I begin by picking up where I left off in my post of 9/26/08: As always, I’m sure it will be a work in progress – and I think I’ll address that statement in a post all it’s own, later on...
When I made that statement, I was referring to my natural resistance to change direction. I’m a living example of Newton’s first law of motion (an object at rest tends to stay at rest, etc.). I am ruled by the laws of inertia. Whenever I’m working on something, I tend to keep working on it until I stop… and when I stop… I stop – as in, if it’s not done, it’s 50-50 I’ll get back to it anytime soon. When I’m not doing anything, I have a tendency not to start anything. For example, when I start working on the yard, I tend to keep working on it long after I’ve accomplished what I originally set out to do. But eventually, whether done nor not, I’ll decide that’s enough… and stop. This means that if I force myself to start moving, I accomplish a hell of a lot, but I end up having a lot of idle time, too.
This phenomenon holds true for nearly everything in my life, including my behavior. Once I’m awake, I have a hard time falling asleep. When I get home, I empty my pockets, putting my cell phone, keys, etc. all in the same place I put them yesterday. Call it habit, or routine, or just… inertia. (Dee, by contrast, has the “habit” of dropping things in random places, then later wandering around asking me where I put them). This is even true in terms of sexual behavior. If we’ve had sex the past three nights, I’ll probably want it tonight. If we haven’t had sex in three days, I won’t have any real interest tonight.
For this reason, anything different I wish to try becomes a work in progress, a new behavior I embrace and act on in fits and starts, occasional bursts of consistency separated by long stretches of failure. As mentioned (or at least hinted at) in previous posts, Dee has requested a number of things from me – more aggression, more direction, talking dirty, some spanking, etc. – but in every case, though I’ve committed myself to at least give it a try, I’ve only taken a tentative step or two on a very few occasions. Novel behavior, even acts I truly want to personify, require focused effort on my part.
Between this natural law and the inherent oddity I feel in behaving in a new and different way, even when I’ve committed myself to change, it is a long, slow, gradual process. A year from now I may find myself throwing Dee down on the bed, pinning her under me, and telling her to shut up and fuck me, or demanding a blowjob when I feel the first urges for her skills. For now, however, I’ll continue to take small steps in the directions we both want to go, and find pleasure in the slow evolution of my sexuality.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Questions for today
1. Name/Describe the first place you ever had sex.
2. Describe the first time you remember having an orgasm.
3. Name a childhood toy you still enjoy playing with (board game, etc.).
4. Name something you would say you aren’t allowed to do (or aren’t supposed to do, or shouldn’t do), but wish you could.
2. Describe the first time you remember having an orgasm.
3. Name a childhood toy you still enjoy playing with (board game, etc.).
4. Name something you would say you aren’t allowed to do (or aren’t supposed to do, or shouldn’t do), but wish you could.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Great Minds...
I was just coming over to post and I see that DH has beat me to it!
Let's talk about toys for a minute. I have recently learned that several of my friends do not own a vibrator. This is just sad. Added to the fact that these are my friends in sad, broken marriages. Instead of investing in some mechanical engineering, they chose to invest in affairs.
These little mechanical tools can just do things that the human body cannot! It is in no way a substitute for a big thick steel-hard cock wrapped with velvety softness filling you up. No competition. But for what it can do, wow! Seriously! I could happily spend hours with my little vibrating friends, coaxing out orgasm after orgasm. Not that I ever have. It seems when I use them, it is either in conjunction with the lovely hard cock belonging to DH, or in a hurried, clandestine, frantic manner. Once or twice I have been able to enjoy a leisurely session, but the guilt of taking that time all to myself is too much.
I got my first vibrator at a "passion party" that I hosted at my house. 21 giggling women, passing around various models, and drinking a whole lot to get through it. Before that, I tried various household items to try to better understand my path to orgasm. A candle. A cucumber. (Come on, who hasn't tried those?) But the vibration is what does it for me.
Sadly, it hasn't really paved the path to better understanding as I had hoped. Even with mechanical help, sometimes I orgasm very quickly, and sometimes it takes forever. And sometimes I just give up because it's taking too long. (Hmmm...there's that reference to time again). I keep telling DH I'm going to retire early to the bedroom to visit my friends, but I never manage to do it. Even last night, he had to remind me I was planning to use one.
Which brings me to last night. After he reminded me, I dug through my bedside table and pulled out one shaped to increase the likelihood of hitting the Gspot (I'm still looking for mine!) As I was leaned over digging, DH rested his head on my thigh and started licking my slit up and down. I had a great vantage point for seeing his face while he was burying his tongue in me. I love it when he goes down on me, but that's another post altogether.
When he saw the purple vibrator I had pulled out, he sat back and let me start. I turned it on and pushed it in, remembering I was planning to sit up to better control the tip to see if I could hit the Gspot. But there was DH's cock waving at me. So I leaned over and started sucking his dick, with the purple dildo buzzing away at my cervix. Oh heaven. But then I got carried away and there goes the exploration.
We haven't used our toys very often, and I was making DH watch me plunge that purple dildo into my pussy. I know it turns him on. He was standing beside the bed watching and his cock was rock hard and pointing straight at me. DH is a very creative lover, always willing to try something new, and he climbed on top of me and pushed his cock around my opening, finally settling on my rosebud. We had tried double penetration before, but I didn't find it particularly exciting. But last night, I had the dildo buzzing away deep, and I reached around and pushed his cock into my ass and it immediately sent me over the edge. What an incredible feeling!
But I feel like I sadly neglected DH and his cock, so tonight I am going to enjoy a leisure cock worship session, but with a little added fun for me. I am planning to take my little bullet and have it buzzing away on my clit as I suck and lick and stroke my DH until he empties his load right down my throat.
That's the plan at least.
Let's talk about toys for a minute. I have recently learned that several of my friends do not own a vibrator. This is just sad. Added to the fact that these are my friends in sad, broken marriages. Instead of investing in some mechanical engineering, they chose to invest in affairs.
These little mechanical tools can just do things that the human body cannot! It is in no way a substitute for a big thick steel-hard cock wrapped with velvety softness filling you up. No competition. But for what it can do, wow! Seriously! I could happily spend hours with my little vibrating friends, coaxing out orgasm after orgasm. Not that I ever have. It seems when I use them, it is either in conjunction with the lovely hard cock belonging to DH, or in a hurried, clandestine, frantic manner. Once or twice I have been able to enjoy a leisurely session, but the guilt of taking that time all to myself is too much.
I got my first vibrator at a "passion party" that I hosted at my house. 21 giggling women, passing around various models, and drinking a whole lot to get through it. Before that, I tried various household items to try to better understand my path to orgasm. A candle. A cucumber. (Come on, who hasn't tried those?) But the vibration is what does it for me.
Sadly, it hasn't really paved the path to better understanding as I had hoped. Even with mechanical help, sometimes I orgasm very quickly, and sometimes it takes forever. And sometimes I just give up because it's taking too long. (Hmmm...there's that reference to time again). I keep telling DH I'm going to retire early to the bedroom to visit my friends, but I never manage to do it. Even last night, he had to remind me I was planning to use one.
Which brings me to last night. After he reminded me, I dug through my bedside table and pulled out one shaped to increase the likelihood of hitting the Gspot (I'm still looking for mine!) As I was leaned over digging, DH rested his head on my thigh and started licking my slit up and down. I had a great vantage point for seeing his face while he was burying his tongue in me. I love it when he goes down on me, but that's another post altogether.
When he saw the purple vibrator I had pulled out, he sat back and let me start. I turned it on and pushed it in, remembering I was planning to sit up to better control the tip to see if I could hit the Gspot. But there was DH's cock waving at me. So I leaned over and started sucking his dick, with the purple dildo buzzing away at my cervix. Oh heaven. But then I got carried away and there goes the exploration.
We haven't used our toys very often, and I was making DH watch me plunge that purple dildo into my pussy. I know it turns him on. He was standing beside the bed watching and his cock was rock hard and pointing straight at me. DH is a very creative lover, always willing to try something new, and he climbed on top of me and pushed his cock around my opening, finally settling on my rosebud. We had tried double penetration before, but I didn't find it particularly exciting. But last night, I had the dildo buzzing away deep, and I reached around and pushed his cock into my ass and it immediately sent me over the edge. What an incredible feeling!
But I feel like I sadly neglected DH and his cock, so tonight I am going to enjoy a leisure cock worship session, but with a little added fun for me. I am planning to take my little bullet and have it buzzing away on my clit as I suck and lick and stroke my DH until he empties his load right down my throat.
That's the plan at least.
Telling Stories
Offline, Dee has been heckling me, urging me to post the real-life stories of our actual sexual interactions, given from my point of view. I like to write, and Dee says she likes to read what I write (I think that has less to do with my writing ability, and more to do with the fact that she sees it as a sort of window into my thoughts), so it would seem to be a logical, easily fulfilled request. But it isn’t.
When writing stories – especially sexual tales – I write fiction. Sometimes I will write something that mirrors my own interests, thoughts, or fantasies. At other times I’ll take an idea I’m not even terribly interested in, and just see where the story goes (if Dee reads these thinking they are windows into my desires, that might be a problem…). I’ve even written a thing or two in which the only intention was to see how Dee reacts to the subject matter.
