She Came to Me – Part 2: The Second Night (L)
(L) – This story contains strong language.
Read Part 1 of the story here.
The next morning was uncomfortable.
We woke up as normal, looked at each other, smiled—and then both instantly recoiled when the memories of the previous day and night hit us. It was not a good place to be. I am not sure who wanted to be gone first—me or her.
I had shared my inner emotional self—that part I had promised as a young boy that no one would ever see. Never. Ever. And I threw it out to her like it carried no value. Raw. Without shame or constraint. I was embarrassed. My wife had seen me in my weakest self. I had exposed my inner child and wimp. I had begged for her forgiveness. My strong, I-will-take-you-woman bravado was gone. I had been just a scared little boy again.
Even so, I told her last night was awesome. My morning wood was very prominent, and I was somewhat horny and loaded, and told her how incredible she was.
Note to self: don’t tell your wife first thing in the morning how unrestrained she acted, how she was covered in cum, or how she squirted. That’s not very romantic. I realised it a little too late as she drew back from me a bit, and I shut up before I dug myself into an even deeper hole.
Instead, I just gave her the biggest hungry smile I ever had, took her by the hand, and overcame her reluctance by gently pulling her into the bathroom to shower. I undressed her, then caressed her. For now, I avoided her beautiful, engorged pussy and didn’t touch her breasts, instead making a show of looking at her naked.
She didn’t cover up, but she seemed annoyed. I pressed on despite her apparent discomfort.
I gently guided her into the shower and soaped her body, using every ounce of strength in me to avoid her beautiful pussy, open in full display, and so inviting. She was literally still dripping juices from last night . . . and maybe fresh arousal? Fuck, I wanted nothing more than to bend her over the bath and fuck her doggy style.
But instead, I ignored my erection and gently washed her hair. I may have “accidentally” touched her with my magnificent manhood to see if she would take the bait. But the shop was closed. I think it closed down and moved away overnight.
I decided to give her some space, so after I helped rinse her hair, I quickly washed myself and my own hair, then exited the shower.
As I stepped out, a glance back showed me she was still unhappy, maybe even angry as she continued washing herself. I couldn’t tell if she was angry at me, or angry with herself for being aroused. I could see her repeatedly moving to touch herself, then pulling back. She seemed to be in stimulation overdrive and uncomfortably sensitive. She noticed me looking and gave me a look of murder.
I may have been bold and brave the previous day, but now I was risking getting pulled apart by her. Yes, giving her some space right now was definitely the best decision.
I left and started making toast and eggs for her, myself, and our son—an awesome son, loving, kind, gentle, and strong, who had been awarded as the best academic student in his class.
When she exited the bedroom to have breakfast, she wore a dress. Now, from part one, you may recall that when she wears a dress, she may as well be naked to my eyes. I looked at her, my desire growing, and went to her.
She literally growled at me—a low warning.
I carefully hugged her and stepped away.
We had breakfast. We prayed. We talked. We included our son in a normal family conversation.
After the meal, my son left, and the two of us talked again as husband and wife. It was a deep, emotional talk about the years of hurt and wrong between us. She cried, and told me how deeply I hurt her. Then she stopped, got up, faced me, and told me that if I ever hurt her again, in her words, “I will fuck you up.”
I was somewhat surprised. We had this lovely evening last night, and now she had just threatened me. A month ago, I would have exploded with rage. I would have put her in her place. After all, aren’t I the man of the house?
Instead, I looked at her. I went to her. I kissed her gently. I apologised again and asked her to forgive me. My bold I-will-not-bow-to-any-woman-ever-again attitude was gone.
She smiled, leaned into me, held me tight, and made me more coffee.
I went to the loft to work, daydreaming about our first night together. Our first night in twenty years.
I went downstairs a few times to get coffee, hugged her, talked with her. She cried. I cried. Over and over, every time we talked. I found her vulnerability . . . exciting.
She felt my desire grow a few times, and made it pretty clear I would not be getting any. She was tired, sore, a little ashamed and disgusted at the night before, and emotionally overwhelmed.
I responded by hugging her, kissing her gently, and whispering sweet declarations of love into her ear.
