Archive for Fantasies
Adding to the Conversation: Your First Threesome by Dan and Jennifer
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As a swinger, the title of the video, “Your First Threesome: Who Should It Be With?,” created by Dan and Jennifer, caught my eye when it was mentioned on Twitter. I couldn’t wait to see it. And now, I can’t wait to comment on it.
The video was created based on a question submitted by a woman. Something to the effect of: My boyfriend and I decided to participate in a threesome. Who should it be? Should it be a close friend who’s comfortable with the idea or should it be a stranger, but a clean stranger of course?
I agree with one statement: It’s a bad idea to have a threesome with a complete stranger. That’s where my agreement ends. And my concern begins. A concern that caused me to tell Tank about what I heard.
“They said it’s probably not a good idea to have a threesome with a close friend who’s comfortable with the idea. They made it sound so black-and-white.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Wasn’t your first threesome with two girlfriends who knew each other?
“Yes. And when I was married, my wife and I had a threesome with a close friend of hers that I dated in the past.”
“My point exactly. I’m not seeing the problem in having a first threesome with a person you know and trust. Someone who’s comfortable with the idea.”
“What am I missing here?’
“Well. There’s one question everyone needs to answer. And that’s ‘why.’ Once you agree on the ‘why’ with your partner——the rest doesn’t matter.” The answers to who what, when where, and how easily fall into place.”
“You’re right. It does.”
My answer to the option of inviting a friend to join in would have been “it depends.” It depends on why you want the threesome in the first place. And sometimes, inviting a trusted friend who has similar motivations to you is the perfect choice.
Unfortunately, Dan and Jennifer also miss this critical conversation in their follow-up video called “5 Tips to Make Your First Threesome More Successful.”
They go on to say that a first threesome should be held with a third person who is experienced—what they call sexually social. While I agree that experience is very helpful, based on what I’ve seen and experienced, it really helps to make the situation lighthearted and enjoyable. This is NOT a test of sexual prowess or skill. Because, at the core, swinging isn’t about the sex—it’s about enhancing the relationship a couple has by adding a variety of amazing intimate experiences to it.
I’m also not fond of their online site recommendations to find a third person for a threesome. SDC tends to be for the “beautiful” people—at least in my community—which has more than a million of people living in it. AFF (Adult Friend Finder) members don’t all necessarily understand or embrace the mindset of swinging (as compared to wife swapping behavior). And Kasidie includes other sorts of fetishes like BDSM, kink, and the like—which may be too much for first-timers.
The reason I prefer Swing Lifestyle is that people of all looks, sizes, and ethnicities are members. (Disclosure: I do not sell memberships on behalf of the organization.) Many are professionals in their communities. People you interface with every single day. And most understand the mindset and rules behind swinging. One of which Dan and Jennifer also neglected to mention in their 5 Tips video: No means no. Period. End of story.
I’ll stop here. If you have the chance to watch one or both of the videos, please feel free to add to the conversation. I’d love to hear your comments.
Yes!! I Passed the Interview!
Posted by: | CommentsB4 answered the door in a midnight blue button-down shirt and light-colored slacks. My sense is that he’s in his mid-50s. I’ve never been good though, at assessing someone’s age.
We immediately received a tour of the house. I counted at least three bedrooms; there may have been more. I 
wasn’t paying all that much attention. My eyes were fixated on the gigantic family room. Even with two sets of king-size mattresses in it, there was plenty of room for an entire set of large leather furniture, with room to spare.
Beer in hand, Tank and I joined B4 at the kitchen table. Having never been interviewed for a gang bang, I wasn’t sure what to expect. What I did know is that I didn’t fit the “mold” of the typical women that B4 sought out for these situations. I wasn’t a college girl—not even close to being in my 20s. And I definitely don’t weigh 120 pounds nor do I come close to being 5 foot 6 inches or taller in height—unless I have on my fuck me shoes.
“What’s the most men you’ve been with at once?”
“I did five last Saturday evening for a couple hours.”
“How many men would you like? I was thinking eight.”
“That sounds good to me. I like that it’s the symbol of infinity.”
“But that means I’ll need to invite at least 12. And 10 may show up.”
“I don’t see that as a problem. As long as Tank is included.”
“Yep. He’s in the count. Are you open to anal?
“As long as someone doesn’t try to stick a 10-inch cock up my ass. And they use lube.”
“We have lots of lube here. Do you do dp?”
“I haven’t yet but I’m very open to it. And I have my own lube.”
“What type of men do you want?”
“I like younger men. Guys my age and older just don’t seem to fit as well with me.”
“What about black guys?”
“Sounds great to me! I like BBC’s.”
That’s when Tank jumped in. “Actually, she likes BC’s—big cocks—white, red, brown, black, green—it don’t matter! And if we’re talking BBC’s, the B stands for brainy—she like ‘em smart.” I laughed and gave him a kiss on the cheek. My man knows me well.
The questions went on for about 45 minutes. And I had a few of my own.
“How long does the evening last?”
“We usually start around 7. It can last as long as you’d like.”