Maybe one of these days I’ll cut and paste a couple of the shorter things I’ve written – though even those are probably too long for the blog format.
When writing non-fiction, however, I tend to express to my own thoughts, feelings, or opinions, or ponder and analyze a particular piece of information, or a new idea. I frequently respond to something I’ve read, or something someone (such as Dee, in the case of this blog) has written. But I avoid telling stories.
Ironically, this is mostly because it's hard for me to find anything to say when trying to write non-fiction, especially from my own point of view. I end up just reporting the facts in a bottom-of-the-screen-crawler kind of way: terse, to the point… a one- or two-sentence summation.
Last night, for example, we had a nice session involving a number of different positions and activities. We even broke out the toys for a little multiple-points-of-stimulation thing, which she really seemed to get off on (and her enjoyment in the moment, in turn, almost always gets me off soon thereafter!). I had a very satisfying orgasm. But the words don’t flow… it’s just a report, not a story.
Still, after our next real adventure, I will try to tell the story, because Dee has asked me to do so. As always, I’m sure it will be a work in progress – and I think I’ll explain that statement in a post all it’s own, later on... :)
Four questions for today:
1. Name/describe a guilty pleasure you indulge in.
2. Write down five tips about sex which you have learned through experience.
3. Describe the worst/lamest sexual experience you have ever had (in terms of performance).
4. Describe the most fun you’ve ever had (sexually) while alone.
When writing stories – especially sexual tales – I write fiction. Sometimes I will write something that mirrors my own interests, thoughts, or fantasies. At other times I’ll take an idea I’m not even terribly interested in, and just see where the story goes (if Dee reads these thinking they are windows into my desires, that might be a problem…). I’ve even written a thing or two in which the only intention was to see how Dee reacts to the subject matter.
Maybe one of these days I’ll cut and paste a couple of the shorter things I’ve written – though even those are probably too long for the blog format.
When writing non-fiction, however, I tend to express to my own thoughts, feelings, or opinions, or ponder and analyze a particular piece of information, or a new idea. I frequently respond to something I’ve read, or something someone (such as Dee, in the case of this blog) has written. But I avoid telling stories.
Ironically, this is mostly because it's hard for me to find anything to say when trying to write non-fiction, especially from my own point of view. I end up just reporting the facts in a bottom-of-the-screen-crawler kind of way: terse, to the point… a one- or two-sentence summation.
Last night, for example, we had a nice session involving a number of different positions and activities. We even broke out the toys for a little multiple-points-of-stimulation thing, which she really seemed to get off on (and her enjoyment in the moment, in turn, almost always gets me off soon thereafter!). I had a very satisfying orgasm. But the words don’t flow… it’s just a report, not a story.
Still, after our next real adventure, I will try to tell the story, because Dee has asked me to do so. As always, I’m sure it will be a work in progress – and I think I’ll explain that statement in a post all it’s own, later on... :)
Four questions for today:
1. Name/describe a guilty pleasure you indulge in.
2. Write down five tips about sex which you have learned through experience.
3. Describe the worst/lamest sexual experience you have ever had (in terms of performance).
4. Describe the most fun you’ve ever had (sexually) while alone.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Jealousy, and the Twinge
It’s interesting to see Dee acknowledge her jealous streak. In the past, my insistence of the same has led to a number of arguments. Over the years, due to her reactions (which she does not notice in herself, and which, when pointed out to her by yours truly, has resulted in the aforementioned arguments), I’ve learned NOT to look – and, in truth, I really feel no desire to look, so this isn’t exactly a struggle for me. I don’t even notice the cute waitress serving my drinks.
In the past year Dee has become more comfortable with the idea of my checking out other women (and, yet, I STILL don’t notice the cute waitress serving my drink…), but even now I can’t imagine a realistic scenario in which I’d find myself interacting with another woman. The only scenario which might lead to such a thing involves Dee getting horny and drunk all at once – and then I’d be the unwilling participant. I’ve known the woman long enough to know if she woke up the next morning sober and regretful, there might be a relationship in crisis here, and I know better than to take such a risk.
In answer to the question Dee has posed (Is this what guys are like?): The answer is… Yes.
[Note that, even though I think I can speak for most guys, I will courageously resist the urge to write my response from the generic perspective of “most guys” and will instead stick with the first person. Also, note that I am reaching back to my single days to speak from experience here.]
As I pointed out in my post a couple days ago, sex (a physical act) and love (an emotion) are relatively disconnected. Combining the two often yields the most pleasurable results, but neither is dependant upon the other. This is a difficult concept to explain: My sexual desire for Dee is based on two things -- the emotional bond that connects us, and the basic sexual urges every male has for pretty much any good-looking female. However, unlike women (as I understand them to be) these two desires are separate rather than intertwined.
On a purely physical plain, I can desire to have sex with someone I don’t know at all – someone seen in a picture, or on television, or passed on the street. I can enjoy sex with someone I feel no emotional attachment to at all (or even someone I hate!). I can be struck by the desire to fuck someone I don’t normally find sexually compelling – in exactly the way Dee described reacting to FriendWife. These urges are connected to those basic sexual urges, and are unrelated to emotion.
This concept of sex disconnected from emotion is also why I define my twinge (wanting to be the only man in Dee’s life) as a Darwinian sensation – it’s not attached to an emotional reaction, but seated somewhere deeper, more instinctual. I would compare it to the fluttery case of acrophobia one might experience when looking out the large window of a tall building: you know your safe, but you still get that twinge (fear, in this case). It doesn’t make you run down the stairs and seek safety on the street. It doesn’t make you turn away from the window (or even want to do so). Yet, while there’s even a little thrill to it, if given the option, you’d most often choose to gaze out a smaller window, one through which that twinge wouldn’t be felt, or would at least be reduced.
For my part, I don’t know what to make of that twinge, or what it might mean, or what it might indicate about the future of our relationship if we ever were to experiment with others. However, given my understanding of Dee’s jealous streak, I’ve never dwelled on it, mostly because, at least until very recently, I never considered the possibility that this kind of experimentation would ever happen.
In the past year Dee has become more comfortable with the idea of my checking out other women (and, yet, I STILL don’t notice the cute waitress serving my drink…), but even now I can’t imagine a realistic scenario in which I’d find myself interacting with another woman. The only scenario which might lead to such a thing involves Dee getting horny and drunk all at once – and then I’d be the unwilling participant. I’ve known the woman long enough to know if she woke up the next morning sober and regretful, there might be a relationship in crisis here, and I know better than to take such a risk.
In answer to the question Dee has posed (Is this what guys are like?): The answer is… Yes.
[Note that, even though I think I can speak for most guys, I will courageously resist the urge to write my response from the generic perspective of “most guys” and will instead stick with the first person. Also, note that I am reaching back to my single days to speak from experience here.]
As I pointed out in my post a couple days ago, sex (a physical act) and love (an emotion) are relatively disconnected. Combining the two often yields the most pleasurable results, but neither is dependant upon the other. This is a difficult concept to explain: My sexual desire for Dee is based on two things -- the emotional bond that connects us, and the basic sexual urges every male has for pretty much any good-looking female. However, unlike women (as I understand them to be) these two desires are separate rather than intertwined.
On a purely physical plain, I can desire to have sex with someone I don’t know at all – someone seen in a picture, or on television, or passed on the street. I can enjoy sex with someone I feel no emotional attachment to at all (or even someone I hate!). I can be struck by the desire to fuck someone I don’t normally find sexually compelling – in exactly the way Dee described reacting to FriendWife. These urges are connected to those basic sexual urges, and are unrelated to emotion.
This concept of sex disconnected from emotion is also why I define my twinge (wanting to be the only man in Dee’s life) as a Darwinian sensation – it’s not attached to an emotional reaction, but seated somewhere deeper, more instinctual. I would compare it to the fluttery case of acrophobia one might experience when looking out the large window of a tall building: you know your safe, but you still get that twinge (fear, in this case). It doesn’t make you run down the stairs and seek safety on the street. It doesn’t make you turn away from the window (or even want to do so). Yet, while there’s even a little thrill to it, if given the option, you’d most often choose to gaze out a smaller window, one through which that twinge wouldn’t be felt, or would at least be reduced.
For my part, I don’t know what to make of that twinge, or what it might mean, or what it might indicate about the future of our relationship if we ever were to experiment with others. However, given my understanding of Dee’s jealous streak, I’ve never dwelled on it, mostly because, at least until very recently, I never considered the possibility that this kind of experimentation would ever happen.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Answers
The Daring Wife has given me much food for thought, and much to respond to, and I intend to do so soon enough… after I’ve formulated my thoughts and composed a few coherent sentences. In the meantime, I have realized that fair is fair, and I’ve failed act accordingly… and so, in this post, I will answer my own questions, those I’ve already posed to Dee (and to which she’s already responded):
From 9/9/08:
1. Should sexual fantasies should be unrealistic (i.e., imagining a more attractive version of yourself cruising the Mediterranean with a yacht full of sexy personal servants of the opposite sex), or realistic (envisioning yourself at home doing erotic things in front of the fireplace)?