I inwardly wondered where my bravado had gone. I had claimed I would bed her, when I wanted, no excuses. Yet here I was, respecting her wishes. Without anger. Without resentment. Instead, with . . . love? Truly, something had transformed, and I was still bewildered by it.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
We spent most of the day together on and off, having short conversations, then splitting up again.
Later in the afternoon, I got a notification from a courier company.
Before this new journey had begun, she had asked me to order a specific nightwear item. This was just after she had decided to leave me—but she didn’t disclose that at the time. It was like a dress, made of tight-fitting cotton, with open shoulders, back, and neck. It was long, falling all the way to the ankles, with a long slit up the sides to the pelvic area. It came with a complimentary styled gown.
It was supposed to be delivered two weeks after ordering, which was long enough that we had completely forgotten about it. Now the company was asking me to fetch it around 7 PM tonight.
I fetched the delivery. I didn’t tell her it was hers, I just said it was something I had ordered. I left it on the kitchen table for a while. When she sat down to have supper, I opened the boxed package and showed her what it was.
Now let me be clear: this was not lingerie. It was just a sleep dress. But it might as well have been lingerie. It was tight-fitting, and sensual, leaving the shoulders and upper back exposed. The gown was just enough to cover everything, leaving plenty to the imagination, but showing just enough to tease.
She put it on after we showered together.
Oh, my soul. It was beautiful. She was so beautiful.
The tight cotton moved like her skin. It was loose enough around her breasts and waist to not show anything, but clung just tight enough to show exactly where everything was. The gown, made of the same material, only further fuelled my growing desire.
She looked at the tent in my pajama pants. My pre-cum had wet me, almost like I had peed. She sighed and dropped her head in frustration, anger, and annoyance, and told me to go sleep upstairs. She would join me when the dog was calm and our son was in bed.
Wait, she was going to join me? I think I had an existential crisis.
My prudish wife does not offer intimacy. Never. Especially not two nights in a row. Especially not when she could barely walk all day and you could see she was struggling—walking slowly because everything was rubbing, and not in the good way.
Yet here she was, building up my hope after previously telling me not now, and not soon.
I went upstairs and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Forever.
I gave up and decided to just sleep and not even call her. I should be happy about last night and not push my luck. The wimp was emerging again. I feel so useless sometimes.
I decided to read Marriage Heat for some excitement and then sleep. I was in a story when I heard her moving in the house. I closed the browser.
And yes, she came upstairs. She did not look very happy. She told me she was dead tired and would prefer to go downstairs and sleep.
I sighed, held her close while she lay next to me, and talked—you know, that thing men don’t do. I talked, and I did not force intimacy. Most of the talk was her rehearsing every single way I had hurt her in the past. I just held her while she cried.
We talked more and cried more. At one point she said she was emotionally overwhelmed, tired, and didn’t have the energy for anything but sleep. I was deeply disappointed.
I kissed her gently, told her I loved her, and said she should rest. We’d had a rough few days, and I knew she needed it. My “no more excuses” bravado was still missing after flying straight out the window last night.
She shifted away, just outside my reach.
I was frustrated and confused. I never turn down sex. When she is near me in bed, in any way signaling that she isn’t completely disgusted by my presence, I usually take my shot, because it may be weeks or months before the next opportunity. But here I was, knowing I could probably get her to relent if I pushed, and instead I kissed her gently and told her to sleep. The “I am the man and I will take you whenever” attitude I had brought into my identity had dissolved so quickly that I hadn’t even noticed it happening.
She opened her eyes and looked at me with surprise. Then she leaned onto my chest. I could hear her soft breathing.
She asked if I had noticed her lovely, comfortable sleepwear.
I said it was beautiful and soft, but there was nothing comfortable about it.
She frowned, looked at me, then noticed my erection standing proud and tall under my light sleepwear. I could see the “Oh, that’s what he means” realization cross her face.
To my utter surprise, instead of turning away to sleep, she reached down and pulled my sturdy erection out. She reached for her bottle of lube, lathered me in it, and slowly, while looking at me, moved her hand up and down, smiling.
I was confused. She had just told me no sex tonight.
I wondered if she was testing this new me—the one who wouldn’t explode if he didn’t get sex. Maybe she expected me to accept it, love her, hug her, kiss her goodnight, hold her, and let it end there.
Instead, she reached for me.
I was dumbstruck.
