Look of Love

It’s weekend and Lauren’s finally getting lucky. 

Sunglasses and black hair which I knew held single strands of grey. But I couldn’t see that from afar.
He was wearing dark jeans and a high quality white shirt with rolled up sleeves.
I had picked a table in the shadow.
He was looking so handsome I hoped this wasn’t one of those platonic dates, which did spice things up quite a bit. To never know in advance.
When I told him this, after sex, that I was never certain if we would have sex, he said:
“I m never sure either. Sometimes you have your reasons too.”
We had only made love on my period once, which had been the first time we fucked.
It’s an ugly word in this context, but the reason I’m using it, is that we already had a date which had unexpectedly turned so hot I ended up giving a blowjob, and I think he must have fingered me.
I know we didn’t have oral on me, because I didn’t want that with a man I hardly knew.
I had come in for some kissing and cuddling!
And I also know we didn’t fuck because that was definitely a big no-no for me, on well not exactly our first date.
But I knew so little about him.
And if I had known more, it would not have convinced me having sex with this married business man in his forties was a good idea.
He was a player!
With his condo in the city, which he kept on as a real estate investment.
I never responded when people commented it was impossible for his wife not to know he was having sex with me. But I agreed on general terms:
That she knew he had other women.
Not because of the obvious things, like lipstick marks or anything.
But because of the condo.
Of course she knew he had every opportunity.
That she knew, was one of the things I liked about her.
By allowing him space, which he had claimed quite literally in the form of keeping on his bachelor apartment, he could be there for her on other moments.
But I was still intimidated by him.
By his playing not hard to get, but hard to love.
He seemed to separate love, which was home, from sex, which was presumably everybody else.
I didn’t want to fuck him at the first opportunity, for multiple reasons really. Obviously I thought I would get hurt. And that it wouldn’t hurt as bad if we hadn’t “really” had sex.
Maybe I was also afraid he’d lose interest in me if I had sex too soon.
To this day I don’t know if my fate would have been any different if I had not been so intimidated, and had sex sooner.
Very well possible.
It wasn’t a game that I contained myself, and refrained for the most part. And I did give him a blowjob but not before he had made it safe sex friendly, after my initial refusal.
“Okay, and what if we use a condom?” he had asked.
I felt my fear and resistance melt, and looked forward to doing it, actually.
It was one of the many things I appreciated about him. He never took refusals personally, he just tried to figure out what was bothering you, so he could help you overcome it.
Which was of course exactly what made him so dangerous.
Anyway, after that first sexual date, the first time we were together I was on my period. The desire for each other was excruciating by now and to make the decision to fuck even more of a no brainer,
I also had a cold and couldn’t breathe through my nose.
So “only” giving him a blowjob was out of the question, this time.

I was heavily on my period, yet this was going to be The Day.
I had liked the drama of it. All the blood on our first time.
And it had been a great success. His cock and my pussy had been magnetic, that’s how flawless it was. 
We used condoms of course, we still do. But his hard-on had been blood and interruption resistant, and it had been pulled to my pussy like magic.
It just slid right in..

But despite the promising start, I had declined sex ever since, if I was in my period.
At the time, he and his wife were either separated temporarily or wouldn’t see each other for a couple of days.
I can’t remember the details.
And we had been at my house.

So it wasn’t just the excitement of having sex for the first time, which explained why we had had period sex then, but not after.
We usually didn’t have time nor opportunity, for messy encounters. Staining sheets and towels. Or even clothes.
We always made sure he stayed fresh and clean. I didn’t even wear makeup or perfume when I saw him.
So my lover was right.
He too, could never be certain that we would have sex.
I could be the one saying No.
And then if we were having sex? Then there was the thing about anal sex. Which was hardy ever ideal, really. I don’t like cleaning the inside out with water, like an anal douche. I have no idea if you know that exists, but it exists.
It gives me diarrhea.
I ve seen quite a few promising occasions fall to pieces that way, I can say.

So we re dependent on what nature gives us.
But sometimes I do want it, but I’m not sure if it’s a good day. 
And then I get into this strange conversation where I do try to warn him, but without scaring him off.
And then he’ll say, just to check: 
“But you do want it?”
God yes.
That’s the key to anal sex, to me. That he assures me we’ll be alright. Don’t panic.
We did go to his condo, ultimately. And we did have one of those days where we took anal sex as far as I dared to go. 
Which ultimately, left me so hungry for more.
We had sex multiple times, it really wasn’t a quickie.
We even had a nap. Or he did. I lay in his arms and soaked up his presence. The warmth of his embrace, the breath in my hair. The sweet words and the comforting murmuring he uttered, if we shifted a bit.
I looked around, and tried to remember everything about that moment.
The red room.

The first dates had been in the living and I had inquired if “that” was his bedroom, behind that door, and he had said yes.
“But you’re only allowed to go in there if you’re completely naked.”
And that’s how it had happened.
It wasn’t until later that I realized how many women had been here when he had been a bachelor. And still..
It aroused me to think I wasn’t the only one, but it also scared me.

That’s when the condo, but especially the bedroom started to intimidate me. As if I didn’t belong there.
With my open heart, my nerves. Not even with my horniness, my desire to give up control completely.
I didn’t feel I could play at that level of whatever it was the games were played there.
Like I was a little bunny in the lair of the lion.
And yet I was aware that I was the one there, lying in the arms of this charismatic man, in the bedroom with the red walls and the high ceiling.
And I had been here for over three and a half years.
Feeling completely safe and loved.

An unexamined life is not worth living

Look of Love is the twenty-ninth chapter from Project M. 

Want to know what happens next?
The subscribe button is somewhere on the right.

or follow Twitter ; or Facebook
NEW connect on Linkedin

Gives a 25% discount on all prices
Select your store f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

spotlight on:
Het Boek Benjamin
verzameld werk Engels en Nederlands

Een meisje vrijt met een jongen en een homoseksuele man. Naast het overweldigende verlangen, is ze zich hyperbewust van de risico’s. Zal haar lust het winnen van de angst?
Zo opent het magnum opus van LS Harteveld.
Na de coming of age novelle Mango, duik je in het dagboek van een yoga docent. En hier blijken de fictieve karakters uit Mango bestaande personen.
Benjamin keert zelfs boek na boek weer terug. Maar wat is de waarheid?
En wie is Benjamin?
Het laatste boek gaat over haar affaire met een getrouwde man die ze Mr. Big noemt.
Waardoor de vraag rijst; Is hij Benjamin?
Heeft LS Harteveld haar muze in bescherming genomen en zijn identiteit veranderd? Of heeft ze een nieuwe liefde gevonden? Een vrouw leunt over een tafel. Ze is naakt, op haar blinddoek na.
Haar minnaar rekt haar grenzen op tot het uiterste van wat nog passend is, in dit spel der geesten. Misschien gaat hij eroverheen, dat blijft in het midden. Maar 25 jaar na de eerste scene, is één ding duidelijk;
de lust heeft gewonnen.

Levering in Nederland

De goedkoopste manier om mijn werk te kopen is via de uitgeverij – 
In verband met problemen met de pakjesdiensten én mijn eigen postbus,
kan ik helaas geen boeken meer opsturen.

Maar ik heb ze nog wel.
Je kunt hier beneden de beschrijvingen lezen of mijn boeken
bekijken via de webwinkel en daarna bestellen via mail:
onder mijn eigen naam

Suzanne s_beenackers@hotmail.com
Betaling is vooraf via mijn privérekening, en overdracht op het station van Nijmegen.
Signeren gratis uiteraard!

Minimale bestelling € 10
Als je een bon wilt, moet je via de uitgeverij bestellen, en niet via mij.

Hieronder het oeuvre en de prijzen.
alle boeken zijn handzaam A5, behalve Het Boek Benjamin, dat is groot studieboek formaat (soft cover) dat je open moet leggen.

Het Boek Benjamin €45
Verzameld werk boek 1 t/m 8
Beschrijving boven, losse boeken beneden. 

