I posted this about a year ago and lots of people have asked me for updates. I was reluctant to post an answer for a long time because I am just now figuring things out. Now I feel the need to fess up to the universe.

Here goes. I'm just going to spill everything out straight from my heart and memory before I change my mind. I may need to edit this later.

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Short background: last year, I had sex with a dog for the first time, behind my husband's (M30) back, and felt torn about what to do. The following is what happened.

You will think I'm a terrible person for many of my decisions, and I cannot disagree, but at the same time, I feel like it all needed to happen.

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I couldn't bring myself to tell my husband that I cheated on him and I arranged subsequent encounters with the same dog. This went on for months. Yes, I felt guilty for the cheating and lying, but shamefully, any feeling of guilt was overshadowed by the elation of the new, strange, intoxicating relationship I was experiencing. One day, I had an epiphany: it's not guilt or shame that keeps me from coming clean to my husband, but that I don't want him to stop me from continuing!

I know. I am a wretched human being.

My job has always allowed me the option of working from home a substantial amount of time. Before all this, I would go into the office everyday anyway (more productive, more social, good to get out of the house, face time, etc.). But then I realized if I stayed home during the day, I'd be able to be with Max (not his real name) more often. So, I stopped going into work and lied to my husband that my group was all doing the same thing.

I brought Max over virtually everyday. Sex remained incredible (understatement) and, in my mind, he and I were becoming more and more a pair. In short, things were wildly intense.

One day my husband called around noon. I guess out of habit or because he never changed the speed-dial, he would always call my work number, which would forward to my cell at home. But the phones at work must have reset that day or something, because the call did not forward to me and my coworker at the office picked up. Husband realized I'd lied to him.

Next thing I know he is back at the apartment pounding on our bedroom door (which I always locked out of habit), demanding I let him in. Max and I had just finished--I and everything around me were a mess. I could not let him see me like that.

I refused to open the door. He starts pounding on it even louder, Max starts barking. It got really crazy. Must have went on a while because one of our doormen came up to see what was going on and suggested my husband step out for some fresh air to calm down. They left together.

I get a text on my phone a few minutes later: "You are messing around with Max aren't you?"

By text, I told him yes and I was sorry. He called and seemed really understanding all of a sudden. Mainly he was concerned that I felt so embarrassed that I had to hide it from him. He seemed to infer that it was just Max licking me, which was actually never what I was into, but--again, shamefully--I didn't really correct him. He wanted to come back and talk to me. I told him no, I needed time to collect myself after being screamed at and frightened, etc.

What I really needed to do was wash the sheets and get myself cleaned up. He came back a few hours later and everything seemed like it might be okay.

Later that night, he suggested we talk about what I was doing with Max and maybe role play in bed a little bit. The thought of sex with him right then could not have been less appealing. And the thought of pretending he was Max disgusted me in some deep, unsettling way. I told him I wasn't feeling well. Maybe tomorrow.

We go to sleep.

I wake up in the middle of the night and realize he's not in bed. I walk out to the living room. He's on my computer. There's a picture of a dog's penis on the screen. He had found my folder with all the pictures I'd saved down over the years (male dogs and dog penises).

He turned around to look at me. He'd obviously been crying. He asked if this is what I was really into and finally got to it: "You did more with Max, didn't you?"

I was silent.

He starting putting the pieces together: "That's why the sheets are always clean."

He accused me of letting a dog fuck me in our bed and demanded an answer. I gave in and said yes. He asked how many times? I said many. He asked why the dog pictures on the hard drive. I said because they turn me on and look at them when I touch myself. He asked why I'd do that if I was doing things with Max. I was getting angry at his obliviousness, which was forcing me to spell everything out. I totally lost it: "Because I wish all of them could fuck me!"

"Seriously, dog dicks, Jenny???"

I blurted out again: "Yes! Don't you get it yet? That's who I am! I dream about dog cock. I think about them all the fucking time."

He got really quiet. What about Max's, he asked. I played dumb. He followed up very calmly: "Have you ever sucked Max's dick?"

He looked broken. I couldn't lie. As softly and kindly as I could, whispered: "Yes."

He asked if it was just one or twice out of curiosity. I didn't answer but I sort of tried to tell him with my eyes, because I knew words would sting too much.

He got up, put his jacket on and walked to the door. He turned to me and said: "Me or Max, Jenny. Pick."

I was unable to give him the answer I knew he needed. I didn't say anything.

"Fuck you, Jenny." I deserved it.

"You think this is okay? That this is normal? Just wait until everything comes down around you. Go to hell."

He stormed off.

His last few words scared me. What was he going to do? I started panicking and texted him: "Please please please don't tell Max's owners."

That was a real turning point. I saw the words I had texted, which were now memorialized. When the chips were down and my marriage was on the line, it turned out my biggest concern was that Max might be taken from me.

My husband texted back: "Seriously?"

That was the last real conversation we ever had. He moved out and the divorce papers started going back and forth.

We have been divorced for about six months. I moved to a much smaller apartment (a studio) in the same building as I couldn't afford our old one on my own. I still "dog-sit" Max everyday. His owners have asked me over and over again why I don't just spend time in their apartment during the day, where there's much more room. They've even commented that they have no idea how I'm able to entertain such a large dog in such a small space.

Life became much simpler now and I had to make do with less money and far fewer luxuries, but I was truly happy for the first time. The problem was that I had trouble thinking about my future. All this happiness was bound to end. I could not marry another man, obviously, but without a family, what would I do with my life? Even if I wanted to think about Max or any other dog as a life partner, I knew that practicality, logistics, life spans, etc., would always be crippling limitations. I wondered from time to time if I had made a big mistake.

A couple of months ago, a potential solution presented itself. Other people in the building know that I help take care of Max and I've gotten multiple requests to watch/walk their dogs. Most of the dogs are of no interest (lots of small dogs in this city). But one was a male and a big breed that I like.

Well, the second dog was almost as big an emotional roller coaster as the first. I felt dirty for "cheating" on Max, who is now more of a "husband" in my heart than my ex ever was. But I did it anyway and it was amazing and exhilarating. I felt things for him that I had first felt for Max. I was in love with both at the same time somehow, which I didn't think was possible. I was confused for a few days until I was with Max again. I wondered if he could smell the other dog on me and I told him I was sorry, as if he could understand. I imagined he was upset or angry at me. Who can say. But we made love again, and it was mind-blowing. Maybe all in my head, but it was as if he was trying to out-fuck the competition.

For the first time my mind opened up to the possibility: what if I had multiple partners? I was realizing it might be something I can make happen and sustain.

I have not been with another dog yet. I am being extra cautious about how to set things up, as I realize things might come out if I just sleep around with all the male dogs in the building. It's a big city, I figure.

Reading all this and coming back to earth, maybe it won't work after all. It all sounds crazy. But for the first time I am happy about the life I'm envisioning for myself.

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So, that's where I am. I hope that answers people's legitimate concerns about me. Maybe more importantly, I now have some answers for myself.

Many of you will condemn me for the cruel, dishonest treatment of my ex-husband. I fully deserve it. But I also feel that what happened needed to happen, though I could and should have handled it better.

Well, universe--for better or worse, here I am.

EDITED: Someone noticed I switched to using Max's real name and I fixed it.