“What type of men will be here?”
“Well, they’re all bi. Are you OK with guy-on-guy behavior? Some oral and some anal?”
“Absolutely. I’d like everybody to have a good time. How does the evening usually start out?”
“Any way you’d like. Some ladies like to start playing right away. Others like to chat and get to know the guys for 30 minutes or so. Are you available the first Tuesday in May?”
“Yes. In fact, I just had a business trip cancel for that day. Does it work for you, Tank?”
“It sure does, baby.”
“Good. Let’s plan for that night.”
By the time we’d finished up our conversation, B4 had identified several men to invite. Tank knew them all. Even though Tank isn’t bi (he calls himself a “pleaser”), I knew he’d joined in the fun on several occasions. Just not recently, which made me curious. But I knew better than to inquire.
B4 shook my hand as we left. It was all very business-like.
Tank led me to my car and gave me a kiss as he opened the door and motioned me inside. “Drive safe, baby. And call me in a few minutes so I can talk you home. I want to know what you’d like to have happen in a few weeks.”
As I drove off, I couldn’t help but wonder: “What does one wear to a gang bang? Then it dawned on me. “Holy shit. How do I prepare for an evening of being fucked by eight men?” I’d felt intermittent pain for over a week when there’d only been five. That’s how I learned through a Google search that Preparation H wipes can be used as a vaginal compress. “Would Tank be picking me up and taking me there and home? Or would I be left to do this on my own because his daughter would be at his house? What would he like his role to be? Did he want to orchestrate like the other night or would he expect me to direct traffic? And, what did I REALLY want?”
Stay tuned for more . . .
Oh, What a Night
Posted by: | CommentsI’d been to this party once before. With a girlfriend. But this evening, I was with Tank.
The last time, it took about an hour for the party to start rolling. At least the sort of party I like. A few women, lots of BBC’s. All in the same room.
I’d no idea what to expect with Tank along side me. When we arrived, there were very few people present. A shock. Since things were scheduled to begin 90 minutes earlier.
My girlfriend was there already. With another couple who’d brought along a young single guy. So we chatted with them. And others. And still more after that. Ho hum.
I must say that the best line of the evening came from a dominatrix who was dressed in multiple layers of non-descript bedroom clothing for the evening’s lingerie atmosphere. She was with her poly partner—his number two. Tank asked her what always turned her on—after she’d mentioned flogging a man until he couldn’t speak the other day. Her reply?
“A man in pinstripes will always bring me to my knees”
The next thing you know, a man standing next to her revealed his pinstriped boxers. Her eyes rolled back into her head. I howled. And she went to town.
To pass the time, Tank had taken to giving out medical advice to the women with large chests and poor posture—and smoking cigarettes outdoors even though he’d gone cold turkey a year ago. We even had time to polish off two bottles of wine. One glass for me; three glasses for him. That was after drinking a tall glass of top-shelf tequila at his house. Every once in a while, I’d go find him just to make sure he was still alive.
One hundred and fifty-three minutes after arriving, I gave up.
“Tank, it’s time to go.”
“What’s wrong baby? Not having a good time?”
“NO.”
“Are there any guys here that you like?”
“Yes.”
“Have talked to them?”
“YES.”
“And what happened?”
“They don’t seem to be interested.”
“Well, then, why don’t we get our things . . . and I’ll take you back to my house.”
“We can’t. The door is closed.”
While the general rule at a house party is for the door to the master bedroom to remain open at all times, it had been closed for a long while. Even I had no idea who was in the room and there weren’t any noises emanating from it. But rules are rules—and a locked door means no entry.
Tank and I sat on the sofa. He held me close. And I sighed 50 times, if not a hundred, during the next several minutes. Finally, the door popped open. And a young well-hung black man went in search of a bottle of water.
A line of us entered the room, all for the same reason: to get our belongings from the master bedroom closet. As I began to exit the darkened room, I made eye contact with the single man who the couple had brought with them. We’d chatted a bit early on.
“Are you leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“No one seems to want to play with me.”
“Huh. I believe we do.”
As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, I noticed a tall, lithe woman on her tummy sucking a black guy’s cock on the bed. And two more BBC’s next to him, one of whom I’d played with at a cuckold party a few months earlier. I heard:
“It’s your turn.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Right outside the bedroom, I put down my coat and supply bag and motioned “come here” to Tank with my right pointer finger. As soon as we entered the bedroom, someone closed the door.
“Baby, I forgot to tell you that I told these guys about you when I was outside.”
“You what?”
“Get down on your knees baby. At the foot of the bed. I believe there’s a guy wanting to fuck you from behind. And look. Two more for you to suck. Now remember, you need to give your attention to all of them.”
Tank gave me a kiss on the cheek, exposed my breasts from the Night Magic Babydoll I was wearing and sat down with his back against the headboard so he could observe my face.
Including Tank, there were five men. Oh la la. I was in heaven.