1. Mango, een novelle  €15
Seksuele safari, van de jaren 80 tot de zero’s.
Een stoer, technisch meisje groeit op met alleen een moeder, in de roerige jaren 80. Roken is nog van alle leeftijden, drinken idem, en seks ook zolang je bestand bent tegen voorlichtingsfolders over aids waarbij het woord AIDS in bloedspatten is geschreven.

Dat blijkt helaas teveel van ‘t goede.
Vermengd met een verleden in Afrika, en een overleden vader, ontwikkelt deze arrogante tiener een angststoornis waar geen psycholoog haar bij kan helpen. Maar ze blijft aangetrokken tot mooie jongens en homoseksuele mannen.

2. Dutch American Diary (2008-2009) €15
Yoga teacher Lauren is in love with two men; One cunning wizard and one half her age.
 The affair was secret so Lauren called him; He Who Must Not Be Named. After the dark wizard in the Harry Potter series. She tried to get over this American but after a year she only has her mistakes to show for. Including dating an Israeli spy and a Buddhist photographer.

Now her wizard obsession is back full throttle and the next disaster has already emerged;  an attractive yoga student. Young enough to be her son.
Faced with nothing but diabolic choices, Lauren confides in her best friend; the warm and friendly Lara. Despite having the same nationality as He Who Must Not Be Named, and working at the same office coven, Lara seems to lack his foul nature.
Or does she?
Once you’ve read Dutch American Diary? You’ll never ever in your life make the mistake of messing with a yoga teacher. 
~Dutch American Diary part 1

3. 22 Erotische Verhalen €15
Literaire pornografie in de geest van Anais Nin en Isabel Allende.
Ze komen en gaan; de kleurrijke personages in deze dromerige erotische wereld, waar ze je één verhaal lang deelgenoot maken van hun diepste verlangen en hun ergste pijn. Die vaker wel dan niet op magische wijze met elkaar verbonden blijken.

Grenzen worden genegeerd, lusten gebotvierd, wonden geheeld.
Sinds Anais Nin heeft geen schrijver zo onbevreesd het grijze gebied durven te betreden tussen het verbodene, het gruwelijke en het goddelijke. De lezer krijgt naast onversneden liefde en zinderende ontknopingen, ook een spiegel voorgehouden die je laat zien wat er zich afspeelt in de donkerste delen van je ziel. 

 4. LS Diary (2012-2013) €10
About three dark men and Lauren getting naked on stage. Not necessarily together.
 Being dark, smart, and handsome, a Dutch writer bears the characteristics Lauren only knows  too well. He looks exactly like her male muse and unwanted protagonist in the majority of her writing.

A published writer and sought-after talk show guest, the Dutch writer has succeeded where blogger Lauren is failing year after year. After year. She feels the weight of her unpublished manuscripts, and her failed attempts to become a writer. To make matters worse she already has one ill-natured stalker. As if the liabilities of being famous have preceded its benefits.
Lauren gets her shit together prioritizing her work, ignoring men, sex and stalkers. But will it work?  Star struck Lauren meets the celebrity in real life, and soon enough her supposedly highly efficient sex-free life includes a naked guest appearance on stage, a blow-job in a parking garage and a seven month relationship.
~LS Diary can be read as standalone or as Dutch American Diary part 2

5. De Candystop (2013) €10
Waar de Nederlandse literatuur tot stilstand komt door een Marokkaanse lekkernij.
Getergd door een rits onduidelijke medische klachten, besluit Lauren geen suiker meer te eten, geen Chardonnay meer te nemen, en geen latte macchiato’s meer te drinken.

Na een paar weken is ze zo apathisch dat ze zelfs vergeet te masturberen.
Tot een jonge Marokkaanse god op tv verschijnt die tegen Lauren zegt;
“LauRRRen! WakkeRRR woRRRden! Ik ben ook schRRRijveRRR en ik heb ook een leuk leven!”
Dat is zo. Sam doet de vier s’en. Hij schrijft, hij sport, hij sekst en hij slaapt.
Ineens weet Lauren nog steeds niet waar het naartoe moet met haar leven, maar ze is wel klaarwakker. Zeker als ze erachter komt, dat Sam binnen een week een optreden geeft bij haar om de hoek.
Sam doet haar denken aan een verboden relatie met haar leerling, iets waar ze gemengde gevoelens over heeft. Sam wil die best met haar onderzoeken, maar hij vraag een prijs…

6. Bedtime Stories (2014) €15
Facing her demons and her muse, Lauren’s sexual history gets its worthy finale.
Lauren is corresponding with Elliot, but somewhere between The Netherlands and Vegas, things have stranded. To get their project back on track Lauren resorts to strong measures: making the whole damn thing public.

Sharing eight months of her life, Lauren’s third diary reintroduces all popular characters, such as writer Rafael and his legendary mythical counterpart Benjamin. Young writer Sam and his ghost twin Valentino.
Closing the Dutch American Diary trilogy, the 1991 story lines are finally tied together. With an extremely satisfying ending. Although not in a way anyone saw coming.
 ~LS Diary can be read as standalone or as Dutch American Diary part 3

7. Mirage (2014) €5
Giving you a little dessert, with all gorgeous writers from previous books.
Lauren, the former hedonistic cougar, is home bound, mothering her little ones, sick with worry and about to get dumped by her lover. Together with autumn setting in, Lauren needs her annual Cute Writer Fix more than ever. And this year there’s five of them.
Including a lunch date with the most famous author of the Netherlands; her youth love Henry.
~Mirage can be read as standalone or as the epilogue to the Dutch American Diary trilogy.

8. Big, diaries & erotica (2015-2016)  €20
The crown to Lauren’s life; a secret affair with her Biggie.
Ten years and ten lovers have taught Lauren two things.

One: single life is a disaster.
And two: men suck at anal sex.
So when Mr.Big comes along and succeeds where all the others have failed, Lauren is euphoric. She immediately picks up her pen to write about it, and her first story is indeed called “The Biggie”, about his flawless performance.  
For two years Lauren documents her secret affair with the married business man. She writes about their explosive encounters, her unwavering love, and her powerful insights. Gradually, Lauren changes. From an scarred single, to a woman totally owning her worth and her true nature. Ten years after ending her relationship in order to explore love and sex in all their forms, Lauren Harteveld becomes the ultimate mistress.

los verkrijgbaar, niet in Het Boek Benjamin:

Witte Tijgerin €5
Gids voor solitaire vrouwen die een geweldig seksleven willen en plenty energie.
Een Witte Tijgerin is een alleenstaande, onafhankelijke vrouw. Haar contact met mannen is erop gericht dat ze er energie van krijgt. Stel je voor! Nooit meer gehannes met beginnende relaties die het toch nét niet zijn. Nooit meer die morning-after backlash. Geïnspireerd op het klassieke Taoïstische werk De Witte Tijgerin van Hsi Lai, onthult deze gids;
– hoe je de touwtjes in handen houdt
– hoe je je liefdesleven gebruikt voor je plezier
– hoe je met seks je jeugdigheid herstelt.
Hij zal niet kunnen wachten om weer met je af te spreken! 


A Porn Star Love Life

Steve Holmes and Stoya

from : A Porn Star Love Life
[ October 2021 ]
and click here for all LS Harteveld books

My love for porn started with Stoya.
But after watching every interview with her, and reading all her newsletters, yet still only sporadically watching her movies, I realized that it had little to do with porn.
And that the only thing that had started with my love for Stoya, was my love for Stoya.

Then I thought I had really fallen for porn again, after seeing Steve Holmes.
Until of course I realized that the only thing I had fallen for, was Steve Holmes.
Steve is more often than not cast as a sadist, a dominant or some other deviant middle aged man. When on his YouTube channel, where he interviews the talent before and after their scene with him, he confesses that for him seeing a girl naked is more than enough to be happy and have a good time.

Steve Holmes is so charming and sweet with all the girls he interviews. He gives a little kiss on a naked knee, frequently apologizes that his English is not so good (Steve is German), and I just know he is the perfect man to try out all the stuff you would never dare ask a normal man.
I know we will never hear bad stories about him #metoo-ing his way through porn land. He puts every woman at ease, even when she’s contractually obliged to have sex with him.

And Steve is married!