At this point I was beyond my own resolve to let her rest. While lying next to her, I had her panties off in a flash and her dress pushed up. I tried to move into our usual head-by-feet position so I could stare at that beautiful pussy, but she indicated no.
I stayed beside her, only able to see her face. Her breasts were still covered, her pussy hidden. I could only see her well-maintained but rowdy bush. I could not see the source of my desire. Even with the bedside light on, I could see nothing.
I am visually stimulated. I wanted to see her, taste her. But it was closed. Not tonight. So I kissed her, caressed her shoulders, and looked at her face up close. As much as I wanted to see her pussy, I knew when to take the moment. She seemed open to continuing in this position, though, so I did.
Usually her lips stick together like they’re glued, and it takes time to separate them gently to avoid friction. Oil or some other lubricant was almost unnecessary. So I took the lube bottle and placed ample amounts on my hand, reaching for her. Her pussy was open, waiting, ready. She was wet. Lying beside her, head to head, feet to feet, I had limited reach. I tried to adjust, but she again made it clear I should stay.
I stayed in the same orientation and just shifted down slightly to access her better. With one hand, I spread her pussy lips wide and attacked her clit slowly, with mild force.
I could not see her. I could not smell her. I was being denied sensory input.
I continued anyway.
After a while I felt her breath quicken. I saw a vein on her soft neck enlarge and pulse. I knew she was heating up.
I whispered in her ear to cum, to release, to let me see her pleasure.
I kept going. I didn’t speed up or slow down. Not harder, not softer. She arched her back and came. I did not remove my hand. I kept rubbing her clit like my life depended on it.
When she finally stopped shuddering, she took my hand away.
Silence.
After a while, in a sleepy voice, she asked, “What about you?”
I told her it had been nine months since we’d had intercourse. I wanted to penetrate her.
She is usually uncomfortable with penetration, so it rarely happens.
She said okay.
I tried to move to take her missionary, but again she stopped me.
She said she wanted to lie on her back, one leg raised, one lowered, and I should meet her in a T-configuration.
I was not excited. This meant I could not penetrate her with more than the head of my penis. Not what I wanted. I wanted to be deep inside her. But I didn’t want to start a fight. I took what I could get. But the years of drought and disappointment weighed on me, I lost some of my erection.
I moved my penis tip up and down her pussy folds. She was soaked. I tried to enter her, but failed. Her muscles locked down like a gate snapping shut.
I asked her to masturbate me to get me harder and tried again, but I could still barely get the tip in.
I reached around and rubbed her pussy lips myself. She gave me a stare that I couldn’t completely interpret, but I could only assume it wasn’t good. This night was not going well.
I placed my hand on her sopping-wet pussy and started rubbing her clit. I could feel her annoyance. I thought it was at me. My erection weakened further.
Despite all the challenges, I tried again to enter her. This time I got just the tip in, just able to penetrate her, but it was still frustratingly shallow.
Then I saw her face contort, and . . . She was enjoying it!
I was stunned. My prude wife was lying back, focusing on her pleasure so much that she seemed to be almost ignoring me.
I tried harder to stimulate her clit and please her even more. But she yelped in pain and said I was hurting her.
What was happening?
I lost even more rigidity and slipped out of her. Then she got really annoyed and told me she was about to come when I stopped. She was pissed. She looked at my member and knew I was not going to be up to it.
She angrily pushed my hands away and said she would make herself cum and I should just wait until she was done. She closed her eyes, spread her pussy lips, and feverishly attacked her clit.
She’s surprised me multiple times tonight. My prude wife, apparently not so prudish anymore, had just said she would masturbate right here until she came.
I don’t know what happened next, but suddenly I ejaculated. On her pussy. On her stomach. I was nearly flaccid, but I came hard, with no further physical stimulation, spewing my seed over her hands and open pussy.
I was outside her, receiving no stimulation, with neither her hands nor mine anywhere near my penis.
She looked at me, looked down at my cum covering her, lifted an eyebrow in a surprised “what was that?” expression. Then she smiled, and continued masturbating.
I was stunned. I had just come without stimulation, coating her in semen, and she didn’t jump up to wash. She didn’t show disgust. She just smiled and continued masturbating—in my presence. My wife does not masturbate. At least, not in front of me, and not at all that I was aware.