I think fantasies are, by nature and definition, unrealistic. If they weren’t so, then they would be goals. Or reality.
2. Should sexual fantasies be things to pursue, or things that should remain only in the imagination?
I think that fantasies can sometimes fall from the starry-eyed imagination and float within your grasp. When that happens, you should try your best to grab hold, and make it happen.
From 9/16/08:
1. Happiness is… ____________.
… a hug from your daughter first thing in the morning.
2. Great sex requires… ____________.
(Ahh, SO many possible answers here! – I will constrain myself to three.)
… knowing your partner well.
… trust.
… self-confidence, and a hint of selfishness.
3. A good marriage needs… ____________.
… two close friends.
From 9/23/08:
1. List the top three reasons you have sex.
(1) Because I thoroughly enjoy getting Dee off.
(2) Because it is fun. A lot of fun.
(3) Because sometimes I’m just horny, and want to fuck.
2. List your three favorite places to fuck.
(1) On vacation, in a hotel suite – there is something that happens to people on vacation (Dee and I included). Vacations tend to make people a little hornier, and they feel an extra burst of freedom to be a little wilder, more daring, more experimental. Plus, there’s a Jacuzzi tub for two.
(2) At home, anywhere, when our child is spending then night with a friend, and we can sleep in the next morning.
(3) In our bed.
3. Name your favorite “clean” word (not naughty).
I occasionally hear (or read) a unusual word, or a word used in an uncommon way, or a unique turn of phrase that I really like… and then I forget them. Someday I’m going to start keeping a list.
4. Name your favorite “dirty” word.
Sexually, I like all the hard, raunchy-sounding words – fuck, suck, cock, tits, ass, etc. The only exception to his rule is that I prefer “pussy” over “cunt,” and I would say cunt is raunchier and harder to the ear. Any favoritism I have towards one over another depends upon my mood.
From 9/9/08:
1. Should sexual fantasies should be unrealistic (i.e., imagining a more attractive version of yourself cruising the Mediterranean with a yacht full of sexy personal servants of the opposite sex), or realistic (envisioning yourself at home doing erotic things in front of the fireplace)?
I think fantasies are, by nature and definition, unrealistic. If they weren’t so, then they would be goals. Or reality.
2. Should sexual fantasies be things to pursue, or things that should remain only in the imagination?
I think that fantasies can sometimes fall from the starry-eyed imagination and float within your grasp. When that happens, you should try your best to grab hold, and make it happen.
From 9/16/08:
1. Happiness is… ____________.
… a hug from your daughter first thing in the morning.
2. Great sex requires… ____________.
(Ahh, SO many possible answers here! – I will constrain myself to three.)
… knowing your partner well.
… trust.
… self-confidence, and a hint of selfishness.
3. A good marriage needs… ____________.
… two close friends.
From 9/23/08:
1. List the top three reasons you have sex.
(1) Because I thoroughly enjoy getting Dee off.
(2) Because it is fun. A lot of fun.
(3) Because sometimes I’m just horny, and want to fuck.
2. List your three favorite places to fuck.
(1) On vacation, in a hotel suite – there is something that happens to people on vacation (Dee and I included). Vacations tend to make people a little hornier, and they feel an extra burst of freedom to be a little wilder, more daring, more experimental. Plus, there’s a Jacuzzi tub for two.
(2) At home, anywhere, when our child is spending then night with a friend, and we can sleep in the next morning.
(3) In our bed.
3. Name your favorite “clean” word (not naughty).
I occasionally hear (or read) a unusual word, or a word used in an uncommon way, or a unique turn of phrase that I really like… and then I forget them. Someday I’m going to start keeping a list.
4. Name your favorite “dirty” word.
Sexually, I like all the hard, raunchy-sounding words – fuck, suck, cock, tits, ass, etc. The only exception to his rule is that I prefer “pussy” over “cunt,” and I would say cunt is raunchier and harder to the ear. Any favoritism I have towards one over another depends upon my mood.
Mutual Twinges
This is kind of a ramble, and maybe a jumble of thoughts brought on by cold medicine. But here it is nonetheless.
I have been following a few sex blogs the last year or so, the majority of which are married couples who have been opening their marriages. Originally, I had tried to convince DH that finding a couple to explore with was less risky, in an emotional sense, than a single person. He did not agree and, of course, wanted a single girl to start with. This is where my twinge started. While it sounded like a lot of fun to explore, I didn't want HIM exploring anyone new.
We went to Vegas and visited a couple of strip clubs. We both had lap dances and I watched DH get a lapdance from a very buxomy stripper. Very buxomy. Almost a caricature. No twinges. He watched me get a lap dance and I don't think he had any twinges. That night I also had my first girl kiss. And while it was nice, it was nothing to write home about. No butterflies. No quickened pulse. Just lips on lips. Nothing like the reaction I get when DH even looks at me.
As I was reading about Penelope and Odysseus's adventures with Athena and Posiedon, the realization of what I was contemplating really hit me. Twinges galore. In fact, wave after wave of guilt, worry, and jealousy crashed over me. My marriage is so wonderful, so fulfilling, so sexy and hot, what is it I am needing outside of that? Is it worth the very real possibility of disrupting our careful balance? Would I be able to watch DH fuck someone else when I can't stomach the mere thought? Would I be able to watch him kiss someone else, melt at her touch, gaze into her eyes and hold her hand? He is mine! All mine! I've always been jealous, so this doesn't surprise. However, just reading about someone else's experience and vaguely thinking of my own reactions in the same situations producing such consuming jealously was quite a surprise! The couples I read about have great marriages too, so I'm sure it's just a matter of wrapping my mind, and my heart, around all the possibilities. But wow.
We were at a concert the other night with friends. Just plain friends. I looked over at FriendWife and had a momentary urge to brush her hair to the side and kiss her neck. To slide my face into her hair, smell her girl smell and feel her softness against me. I'm not even particularly attracted to this friend, but the urge was there anyway. Is this what guys are like?
I looked at DH who was being so attentive, so sweet, and so loving and felt immediate guilt. How could I be thinking these thoughts? Worse yet, how could I be seriously contemplating finding a woman who would actually welcome these gestures from me? He is definitely more attentive, more affectionate, more loving that he ever used to be. What more could I want?
Talk about twinges! This isn't to say that I'm having second thoughts, but I am beginning to think that I'm noodling too much (as he often accuses) and not jumping.
I have been following a few sex blogs the last year or so, the majority of which are married couples who have been opening their marriages. Originally, I had tried to convince DH that finding a couple to explore with was less risky, in an emotional sense, than a single person. He did not agree and, of course, wanted a single girl to start with. This is where my twinge started. While it sounded like a lot of fun to explore, I didn't want HIM exploring anyone new.
We went to Vegas and visited a couple of strip clubs. We both had lap dances and I watched DH get a lapdance from a very buxomy stripper. Very buxomy. Almost a caricature. No twinges. He watched me get a lap dance and I don't think he had any twinges. That night I also had my first girl kiss. And while it was nice, it was nothing to write home about. No butterflies. No quickened pulse. Just lips on lips. Nothing like the reaction I get when DH even looks at me.
As I was reading about Penelope and Odysseus's adventures with Athena and Posiedon, the realization of what I was contemplating really hit me. Twinges galore. In fact, wave after wave of guilt, worry, and jealousy crashed over me. My marriage is so wonderful, so fulfilling, so sexy and hot, what is it I am needing outside of that? Is it worth the very real possibility of disrupting our careful balance? Would I be able to watch DH fuck someone else when I can't stomach the mere thought? Would I be able to watch him kiss someone else, melt at her touch, gaze into her eyes and hold her hand? He is mine! All mine! I've always been jealous, so this doesn't surprise. However, just reading about someone else's experience and vaguely thinking of my own reactions in the same situations producing such consuming jealously was quite a surprise! The couples I read about have great marriages too, so I'm sure it's just a matter of wrapping my mind, and my heart, around all the possibilities. But wow.
We were at a concert the other night with friends. Just plain friends. I looked over at FriendWife and had a momentary urge to brush her hair to the side and kiss her neck. To slide my face into her hair, smell her girl smell and feel her softness against me. I'm not even particularly attracted to this friend, but the urge was there anyway. Is this what guys are like?
I looked at DH who was being so attentive, so sweet, and so loving and felt immediate guilt. How could I be thinking these thoughts? Worse yet, how could I be seriously contemplating finding a woman who would actually welcome these gestures from me? He is definitely more attentive, more affectionate, more loving that he ever used to be. What more could I want?
Talk about twinges! This isn't to say that I'm having second thoughts, but I am beginning to think that I'm noodling too much (as he often accuses) and not jumping.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Sick Days
Over the weekend, both the Daree and I managed to come down with our own individual versions of the common cold. As a result, there hasn’t been any excitement to write about in quite some time now… since last Thursday, in fact. Personally, I’m finding it difficult to drum up any sort of enthusiasm for fun when I’m drugged out on Benadryl.
