Dear Journal,
I don't even know where to begin. I am a ball of emotions. Reading the letter from Jim had me shaking. How could he sleep with our daughters? How could our daughters be lovers for so long, and I had no idea? I knew they were close but this? Is this why they lived together? Is this why they never seemed to date? Looking back, I guess this explained why the girls seemed eager to stay over every time I went away for work lately. I just thought that they wanted to bond with their father more. I could never have imagined this. Everything I believed about my family, about my life, felt like a lie at that moment.
Jim and I had been married for 30 years at this point. We had met when we were freshmen in college and became fast friends. He was always my safe space. If I was stressed about school, had an argument with my roommates, or even had a date I needed advice about, he was my go-to person. We would talk about everything. I knew everything about him, even the embarrassing stuff, like when he broke his toe while having sex with Becky, his freshmen year girlfriend. I also shared everything with him, from the mundane things about my parents' divorce to my sexual curiosity and experimentation with some girls in my sorority. Nothing ever seemed to be off-limits when it came between us.
When we started dating our junior year of college, it shocked no one. Everyone, including our various boyfriends and girlfriends, always assumed there was something between us. I guess they saw something neither of us was willing to admit. Jim was, is, my soul mate. Hell, even after being together for so long, our relationship was solid. Despite work sending me on trips often, we always made time for each other. We went on dates weekly and had sex multiple times a week. Even while away, we found ways to be sexually active. Who knew masturbating together over Facetime could be so much fun! Thank the sex goddess for technology.
Nothing ever seemed to be off-limits for us to talk about, especially when it came to sex. A few years ago, I had come across some videos online where the woman was wearing various latex outfits. I was shocked by how much of a turn-on it was to me. When I told Jim about it, he said we should make my fantasy a reality, so we visited a local sex toy boutique that had a section devoted to "sex clothes." My mind was blown by what I saw there that first time. Latex catsuits, dresses, halter-tops, mini skirts, leggings, thigh-highs, gloves, masks, collars were all there on display. It was a bit overwhelming, but as soon as Jim whispered into my ear how turned on he was, I felt right at home. He handed me his credit card and told me to buy anything I liked. I came away with a whole new wardrobe. Latex became a regular part of our lovemaking. It made me feel incredibly sexy. The tight, form-fitting clothes made me feel wanted and young again. It meant so much to me that Jim indulged me in my new fetish. He always made me feel so comfortable and never made me feel judged at all. I guess that is why him telling me that he has been sleeping with our daughters behind my back for the past few weeks was so upsetting.
By the time I got to the hotel and found the letter, it was already pretty late at night. I decided to go to bed and start fresh in the morning. I was worried I wouldn't fall asleep since I was a ball of energy, so I took a Klonopin before hitting the sack. I was exhausted from traveling all day, so between that and the antianxiety meds, I passed out fairly quickly.
My dreams that night were anything but ordinary. Maybe it was the meds, maybe it was my brain trying to make sense of the letter Jim wrote me, but the dreams I had were vivid and shocking.
My most vivid dream started with me coming home from my trip, only to find Morgan on the couch moaning with Miriam between her legs. Miriam was dressed in my new devil-red latex bodysuit with the zippered crotch.
"God, Miriam, you eat my pussy so good!" Morgan screamed with abandonment. "I can't get over how hot you look in Mom's latex. It turns me on so much. I can't believe Mom wears this stuff. I wonder if she is as big of a slut as we are. Ugh, keep going!"
"You like the idea of seeing Mom in latex, don't you. I bet you would make her your pussy slut like you've done to me. I bet she would look so hot. I know I would love for her to sit on my face in that latex catsuit we found in her closet." Miriam shot back at her sister.
It was one thing to see my daughters having sex; it was a whole other thing to hear them talk about me as a sexual plaything. Hearing them talk about me that way left me frozen in my tracks, yet incredibly turned on. It was too much for me to take in. I knew that I needed to sneak upstairs to my bedroom without them spotting me. I tried my best to make it to the stairwell, yet I couldn't help but stare at the fuck-fest that was happening before me. That was my downfall. Not looking where I was going, I bumped right into a lamp near the staircase and almost knocked it over.
Miriam suddenly lifted her head from her sister's crotch and called out to me, "Welcome home, Mommy! You must be hungry from your trip home. Would you like a taste? She tastes terrific!"
Even in my dream state, I was shocked by the audacity of my oldest daughter. What did she think I was, some sort of hussy? If I was being frank with myself, she was right. I did want a taste. I wanted to drop to my knees and take in every inch of Morgan's pussy. I wanted to unzip the crotch of my latex bodysuit and feel how wet Miriam was. I wanted to experience everything I could with them, yet at that moment, I knew I had to reject their advances.
"Don't talk to me like that!" I screamed at Miriam.
Miriam replied, "I don't think you mean that, Mommy. I think you can't keep your eyes off of us. I think you like seeing me dressed in your latex bodysuit. I look like the woman of your dreams."