Isn’t that a nice thought that this man just goes back to his wife at the end of the day. I would marry him, too. I love the idea of a man bringing in the sexual energy into a relationship!

And although I haven’t shared much about my love for Stoya here: I nurture similar sympathetic feelings for her. Although less sexual, because I’m straight. But Stoya could be my best friend, and we would talk cats, because she has the sweetest cat in the world.
His name is Pixel because he only has one eye.
And Stoya is a writer too.

So, despite me always thinking I’m going after the porn, and am motivated by my twisted preferences, in the end I immediately forget about all of that and get stuck in the tenderness and cuteness of it all.
I’m sure this does explain why I need a man to bring in the sexual energy.
Because I drop that ball at the sight of the first one-eyed-cat.

Yesterday I went to see friends and they made me dinner. And I talked about Steve Holmes and how good he was with women. And somehow, in that same conversation, I had the most amazing revelation.
It was an interesting perspective.
I am currently in a secret relationship with a married man. We’ve been “together” (we see each other very little) for three and a half years.
And I’ve always wondered what I would do if this ended.

My most recent decision was that I would not date anyone for a while because I’m focused on my business at the moment. But after that I would create the exact same thing: I would sign up for the dating site Second Love, and become a mistress to another married man.
But somehow praising Steve Holmes sparked a new idea:
to start working in porn, instead of getting a new relationship.

I can’t tell you how happy that thought made me.

Every good habit around keeping my body in mint condition, and every resolution about losing weight and doing yoga daily, immediately fell into place.
Suddenly there was a reason to do all those things.

When last week my lover proposed a date, on a day I was fully booked and couldn’t possibly make it, I realized that even if I could make it?
I didn’t have time for ALL the grooming I had to do in order to be the least bit fuckable.

My lover is more a Steve Holmes kind of guy: he will enjoy me naked in any shape or form.
But I need to be freshly showered, shaved and trimmed in order to feel like it.

So I did all that anyway, the day after. When I did have time. And I realized I had no reason to pay attention to my body. I wasn’t having sex. And if I’m not having sex, I just lose interest in taking care of myself.
Grooming wise, but also sports or dieting.
I just can’t be bothered.
So the prospect of getting a career in porn as a middle aged woman?
That was a thrilling idea!

I could see myself FINALLY cleaning up my act!
And saying enough is enough!
I’m gonna lose weight, moisturize every day, trim, shave, wax, be absolutely fuckable 24/7 and live a porn star life starting NOW!

I went to bed happy and excited that I had so much good stuff waiting for me.
Naturally, I wanted to masturbate to celebrate. But I didn’t really know what to fantasize about. I had masturbated to my lover Mr.Big for years, but a month or so ago, I had decided that I wasn’t going to do that anymore.

That I couldn’t afford to make my self-love dependent on the man who was already a liability in my real love life. If that ever ended, I needed my masturbation routine to go on, unharmed by our breakup.
So that wasn’t an option.
Then, much to my own surprise I must say, I suddenly thought about someone about whom I have not written in ages.

In fact, I have so dropped out of the habit of speaking about him in recent years that I don’t feel like sharing his name here.
But it was someone I deeply cared for, and longed for. And of course, ultimately still do. Desire doesn’t have an end date.

So I thought about being in bed with him, and making love, and although we were a bit deviant (hey! it’s my fantasy, what did you expect!) it was most of all completely, utterly loving and trusting and emotional and maybe a bit heartbreaking too.
Because it had never happened in real life, and maybe it never would.

I fell asleep rethinking my resolution to go into porn if Big and I were ever over. I realized porn was not the answer. It had never been.

I had simply been drawn to it because Steve Holmes had made it look as if it was the best and most likely place, to find love.

An Unexamined Life Is Not Worth Living


My diaries are available at LULU
New books will be added, including the time travel project books Letter from a stranger and Dear Nikki.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

All the way down. Fast.

unseen footage of my lover Mr.Big taking me all the way down in an elevator

The strangest, most disturbing thing in my week of anxiety attacks were the flashes.
It was how a movie would show that someone is overworked:
Images, totally unrelated, flashed before my eyes. Like a slide show on acid.
I never had those.
I was familiar with anxiety, or with hearing music or a beep in your ears if you’ve been listening to your ipod too much. Or attended a concert.
Familiar with the rollercoaster going on in your stomach after visiting a theme park. Or even with the imaginary rollercoaster after drinking too much.
I was familiar with the residue of the day, going on and on, hammering your senses. But I had never re-experienced a day I never had. With images I never saw before, popping up with stroboscopic speed the moment you closed your eyes.
And I didn’t like it.
But of course I accepted it.
Like I accepted all signs of my whole being kicking into panic mode, after changing my yoga business from group classes to privates. It was a process, it was all just change. And I took pride in knowing I was not running away from this.
I had also made my peace with my sex life being practically non-existent, simply because my lover was basically non-existent. He was probably still very much present in the lives of his loved ones but I had no way of telling.
Aside from a nice platonic date, we had two weeks ago (and on which he didn’t offer any other explanation than the usual “busy” one), I didn’t know what was going on in his life.
Although rebuilding my business, and him being barely present in my life, were two separate reasons I was living a life without pleasure, I did suspect my business or new life may even cost me the last opportunity I had seeing my lover.
Because for the last year or so, Mr.Big had barely ever offered to see me at nighttime. He usually suggested something within hours, and on weekdays.
Something I would soon not be able to accommodate.
The perk of teaching privates versus groups was that I would shift to, well; actually making money!
But also to working regular hours.
And I still had two nights of group classes as well.
Putting my entire workload on weekdays and nights, with the exception of two  nights off, meant that I could really take time off on weekends.
But the weekends would not be good for my lover Mr.Big.
First of all because he had never invited me over on weekends. With a few exceptions, which were all in our first year.
And secondly, if he would want to see me then, it would probably be last minute and I would already have other plans.
Getting my new business on the road could be seen as exciting, or a necessity; as an opportunity or as a SURE THING this was gonna build me an empire.
But the first thing I really saw was how my new business was the death verdict for our affair.
The thing that would kill it.
Yet, it was still a no-brainer. The new company would happen, regardless.
Because there wasn’t an available choice that could prevent this.
The only career that would allow me to keep the same level of availability, was if I would make money as a writer, working from home. A career that was one I didn’t even aspire… not really! I mean I love writing (see me go!) but to write for money is an entire different ball game. I would never want to literally write FOR money – meaning under contract. Because it would mean I had to write something somebody else wanted to sell.
And not what I want to create.
So that’s not an option.
Then the second option is to start living from selling my diaries and erotica. I still might push that more. One day… I don’t know. But before I sell so many books that it makes me a full income is both an incredible leap, and it’s something that I could also work next to having a “real” job.
As a side hustle.
Becoming a successful writer will always remain an option, regardless of how my life looks.
With writing out of the way, as the only “career” choice that would sustain my current super available, flexible status, I don’t have to think about what it means to me that my new business might finish off my relationship.
A new normal job would have done the same thing.
And yet, if we’re meant to be we’re meant to be. It can only be the death of it, if there is not enough left to keep it going in the first place. So also from that perspective there is nothing that can be prevented. Nor counted upon.
But still, I didn’t look forward to actually having to say “No”, if he asked me out on a last minute date.
I was afraid it would look like I was punishing him or something. Playing games. Not that there’s anything wrong with declining all dates that are not booked at least 24 hours in advance. That is actually a great rule.
Just not one I live by!
Anyway, with that bleak future hanging over us, or at least the threat of a new stage in our relationship which we may or may not be able to make it work, I was enjoying my last week as Ms. Available.
Even my two weekends, the last one and the current one, had remained open to the very last minute. As if I wanted to fully suck up the freedom and endless possibilities that had been My Life for years at this point.
There was only one day, one out of nine, that was completely full. Double booked even. First I would teach, then have lunch with my students, clean the yoga studio, attend an opening, and finally a dinner party at night.
Ultimately I chose to cancel on the opening.
My anxiety attacks had climaxed that night and I didn’t have any sleep.
I needed to get to bed for a nap, so that I would be able to attend the dinner.
And it was on this morning that I got a message.
From my lover.
To meet.
At noon.
And it contained the best date proposal in for as long as I can remember. With a cute joke, and a loving reference to something we had said we had wanted to do together.
And I was like.
And I knew that I had been right. That we had entered the new stage in our relationship where I would no longer be able to accommodate his last minute invitations. No matter how tempting they were, and no matter how much I wanted to say yes.
That this new life of mine was going to ask me to give it all up for my work. My social life (I barely saw friends at this stage). My sex life. My freedom.
Maybe I would even have to work the weekends I had so carefully blocked out.
I had no idea how much would be asked of me to make my business work, but I knew for certain, with that text coming in at the one day where I couldn’t make it, that it was required of me to be willing to give it all up.
To go all in.
To lose, and to give, and to invest, and to see the ground being swept from underneath me. With everything I valued on it.
I slept like a baby that night.
There were no more stroboscopic slide shows. No more heart pains. No more trembling and no more fears.
But there was the feeling of falling, of letting go. Of sex. Of surrendering. Of being taken brutally, by my lover. Of completely giving in to our most deviant sexual fantasies. Or maybe I should say to “my” most deviant sexual fantasies.
It was like a porn movie, with me in it.
And him.
Bringing me all, ALL the way down.