So… until our health improves, I pose the following for questions for the Daree to answer (and anyone else who might choose to comment):
1. List the top three reasons you have sex.
2. List your three favorite places to fuck.
3. Name your favorite “clean” word (not naughty).
4. Name your favorite “dirty” word.
So… until our health improves, I pose the following for questions for the Daree to answer (and anyone else who might choose to comment):
1. List the top three reasons you have sex.
2. List your three favorite places to fuck.
3. Name your favorite “clean” word (not naughty).
4. Name your favorite “dirty” word.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
A Weekend Alone
The Daree has taken off for the weekend, leaving me alone to ponder her latest revelation: she’s seriously considering the possibility of finding a friend …with benefits.
Being a man, I have no problem with Dee having a girlfriend of her own – or more than one, for that matter! – and, my only question would be… do I get to play, too? Of course, my immediate assumption is that she’s talking about a female friend, and so my thoughts went straight in the direction of threesomes and the fun I could have watching Dee fuck a girlfriend. It only occurred to me later that she hadn’t specified her gender choice, and she might have been talking about a male friend. Still, under the right circumstances, I can get into that, as well – watching Dee suck a nice thick cock, or doubling up on her in a threesome (since we’ve never had a threesome of any stripe, I can only base these statements on what I imagine is true… for all I know, the reality may be far less erotic than the fantasy).
I do have some desire to be the only man in Dee’s life. It isn’t an overriding necessity, but it is a preference. When we talk about topics like open marriages and swinging, the thought of Dee finding another man (or interacting with another man) doesn’t bother me, but I often feel a little twinge of… I’m not sure what it is. It isn’t worry or concern, as I really am supremely secure in the fact she loves me. It isn’t some kind of insecurity over looks, or size, or performance, as I’m also secure in her attraction to me (in spite of the fact I’m more spudly than studly), and perfectly comfortable with what I got and what I can do with it. It’s definitely not anger or a sense of selfish possessiveness.
Once in a while I feel it quite strongly, and many times I don’t feel it at all. Most of the time it’s just a twinge. My theory is that it’s a small animalistic remnant buried in all male brains, left over from our caveman-Neanderthal days, an instinctive, Darwinian leftover that subliminally insists that, being male, we must fuck as many females as we can, and that what we got should be all any of those females ever need.
In any event, this twinge isn’t something I worry about, and I’m willing to wait (with some real anticipation) while Dee ponders this avenue of sexual exploration. In the meantime, I’m enjoying myself. Since the turmoil of Friday night’s argument, Dee has made up for the lost evening, providing a number of exquisite blowjobs, and I’ve rewarded her with a good, hard fucking every night this week.
Being a man, I have no problem with Dee having a girlfriend of her own – or more than one, for that matter! – and, my only question would be… do I get to play, too? Of course, my immediate assumption is that she’s talking about a female friend, and so my thoughts went straight in the direction of threesomes and the fun I could have watching Dee fuck a girlfriend. It only occurred to me later that she hadn’t specified her gender choice, and she might have been talking about a male friend. Still, under the right circumstances, I can get into that, as well – watching Dee suck a nice thick cock, or doubling up on her in a threesome (since we’ve never had a threesome of any stripe, I can only base these statements on what I imagine is true… for all I know, the reality may be far less erotic than the fantasy).
I do have some desire to be the only man in Dee’s life. It isn’t an overriding necessity, but it is a preference. When we talk about topics like open marriages and swinging, the thought of Dee finding another man (or interacting with another man) doesn’t bother me, but I often feel a little twinge of… I’m not sure what it is. It isn’t worry or concern, as I really am supremely secure in the fact she loves me. It isn’t some kind of insecurity over looks, or size, or performance, as I’m also secure in her attraction to me (in spite of the fact I’m more spudly than studly), and perfectly comfortable with what I got and what I can do with it. It’s definitely not anger or a sense of selfish possessiveness.
Once in a while I feel it quite strongly, and many times I don’t feel it at all. Most of the time it’s just a twinge. My theory is that it’s a small animalistic remnant buried in all male brains, left over from our caveman-Neanderthal days, an instinctive, Darwinian leftover that subliminally insists that, being male, we must fuck as many females as we can, and that what we got should be all any of those females ever need.
In any event, this twinge isn’t something I worry about, and I’m willing to wait (with some real anticipation) while Dee ponders this avenue of sexual exploration. In the meantime, I’m enjoying myself. Since the turmoil of Friday night’s argument, Dee has made up for the lost evening, providing a number of exquisite blowjobs, and I’ve rewarded her with a good, hard fucking every night this week.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
The First of the Weekend Dalliances
The sun shining through the windows awakens me. It takes me a minute to realize it is Saturday morning. Last night was awful. We rarely fight and when we do it's a doozy. And it's usually about sex. Last night was no exception. After all the drama, we're both to tired to make love, so I had thought that some good morning sex would mend the fences. But it sounded like DH was already downstairs. Damn it. Why couldn't that man read my mind?
I slip my robe on and go downstairs to see if I can't get him to come back to bed. But he is showered, dressed, and breakfast was on the table. Damn damn. I can't even be mad at him! I kiss him good morning and thank him for breakfast. We have a nice leisurely breakfast reading the paper and making our plans for the day.
I get up to wash the dishes and the sleeves of my robe keep getting in the way. I release the sash and let the soft fabric slide down my back and arms, forming a puddle on the floor. Much better! DH returns to the kitchen and does a double take. There I am wearing nothing but sunlight. He drinks in the sight of me and any leftover animosity from the night before dissipates.
He moves over to caress the round curve of my ass and follows it up to the hollow of my back. He loves me naked and I know it. He asks what I am doing and I innocently respond, "Dishes!" His hand reaches around and cups my full breast, feeling the weight in his hand, caressing the nipple until it is hard and standing at attention. He bends down and kisses the pert nub. I continue to load the dishwasher around his wandering hands.
As I'm finishing up, he turns me to face him as his lips search out mine. He captures them in a long, slow, sensuous kiss, pulling at my hips to mold me to his body. "Good morning," he whispers. I purr at his caresses and flick his tongue with mine. "Good morning," I say.
As I slowly pick up my robe from the floor and begin up the stairs to the shower, I feel him behind me, his eyes never leaving my body. I turn on the shower and we continue our conversation about what the day will bring. I reach around the shower curtain to test the temperature of the water, when I find myself trapped against the wall. His hands clench my head so that I must surrender to his unyielding lips. His lips taste mine over and over until I raise my head for air. His lips travel down my neck until they are locked on my breast.
He turns me around and murmurs that the counter is the perfect height. He sweeps the miscellaneous toiletries strewn across the counter to one side and lifts me up so that my pussy is positioned at the very edge of the counter and my head is leaning back against the mirror. He frees his straining cock from his jeans and grabs my hips, sliding his dick into my wet and waiting pussy. After a long week of anticipation, his cock feels so absolutely wonderful filling up my cunt. He is so hard and his strokes are strong and sure, pulling my hips up and toward him over and over. I moan his name in a fierce whisper as I hold on to the edge of the counter and wrap my legs around his waist. He feels so good pounding into me that I start moaning louder. Hearing me call out his name, he looks at me and I can see he is close to coming. I sit up a little and my pussy tightens around his cock. I am yelling, "yes, yes, fuck me harder" when he takes in a long breath and pounds twice into me. His legs shudder and shake and his cock explodes into me.
He leans over so his cock is still inside me and his head is resting on my chest. He can feel my pounding heart and we slow our breath together.
After a minute or two, I slide off the counter and step into the shower. A perfect beginning to the day.
I slip my robe on and go downstairs to see if I can't get him to come back to bed. But he is showered, dressed, and breakfast was on the table. Damn damn. I can't even be mad at him! I kiss him good morning and thank him for breakfast. We have a nice leisurely breakfast reading the paper and making our plans for the day.
I get up to wash the dishes and the sleeves of my robe keep getting in the way. I release the sash and let the soft fabric slide down my back and arms, forming a puddle on the floor. Much better! DH returns to the kitchen and does a double take. There I am wearing nothing but sunlight. He drinks in the sight of me and any leftover animosity from the night before dissipates.
He moves over to caress the round curve of my ass and follows it up to the hollow of my back. He loves me naked and I know it. He asks what I am doing and I innocently respond, "Dishes!" His hand reaches around and cups my full breast, feeling the weight in his hand, caressing the nipple until it is hard and standing at attention. He bends down and kisses the pert nub. I continue to load the dishwasher around his wandering hands.
As I'm finishing up, he turns me to face him as his lips search out mine. He captures them in a long, slow, sensuous kiss, pulling at my hips to mold me to his body. "Good morning," he whispers. I purr at his caresses and flick his tongue with mine. "Good morning," I say.
As I slowly pick up my robe from the floor and begin up the stairs to the shower, I feel him behind me, his eyes never leaving my body. I turn on the shower and we continue our conversation about what the day will bring. I reach around the shower curtain to test the temperature of the water, when I find myself trapped against the wall. His hands clench my head so that I must surrender to his unyielding lips. His lips taste mine over and over until I raise my head for air. His lips travel down my neck until they are locked on my breast.
