It was only a matter of time.
Someone would uncover my secret boyfriend.
I have so many lovers, and most of them read my blog. I like that my life is as honest and transparent as it can be.
Still, I value my privacy. I like to keep some things private, or at least to reveal them on a timetable of my choosing.
So long as no one knew about my secret boyfriend Emma, she and I could get to know one another without anyone looking over our shoulders.
I was particularly glad that my not-so-secret boyfriend Marcus did not know.
Not because he would be jealous, as he’s always happy when I am happy.
Not because he might make a move on Emma. They will surely meet, and when they do, they will surely have sex. After all, Marcus fucks all my friends. That’s fine by me—they each deserve to have sex as good as the other has to offer.
No, I was glad Marcus didn’t know because he would immediately see something I was trying to reconcile in my mind.
With her smooth skin, blonde hair, blue eyes, youth and soft Virginia accent, Emma is the spitting image of my teenage daughter Rachel.
Now mind you, I wasn’t attracted to Emma by this coincidence.
I really had no idea what Emma looked like prior to our first meeting. I had never heard her voice.
That first summer night we met, chatting over margaritas with the promise of sex clinging to the humid night air, I had to ask myself: was the resemblance too eerie to press forward?
Could I really say to her, look Emma, you’re nice and all, but you look too much like my daughter for me to put my dick in you?
I mean, that wasn’t Emma’s problem. It was mine. She can’t help it if she looks so much like the little girl whose face is framed on my desk.
I decided I could manage this revelation.
But if she ever took to calling me “daddy,” I’d have to make her cut it out.
Marcus would make the connection immediately—and tease me about it no end—but no one else was likely to notice.
And anyway, for the time being, no one knew about Emma. I had time to get to know her, and to push aside the comparison to Rachel.
Even if it did fuel my narcissism to be fucking a pretty female version of myself.
At any rate, I didn’t have to worry too much about Marcus. He would be amused by my situation, but he would only know about it when I told him.
He doesn’t snoop.
And because he respects my privacy, I tell him everything.
That’s how my honesty fetish works. The more open I can be with a person, the deeper my affections. The more I have to hide, or dissemble, or gloss, the less content I am.
Invasions of privacy appall me.
And yet, they happen. The more some people know, the more they need to know.
Inevitably, someone would uncover my secret.
Not surprisingly, that someone was Mitzi.
Mitzi is a sharp-eyed sleuth, and congenitally curious to know more about my activities.
If I were ever lost, I would call Mitzi. She always knows where I am.
One evening, I was showing her something on my computer.
As I pointed out a website, she glanced at my desktop and saw a file marked “Emma.jpg.”
Her eyes fell to my open calendar. She saw the name “Emma” penciled in for Sunday.
“Jefferson, who is Emma?”
I was talking about something else, and surprised by her question.
“Emma? Why do you ask?”
“You have her photo and her name is on your calendar. Are you fucking this Emma?”
“I can fuck anyone I want, Mitzi.”
She punched my arm.
“Asshole. How long have you been fucking her?”
“I don’t want to talk about Emma.”
“I find out you’ve got a secret girlfriend? You better start talking, mister.”
I shrugged. “Well, actually, she’s a secret boyfriend, but . . . okay, yes, I have been seeing a woman named Emma. You’ll meet her eventually. She wants to come to the parties.”
Mitzi cocked her head. “She does?”
I steered Mitzi’s curiosity from jealous ire to lesbian desire. She likes fresh meat as much as the next girl.
“Yes, she does. I’m sure you will like her. She’s very cool, gets lezzie, and no, I’m not courting her for marriage.”
Mitzi sighed. “You really are a cad.”
“I know, I really am.”
“I hate you.”
“I know, and rightly so.”
“I want to break up with you.”
“That’s probably wise.”
That night, as I pinned Mitzi under my arms and fucked her, she called my name.
“What?” I was fucking hard and did not alter my pace.
Mitzi looked into my eyes. “So when do I get to watch you fuck Emma?”
I kissed her softly.
“Very soon, Mitzi.”
“I’d like that,” she cooed.
She soon came.