep throating session if it ever happened I thought to my self as I wiped my mouth and flushed. Staring in the mirror, I stared back with red swollen eyes, and a running nose. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, again, and cleaned the dildo, this time with the proper sanitizing cleaner and not dish soap.
That day at work I knew everyone was looking at me and my obviously red eyes. I brushed it off and the 1-2 that said something to me I said it was allergies and that was all that was said. I couldn't concentrate all day, I kept thinking about this morning and finally managing to get something in my throat like I had been trying to for a few weeks now. All day I kept concentrating on my throat and relaxing, then trying to figure out how to open up the muscles at the top of my esophagus. After dwelling on this all day it was like I gave myself a deep tissue throat massage. The little soreness I had went away and it didn't hurt to swallow food or water anymore.
I went down to the vending machines and bought a pack of Skittles. Back at my desk I took one and let it sit at the back of my throat and practiced trying to open and relax that muscle without swallowing and just dropping it past my mouth and into my throat. After staring at the same email for 45 minutes, and probably 100 skittles later, I looked at the clock. It was 14:00, then I noticed it was Friday. That's when the panic set in. I had to be at my Dr's appointment in an hour for my every 2 weeks fill!
I frantically packed up everything, badged out of my office and the building, then calmly drove to my Dr's office at 30 MPH over the speed limit. I walked through the door right at 15:00. Happy to have made it I sat down and waited. About 5 minutes later I was brought back, and I started taking off my top and bra.
As the Dr. did his exam I was still off thinking about my new oral obsession. It took me a minute to realize he was talking to me. I finally answered, apologized, and came back to the present. He had me move to the mirror in the room. By this time I had my expanders filled enough times that I seemed to be adjusting easier. I was hoping it was going to happen, after all it had been 8 months or so.
Looking in the mirror the Dr pointed out that I was at 175 CCs on each side. This was a nice snug fit in my B cup bras that I bought 2-3 months ago. The weight of the saline was starting to become enough that my breasts were beginning to settle and start to sag just a little bit with gravity. They didn't look like they were hard objects that were affixed to my chest. I was happy and a little surprised I didn't notice myself. But then again aside from showering, putting cream on my skin, or changing they spent all their time in a bra. I even slept in a sports bra.
The Dr explained that the tissue expanders while expanding also would be affected by gravity. He went on to say that if I spent more time without a bra they would stretch the skin more as gravity pulled on them. While there was an increased risk of stretch marks by doing this, it would allow my fill appointments to be a little more aggressive. Being cautious I said I'd ease into it as I definitely did not want stretch marks.
I couldn't really pull myself to go without a bra very much at all. So things proceeded at the same slow and cautious rate. And I settled back into a routine, that was more like a rut. Time just seemed to keep slowly passing by, everything was rinse and repeat, for the next 5 years. Things with Brandon didn't really change for the longest time. Until he came home one evening before I was asleep. He had rented an apartment that was around the corner from the company he started. He said it was because the travel time in LA traffic was terrible. But I suspected it was more than that. I suspected that he was as unhappy as I was with how we had grown distant.
We talked about this and the whole time I was oddly at peace with it. We never were upset with each other we had just grown apart. I could tell we were both unhappy. I asked if he was seeing or wanted to see other people. He said he wasn't and didn't know when he would have time anyway. At least that made me feel a little better.
We both agreed that this was probably a decent idea given the situation. I asked about the condo we had and if he was going to still help to cover the monthly payment. He said that he was not going to be helping with that any more. I started to panic because with what I made living in LA, the mortgage would take 80% of my monthly pay. He held my hand and calmly said that he took an owner withdrawal from the HVAC business and paid it off. I about choked.
"But we still owe over $700,000 on the note!" I almost shouted.
"Yes that's right. But the business has over $5 million in the bank." he replied reassuringly.