Last night she may have relented to my persistence. But this was different. She did this herself—unprompted, free. The wild mare, the vixen, was back—and tonight I was secondary. For the first time ever, she focused on her pleasure and nearly ignored me.
Then I heard it before I felt it.
She squirted again. This time two forceful squirts. She moaned out loud, and the dog on the stairs barked at the unexpected noise. She didn’t care. She was free.
She looked down at the wetness, felt it, and asked calmly, “Did I squirt again?” There was nothing more erotic. So calm. Collected. Unashamed.
She took a towel, placed it where she could, and yielded into me, holding me tight.
Her pussy was still covered in my semen, her glorious bush painted white with my seed. I was drenched from her liquid.
She lay into me with a blissful smile.
I replayed the scene in my head.
Last night she seemed disgusted when I asked her to masturbate for me. Tonight, she was so willing to do it that she put me aside.
I couldn’t maintain an erection from disappointment and she did nothing about it. Instead, she took care of herself. Part of me wanted to be hurt at that, but it was also a beautiful view, and it told me of something changing in her.
She was no longer there for my pleasure. She did not fear me exploding in anger. She did not fear blame, shame, or punishment.
She was a woman. A sexual being.
She was alive.
She took control of her own freedom, and masturbated freely in my presence without caring what I needed. She squirted twice and didn’t care that she was covered in semen and her own liquid.
I told her what had happened: that when she’d pushed my hands away, I’d gone flaccid and popped out of her, and when she’d touched herself, I came hard and involuntarily with a flaccid penis.
She laughed and said she noticed. There was no shame in her voice. No fear. Just delight. This was the same woman who had once sat on the picnic table by her parents’ pool, spread her legs, and said to me “Look what I’ve got.”
No fear. No shame. No disgust. Free from her own hurt.
This was the same woman.
I’d found her again.
To be continued next week in Part 3.
I’m sure there were more bumps in the road after this was written, but from here it looks like both of you are on the right path. Growth and healing take vulnerability and willingness to accept one’s own faults before looking at the faults of others. In a healthy marriage, both have to work on themselves and offer freely – emotions, encouragement, understanding, and support. Neither can take from the other what isn’t willingly offered.
@KingdomMan: Thank you for your kind message. This was but the beginning — we thought all was told and processed, but twenty-eight years does not allow itself to be processed in a week. Your line about offering freely, and not taking what isn’t willingly given, stayed with us. The most valuable part was not the nights of love; it was that we talked — really talked, honestly, all the time — for the first time in a very, very long time.
I learned over our over 3 decades of marriage to be happy and satisfied with whatever was on the sex menu each lovemaking/sex session. It’s not always the same. That T position seems similar to our X or scissors ✂️ position – but in our X position it’s deep penetration.
I really liked the realness of these two stories and hope there is a part 3.
@LovingMan: Thank you for your message 🙂 After three decades I sometimes feel as if I learned almost nothing about the woman I call Wife — that is changing at a rapid pace, with no small motivation from her (and the occasional gentle reminder that I am not the one holding the paddle 🔥). Your point about being satisfied with whatever is on the menu each time — that resonates. After much experimentation, we have a pretty satisfying buffet for every meal now, and we selectively choose what we want as our hearts desire. Some nights it is tender; some nights she is very much in charge — and I am still catching up.
On the T / X / scissors question — fair note. I am not exactly athletic, and I carry some comfort padding that gets in the way of the deeper angles you describe. We are working on that too, with new vigour — and a little less pride about it.
Part 3 is next. There are six parts in the arc; after Part 3 the series will read Part 5, Part 6, and Part 7 — Part 4 is skipped on the site because I misnumbered a draft as “Part 5” and kept the sequence rather than renumber everything. Sorry for the confusion; the story itself is continuous.
Since you are reading ahead with us: my wife and I talked about this retelling again recently. I am reserved and private — so is she — and she still cannot quite believe I wrote and published some of the most difficult, vulnerable weeks of our life for strangers to read. I can only hope someone sees both the beauty and the healing in it, and knows there is always a way forward when you are willing to forgive — not only each other, but yourself.
Thank you for reading along.