He turns me around and murmurs that the counter is the perfect height. He sweeps the miscellaneous toiletries strewn across the counter to one side and lifts me up so that my pussy is positioned at the very edge of the counter and my head is leaning back against the mirror. He frees his straining cock from his jeans and grabs my hips, sliding his dick into my wet and waiting pussy. After a long week of anticipation, his cock feels so absolutely wonderful filling up my cunt. He is so hard and his strokes are strong and sure, pulling my hips up and toward him over and over. I moan his name in a fierce whisper as I hold on to the edge of the counter and wrap my legs around his waist. He feels so good pounding into me that I start moaning louder. Hearing me call out his name, he looks at me and I can see he is close to coming. I sit up a little and my pussy tightens around his cock. I am yelling, "yes, yes, fuck me harder" when he takes in a long breath and pounds twice into me. His legs shudder and shake and his cock explodes into me.
He leans over so his cock is still inside me and his head is resting on my chest. He can feel my pounding heart and we slow our breath together.
After a minute or two, I slide off the counter and step into the shower. A perfect beginning to the day.
Just For Fun...
Fill in the three blanks with a word or phrase that conveys a truth you believe, and post your responses in the comments. You can be deep an meaningful, or simple and fun. Example: Happiness is… a bowl of vanilla ice cream.
1. Happiness is… ____________.
2. Great sex requires… ____________.
3. A good marriage needs… ____________.
1. Happiness is… ____________.
2. Great sex requires… ____________.
3. A good marriage needs… ____________.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Failed again...
Nope, didn't finish my dare, nor the other requests DH made of me. This weekend, sexually and adventurously speaking, was a failure.
Friday started with a call from a friend offering to give us a date night! My hopes were high when I called DH at work, thinking it would be sexier to hear my voice than read an email. His sigh and mutterings of short notice was enough to snuff out the flame as quickly as it had ignited. I am trying to determine how it is that his reactions can be so devastating to me, and so quickly. Most anyone else, I'd have a sarcastic reply and let it roll off my back, but his words always cut through me like a knife.
But it was still promising to be a fun evening...we did some shopping and then went out for pizza and beer, thinking the alcohol would put a rosy glow on the evening's activities. And it did! We had a great conversation sitting next to each other (thank you sun!) and we were ready to enjoy the evening. We had to make a stop at a friend's who is famous for her martinis. She was trying a new recipe and I had to give her a critique! One drink led to another (for me) and the conversation dragged on for an hour. I don't know why, but she didn't make one for DH, which meant that he was standing there for an hour while his buzz was dying down.
We finally made it home and watched another installation of the HBO sex documentary about girl porn. While entertaining, it didn't really titillate. But I was still buzzing and so when we went to bed, I was all ready, and DH was ready...for sleep! Of course, this reaction was again amplified in my head 1,000 times. So we spent a rare night up late arguing. No fun at all!
Saturday was spent with errands and a girl party for me, which ended quite late. With no fun party tales to tell! Though this was definitely more the type of "fun friends" I am looking to connect with than the friends I have. But when I came in at 1 in the morning, I didn't want a repeat of the night before, so I let DH slumber.
The next morning, he was up early to make bacon, a family favorite, and he kindly let me sleep a little longer. A volunteer obligation kept me out most of the day and exhausted on my return. So the evening was spent lazily in front of the television while DH enjoyed football and I stared into space.
Except for a couple of dalliances, which I'll save for another post, that was how I failed this weekend.
Friday started with a call from a friend offering to give us a date night! My hopes were high when I called DH at work, thinking it would be sexier to hear my voice than read an email. His sigh and mutterings of short notice was enough to snuff out the flame as quickly as it had ignited. I am trying to determine how it is that his reactions can be so devastating to me, and so quickly. Most anyone else, I'd have a sarcastic reply and let it roll off my back, but his words always cut through me like a knife.
But it was still promising to be a fun evening...we did some shopping and then went out for pizza and beer, thinking the alcohol would put a rosy glow on the evening's activities. And it did! We had a great conversation sitting next to each other (thank you sun!) and we were ready to enjoy the evening. We had to make a stop at a friend's who is famous for her martinis. She was trying a new recipe and I had to give her a critique! One drink led to another (for me) and the conversation dragged on for an hour. I don't know why, but she didn't make one for DH, which meant that he was standing there for an hour while his buzz was dying down.
We finally made it home and watched another installation of the HBO sex documentary about girl porn. While entertaining, it didn't really titillate. But I was still buzzing and so when we went to bed, I was all ready, and DH was ready...for sleep! Of course, this reaction was again amplified in my head 1,000 times. So we spent a rare night up late arguing. No fun at all!
Saturday was spent with errands and a girl party for me, which ended quite late. With no fun party tales to tell! Though this was definitely more the type of "fun friends" I am looking to connect with than the friends I have. But when I came in at 1 in the morning, I didn't want a repeat of the night before, so I let DH slumber.
The next morning, he was up early to make bacon, a family favorite, and he kindly let me sleep a little longer. A volunteer obligation kept me out most of the day and exhausted on my return. So the evening was spent lazily in front of the television while DH enjoyed football and I stared into space.
Except for a couple of dalliances, which I'll save for another post, that was how I failed this weekend.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Last night...routine?
I get ready for bed, still smarting a little from the rebuff of earlier. Christ, you offer to suck your man's dick and he says he needs a minute or two to wind down. WTF?! My much-anticipated plan of a double-header drowned in bitter resentment, I know that his apologetic caresses on the coach later means he is trying to make up. Do I let him or not? Fuck it...he's not getting any.
As I slide into bed, I remember how fucking horny I've been all day and contemplate picking up my vibe and having a little fun while I make him watch but not participate. Then I sigh and realize I'm pissed, but I wouldn't hurt his feelings for anything.
I feel his lips on my neck and turn my head to accept his kiss. I do love kissing him. His soft lips pull mine in a way that makes my heart flutter every time. He knows exactly the kind of kisses I like. Soft caresses, moist but not sloppy. I breathe in his scent and cautiously touch his tongue with mine. He is being very reserved, settling for kisses and nothing else. His hands do not wander, but brush against my cheeks and hair. The kisses go on for what seems like forever.
My mind wanders and I start thinking about what I had planned for tonight. Lots of cock sucking. Lots of toys. I wanted to have orgasm after orgasm. But my anger just keeps taking over, preventing me from softening and opening for him. I start to caress his hair and then let my fingers tangle in the curls at the back of his neck, pulling a little. I'm getting madder by the minute. All I wanted to do was give him pleasure. He does so much for me. More anger. I press my lips more firmly onto his. I want to bite him. I want to flip him over and fuck him hard with my cock. But I don't have one. I settle for thrusting my tongue into his mouth. I suck on his lip and bite down. I buck my hips against him. He is lying on top of me and lift him up with the strength of my legs. Somehow this physical exertion is just what I need. I grind my pussy against his dick, lifting him with every buck of my hips. My teeth scrape against his tongue.
I can tell he doesn't know what to think. He knows I like pain, but he has told me that it holds no interest for him. He flips me over and pulls me on top of him. I grind down on this dick and then lift up and in one swift movement, pull is cock deep into my pussy. I grab the headboard and pull myself up so that I can slam myself back down on his cock, all the while my heels digging into his legs. Again and again pulling and pushing. I grab his shoulders and writhe on top of his dick. My usual moans, sighs, and screams are replaced with grunts. I grab his shoulders and half lift him off the bed, so he sitting upright and use his shoulders for leverage. Once, twice, I pound his cock, fucking him with all the frustration I have felt all evening. I feel him start to build, he lets out a sigh and I let him fall back to the bed and I grind my hips in a circle around his cock. I watch his face and can tell he is about to come. I sit back and the sight of my bouncing tits are all he can take and he comes inside me with an exclamation.
I let him peak and fall back to earth before I swing my leg over and slide off, heading for a towel to mop him up.
I pad around to my side and slide into bed. Tomorrow will be my turn.
As I slide into bed, I remember how fucking horny I've been all day and contemplate picking up my vibe and having a little fun while I make him watch but not participate. Then I sigh and realize I'm pissed, but I wouldn't hurt his feelings for anything.
I feel his lips on my neck and turn my head to accept his kiss. I do love kissing him. His soft lips pull mine in a way that makes my heart flutter every time. He knows exactly the kind of kisses I like. Soft caresses, moist but not sloppy. I breathe in his scent and cautiously touch his tongue with mine. He is being very reserved, settling for kisses and nothing else. His hands do not wander, but brush against my cheeks and hair. The kisses go on for what seems like forever.
My mind wanders and I start thinking about what I had planned for tonight. Lots of cock sucking. Lots of toys. I wanted to have orgasm after orgasm. But my anger just keeps taking over, preventing me from softening and opening for him. I start to caress his hair and then let my fingers tangle in the curls at the back of his neck, pulling a little. I'm getting madder by the minute. All I wanted to do was give him pleasure. He does so much for me. More anger. I press my lips more firmly onto his. I want to bite him. I want to flip him over and fuck him hard with my cock. But I don't have one. I settle for thrusting my tongue into his mouth. I suck on his lip and bite down. I buck my hips against him. He is lying on top of me and lift him up with the strength of my legs. Somehow this physical exertion is just what I need. I grind my pussy against his dick, lifting him with every buck of my hips. My teeth scrape against his tongue.
