Jesse hasn’t worked all week or been a pest, and we finally got our propane. We only got 70 gallons, though, and not the 100 we wanted cuz he was running out. So we’ll probably need him back out at the end of next month.

I forgot to mention that I coaxed a picture out of Paul so I could put a face to the text, and he sent one of himself and his family. He sort of reminds me of “Nervous,” as we’d call him, LOL. His daughter’s gorgeous in a model sort of way.

The rain finally stopped, and I think a transformer must’ve blown somewhere around here. Around 6am yesterday the lights flickered and then I heard a loud bang. I’m just glad we didn’t lose electricity.

Two of my top cyber buddies are older guys who have given me various feedback and advice that is much appreciated. One such guy said that as far as my love and lust for D are concerned, feeling the warmth of the fire is okay, but I also wouldn’t be very far from third-degree burns. He also pointed out that I equate my natural urges to give in to her as with going into the bathroom and giving in to my urge to pee, but certain urges are within quite a different sphere than giving into love and lust. I see his point there. We can’t help but pee. We absolutely have to. But we don’t have to have sex, married or not. For someone whose sex life has been virtually non-existent for some time now, I can personally vouch for that one firsthand, LOL.

Sometimes I wish D was as fictitious as “Ariella,” a character in the book I’m working on now because it would be a whole lot easier to desire someone who either didn’t exist or who I had absolutely no chance with whatsoever. But D is as real as these words I’m tapping out and so I must deal with my feelings one day at a time. As for dealing with my actions, that will depend on whether or not we actually see each other. We definitely don’t always do the smart thing and often choose comfortable over smart, if that makes any sense. I’m down to 124 pounds. The smart thing to do would be to keep plugging away at my diet till I lose another 10-20 pounds, but will I? No, of course not. I fully intend to take today off for another round of delicious chocolate-covered cherries.

sighs figuratively Can something that feels so right be wrong? I know, for example, that if D were suddenly right down the street and asked to stop by I couldn’t possibly say no. And I’d be kidding myself if I said we wouldn’t want to fuck each other the first chance we got. But what if she came here and I chickened out? Would she be disappointed and say, “Hey, you didn’t give me what I came out here for!”

Or at least part of what she came out for. I know that fucking me isn’t her only reason for wanting to visit. No one spends hundreds of dollars just to get a piece of ass. D’s got women wanting her all the time. She’s not only got “the look,” but she’s damn hot, too. I get wet just thinking about her. So believe me when I say there’s no shortage of women throwing themselves at her, LOL!

Would I feel like a cheater in the end? Maybe. I can’t say for sure how I’d feel until and if anything ever really did happen between us, but if I do, I do. Any guilt I may feel may be worth it like the extra pounds gained after a couple of days of overeating. Aren’t we all entitled to indulge every now and then anyway? If we can indulge in food periodically and other things like clothes and jewelry, can’t we indulge in sex, too?

Tom may be a bit of a fluke in some ways that could go for the rest of his life without sex and never complain, and if I had to do the same, so be it. However, I’m a little more human than my dear hubby. I love the hell outa him, but we just don’t have any fireworks between us. They seemed to fizzle out with time and age as if we were an old record that had been played over and over and over. And I have no qualms about being honest with myself about this much and even though he could be reading this journal. I doubt it, though, since I tell him just about everything and what I don’t he can figure out for himself. He’s smart for a guy, as I fondly tease him.

So that brings me back to the main question – is wrong actually right? Or at least okay? Maybe sometimes it is. People know they shouldn’t smoke, yet they do it anyway. People know they shouldn’t drive too fast, but they also do that, too. So if wrong is enjoyable and it feels right, is wrong really wrong?

Maybe the answer to my question about wrong being right or okay lies within the outcome of a particular hypothetical scenario that I ran through my mind. It goes like this: D and I are suddenly alone – we could be anywhere – but we are alone. Of that much, I am sure of. I look at her, tall, dark and a major turn-on in every sense of the word. Her eyes of warm chocolate are eyeing me hungrily. She comes towards me, tight jeans showing her fine body off, muscles in her strong arms rippling beneath her skin. She pulls me, all satin and lace, towards her and holds me snuggly against her.

Can I pull away and say no?

No, I can’t.

Her lips find mine and we kiss passionately.

Can I place my hands on her chest and push her away?

No, I can’t.

She strips me naked and throws me on the bed, skilled tongue expertly lapping at my most sensitive spots, particularly between my legs.

Can I stop her?

HELL NO!