Hi KnowMe, we just wanted to reassure you that you didn't misnumber anything! As part of the process of planning our upcoming publication schedule and preparing your submissions to be published, we did a little re-numbering ourselves. What you submitted as Part 3 will likely be split into two parts, as it's somewhat longer than our recommended 3,000-word maximum for a story. We just haven't created Part 4 yet because it's still a couple weeks out from publication, and we aren't that far ahead with preparations. We hope that clears things up!
Also, we absolutely see the "beauty and healing" in your story, and its potential to show other couples who are struggling that there is a path toward rebuilding. We're so grateful for your story, and believe that everyone reading will greatly benefit from it. We pray that your journey of healing will continue, and that God will be glorified by your amazing story of redemption through reliance on him.
@MarriageHeat: Thank you for the clarification — and for editing my shambles 🙂 Apologies for the thesis where you asked for stories. Pouring out our journey is so difficult; there is so much to say, and words never seem to capture it with any brevity.
Thank you for the kind view of our journey. Our marriage repair was, humanly speaking, impossible. One does not simply wake up one morning and totally change your view and actions after twenty-eight years — and yet, it happened. I do not do “holier than thou,” but for us, this was a miracle.
Knowme,
I was quite impressed when in part 1 you asked your wife to masturbate, and she did! I rejoiced when I read it. If you had instead fucked, it would have been harmful to her healing as she would likely not have orgasmed.
Again here in part 2. Masturbation is the foundation of a healthy Christian sexuality, so good to see she masturbated again of her own volition, it shows the healing and rebuilding of good Christian sexuality.
That you haven't fucked yet, for the moment, good, it is right to be masturbating instead. Fucking will come, a good Christian marriage has both.
I like the "rowdy bush" of pubic hair! Sexy and feminine.
Look forward to reading your story as it develops.
Sarah K.
@sarah k: Thank you for your supportive message. You have touched something very sensitive, and I think you understand it.
My wife once said that having sex in our marriage felt, to her, like marital rape. That was not said mockingly. As a woman who lived with childhood sexual abuse, a comment like that is not exaggeration — it is how the body and memory can still speak. I do not say that lightly, and I do not mean to diminish anyone else’s abuse.
For us to explore a sexual journey again has meant carrying a great deal of history: fear, caution, and — when it comes — pleasure. I was, for much of our marriage, very controlling and offered very little emotional support. Our slow journey is a path of healing not only the relationship, but hurting memories that were never spoken to anyone, out of fear of being mocked again — as our church at the time did with her.
So when you rejoiced at her choosing to masturbate, and at her doing it again here of her own volition — that landed deeply with us. Thank you for reading with that kind of eyes.
KnowMe,
Thank you for your kind words.
by "we", can I assume your wife is supportive of your writing and also reading the comments, and MH in general?
I know from my reading that those who suffer sexual trauma often go in one of two directs – hypersexuality and destroy themselves with lots of irresponsible sex, or at the other extreme, completely shut down the sexual part of themselves. Masturbation is general taught as part of the healing process.
Marriage is to be a giving of yourselves to each other, not a taking.
I don't know how long you have been reading MH, but you'll see that I advocate masturbation, not merely for the health and relationship benefits, (of which there are plenty), but primarily as a way to offer and give thanks to God for the gift of our bodies and sexuality. For in all things – to God first:
1 Cor 6:20, (glorify God in your body) You are not your own property; you have been bought and paid for. That is why you should use your body for the glory of God.
Romans 12:1, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God
If you haven't read my purity article:
https://marriageheat.com/2024/06/02/masturbation-as-sexual-purity/
I think you'll also find this thread interesting.
https://marriageheat.com/2026/05/05/how-many-times-in-one-day/#comment-75333
I look forward to reading the following parts of your journey.
Sarah K
@sarah k
Thank you again — both for your first comment here on Part 2 and for this follow-up.
On "we": When I wrote and submitted the early parts of this series, my wife did not know I was publishing our story. When she found out, she was upset — understandably. This is private, sacred, and much of it is still tender. She is okay with it now — not performatively, but genuinely. She has even started writing me naughty little bits herself sometimes, which still surprises me in the best way. So when I have used "we" in replies, I mean: the healing arc is ours; the decision to publish was mine at first, and she has since consented to continuing as she has seen how readers respond. She is not reading the threads.