I can tell he doesn't know what to think. He knows I like pain, but he has told me that it holds no interest for him. He flips me over and pulls me on top of him. I grind down on this dick and then lift up and in one swift movement, pull is cock deep into my pussy. I grab the headboard and pull myself up so that I can slam myself back down on his cock, all the while my heels digging into his legs. Again and again pulling and pushing. I grab his shoulders and writhe on top of his dick. My usual moans, sighs, and screams are replaced with grunts. I grab his shoulders and half lift him off the bed, so he sitting upright and use his shoulders for leverage. Once, twice, I pound his cock, fucking him with all the frustration I have felt all evening. I feel him start to build, he lets out a sigh and I let him fall back to the bed and I grind my hips in a circle around his cock. I watch his face and can tell he is about to come. I sit back and the sight of my bouncing tits are all he can take and he comes inside me with an exclamation.
I let him peak and fall back to earth before I swing my leg over and slide off, heading for a towel to mop him up.
I pad around to my side and slide into bed. Tomorrow will be my turn.
Silence may not be Golden
First, a few housekeeping tasks: Yes, darling, you're supposed to top it. I've warned you about setting a precedent, haven't I? And, yes, I'm expecting NEW ways to keep me horny. I'm already happy, though. And... for the public record, you haven't fulfilled your dare! :)
As I think about what to write in this blog, I’ve discovered something odd… something that relates to the Daree’s last post. Our friends may wonder how exciting things remain after 10 years, but I’ve discovered that when I set out to construct a post, I feel as though I don’t have an interesting tale to tell.
This isn’t to suggest I feel things between Dee and I aren’t plenty satisfying, or that our interactions are habitual scripts. Admittedly, sex between us is sometimes… practiced, but this is a far cry from unexciting or unsatisfying. After 11 years of marriage, and 10 years dating before that, we’re bound to have a pretty good idea how we go together. The trick is to avoid letting ‘practiced’ become ‘routine,’ and I think we do a decent job of that, especially in the past year.
Still, this blog was originally to be a chronicle of our sexual experiences, and I find that I often have little to say in that department. While the detailed descriptions of our experiences vary widely, I start out typing – and then deleting – the same few sentences: Dee and I did it again last night. Had a lot of fun. Love the woman, and really love fucking her.
This could be because I prescribe to the tenants of silence. While Dee is an open book, sharing much of our lives (sexual and otherwise) with a wide variety of her many friends, I reveal very little of myself to anyone. It’s not shyness or even exclusively a matter of privacy (thought I have learned through bitter experience that, if people have information about you that is in any way interesting, they’re going to share it, and share it often, frequently with people you’d never choose to share that information with in the first place), but (apparently) a matter of my genetic makeup. Even when I do provide information, I’m not one to give out details:
Friend: You guys have fun in Vegas?
Me: Yes, we did.
F: What’d you do?
M: Just hung out together. Had dinner. Walked around.
F: (laughing) You should have ditched the wife and gone to a strip club.
M: Uh-huh.
This policy of introversity pervades my life – I’m just the quiet type. The two of us have good conversation, and while with friends or in a group I chat comfortably as well, but I tend to spend more time listening than speaking. Much to Dee’s chagrin, this tendency extends into the bedroom (or wherever), where her requests that I talk dirty and her constant encouragement that I “embrace my inner master” and give her direction and orders are met with… a few weak comments, at best. I do try to make up for my failings by providing orgasms, however.
So the idea of opening up – even here, anonymously – is a strange thought for me. However … Dee and I did it last night. Had a lot of fun. Love the woman, and really love fucking her.
And tonight I’m going to fuck her again. But I’ll let her post that story.
As I think about what to write in this blog, I’ve discovered something odd… something that relates to the Daree’s last post. Our friends may wonder how exciting things remain after 10 years, but I’ve discovered that when I set out to construct a post, I feel as though I don’t have an interesting tale to tell.
This isn’t to suggest I feel things between Dee and I aren’t plenty satisfying, or that our interactions are habitual scripts. Admittedly, sex between us is sometimes… practiced, but this is a far cry from unexciting or unsatisfying. After 11 years of marriage, and 10 years dating before that, we’re bound to have a pretty good idea how we go together. The trick is to avoid letting ‘practiced’ become ‘routine,’ and I think we do a decent job of that, especially in the past year.
Still, this blog was originally to be a chronicle of our sexual experiences, and I find that I often have little to say in that department. While the detailed descriptions of our experiences vary widely, I start out typing – and then deleting – the same few sentences: Dee and I did it again last night. Had a lot of fun. Love the woman, and really love fucking her.
This could be because I prescribe to the tenants of silence. While Dee is an open book, sharing much of our lives (sexual and otherwise) with a wide variety of her many friends, I reveal very little of myself to anyone. It’s not shyness or even exclusively a matter of privacy (thought I have learned through bitter experience that, if people have information about you that is in any way interesting, they’re going to share it, and share it often, frequently with people you’d never choose to share that information with in the first place), but (apparently) a matter of my genetic makeup. Even when I do provide information, I’m not one to give out details:
Friend: You guys have fun in Vegas?
Me: Yes, we did.
F: What’d you do?
M: Just hung out together. Had dinner. Walked around.
F: (laughing) You should have ditched the wife and gone to a strip club.
M: Uh-huh.
This policy of introversity pervades my life – I’m just the quiet type. The two of us have good conversation, and while with friends or in a group I chat comfortably as well, but I tend to spend more time listening than speaking. Much to Dee’s chagrin, this tendency extends into the bedroom (or wherever), where her requests that I talk dirty and her constant encouragement that I “embrace my inner master” and give her direction and orders are met with… a few weak comments, at best. I do try to make up for my failings by providing orgasms, however.
So the idea of opening up – even here, anonymously – is a strange thought for me. However … Dee and I did it last night. Had a lot of fun. Love the woman, and really love fucking her.
And tonight I’m going to fuck her again. But I’ll let her post that story.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Expectations
Now herein lies the trouble. As a girl, you sit next to a boy and hold his hand. The next time you see him, the expectation is that you will not only hold his hand, you will allow him to put his arm around you. Fast forward to marriage...you kiss a stripper and the next thing you know you're supposed to top it!
I have the same problem with gifts.
Sexual appetite is a funny thing, isn't it? Some days (or weeks), sex is but a fleeting thought as I get ready for bed or I'm soapy in the shower.
Other days (or weeks), it's all I can think about. My lips throb with the need to be kissed. My pussy is wet all day. Visions of cocks (well...a cock to be accurate) dance in my head.
What makes the difference?
Anticipation for sure. An accomplice. Someone stoking the fire. I read on another blog that apathy is something you just have to push past. I have even offered this advice to my girlfriends who ask how is it that our sex life is so hot after 10 years. They're too tired. They're too busy. They're not in the mood. I tell them to push past it. If you tell your husband to fuck you, and give him a pouty look, he will get you in the mood whether you are ready for it or not.
But this is most definitely easier said than done.
All that was the coward's way of saying I have no idea what new way I will keep DH happy OR horny. But really...does he need a new way?
As for the other questions I have been studiously ignoring:
1. Should sexual fantasies be unrealistic (i.e., imagining a more attractive version of yourself cruising the Mediterranean with a yacht full of sexy personal servants of the opposite sex), or realistic (envisioning yourself at home doing erotic things in front of the fireplace)?
I don't have fantasies. I don't know why. Maybe because I don't know if they are supposed to be unrealistic or realistic. I don't fantasize...the closest I come is usually a replay of a movie or scenario that I have already seen. I have been known to write stories, like the one about the plumber who finds me in the kitchen with nothing on but an apron and I offer him lemonade. But really, that's just a clique re-written. I can't fantasize. It is the weirdness that is me.
2. Should sexual fantasies be things to pursue, or things that should remain only in the imagination?
In as much as I don't think a real plumber would stumble into my cliqued scenario, I can't imagine pursuing that particular one. But I am a firm believer in pushing boundaries (whether DH agrees with me or not). Part of the thrill for me is pushing myself beyond what I thought I would ever do. And the...pride?...sense of accomplishment?...feeling of victory over my inhibitions? ... that comes after that is the reward. And I tend to accomplish these feats the same way I tackle everything else in my life. I noodle things for a while. Quietly go about removing obstacles and putting things in place. And then I take a deep breath and jump.
I have the same problem with gifts.
Sexual appetite is a funny thing, isn't it? Some days (or weeks), sex is but a fleeting thought as I get ready for bed or I'm soapy in the shower.
Other days (or weeks), it's all I can think about. My lips throb with the need to be kissed. My pussy is wet all day. Visions of cocks (well...a cock to be accurate) dance in my head.
What makes the difference?
Anticipation for sure. An accomplice. Someone stoking the fire. I read on another blog that apathy is something you just have to push past. I have even offered this advice to my girlfriends who ask how is it that our sex life is so hot after 10 years. They're too tired. They're too busy. They're not in the mood. I tell them to push past it. If you tell your husband to fuck you, and give him a pouty look, he will get you in the mood whether you are ready for it or not.