To be continued..

Want to know how if my life really is, or isn’t, going to be as sexless as I feared?
So do I!
Find the Subscribe or Follow button somewhere on this page.
Have you found it?
You can buy my erotica and diaries at my new improved shop (English books, might have to scroll down)

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

or Facebook

These are my English titles:
Dutch American Diary 2008-2009  €15
LS Diary 2012-2013                                € 10
Bedtime Stories 2014                            €15
Mirage 2014                                               €5
Big, diaries and erotica 2015-2016 € 20
Get a 25% discount on all prices in the shop.
Select your store f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

De volgende Nederlandse boeken
zijn ook op voorraad bij boekhandel de Feeks in Nijmegen
verzending gratis v.a. € 17,50

Het Boek Benjamin           € 45
verzameld werk NL en Engels.
Het enige boek dat hier niet inzit is Witte Tijgerin, dus mijn andere Nederlandse boeken zitten hier wél in.

Mango                                 €15
coming of age novelle

22 erotische verhalen   € 15
literaire pornografie in de geest van Anais Nin

Witte Tijgerin                  €5
gids voor solitaire vrouwen die een geweldig seksleven willen en plenty energie

Raising my standards: sex and one proper date a week. With myself if I have to.

You know what the crappy thing is about sexual awakenings?
Or as was the case with me, a sexual wake-up call by a rockstar writer oozing youth and health and OMG gimme that!!
(damn it’s been way too long), the crappy thing is, it won’t go back to sleep.
Not even by masturbating, which I did try, and which was kind of a milestone experience because for the first time in years I didn’t masturbate to my secret lover Mr.Big.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I insist on sticking to the correct order of things which actually started before I knew I was going to see the young writer, when Mr.Big said he’d call me which was odd because he barely ever calls me. And this time in particular, I felt like it wasn’t good.
I looked forward to hearing his voice, but I was on my guard.

It sounded suspicious.
But I was wrong.
We had a lovely phone conversation. The content was friendly though, not sexual. But that was to be expected: we weren’t the phone sex type. We didn’t even text sexy messages, working up to seeing each other.

Our relationship was always as if it had never existed and still had to start. As if we were still in the phase of not admitting we really liked each other.
It was one of the many things I appreciated about being his secret mistress, I never felt like he took me for granted. And I certainly never took him for granted either. I knew the risks he took by seeing me, and that I would always be a liability.

It wasn’t that I didn’t know my worth as a lover, it was that I was painfully aware I came at the price of risking it all.
Maybe I didn’t get the long end of the stick, seeing so little of the man I love, but at least I didn’t have to juggle either. My price for being infatuated, perpetually in love year after year – something no man I had slept with had ever achieved – was that it could be over and done with at any time.
And on the day of the call, I feared we were done for.
But we weren’t.

Maybe he had changed his mind, or maybe he really did just want a chat because he was so busy and didn’t want to neglect me. But I enjoyed it.
Yet I haven’t seen him since.

So when I saw the young rockstar writer, whose presence was an energetic wake-up call, like:
“Hello! Lady! Where’s your sex life?”
I had already been asking myself that same question. And doubt had started to creep in. Had Mr.Big been wanting to break up with me?
And/or was he doing that now by simply not arranging a new date?
Did it mean something, that I didn’t see him?
And even if that didn’t mean anything else than all the times before – which was that there was stuff going on at work, family, or with himself – even if that positive scenario was the case, which didn’t have anything to do with me, how long was that going to be enough?

What exactly, was my bottom line when it came to being monogamous? A status I liked, that’s not the point. I don’t like the idea of another lover. But honestly?
If I didn’t appear to be having a minimum date or sex requirement, then wasn’t it about time that I started to think about the ultimate consequences of this?

Should I perhaps end it myself, to make room for someone who would be able to see me regularly? Or was that too drastic?
Should I get a second lover then?
Or was that out of my league, and was I incapable of setting up something on the side? I had never managed to do it in the past. Not even when I was with my long-term relationship, and getting an affair would have had the potential to save our entire relationship.
Even then I couldn’t, despite trying. It was like my advances bounced off of every man I set eyes on. I had never felt so unloved.

So then what?
Was I going to come up with a Plan B, or did I intend to keep suffering every time my needs weren’t met and I was kept in uncertainty about my fate?

My first instinct was to call Mr.Big. Yet after chewing over that plan for a while, I dismissed it. It would only throw us back to the quarreling of our first months. With me wanting something, and him making a point of not being able to give it.
And besides, the whole problem is being caused by me not taking responsibility for my own sex life. As long as I insist on being monogamous, the consequence is that I m dependent on someONE else to supply it.
And I ve always believed this to be true for marriages as well, which is why I’m pro-mistresses and pro-lovers.
“Cheating” is a sign of taking responsibility for your own sex life and releasing your partner of that task. And ideally, you give your partner as much time for himself, or herself, as he or she needs to  process that and figure things out. And offer the option to never have sex again with you.
But if you know beforehand he or she doesn’t want you to cheat, then you don’t tell.

Some call that lying, I call it courteous.
I would even call it saving the relationship.

And I felt that right now, the time had come to save my relationship with Mr.Big by starting to take care of myself. It wasn’t healthy that my body sighed, and moaned, during yoga because then at least it experienced something.
It wasn’t healthy that my final years of being fertile and juicy, were wasted having sex far less than once a month.
It was downright appalling.
And whatever reason I thought I had – me being monogamous, me being absolutely over the moon about Mr.Big, me having been terribly unsuccessful in the past in getting a second lover, and needing nine freaking years after ending my long term relationship before I finally, FINALLY, found my ultimate lover Mr.Big –
those reasons were no longer valid.
Not if I wanted an average sex life, but especially not if I wanted an absolutely amazing sex life.
Seeing the young rockstar writer taught me that.

So today when I masturbated, I hesitated.. For years I had masturbated exclusively to Mr.Big. It was something that I had consciously chosen to do, after an early attempt to make it more neutral. According to instructions from a program to attract the man of your dreams, I was supposed to masturbate thinking about “my dream lover”.
Yet it always resulted in thinking about Mr.Big.
Until I stopped fighting it, and gave in, and did it only with him in mind.

But now I felt it was important to stop doing that.
If I did keep masturbating to Mr.Big I would keep affirming that he was the only one. When from now on, I wouldn’t exclude anything anymore.
It was a bit odd, but I managed, and I was fine. Everything still functioned, even without thinking about him.

And I’m going to create dates for myself. I ve thought about joining a dating site, but I wasn’t feeling like it. Perhaps, not feeling like it yet?
But I m going to start by dating the men I already know, or maybe new men I meet. Or I m going to take myself on dates; grooming and dressing well and taking good care of myself.
Blocking my calendar, planning in advance. I so missed that, all the anticipation. I m going to visualize and plan, at least one date every week.
Even if this is just me taking myself some place nice.
And I’m also going to time block staying in and having sex, once a week. Again, I will go solo if I need to. But maybe I don’t need to.
Who knows what will happen.
But those are my new standards, from now on forward.
And the hows or the whos, will just need figure themselves out.