Why she stopped reading MarriageHeat: After Part 1 went live, a member commented more than once in a harsh, "righteous judgment" tone — including language about demonic consequences on our children and reaping death from our sin, directed at our family's story. That landed on a woman who already carries childhood trauma and church mockery around her body and her past. Hurtful attacks on what we treat as a sacred journey of rebuilding cut deep. She decided not to read MH anymore, and I honour that. I read comments for us both, and I try to carry the encouragement back without dragging the poison home.
Your links: I read your Masturbation as Sexual Purity piece and the thread you pointed to on How Many Times in One Day. I also left a longer reply on your article — it still shows "Your comment is awaiting moderation." When it clears, you will see my counterpoint there: not against your framework for singles or for a woman learning her body, but for this husband, bringing release home to my wife — often/mostly/preferably with her present — has been central to bonding and to fixing mismatched libido. I will not repeat all of that here 🙂
What still fits on this story thread:
– Your rejoicing when she chose to masturbate — in Part 1 and again in Part 2 — landed deeply with us. That was not performance for me; it was agency after years of shutdown and fear. You read that correctly.
– She fits your shutdown side more than hypersexuality — trauma, shame, and a body that learned to hide. Slow, voluntary self-touch (and my not rushing intercourse) has been part of healing, not a theology lecture for her.
– Marriage as giving, not taking — yes. That is the rebuild in one sentence. I am still learning it daily.
– I am grateful you read with eyes that celebrate her volition rather than demanding intercourse before she was ready. Not every reader has done that.
Thank you for walking with the story.
KnowMe
KnowMe, I want to apologize for the hurt caused by that critical comment, and see if your wife would be open to giving MH a second chance.
I'm one of the volunteers for MH, and I handle the majority of the comment moderation, so I'm responsible for what happened. We try to allow dissenting voices and some critical statements as a part of open discussion, but in all honesty, we rarely get stories as vulnerable as yours, and so I failed to carefully consider how such harshness could impact a newly-healing couple.
When I saw that critical comment, my first impression was that it was a bit harsh, but not entirely out of bounds. I decided to allow it, but also immediately add my own personal reply in rebuttal to try to bring some balance. (I even waited a few extra hours to approve that comment until my own rebuttal was ready to be published alongside it, so that it didn't stand unchallenged even for a moment.) But I recognize how one critical voice can feel like it outweighs ten positive ones. I probably should have policed the tone of that comment more closely while allowing a more mild and gracious version of the critique. I apologize for not being more careful in moderation in that regard, and for not being more protective as perhaps I should have been. Preventing that kind of hurt is one of the main reasons why we moderate content, so I dropped the ball in that regard.
If your wife's willing to give it another chance, I can assure you (and her) that this is not a common occurrence on this site, and I think she would benefit greatly from the positive and God-honoring relationships portrayed here, as well as the vast majority of our community interactions, which are much more gracious.
@PatientPassion (1/3 – Response 1 of 3)
Firstly, thank you so much for the effort and willingness to spend your personal time — I assume unpaid — on this worthy cause.
I hold no ill will against MarriageHeat. It is indeed important that all people speak their mind, even when their view conflicts with our own, for we shall learn from it: “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another” (Proverbs 27:17). The Bible never taught us to withhold truth for peace. In general, I have no adverse response to more direct, or even abrasive, rebuttals or responses; healthy debate is important.
And I want you to understand clearly: I do not judge you for allowing that comment.
Please allow me, however, an opportunity to explain why the responses from the MEMBER, as given, were not just a thoughtful Biblical evaluation.
I will respond in 3 replies (including this), to make it easier to read and moderate 🙂
@PatientPassion (2/3)
Secondly, I want to make it clear, there is a huge difference between studying Scripture, and delivering judgement.
What is the saying: "What Peter says about Mary, says more about Peter than Mary." I think we see that here.
– The Bible made it clear that the power of life and death is in the tongue: "Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruits." (Proverbs 18:21). Words are not empty. They plant something. They nourish, or they poison. For example, Jesus spoke death over the fig tree: "May no one ever eat fruit from you again." … "The fig tree withered from the roots." (Mark 11:14, 20). And Jesus immediately taught that faith-filled speech is not reserved only for Him: "For truly, I say to you, if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move, and nothing will be impossible for you." (Matthew 17:20). Again He says: "Truly, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, 'Be taken up and thrown into the sea,' and does not doubt in his heart, but believes that what he says will come to pass, it will be done for him." (Mark 11:23). The point is not that we are gods, but that words spoken in faith carry spiritual weight. He did not pretend words were harmless. Neither should we.