But this is most definitely easier said than done.
All that was the coward's way of saying I have no idea what new way I will keep DH happy OR horny. But really...does he need a new way?
As for the other questions I have been studiously ignoring:
1. Should sexual fantasies be unrealistic (i.e., imagining a more attractive version of yourself cruising the Mediterranean with a yacht full of sexy personal servants of the opposite sex), or realistic (envisioning yourself at home doing erotic things in front of the fireplace)?
I don't have fantasies. I don't know why. Maybe because I don't know if they are supposed to be unrealistic or realistic. I don't fantasize...the closest I come is usually a replay of a movie or scenario that I have already seen. I have been known to write stories, like the one about the plumber who finds me in the kitchen with nothing on but an apron and I offer him lemonade. But really, that's just a clique re-written. I can't fantasize. It is the weirdness that is me.
2. Should sexual fantasies be things to pursue, or things that should remain only in the imagination?
In as much as I don't think a real plumber would stumble into my cliqued scenario, I can't imagine pursuing that particular one. But I am a firm believer in pushing boundaries (whether DH agrees with me or not). Part of the thrill for me is pushing myself beyond what I thought I would ever do. And the...pride?...sense of accomplishment?...feeling of victory over my inhibitions? ... that comes after that is the reward. And I tend to accomplish these feats the same way I tackle everything else in my life. I noodle things for a while. Quietly go about removing obstacles and putting things in place. And then I take a deep breath and jump.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
She Speaks (well… Types)!
The Daree has posted, but she didn’t answer my questions from way back when, no rewards for her… and no spankings, either. But, as always, I’m willing to give her another chance. It’s not like these are really INTIMATE questions….
1. Should sexual fantasies should be unrealistic (i.e., imagining a more attractive version of yourself cruising the Mediterranean with a yacht full of sexy personal servants of the opposite sex), or realistic (envisioning yourself at home doing erotic things in front of the fireplace)?
2. Should sexual fantasies be things to pursue, or things that should remain only in the imagination?
And a third question now that you’ve posted, and opened the door for it: To keep me horny, exactly WHAT new way are you going to try next?
I await the answer, expecting to be aroused... :)
1. Should sexual fantasies should be unrealistic (i.e., imagining a more attractive version of yourself cruising the Mediterranean with a yacht full of sexy personal servants of the opposite sex), or realistic (envisioning yourself at home doing erotic things in front of the fireplace)?
2. Should sexual fantasies be things to pursue, or things that should remain only in the imagination?
And a third question now that you’ve posted, and opened the door for it: To keep me horny, exactly WHAT new way are you going to try next?
I await the answer, expecting to be aroused... :)
Monday, September 8, 2008
This is Ridiculous!
I guess I think too much. I've been working on this blog post for the better part of a week. But I keep getting interrupted. I guess instead of going for quality, I should just go for something!
The best part about the last year or so has been the almost daily revelations of things I didn't know about DH. Given the fact we we've been married nearly 11 years, and dating for just about what, 10 years before that (not including our "break"), you'd think you know a person. But opening this very frank and honest line of communication has really been eye opening in so many ways!
And not just the revelations about DH (though I can still remember reading and rereading various answers he gave that I couldn't quite believe). But the revelations that I have made about myself have been amazing as well. Just the process of thinking of my likes and dislikes, fantasies, wants and desires was a new experience.
I am so happy I want to shout it from the rooftops. Last week, beautiful red roses were delivered to my office, which prompted the never ending stream of "is it your anniversary" questions. I wanted so badly to answer truthfully...DH really enjoyed the pictures he took of me in my lingerie. But only a very few heard the real answer.
I feel our marriage is one of the strongest I know, and I feel like I could give so many good advice on being happy. But in today's society I don't feel I can pass on my knowledge, let alone my secrets, to anyone but my closest friends...and not even them most of the time...or I will be judged.
Though it's funny. Some of my inner circle know what's going on and just roll their eyes. We were camping a few weeks ago and a bunch of us were sitting around the fire and I sat on DH's lap and leaned in to give him a kiss. I looked up because the conversation abruptly stopped and I found one of my best friends glaring at me the way she does to people who have offended her. She told us to knock it off and get a room. I couldn't believe it! Most of my friends have sex with their husbands because they "have" to. Those poor poor husbands.
Anyway, I will just rejoice in what I have and continue to find new ways of making DH happy. Or at least horny.
Now the question is...should I wait until Thursday to click publish just so I can collect that good smack on the ass?
The best part about the last year or so has been the almost daily revelations of things I didn't know about DH. Given the fact we we've been married nearly 11 years, and dating for just about what, 10 years before that (not including our "break"), you'd think you know a person. But opening this very frank and honest line of communication has really been eye opening in so many ways!
And not just the revelations about DH (though I can still remember reading and rereading various answers he gave that I couldn't quite believe). But the revelations that I have made about myself have been amazing as well. Just the process of thinking of my likes and dislikes, fantasies, wants and desires was a new experience.
I am so happy I want to shout it from the rooftops. Last week, beautiful red roses were delivered to my office, which prompted the never ending stream of "is it your anniversary" questions. I wanted so badly to answer truthfully...DH really enjoyed the pictures he took of me in my lingerie. But only a very few heard the real answer.
I feel our marriage is one of the strongest I know, and I feel like I could give so many good advice on being happy. But in today's society I don't feel I can pass on my knowledge, let alone my secrets, to anyone but my closest friends...and not even them most of the time...or I will be judged.
Though it's funny. Some of my inner circle know what's going on and just roll their eyes. We were camping a few weeks ago and a bunch of us were sitting around the fire and I sat on DH's lap and leaned in to give him a kiss. I looked up because the conversation abruptly stopped and I found one of my best friends glaring at me the way she does to people who have offended her. She told us to knock it off and get a room. I couldn't believe it! Most of my friends have sex with their husbands because they "have" to. Those poor poor husbands.
Anyway, I will just rejoice in what I have and continue to find new ways of making DH happy. Or at least horny.
Now the question is...should I wait until Thursday to click publish just so I can collect that good smack on the ass?
The Cyclical Nature of Things
This past weekend we watched another DVRed Real Sex, and had a few good laughs. Nothing on the show was particularly exciting, but it’s still fun to see what everyone else in the world is doing, especially those people who are having more fun than the stereotypical uptight suburban couple. (On that subject, every time we watch a show of this type, invariably there is one segment on clowns – clowns, clown sex, clowns and balloons, clown fetishes – leading me to believe this is quite a popular thing. I’m pretty open to new ideas, but I have to confess, most of the clowns I’ve seen on these things aren’t arousing at all, but actually kind of … creepy! What’s up with THAT?)
It’s interesting, I think, the way our sex life goes in cycles, oscillating between the two poles of possibility, spending very little time in the middle. It’s not about the frequency, but the level of adventurism, the urge to explore new things – these are the facets that change radically. We sometimes go a week or two where every night is a different adventure – experiencing activities that are previously untried, or uniquely creative, or simply uncommon and fun – but then that festive energy fades.
I’m not sure why or how it happens. It would be a nice thing to understand, though – it’d be nice to have SOME control over, to know where the switch is so we could turn it on whenever we wanted. The closest I see to a cause-and-effect explanation is that we’re more apt to be adventurous when on vacation than while engaged in the drudgery of daily life … but even that doesn’t correlate 100% of the time. Fifty-five percent, maybe (if you factor in feeling ‘well-rested’ as well as ‘being on vacation’), but nowhere near a hundred.
Maybe I just need to drink more coffee.
I'm going to wait until Wednesday night to see if the Daree shows up here and makes a post, otherwise she's going to get a good smack on the ass for leaving me hanging out here all alone. :)
It’s interesting, I think, the way our sex life goes in cycles, oscillating between the two poles of possibility, spending very little time in the middle. It’s not about the frequency, but the level of adventurism, the urge to explore new things – these are the facets that change radically. We sometimes go a week or two where every night is a different adventure – experiencing activities that are previously untried, or uniquely creative, or simply uncommon and fun – but then that festive energy fades.
I’m not sure why or how it happens. It would be a nice thing to understand, though – it’d be nice to have SOME control over, to know where the switch is so we could turn it on whenever we wanted. The closest I see to a cause-and-effect explanation is that we’re more apt to be adventurous when on vacation than while engaged in the drudgery of daily life … but even that doesn’t correlate 100% of the time. Fifty-five percent, maybe (if you factor in feeling ‘well-rested’ as well as ‘being on vacation’), but nowhere near a hundred.
Maybe I just need to drink more coffee.
I'm going to wait until Wednesday night to see if the Daree shows up here and makes a post, otherwise she's going to get a good smack on the ass for leaving me hanging out here all alone. :)
Friday, September 5, 2008
The Next Dare...