All I m committing to is to keep an open mind.
And not call Mr.Big.

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living


My diaries are available at LULU
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog:

A Rock Star Writer and a Sexual Wake-up Call

I knew something was off, when during the occasional yoga practice my body started responding to ANY movement, with a sexual groan or a sigh or an “Oh my God that feels good.”
But today I had the in-person sexual wake-up call from the same man who kicked me out of hibernation five years ago; a young rock star writer who was doing his book tour.

Which in America would mean readers waiting in line, hoping for an autograph and over the moon with personal attention.
But in The Netherlands book signings are a pretty lonely place to be. I assume they’re merely are a token of goodwill to the bookstores and the four fans who knew you were coming.
And that’s me estimating, four people.
Because he told me I wasn’t the only one, and I got there halfway during the signing. With one or two people before me, and one or two after me, that makes four.

Due to their deserted nature, these book signings are usually an immense treat for the few fans who do show up! The author has all the time in the world, and in this case he knew exactly who I was. We met when his debut novel was published, and stayed in touch ever since.
He was The Rock star Writer; whose driven voice and high sexual energy had shook me out of sexual inertia, years ago.
And I was The Blogger, who had written a book about him.

In the past few years we ran into each other occasionally, when I visited book events. But he had not done any tours since then. So this was our reunion.
He was taller than I remembered. I must have been wearing high heels the last time. And he’s bigger than me as well, because he works out daily or something. He has pecs you can crack walnuts on.
Yet, I had forgotten what his physical presence was like.
Which is strange, because he looks good “on paper” too.

Photographers love him, and he always gives entertaining interviews for radio and tv. And he also shows his true emotions, which are usually raw.
His debut novel backfired with turmoil among certain groups, and caused a personal drama.
And this time too, the book backfired with turmoil among certain groups, and was followed by a personal drama.
I asked him about it. Was it true, what he had said in that interview?
It was.

How sad to go through personal loss the moment you publish a book. Twice.
Now he is a winner, he’s tough. But still, I feel for him.
Anyway, that’s not what I was going to say.

What I meant was: I assumed I knew his “energy”. Especially because he’s exactly the same in the media, as he is in person. And yet, the experience of him, is something you cannot prepare yourself for. I would compare it to standing next to a nuclear sexual bomb.

Totally contained! We didn’t even flirt.
And yet it was impossible not to feel his true strength; an infinite well of blatant ambition, push-forward energy, and for certain, sexual zest.

If anyone else would pick up on it, entire crowds would be swirling around him, to spend a minute in that aura.

In India there are several Gurus whose presence is considered divine.
People have all kinds of holy experiences attending their lectures or being in their presence.
Sometimes even getting a hug.
Those Gurus who hug have waiting lines that can be up to a day!

I wonder why Westerners can have these experiences, can pick on somebody else’s energy, when it’s from an Indian Guru?
Yet in real life, they seem oblivious to human energy the strength of a small army.

Even when it’s from the most successful young writer of our country, with a background that put him up against the odds of ever achieving anything in life.

I would say that pretty much gave him away: how could he possibly attain that level of success without wanting it more than anybody else?
Without getting up e-v’ry-time he was down?
He couldn’t.

And it was in these five to ten minutes, talking to the writer, that I could feel my lack of energy in all those areas.
My lack of ambition; I m back to treating writing as a hobby even.
My flaky lust; I haven’t seen my secret married lover for so long, I’m not even sure I have a place in his life anymore.
I felt my lack of will to live.

Sure: when all is fine, all is fine. And thankfully, after going through a rough couple of weeks, everything IS fine.
Thank God.

But when did I ever try to get up when I was down?
When did I ever get myself a lover when Mr.Big was occupied?
When did I ever REALLY pursue a career in writing?
He was the mirror image of all the things I wasn’t, and that no one could go get for me.

If I wanted to be that unstoppable, that healthy, that success driven and even remotely sexually satisfied? I would have to change my ways. He was just an example that it could be done.

And the rest, was up to me.

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living


My diaries are available at LULU
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog:

The Mistress Manifesto: in praise of an unknown sexual preference

*mistress means a woman who falls in love with married men*

I’ve once heard Yoko One screwed it up for mistresses. That it was either her snatching John away from his wife or – more likely – her snatching him away from the Beatles, that marked the end of an era where having a mistress, and I assume also being one, was probably one of the more uncommon relationships, but it wasn’t unheard of.
And it certainly wasn’t demonized, the way it is now.

I have one friend, only one, who knows a former and lifelong mistress. This now elderly woman had a relationship that stretched decades. With the same man. Until he died. And just like my lover he was married with children.
Like so many married men with children before him.

I’m not going to pretend being a mistress is the only unknown sexual preference: you can easily argue that being a man who needs a mistress is equally uncommon.
Uncommon meaning that he can be easily mistaken, first of all by himself, for a man who doesn’t have a good marriage.
Or a man who has commitment issues.

He can be mistaken for a man who likes to cheat and fool around.
All things which do not have to be the case.

He can simply be a man, hard wired to love two women at the same time. And who has a choice to abstain. Or to not. But who can’t change himself anymore than anyone who is gay can make himself be straight.

And if we switch the genders around, with a man in the role of the mistress, and the woman in the role of a wife with a secret lover, two new sexual or psychological profiles pop-up.
So no.
I m not going to make a whole song and dance about “The Mistress” being the most misunderstood, sexual lifeform. But it is the only one that I am.
And the only one that I can talk about from experience.

Both the experience of joy when embracing, and understanding, your sexual preference. As well as the sadness and the loneliness of knowing that no matter how open-minded  people say they are when it comes to sex, their minds will barely ever stretch far enough to include you.

And it will probably never include you, unless you start dating a married man who is open and honest about dating you;
Because then you can belong to the poly-amorous people.

It won’t include you, unless you choose a man who lives alone, and what you have qualifies as a LAT relationship.

It won’t include you, unless you keep it at seeing someone just a few times, and what you had can count as a mistake.

And even if you are having sex with a married man?
As long as you’re not in love, you can still get away with it. You simply have a friend with benefits. A married friend, but still.
Pretty harmless.

To understand why the mistress, as well as the other sexual orientations I briefly mentioned, are not some flawed-something-else, but genuine sexual orientations that can never be fully fulfilled in any other type of relationship form,  there are two aspects to sex and relationships that need to be understood.
Liking it secret and liking competition.

First, secrecy.
Both of the relationship itself, as well as within any love relationship. I’m sure this whole idea of transparency and honestly, and two partners communicating all the time, must have been a good idea at some point in time.
But as a mistress I almost feel like it is my personal mission to convince people to start having MORE secrets from each other.
And here it comes:
ESPECIALLY if you are in a monogamous relationship.

Let’s look at this with a fresh pair of eyes.
If you think your relationship will benefit from you being honest about that you want to date multiple people or whatever, because you think that it prevents getting into trouble over it in the future (it won’t, but okay) Go right ahead.

But if you both know that most likely, both of you will not be very adventurous and outgoing with other people, then PLEASE!
Keep secrets.
Don’t tell the other person where you’re going.
Be mysterious.

I once talked to a Catholic Priest and he was really modern because he said that it wasn’t his job to convince people God existed. It was his job to preserve the mystery.
Well, whatever is good enough for Jesus is good enough for you.

I honestly think, at least in the Netherlands, the moral righteousness of looking for “the truth” can be directly linked to the Netherlands’ official religion being protestant.
And therefor “truth” biased.

It is my personal opinion that we need to start taking a very hard look at ourselves why we ever thought “honesty” was a virtue.
Isn’t this what we crave for:
To be seen.
To be looked after.
To be cared for.
But also, the other way around:
To see.
To admire.
To gush over.
To love.
To support.
Where now, is honesty?

Honesty, is completely irrelevant in the list of all the things we truly desire. But because we are afraid to ask for what we truly desire, we come up with some kind of monstrous binary measurement system, in which all the people who are honest are on the good side.
And all the people who aren’t are the bad guys.