– The MEMBER started off by indicating his sole purpose is to deliver righteous judgement — without even reading everything. He has so little compassion that he did not care to read the journey first. His own opening: "I will judge this story righteously, based on Biblical truth. Before that. I did not read the whole thing. It is terribly long." The disdain is visible in his tone. He came to judge, not to listen. He came to pronounce, not to understand.
– As to this part: "Then Notice how God does NOT CARE to negotiate with sinful men" — why, then, would God give His only begotten Son, just for us? Why would Christ be punished under the Law in our place, if God truly "does not care to negotiate with sinful men"? "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life." (John 3:16). By the MEMBER's implication, the blood of Jesus is worthless in our lives — as if the cross were a footnote and condemnation the headline. That is not the Gospel I know.
– The MEMBER also wrote: "Forgiveness does not negate the consequences one will suffer." What happened to Psalm 103:12 — "As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us"? Yes, there are real-life consequences for everything. I do not deny that. We have lived them. But the MEMBER having the right to speak DEATH over our family — that is pure evil. Not only does he speak a curse of demonic influence over our son: "However, there will be consequences (demonically) that their offspring will suffer on account of the Parent's iniquity, " — he also speaks death over our son, quoting David's missteps: 2 Samuel 12:14 "Because by this deed you have utterly scorned the LORD, the child who is born to you shall die." That was David's judgment for David's deed — not a license for a stranger to pronounce death over another man's child from a partial read of a confession.
Is it not, that God visits the iniquities over the third and fourth generations of those who do not hold His word — "visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children to the third and the fourth generation of those who hate me, but showing steadfast love to thousands of those who love me and keep my commandments." (Exodus 20:5-6) — but His grace to the 1,000 generations of those that do: "Know therefore that the LORD your God is God, the faithful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love him and keep his commandments." (Deuteronomy 7:9)? Is the MEMBER the one who may remove God's promise to us? Is he the one who may speak a demonic verdict over our boy, while God speaks mercy to thousands?
Ephesians 6:12 warns us that the fight is not only in the physical, but in the spiritual realm: "For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places." (Ephesians 6:12).
I have, in my past, been involved in serving and assisting with this warfare — and, at risk of sounding like a crazy person, this stuff is literally real. This MEMBER, in his unfathomable misunderstanding, has declared war in the spiritual on our family, prompting intercession. And I want to state this clear: this is not a game. Spiritual warfare is not simply old wives' tales to keep children scared.
And so, I can go on, but the point being: he has cursed us as a family in our regrowth — speaking seeds of destruction and death to grow in our house. And to me, that is a greater sin of all, — denying one another God's grace by the blood of Jesus. And this was not an 'accident'. His second response removes all doubt that his intent is not compassion. He wrote plainly: "I will not apologize for the "sting" of the righteous Biblical judgment I shared." He doubled down. That is not iron sharpening iron. That is a man choosing to wound a confessing couple — and our son — and calling it duty.
Why then would anyone confess their sins to one another, so that they may be healed, as Scripture says: "Therefore confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed" — James 5:16 — if the response from their fellow believers is just their own crucifixion?
@PatientPassion (3/3)
I can fully appreciate and confirm that "this is not a common occurrence on this site." You are all doing a great job, and let not one stronger event take away from all the good you are doing, notwithstanding this specific event.
[…]
Again, I do not instruct you what to do. I am grateful for your reply and for the work you do. I offer this so you have a clear picture of boundary-crossing behavior […]
[Edited by MH: Thank you for your thorough documentation of your concerns. If you have such concerns in the future, we do ask that you take it up with us more privately, either through the contact form, or in a message via the story submission function. We'd prefer to address issues like this without airing dirty laundry or contributing to any more drama than is necessary. But still, we appreciate your efforts, and your concerns are taken under advisement.
We also want to note that some of the behaviors you mentioned do have appropriate places on our site, and it may just be the negative context you've experienced with this member that is putting these other behaviors in a bad light.