It didn’t take longer than five minutes for one guy to come in my mouth. Tank’s been giving me advanced lessons. LOL
It was all a blur. Except the squirting. I remember the first time it happened that evening. I didn’t know who did it until I turned my head to the right and saw that Tank was behind the other woman, licking her pussy with his fingers inside her. And then it happened twice again in succession. By this time, I knew my screams were waking up the neighbors.
And then there was the texting. Yes, texting. The guy from the cuckhold party had me sucking his nine-inch thick dick while he laid on his back, texting someone from his iPhone. I couldn’t contain myself. I screamed at him.
“Hey asshole. You’re supposed to be giving me your attention. What the fuck is this?”
There wasn’t one person in that room who wasn’t laughing so hard they could pee right there. My observation made them even more hell-bent on screwing the heck outta me. Which of course, pleased them—and me—even more.
More than 120 minutes later, I heard someone say, “Get her some water. Man, she’s gotta be dehydrated.” I turned over on my back for the first time and noticed the bed was soaking wet. So was the front of my babydoll.
I stumbled out of the room, bottle of water in hand. “Shit. All the bathrooms are in use.” I waited ten minutes just to get one to clean myself up. That’s when I learned I’d been fucked really hard by hand and by cock.
Tank was ready with my coat when I finally emerged.
“Are you ready to go home now, baby?”
“Uh huh.”
“Have you thanked the boys you were with tonight?”
“Yes, I gave them all a kiss goodnight.”
And with that, I laid my head against his chest as he zippered my coat and off we went. Back to his house. To replay the night’s experience. Again. And again. And again.
Putting My Best Foot Forward
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The other morning, Tank and I awakened in our usual position: pretzeled together. It’s one of the things I love most about our intermittent sleep time. In some way, shape or form, our bodies are always intertwined. Which, of course, makes it easy for him to glide his cock into me. From the front. From the back. From the side.
This particular time, I found myself in my favorite position on top of him, enjoying the grinding movements that were occurring beneath me. When, out of the blue, I heard:
“Oh, I forgot to ask you. How many guys did you fuck this week?
“Uhmmm . . . only you.”
“Babe, with all these guys emailing you, you need to get more sex. I don’t always have four hours to please you.”
It’d become our inside joke. Based on the average length of my group play at parties. I smiled. He’d been paying attention.
A few days later, Tank texted me.
“U available to meet B4 on Tuesday?”
“Yep. What did u have in mind?”
“Checking on possibility of gb. Always have to meet B4 first. He knows the group well and what they like.”
“Sounds cool to me. Best if he gets to know me. LOL”
“That was my thought. I will get it set up for Tuesday at 6, OK?”
“Perfect. I’ll need a break from writing. Are we meeting him somewhere?”
“At his new pad.”
As we ended our conversation, I had only one thought. “What do I wear to be interviewed by the man who’ll be making a decision on whether I qualify for a gang bang by his group of merry men?
Surprise, Surprise
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What to pack . . . what to pack. Boston Boy had his fetishes. Thigh high nylons. Spiked heels. A bustier. Such traditional lingerie. I preferred more unique items, like the low cut, form-fitting easy-on, easy-off dresses that I’d been purchasing for my sex club outings with Maestro. And that’s exactly what went into my bag. Along with a pair of five-inch high sandals that showed off my legs and my beautifully manicured toes—and my anal vibrating beads.
We’d met through JDate and had been chatting on-and-off for almost half a year. Things heated up when he’d learned I’d embraced swinging.
I want to walk into your hotel room. Shut the door behind me. Push you in the corner. Drop to my knees and start to lick and suck on you. Hands roaming between your legs. Feeling your clit swell in my hands and I’ll get hard feeling you get wet. I want to finger you like crazy. Have you tasted yourself?
Mmmm. Yes. I taste good.
Then I’ll tell you how hot and wet you are and how dirty it is that our first meeting is like this. But it’s a major turn on.
That I’m a bad girl?
Yes. Very bad and naughty. Totally bad.
So if I’m naughty, what does that mean????
That I’m naughty as well and it’s a major turn on. I just want to make you moan and go crazy.
So what happens to naughty girls?
They get to play with naughty boys unless you want me to take you over my knee. Do you like watching a man cum?
Absolutely.
Good. Where would you want me to cum? Tear off the condom and spray it all over you?
I’d love to cum in your mouth. Then kiss you. We can snowball. But I do want my cock in your ass at some point. Ohhhh my cock feels so good right now. I want to see how you react when my cock slowly enters you for the first time.
I got stuck in Cleveland of all places on my way to Boston. Unexpected snowstorm. With high winds. So I texted Boston Boy to tell him I’d been delayed and got an immediate response.
Something’s come up.
What do you mean?
I got an assignment yesterday. Need to be in Chicago on Tuesday.
Are you serious?
Yes. Need a rain check.
Poof. Just like that, I was now batting 0-7. Damn.
Welcome to Randi Buckmen's adventures in intimacy—beyond the world of sex. Hear how I’m embracing the possibilities of what can be while remaining a “good girl” in the public’s eye. How did I go from being celibate for three years—and wearing flannel pj's to bed with socks when I was married—to where I am today?