For me personally, if me telling my story as a mistress, would only lead to normal monogamous relationships bringing back the mystery into their relationships, and start appreciating each other based on the things that make all human beings happy as fuck?
My mission is accomplished.
Keeping secrets from each other, about actual events and also about your emotional life, is a way to keep the mystery in, the garbage out, and to honor the sacredness of your relationship.

The second aspect of secrecy is of course the secrecy of the relationship itself. Which is not something that can be duplicated in a normal relationship.
Many relationships go through that phase of:
“Are we something? Should we tell the others? Or are we just having three day sex sessions like any normal adult would do when giving the chance?”

And I don’t think it’s just the not knowing, that makes us cautious to tell the good news to the world. I think it’s also because we know that we will lose something with it.

Sure, initially, there is that thrill of excitement, of sharing the news. And showing up in public together.
It’s absolutely intoxicating.
Even now, as a mistress, I know fully well that if it had not been for the fact that he’s married and we can never make such public displays of affection, I would have gone that route.

It is practically impossible to “make yourself” have a secret relationship, and keep yourself from going public with it at some point, unless there is a massively important reason why you can’t.

Being a mistress is the only relationship form with built-in secrecy.
Secrecy that evaporates in normal relationships, the moment you come out and present yourself to the world as a couple.
And the thrill of being a couple turns out to be short lived.
I remember so vividly the feeling of loss, when after keeping the relationship with my college sweetheart a secret for over half a year (we had our reasons, it wasn’t because we were involved) we came out as a couple.

But then again: I “am” a mistress, meaning I have a certain set of preferences surrounding sexuality and relationships.
So this loss of secrecy will probably not be experienced so strongly, by those who thrive in normal relationships.

The second aspect that makes a mistress a mistress, and not a chance victim of a married man, is that it arouses her to know that she’s not the only one. Now, I ll be honest: For a while I thought “we” were beyond the “ego” thing of needing a man for ourselves.
I honestly believed that monogamous women were deeply insecure and basically needed to have their wounded ego mended by a man choosing for them. And that “we” mistresses, were in a way elevated beings, because we went without that childish game of:
“If you love me, you choose for me.”
Not pretty. I know.
I’m sorry, and I don’t think that anymore.

– By the way I do believe that many looking for a faithful partner are basically saying: “I want to feel loved, and special, and as if I am the only one.”
But that’s not for me to find out –

Okay, but, initially I thought; monogamy is an ego thing. And us, mistresses are more detached on these matters.
Until I looked a little deeper, and realized we were far, far worse. Or that maybe not “worse” but that we took that whole game up a notch… I ll explain in a moment, maybe I shouldn’t have brought the ego up.
Because there is a fairly neutral explanation too, for liking “competition”.
It’s called “compersion”.
And means getting aroused from knowing your partner has other partners, or seeing him or her do it with someone else.

“Compersion” is what I experienced when I saw my lover charm a gorgeous woman practically out of her skirt. So maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on myself, or on other women, by making this about how often we need to boost our egos. So no judgement.
But I want to illustrate this dynamic of competition.

The difference between having a partner who is sexually active, or ambiguous, or secretive, with other women, and having a partner who isn’t, is that you have competition. My lover can end things with me at any time. In favor of his wife, or a new lover, or in favor of having mental rest and calm.
So every time I see him?
I win.

He chooses to see me, there is no entitlement. This motivates me to always be at my best! And you get three guesses who benefits most from that? Well?
Me of course!

It’s a bit related to the secrecy thing, but feeling my best, and sharing only the things which connect us, or how we can learn more about each other?
That is amazing…
And not only does it give me a feeling of accomplishment because I’m giving it my all. He may only see the best part of me when we’re together, but so do I!

Having competition is an extremely good motivator to be my best self. I may not get him to choose me once, like a normal relationship.
But I get to be chosen time after time.
That’s what I meant when I said we mistresses were even more ego driven, and/or we are more compersionists. We like to have a partner whose attention we have to win, every time.
But we also get the reward of being chosen, every time.

I m not going to pretend I don’t understand why the world would be a better place, if mistresses didn’t exist. I do.
And I also understand how tempting it must be to blame us, for everything that has gone wrong in any marriage where a man cheated on his wife.
If I could choose, please believe me, I would choose to have a different type of sexual preference. One that rewarded loyalty, and frailty, and where I made one man really happy, and he would devote his life to me alone, and no one would get hurt.
If I had a choice, I would.

Now a second choice is that I would abstain from having sex and not date a married man, until he was divorced, and so on. If you want to blame me for not choosing that, I understand that. You hold the popular opinion for sure.
But I don’t think that mistresses, unlike child molesters, should be trained or treated to learn how to control their needs. A mistress and her lover are consenting adults. And a real mistress, someone who has the preferences I talked about, is not out to destroy any marriage.
She is simply a woman in love.
And a woman who can peacefully coexist next to a marriage, and even turn out to be quite effective, and discrete, relationship glue.

But as long as we keep seeing mistresses as villians, “she” cannot find or refind her place in society. She is stuck in being judged for her preferences, because everybody assumes they’re a sign of ill will or poor character.
They’re not.
She’s a mistress because that’s how she was born.

It took me until I was well over forty to figure all this out. And yet in retrospect it is all so clear: I was always so interested in sex. I liked my partners adventurous, but I myself liked to have only one partner.
I found no joy whatsoever in being promiscuous.
I kept my relationships secret, for as long as I could. I had a feeling of loss when we came out. I fell for unavailable, taken men, time and time again, and I just knew it had nothing to do with lack of self-esteem no matter what anybody said.
All the pieces of the puzzle fit, once I had made my peace with being a mistress, and started “counting back”. It’s so easy once you know what you’re looking for! But as long as you don’t, or as long as you’re biased because you Can Not Be That Because That Is Evil?
Then it will take you over forty years.

A gay friend once tried to explain to a friend who I was, and what my mission in life was. He said:
“Lauren is going to emancipate the mistress.”
Which is not a very sexy way of saying it, but I do think that is what it comes down to. Educate on this.
And not just educate potential mistresses, but everyone.
In a society where half of all marriages fail, the come-back of the mistress could actually save a couple of them. And if not by direct participation, then still what better person to ask how to spice up your relationship, then someone who truly masters the matter?
A woman who knows what the Catholic Church has known for two-thousand years:
How to preserve the mystery.

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

The first two years with my lover were published in my book
“Big” diaries and erotica


My diaries are available at LULU
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog:




50 Shades of May This Last Forever

*disclaimer: sexually explicit, contains references to porn*

On the fourth day of my project of living planning-free, and basically doing whatever the fuck I want to, I accidentally discovered the upside of NOT being able to do what you want to do: Abstinence, not doing your soul’s work, does heighten the sensations of pleasure after.

Because before I had this day going, before I had dived into all the stuff I felt like doing, the ball got rolling on something that I had been wanting to do for a long time. But this morning I got a cue that I had to do it immediately.
No time to lose.

The cue was that a writer about whom I had written a book four years ago, was publishing his second novel today. And this meant that today was the ideal day to reblog the diary he had inspired; to publish it online.
I ve published ten books and my ultimate goal is to have them all online, for free. So then either you could read them for free on my website, or buy a paper copy. No pdf’s or ereader stuff.
I m sure that’s not the choice most authors would make, but that’s my choice. It’s the way I have envisioned it, and that’s what’s going to happen.

Except that nothing was happening because reblogging stuff is pain in the ass work I don’t want to do. Not unless of course there is this HUGE incentive of a book suddenly becoming current again. Like today.
So I knew I wanted to reblog my Dutch book De Candystop, and I did.
Which cost me four hours, instead of the ninety minutes I had estimated.

By the time I finished it I was terribly hungry because I had skipped my lunch and was way past my feeding time. But on a soul level, I also felt unfulfilled. Thirsty. Desperate for anything that could take away feeling this unaccomplished.

So maybe it was because of my deprived state, that I shamelessly clicked on two tweets in my Twitter timeline that were both blatantly my kind of kink.

