One Man's Fantasy Is Another Woman's Nightmare

Ok, where do I begin?  I’m barely able to type this right now, but I feel as though I need to get my feelings out before I explode.  But, let me give you a disclaimer…DO NOT JUDGE ME.  Ok, I’ve said it.  I know I’m exposing a very private part of my life, but I just don’t need the judgement on this particular issue.  So I arrived home this afternoon (Saturday) after my morning sweat session with Greg Gunz.  We’d worked so hard on abs and glutes today, and I was feeling such a sense of accomplishment.  Only 10 more lbs to go and I’d be at my goal weight for the South Beach trip for Girls’ Weekend.  I was going to head out to do some shopping with Angel at noon, but she’d needed to push our meeting time back until 2 pm. 

Well, after my shower at the gym, and with the shift in time, I’d decided to grab some lunch on the run from one of my favorite take out café’s near the gym – a tuna salad for me with a power smoothie and a club sandwich for Taylor because I know how much he loves them.  I figured I’d surprise him with it and we’d be able to spend a little quality time together as he was going to be hanging out with his fraternity brothers later that night.  When I got home, I dropped everything on the kitchen counter and proceeded up the stairs to the bedroom, because I know he’s probably still laying in bed being lazy (and here’s where I blame that damn plush carpeting that I just had to have), but apparently I didn’t make a sound as I was approaching the bedroom door which was closed for some reason.  I found it odd, but it didn’t’ really register until later.

As I opened the door, I see Taylor, sprawled across the bed, legs spread wide, masturbating to the high heavens.   The look of sheer panic flashed on his face as he jumped back, clearly shocked at my arrival.  But it wasn’t the act itself that caught me off guard, it was what was playing on the television screen and scattered at the foot of the bed that really set me off.  There on the screen was (and it pains me to even write this) was a blonde woman in what was clearly some massacred wig, on her knees in a doggy style position, with every orifice filled with parts of the male anatomy.  It was a “gang bang”.  But the worst part of all was that everyone on the screen had to be over 300 lbs.  What. The. FiretrUCK?

There at the foot of the bed lay at least a half dozen or so DVD cases of more of the same filth.  The look of horror must have registered on my face because Taylor attempted to jump up from the bed, but stumbled on the underwear that were still halfway around his ankles.  At this point, I, reeling from disgust, slammed the door closed and stumbled down the stairs half-stumbling in my stilettos, grabbed my keys and purse and scurried out of the house.

I’m sitting here waiting for Angel now, nerves completely rattled.  I mean is this normal?  Do other women out there know that their husbands are getting off to fat porn?