We do allow voices of disagreement and criticism, even outside of discussion contexts, though we try to edit or disallow comments that state such things in an inappropriate way.
We also frequently have people admit that they enjoy, are aroused by, and even masturbate to the stories on our site. We give the benefit of the doubt as much as possible, and generally only disallow such comments if they are very clearly rude, disrespectful, or otherwise inappropriate. But we otherwise allow them, as we find no issue with people enjoying tales of perfectly morally acceptable sex acts between anonymous married couples.
We also allow quite direct, explicit and personal questions, especially in discussion contexts. Because of our site's desire to see open conversation about sexuality, we cultivate an expectation of much greater openness than you would find in polite conversation in most of the Western world, and especially in Christian communities. Of course, this can sometimes go too far and be subject to moderation, though that's often a subjective call.
We hope that clarifies a little!]
Oh my, this part touched me as much as part 1 did! I came close to crying because this just breaks my heart so much. Yet it gives me joy too; as painful as it is to uproot all the hurt and pain and resentment, it WILL bring healing to you both as individuals and as a couple. And I'm so glad you feel that you can share your story here. It helps me to hear these testimonies. It gives me hope for my parents, and it teaches me so much as I prepare for possibly being married someday myself. Thank you for this vulnerability and openness! May God show His power in your lives!
@LovelyLonelyLady
Thank you for your compassionate response ☦️
To me, writing this has been a release of many pains — and, more importantly, when things get difficult (especially by Part 5), I can go back and read the earlier parts and remind myself: it may be bad today, but maybe it is not all bad, and not all the end.
I remember one day, somewhere around Part 4/5 in real life — I had just got into my vehicle after a deep, painful discussion and had decided to look for a rental place to move out. On the drive I read back some of what I had already written, and it pulled me back: I turned around, went home, finished the conversation, and tried again.
I hope others who read this will know there is always a way — in the words of Enya, “Only if you want to, will you find a way.”
Thank you for reading with such an open heart, and for the hope you carry for your parents and for your own future. May God show His power in your life too.
KnowMe
KnowMe.
I wish to walk with you and your wife both.
I ask her to give MH another chance.
Prudence would say that you act as gatekeeper for her.
I would hope one day to read her own writing, whether real or a fantasy of hers.
Sarah K.
@sarah k
Thank you for your message.
To be honest, I have suggested she not read the comments — especially on Part 1 — any further. Reading yours, though, I think I will ask her whether she would like her own account, so she can speak for herself when she is ready, rather than me posting my interpretation of her thoughts 🙂
We are moving on. There are still a few chapters left, and I am sure our story will continue — even with our hesitation and shyness about sharing something so personal and explicit. It is not something we are used to. As @MarriageHeat said earlier, this is a site where more direct and explicit narrative is spoken in public; it does take some getting used to.
Thank you all for the compassionate and real support.
KnowMe and myself have known each other since 1997.
We both faced pseudo spiritual, emotional, narcissistic and sexual abuse. As well as near death experiences. Which I am pretty sure leaves a lasting epigenetic code. With a GenX stigma of, if you f¥@$ around you find out.
I don't have time or the energy for […].
Thank you MH for publishing our healing journey.
[From MH: Welcome! We're so happy to have both of you with us now! We thank God for the amazing work he's done in both of you individually, and in your relationship together. We're all eager to hear more about your journey of healing, reconciliation, and renewed marital/sexual relationship! 🙂
P.S. In the interest of letting unhelpful drama die, let's keep names out of this, leave behind the rough edges of imperfect men, and focus on the beautiful work God is doing in your story!]
🤣 Thank you. I appreciate the guidelines.
Wow, thank you so much for sharing all this, I am really looking forward to reading all your entries. I am so fascinated by how this relationship is playing out and I am rooting for you two! I want all to be restored in Jesus name. A beautiful marriage and sex life for you both.
@J-stud36 — Thank you so much for rooting for us! Your encouragement means a lot, more than you probably realize.
By the grace of God, we really are doing well. The road has had its ups and downs, but with my awesome and sexy Mistress Vixen — my wife — beside me, we are learning to give those ups and downs a whole new meaning. 🙂
Thank you again for your kindness, your hope for us, and your prayer that all would be restored in Jesus’ name. We receive that gladly, and we are deeply grateful.