Steve Holmes and Stoya

First I clicked [ #nsfw ]  Steve Holmes’ retweet of a movie called Darker Side of Desire
Steve Holmes is a porn actor who I know from a video of him and Stoya in Paris. It was a series that Stoya shot herself, taking the camera with her all over the world. I was a paying member of TrenchcoatX, and watched all of them. Until I realized that the only one I really liked was the one in Paris.
Where beautiful young Stoya (my favorite porn actress) hit it off with this middle aged man I didn’t know… yet. I couldn’t quite figure out why I liked that video so much..
Until I looked him up.
It turned out the Actor Steve Holmes was also the Director and Producer Steve Holmes. And now I saw it… yes.

Stoya and Steve in “Paris, Tourist Style” (Around the World in 80 Ways)

Steve Holmes had more or less directed this video, by operating the camera, and had filmed the close-up shots that I had liked so much. Stoya’s other videos were more filmed from afar. With the camera on the night stand, or sometimes held by Stoya.
But Steve had a better view while filming, plus decades of experience.
No wonder that video of him and Stoya totally rocked.
Anyway, that’s how I know Steve and I started following him on Twitter, and he posts or retweets trailers of movies he has worked on. They’re always really kinky and I totally love them.

This one, Darker Side of Desire, was more high budget and with a real story line. It was about a young woman whose relationship with her dominant had ended, and she missed having a dominant so much. Suddenly I realized that if my lover Mr.Big and me would end, I would feel the same way.
That the breakup would mean so much more than “just” losing the man I love.

It would also mean losing the only man who knows exactly what makes me tick. I don’t see myself succeeding at dating “vanilla” style, any more than the girl in the movie did.
And with Mr.Big and me, it’s not even that we would count as being into BDSM. But our preferred roles, of him being dominant and me submissive, are fixed. And I know that’s hard to come by.

The second tweet I clicked was a piece of Girl on the Net about Being Lazy in Bed, in which I immediately recognized my preference for being submissive and still.
Girl on the Net is the only woman when it comes to sharing kinks, who I can relate to. All women who write about their sexual journey, make me realize that my sexual preference is surprisingly narrow. With no need for leather, whips, or sex dungeons. Nor for tantra, massage or valley orgasms.

I want it exactly the way I want it, and nothing else.

I remember a conversation with a friend a little while back, where I confessed that I had never been very interested in the physical part of sex.
“I like the mental part, you know?” I explained. “Where you dive into the depths of your mind, and tell each other stuff you don’t dare tell a soul.”
She immediately replied: “Yes, you mean perverted.”

Whenever I hear good sex in relationships is about intimacy and connecting, I always think: “Yes. And No.”
Because intimacy is only arousing, after you first had a fight of some sorts.
Honesty is refreshing, when it comes from someone who usually lies.
And trust is only an aphrodisiac if there is also something you’re scared of.
You can’t have the yin without the yang.

But to have your sex life rooted in shared sexual fantasies?
That’s amazing.
It’s a win-win, never a dull moment kind of relationship. And it’s also very rare, unfortunately. It’s that aspect, of two perfectly matching sexual preferences, that I would miss the most.

We’ve been together for way over three years, yet I feel there’s still so much to discover. We barely got a taste of everything we’re capable of. Maybe because we’re apart 99% of the time, with him not necessary lying to me but definitely unavailable 99% of the time.

It makes the 1% we’re together intoxicating and delicious.

Reading the article from Girl on the Net on being lazy or submissive, and watching the trailer of the movie about the young female submissive, made me realize that my relationship with Big has amplified my sexual preference.
That the submissive part, the fixed role playing part, the carte blanche I’m getting to share whatever deviant desire I have, and to then have someone who is eager to play it out, and to fully dominate me.

It has become who I am.

This, being submissive in bed, has become non-negotiable.

And if I ever, God forbid, become single again – technically I m still single of course, since I m a secret mistress I don’t have a status –  that I will start dating new men not only based on who I like.
But also on who wants to play.

The trailer of the porn movie ends with the young woman interviewing a dominant (Steve Holmes) for her thesis. He answers the questions but then interrupts her: “You’re not here to ask me questions.”
She replies that she’s no longer into that sort of thing.

He offers her a gift, a little box with a small insertable toy, with which he can control her.
“Give me twenty-four hours to change your mind.”

I would say Yes.

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living


My diaries are available at LULU
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog:


The Grateful Mistress

*disclaimer: sexually explicit, and potentially triggering for anyone who believes monogamy is a virtue*

It was painfully obvious the Universe was against it:
Mr.Big asked me to join him on a business trip in the one week I didn’t have a passport. I had turned in the old one the week before. They stamped holes in it so it wasn’t valid anymore. And in exchange they took my application for a new one.
Along with the new passport photo.

I had thought of Mr.Big when I had that photo taken. Because I thought it would give me a happy, content look. And that it would somehow miraculously cure my asymmetrical eyes, a feature that had gotten stronger since the last passport photo five years prior.

I was aware that getting an acceptable portrait would get more difficult with age. And I also realized, when the photographer handed me the horrific passport photo where everything that could go wrong, had gone wrong, that I had chosen the wrong photographer.
This was the same shop that had fucked it up ten years ago.
And not the one that had given me the blushing portrait five years ago.
The blushing one that now had holes in it…
“You can pick up the passport next week,” the employee told me. “It will be valid for ten years.”
By the time I need the next one the good photographer will have retired. And who knows in what kind of detrimental state my own life will be.
Or my relationship with Mr.Big.

On the moment I had to put my autograph on the papers, I fantasized I was signing our wedding papers. Even though I don’t believe in marriage. Nor do I wish for Mr.Big’s current marriage to end.
And apparently, neither did the Universe.
Because Mr.Big asked me to join him for a secret getaway, for the first time in years, exactly in the week I had no other choice but to refuse.

When he took his return flight he started messaging me if I would be interested in sharing breakfast.
He had used that trick once before.
The first hours after landing, and before his first business appointments, were probably a grey area. A time window for which he would not be held accountable, and it wouldn’t make sense to go home. He would take a shower and change suits at his condo.

When he opened the door he was freshly shaven and wearing jeans.
When we lay in bed later – and I’ll tell you in a minute in which advanced state of being horny he had brought me before I was even invited into the bedroom – I recalled that moment, when he had opened the door.

I said that I never went to his house with the idea of having sex, but that he was always so courteous and easy going. He really made an effort to play his cards right.
There are many men with whom you can have great sex if you’re in love. You’re more forgiving in the beginning.
But after a while, it starts to count.
“You score ten out of ten. I’m so spoiled. You really know how to get me to want it.”

Mr.Big laughed. “And then every time you think: What the hell just happened?”

In all those years I was single, I had to put up with so much.
And now I had Big scoring ten out of ten!

We have had dates when we didn’t have sex, but that was usually because I was in my period, or because I had not seen him in a long time and I wasn’t settling for a quickie.
But even on those dates, Mr.Big knew how to connect with me in a way that we both felt happy and appreciated. It was never a tug of war kind of standoff, with me “refusing” to have sex.

Big was a master at working whatever boundaries there were, with regard to time, lack of privacy, or my physical needs. He didn’t hold any preconceived ideas about what a good date was supposed to look like, except that he seemed determined to always make sure I had a good time.
So my ten out of ten was more figuratively speaking:
He always honored what we had, and if I was in the mood for sex he picked up on that and did something to arouse me.

After breakfast we were on the couch, snogging a bit, and although we were still fully dressed things were heating up quickly. There is something about him returning from a business trip, that makes him extra attractive.
Maybe it’s just the thought that he’s had sex, or kissed other women.

He knows that thought arouses me and he’s always happy to play along. I confessed that I masturbated to him. To us. Playing that he had paid me to do anything he wanted with me.
And that he took advantage of that.

“It makes me come so hard,” I shivered, thinking back to my masturbation sessions, in which an imaginary Big, and only Big, ever accompanied me.

I was not just faithful to him in real life. Even in my imagination, there was no one I was more fond of.