I gave the Daree her next dare on Wednesday. It’s one of my early creations, and the only thing “daring” about it is whether or not she has the audacity to respond – she says she will, and (if she does) I’m be interested to see the answers. It’s a series of fill-in-the-blanks where every answer must be the name of someone we know, starting with the tame (“which of our friends do you think is most attractive?”) and running about… 70?... questions up to “which of our friends would you most enjoy watching me fuck?” and the like.
I’ve thought about doing these types of dares (the “on paper only” ones) here, in public (though not this particular one, as it would reveal names of friends, etc.), and I still might in the future. For one thing, it would give the woman added incentive to post… as you can see, after her initial posts, her mind wandered off and got distracted (Dee is a busy woman, after all), and she’s only returned once since – when she posted the lingerie picture. Even that required my taking the picture, then sitting next to her while she worked her laptop magic and got it posted. This is the way the girl works, so I have to find a way to “make” her return here more often.
That’s also why I have doubts she’ll respond to the current dare. The rule is she has a week to get it done, and she’s met the deadline… 9 out of the 11, which is amazing (trust me, I’ve known Dee twenty years now, and I would’ve predicted a 50% turnout, at best!). Of course, the flake-outs have happened in each of the last two dares – the only two in which I haven’t constantly reminded her the deadline is coming! – and both times I’ve ended up letting her have another shot for half-credit.
I’ve talked to her about this a few times because all the reminders and prodding and such makes me feel like I’m forcing her to play a game she doesn’t really want in on. I’m repeatedly assured that she LOVES the game, and WANTS to play it, and in fact is hoping I’ll come up with some shit that’s even MORE daring (I’ve had her running to the mailbox naked in front of the neighbors and making out with a stripper, so I’m really not sure how much more daring I can get – I know her well enough to realize there’s a limit to how far I can push things), but, of course, the feeling persists.
Still, I will do what I can. In the future I’m hoping to convince her to post a few more pictures – most notably a shot of her chest (she has a GREAT set of tits on her!), and the really sexy shot of her pussy that’s already in our collection. I’m also trying to get her to answer the questions I’ve posted here (a good while ago now), and she’s told me several times that she’ll do so. When she does, I’m going to post more questions, and just have fun with that, as well.
In the meantime, I’ll try to post a few stories from our past that have entertainment value, and I’m confident it won’t be too long before we have ourselves another adventure worth sharing here.
I’ve thought about doing these types of dares (the “on paper only” ones) here, in public (though not this particular one, as it would reveal names of friends, etc.), and I still might in the future. For one thing, it would give the woman added incentive to post… as you can see, after her initial posts, her mind wandered off and got distracted (Dee is a busy woman, after all), and she’s only returned once since – when she posted the lingerie picture. Even that required my taking the picture, then sitting next to her while she worked her laptop magic and got it posted. This is the way the girl works, so I have to find a way to “make” her return here more often.
That’s also why I have doubts she’ll respond to the current dare. The rule is she has a week to get it done, and she’s met the deadline… 9 out of the 11, which is amazing (trust me, I’ve known Dee twenty years now, and I would’ve predicted a 50% turnout, at best!). Of course, the flake-outs have happened in each of the last two dares – the only two in which I haven’t constantly reminded her the deadline is coming! – and both times I’ve ended up letting her have another shot for half-credit.
I’ve talked to her about this a few times because all the reminders and prodding and such makes me feel like I’m forcing her to play a game she doesn’t really want in on. I’m repeatedly assured that she LOVES the game, and WANTS to play it, and in fact is hoping I’ll come up with some shit that’s even MORE daring (I’ve had her running to the mailbox naked in front of the neighbors and making out with a stripper, so I’m really not sure how much more daring I can get – I know her well enough to realize there’s a limit to how far I can push things), but, of course, the feeling persists.
Still, I will do what I can. In the future I’m hoping to convince her to post a few more pictures – most notably a shot of her chest (she has a GREAT set of tits on her!), and the really sexy shot of her pussy that’s already in our collection. I’m also trying to get her to answer the questions I’ve posted here (a good while ago now), and she’s told me several times that she’ll do so. When she does, I’m going to post more questions, and just have fun with that, as well.
In the meantime, I’ll try to post a few stories from our past that have entertainment value, and I’m confident it won’t be too long before we have ourselves another adventure worth sharing here.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
A Short History…
Before we get too far along here, I’d thing we should provide a little background information, a bit of history… how we got here, online and in public, in the first place…
Until about a year ago, things between the Daree and I were pretty tame. Outside the bedroom we had a very good relationship… we were good friends who shared engaging conversation and comfortable silences with rarely a spat. Life inside the bedroom was a collection of our collective sleeping habits and occasional light reading, peppered with sporadic sex and very little adventure at all.
Our marital condition began to change in… I think it was late September of last year… with the beginning of a whimsical email game. At the time, we were both in awash in boredom at our respective desks, and to pass the time I suggested we play the game our then-seven-year-old daughter and I “invented” over dinner together (just the two of us) not long before, a simple game of “either, or” meant to amuse. The rules were simple… she would give me a choice of two things (cake… or ice cream?), and I would pick one (cake!), then I would give her a choice (jelly beans… or licorice?), and she would respond (licorice).
For my game with Dee, however, instead of keeping to the innocence of the original creation, I began with an “innocent” choice laden with innuendo: whipped cream… or chocolate syrup?
For a few exchanges, we stuck to the innuendo, then moved on into the fringes of sexuality, the basics, the simpler, less naughty choices (lights on… or off? missionary… or doggie style? morning… or evening?), but it wasn’t long before we dropped the innuendo and simplicity entirely, and for a few days the emails flew back and forth fast and furious. Eventually, we made our way through every possible sexual choice-of-two we could think of, and were forced to switch to another invented game… and then another… and then another…
…until, eventually, we arrived where we now stand, in the midst of the dare game currently in play. I dare Dee to perform a specific (daring) act, anything from going out and getting the mail while nude, to… posting a lingerie picture online in a public forum.
Thus was born this blog.
Along the way, we’ve gone from not talking about sex at all, to talking about everything… from which of our friends is cuter, to our fantasies and interests, to seriously discussing the possibility of swinging and threesomes. We’ve shopped for, bought, and used sex toys and varioius foods, and subscribed to the Playboy channel. We’ve engaged in “adult” weekends, played games, and visited strip clubs together.
And these were our first tentative steps into the world of inventive exploration. There’s no telling how much fun we’ll have THIS year. And now we have a blog to chronicle what happens next.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
The Anniversary, Part III: Back at Home
After the action in the car, we went into the house. The Daree escaped upstairs, hinting there was another surprise in store for me and leaving strict instructions to stay where I was. I assumed she’d gone up to take out the remote vibe, and that she’d return quickly, and I waited impatiently, wondering what the next surprise would be – perhaps a specially chosen porno, or some other toy? Since Dee is particularly turned on by the idea of getting it on in parts of our home outside the bedroom, being made to wait downstairs only heightened the anticipation.
Instead, she made me wait almost twenty minutes, but made amends for the unreasonable delay by showing up dressed pretty much as she is in the photo. The outfit – which I hadn’t seen before – was my second gift of the evening, and seeing her in it again brings back pleasant memories of that night.
The remainder of that evening is a blur – nothing but a collection of disjointed scenes running through my mind like some erotic personal collage. I remember towering over her, bending my dick down towards her as she sat on the floor between my legs with her head thrown back, looking down and watching my cock disappear between her lips and into her throat. I remember pulling her to her feet and pushing backwards over the arm of our sofa, still fully dressed in her corset and boots, and sliding into her. I remember bending her over the armrest a second time, and nailing her from behind, holding onto her waist and pounding my dick into her. I remember assisting her onto her feet and helping her out of the corset. I remember going upstairs and fucking her in our bed. I remember coming so hard, I could barely breathe afterwards.
I always tell Dee that it’s bad to set a precedent, because once you do something the first time, you’re stuck living up to that standard forever. I’m glad she didn’t listen… because now she’s stuck living up to a very high standard of pleasure, and our next Anniversary is right around the corner.
Instead, she made me wait almost twenty minutes, but made amends for the unreasonable delay by showing up dressed pretty much as she is in the photo. The outfit – which I hadn’t seen before – was my second gift of the evening, and seeing her in it again brings back pleasant memories of that night.
The remainder of that evening is a blur – nothing but a collection of disjointed scenes running through my mind like some erotic personal collage. I remember towering over her, bending my dick down towards her as she sat on the floor between my legs with her head thrown back, looking down and watching my cock disappear between her lips and into her throat. I remember pulling her to her feet and pushing backwards over the arm of our sofa, still fully dressed in her corset and boots, and sliding into her. I remember bending her over the armrest a second time, and nailing her from behind, holding onto her waist and pounding my dick into her. I remember assisting her onto her feet and helping her out of the corset. I remember going upstairs and fucking her in our bed. I remember coming so hard, I could barely breathe afterwards.
I always tell Dee that it’s bad to set a precedent, because once you do something the first time, you’re stuck living up to that standard forever. I’m glad she didn’t listen… because now she’s stuck living up to a very high standard of pleasure, and our next Anniversary is right around the corner.
Monday, September 1, 2008
The Lingerie Shot
And here it is. After a fun-filled evening with DH behind the lens, this is my shot...
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