“Want to play that now?” he asked, and showered my cheek with kisses so that my mouth could answer him.
“Yes…. can we go to the bedroom? I always imagine this takes place in your bedroom.”
“You know the rules for the bedroom,” he said, as he looked at me with a sparkle in his eyes that was out of character for someone who was about to play-abuse me.
“I do,” I said.
I had to be fully naked.

He slowly untangled our bodies and headed towards the bedroom.
“Just knock when you’re ready.”
I undressed myself, and stacked my clothes next to the bedroom door. My shoes, my socks, my jeans, my string. My sweater, my top, my bra.
I knocked the door. He opened. I gasped.
“I had no idea you’d be naked!” I said. And I loved the shock of surprise. And that it made clear I didn’t have a say. He made the rules.
He had paid for it.

I whispered a lot during sex. Whenever I wanted to tell him how in awe I was over how horny I was. In less than an hour together, I was role playing and loving every minute and every inappropriate intrusion and abuse of my body.
We spent even more time cuddling and talking after.
When I told him how special he was, and how gifted when it came to sex. And warming me up to it.

He brushed it off: “Well I wouldn’t know. I only know myself.”
“Well take it from me,” I said. “You’re something special. Do you have something like that with me too? That I always do? When other women not so much?”
He seemed to immediately know the answer:
“You’re so grateful.”

Yes. I am.

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living


My diaries are available at LULU
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog:


I know what Mr.Big hates most about being my secret lover;
That I deserve more and that he cannot give it to me.
From his point of view that makes him an accomplice.

I never saw it like that, aside from the first weeks or months at most. I was still convinced what we had was
A. him initially shutting himself off from my post-sex neediness but also
B. him seeing that his marriage didn’t work, and choosing a new life.

What I didn’t understand back then, and I doubt if Mr.Big would ever confirm it (I know he would plead innocent to it being deliberate) was that;
Yes. It was him shutting himself off for my post-sex neediness.
Yes, it was seeing his marriage didn’t work, and also choosing a new life.

But it was the life of someone who could make his marriage work, if only he allowed himself to have a that little something extra….
And that little something extra?
Was me.

Just like so many mistresses before me (I mean in history, I don’t think Mr.Big had a regular mistress before me) our affair was a key ingredient to let his marriage survive.
It wasn’t a reason to divorce.

And here we are, over three years into our affair, and I could not be happier with what we have. I m not going to lie, there are a million downsides to being a mistress. On my most gloomiest I will think things like;
Will I be there at his funeral?
But on a “day-to-day basis” (the irony is of course that we do not see each other every day) I happily choose this.

A relationship in which you have been in love for way over three years?
And you don’t see any decline or rough edges?

Your feelings for him are as strong as ever?
As is your longing for him?
Your willingness to try anything, be anything, as limited or as profound he wants it to be?
That’s worth something.

And it’s worth A LOT to a woman who left her long-term relationship age 34 to start dating again, because she missed that feeling of butterflies and first times. She missed it so much she was willing to sacrifice the relationship with the love of her life.
To meet new men.
Fall in love.
Have first time sex.

A woman who over the course of eight years tried and tested every flavor in the book, including men half her age, and those much older than her.
I can’t say I was promiscuous.
My top year was 2009 and I had three partners then.

But there were also years when I didn’t have sex at all.

Because it was so straining for me.
It took so much effort to smooth out communication fails, ignore character traits I didn’t like, and let him get away with things that showed so little respect for what we had.

And so much shame to be seen with me.
All those things to have sex?

I didn’t understand how people could stay horny given the countless flaws of imperfect sex. Where imperfect basically stands for any sex where two people are not mutually in love or infatuated.
By the time I took my pants off, I had invested an amount of tolerance and negotiation skills that could have brought peace to the entire Middle-East.

All that to get laid.

So no, I wasn’t promiscuous, but I did have enough partners to immediately recognize that sex with Mr.Big was something else.
That I wasn’t the one doing all the work;
He was. 

He was the one who initiated our first kiss; perfect timing, no waiting until our goodbyes. But not too soon either, and he had announced it. In a way.
He had done the risk taking way before the first kiss. He had given me the opportunity to reject him, over Whatsapp. Which may sound unromantic, but I can’t tell you how wonderful that was, to have a man saying:
“I wanted to kiss you tonight.”
When you’re already back home alone, safe.

That is a guy giving a lady an opportunity to think about things. He’s giving her time (in our case, it would turn out to be a whole week) to figure out if she wants this. Him. A married man.
Or if she doesn’t.

This is not a man pressing her, or groping her on a time when she could feel awkward rejecting him. It’s a courteous gesture… one I had not seen in all those eight years before. He was a man who didn’t press for a “Yes”. He was someone who would only accept me as a lover, if I had thought it through.
If it was a “Hell yes!”

So the first kiss which he initiated, was unexpected. And then again it wasn’t. Because I had agreed to see him again, and I had confessed that I had been taken aback as well.
By my desire to kiss him.
That night when nothing happened.

Me feeling nostalgic is not because we’re having an anniversary. We’re in over three years, but no milestone. And either way; neither one of us are really into that sort of thing.
Maybe because the strong point of what we have is that it always feels new.
And never a given.

I still feel those butterflies in my belly, the uncertainty about what to text back. I still feel new and unsure every time we have sex.

In the end, I really got all those exciting first times I looked forward to, when I ended my long-term relationship. I just never expected, that those perfect first times, where you don’t have to first allow the annoying and the draining (on both sides, no doubt); that all those super arousing first time sex encounters would be with the same man.
I never thought that.
But I do now.

On a quiet Friday night in April 2018, writing my post, no one kissed me, it’s all memories and looking back but I can see;
Damn this is all worth it.

I remember what Mr.Big said, after that first kiss;
“You’re a great kisser.”
Immediately labeling our experience as something positive and memorable. He was doing the work. And ever since then, he has made sure we only had good times.

I know Mr.Big feels guilty for not being the single man “I deserve”.
But all the men I dated before him?
Those men were single!

It’s so much better to have the right man, for whatever fraction of his time is available, then having the wrong one completely to yourself.

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living


My diaries are available at LULU
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog:

We were never meant to be tamed

**  I think I should put a trigger warning on this post….
Let’s put it this way; This blogpost is for those of you who accept nothing but the highest standard of personal freedom,

for themselves and others.**

This post was originally supposed to have a different title. Be about a different thing. A thing that made me angry, and on which I held a ton of opinions.

How someone “testing” their partner by bringing up the hypothetical scenario of cheating, is such a great way to see where their loyalty lies and how quickly they are willing to make your whole relationship about being right (they).
And being wrong (you).
How all feelings, your whole history, your entire future together, how the depth of your relationship could all be distilled into:

“You are a bad person because you’re having sex with someone else.”
In a blink of an eye.

How easily you could be at:
I am going to speak badly of you
Divorce you.
Or even hit the lows of:
“I am going to take revenge on you.”

If you would ask the hypothetical question on your partner’s well thought through balanced view on the subject.

And in reply I’d say: “Wow.”

And we all know that a woman saying “Wow” is the worst thing anyone can bring onto himself.

And I would say “Wow” even if their “if you love me you don’t do that” message was delivered in the most thoughtful, non-aggressive way imaginable.
I would flip that thing right back at them saying in the most thoughtful, non-aggressive way imaginable:

“I’m glad I know this. Before I waste the rest of my life with you.”

Yes, I am afraid that my answer would have been somewhere along those lines.

Until, when looking for a Carrie Bradshaw picture to go with this blog post, I stumbled on this quote about wild women.
And wild men.

Maybe some women aren’t meant to be tamed.
Maybe they just need to run free until they find someone just as wild to run with them.
-Carrie Bradshaw

And I thought: “That’s the whole thing in a nutshell.”
Wild women and wild men should pair up.
As well as the domestic ones.
Problems only rise when we start cross breeding.

Personally, no, I am not a cheater. Yet if I do want to;
Kiss that man.
Fall in love.
Have that encounter.
Cross that line.
I want a partner who can say:
“I love everything about you. Including the parts that hurt me. “
And I would answer:
“That’s how much I love you too.”

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living


My diaries are available at LULU
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog: