Archive for sex
7 Days and Counting . . .
Posted by: | CommentsThe evening will be underway before we arrive. I like this set-up. It means I can be a voyeur before I become a participant—or more like the center of attention.
I haven’t given a lot of thought to the evening, other than to schedule my spray tan for today and my waxing for Monday. I still need to decide what I’ll wear for those few moments when there’ll be clothes on my body. You have suggestions? I’ll take ‘em. I’ll probably walk the lingerie sections of the outlet mall on Friday night or Saturday.
Tank says he thinks I’m anxious. He says I’m being too heady about the whole situation. Most likely because I’ve asked him a bunch of questions, like:
“From your conversations with B4, who do you think will be there?”
“From what you’ve seen in the past, what do bi guys like from a woman?”
“How do other women usually act and behave?”
“How am I getting to and from the house?”
“Will I get to spend any time with you alone afterwards?”
“Can I see you before next Tuesday?”
I don’t feel anxious. More, I’m a person who likes to be prepared for anything that might show up in her path.
I love the anticipation. The thought of having so many men touching me, caressing me, bending me, fucking me, fondling me, eating me, biting me, sucking me, cuming on me. All while Tank watches and joins in.
I’m also bummed that Tank can’t spend the rest of the night with me alone so we can build upon the experience. Unfortunately, daily life is getting in the way. Having a teenager means being home when she goes to bed and wakes up in the morning.
On second thought, maybe I should call a girlfriend. Chances are high she’s walked in my shoes before. Wonder what wisdom she has to offer around what I’m about to experience.
Stayed tuned for more musings. Who knows how I’ll be feeling next Monday!
In the Name of Romance
Posted by: | Comments“I can see you between 6 and 9 tonight. Does that work for you? Didn’t know if it’s worth the drive.”
In the best of driving conditions, I’m about 40 minutes from Tank’s home. That’s when I drive 75-80mph. In rush hour traffic? It could take an hour or longer.
But I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to see him two nights in a row. He’d told me that I was on his “to do” list. As soon as I’d heard those words, I’d gotten wet. My mind raced to all the things he does do that drive me wild.
No more than thirty seconds after I entered his home he was guiding me up the stairs to his bedroom. Walking behind me of course. So he could study my ass. His favorite body part.
He quickly undressed me—something I absolutely love. Then, he had me lay on my tummy, spread eagle and proceeded to massage my back, then my ass, down to my legs and both of my feet. But he soon got distracted by my moans and proceeded to enter me from behind. It wasn’t long before I was arching my back and on my knees, enjoying the thrusts of his cock into my wet pussy.
An hour later, he mentioned the possibility of food and I went immediately dry. Huh, I hadn’t realized that hunger could trump my desire for sex. I knew in an instant he was filing that fact in his brain as well.
We didn’t move from the bed right away. While I don’t recall the beginning of our conversation or how we got onto this topic, what I do remember is this part.
“If you haven’t guessed, I’m not into romance. I’ve tried that before. Bought flowers every week for four years for one woman. That didn’t work. Another liked French fries. So I’d get them for her. That didn’t work either.”
“So, you’ll never try again? I like flowers.”
“Right. I don’t do the same thing twice if it doesn’t work the first time.”
“But I’m not those women.”
“I know. But I’ve brought you wine. And I think I brought you food one time too.”
“Yes, you’ve brought me some wonderful wines.”
“I’m thinkin’ of getting you a black guy once a month. In fact, I could probably re-gift the same guy a few months in a row and you wouldn’t mind. Whaddya think?”
I laughed out loud for several minutes. Now that my life had changed, there were new possibilities for romance that I’d never considered before. It was definitely worth the drive. The flowers can wait.
Want to weigh in on the conversation? I’d love to hear your thoughts. What do I do in the name of romance for Tank, other than the obvious?
Stickers, Hair Clips and an Unidentified Ransom
Posted by: | Comments“You left a pair of sandals. I’ll hold them for ransom.”
As I was driving to the airport at 5 o’clock this morning, my intuition kept badgering me about something I’d left behind at Tank’s home. I’d been careful to pack separate bags and suitcases—the one for Saturday night’s party containing my little black dress with a balloon skirt that I just love and my five inch spiked sandals from my last New Orleans trip, the one with my travel clothes and shoes for today and two large roller bags for my engagement in Philadelphia.
2.25 hours of sleep, even with a 90 minute nap after dinner last night had knocked me off kilter by a mere heartbeat. I know better than to deliberately leave anything at Tank’s home. Especially after he’d shared a story about a woman he slept with who left tons of items at his home after their first night together. He countered for their second and last date by going to the drugstore and buying five toothbrushes, various types of flowery deodorant and countless other products and leaving them out in full view for her to see—and not fucking her. I gotta hand it to him. She never showed up again, which was his intent.
Tank and I began our hanging out together time on Saturday by seeing the late morning matinee of “How to Train Your Dragon.” I found it to be a delightful flick—with a great message about how a young boy’s refusal to see the world through his father’s eyes sparked an innovation that ultimately saved the town in which he lived from future strife.
Then it was on to Costco for stuff. I love stuff. Heck. I love shopping. Doesn’t matter for what. It’s the looking part that seduces me.
Followed by a paddleboat ride that Tank is surely not to let me forget. You see—I’m uncoordinated. I can fall merely by walking in flat shoes on flat ground. Getting into the boat almost had me tipping it over. And getting out? Well. I tried a few times to do it first. But I couldn’t seem to stand up and hold the dock without moving the boat on direction or the other, which meant getting thrown back into my seat. I’m very fortunate that Tank is a patient man. Notwithstanding he chides me forever about moments like these. Which only finds me laughing along with him.
Then came a Greek meal for four that’ll get Tank through Monday (maybe J) and the nap, which I only take in dire circumstances. Which meant tonight we were going to an invite-only swing party—the one I’d invited Drew to originally, only he didn’t followed up with me about it.
What intrigued me about this gathering was that it was in a locale far from my home—so I sensed we’d meet people we’d not seen before. And I was right. Except for the two people that Tank recognized from work-related activities over the years (who didn’t recognize him) and the guy I’d communicated with prior to the New Year, we didn’t know anyone else in a group of about 80.
As soon as we entered, we were given an icebreaker activity—and stickers. Kiss a person. Get a sticker. Have sex in a public area of the home, get a sticker. Have sex with multiple people you don’t know, get lots of stickers—one from each of them. LOL
Of course, on the entry that said: Bare a breast, your ass, your pussy or your cock, Tank decided to pull up his shirt when a GILF (grandmother I’d love to fuck) did the same. The irony of the situation did not evade me. He also took quickly to the item that encouraged women to let others fondle their breasts. In fact, I think he gave up a majority of his stickers to the cause.
That’s my man!
I was more reserved. Observant. Atypical for me. But tonight it just was.
I didn’t feel the need to fuck or suck anyone but Tank. We’d started the afternoon with a bang. There’d been no men in my stream of consciousness worth fucking since our last soiree (see “Oh, What a Night”). That was a full two weeks earlier. Oh, what this guy can do with his tongue and lips on my clit and his fingers in my pussy. I’m left breathless here in Philly just thinking about it.
The game caused us to meet more people than we usually do. That’s when I discovered a lot of newbie’s were in our presence.
The phrase to remember came from a woman who lived in Toronto and had come to town with her hubby for a conference. Tank and I saw her attaching large hair clips to the V-neck on her shirt. So he inquired.
“What are those for?”
“A girl never knows when she might need to pull hair back.”
That made me wonder which hair and whose hair that might be.
I did meet a fellow who’s acted in a few porn flicks. A gorgeous hunk of a guy. What fascinated me is he’s very picky about who he plays with and how much he knows about them. A year or two ago, his doctor put the fear of God in him when she told him he could get STD’s through oral contact. Up until the time we left at 1:15 in the morning, he hadn’t played with anyone.
But we had fun. The Toronto couple joined us on the same bed for a while. Tank finger fucked me in the hot tub while a husband caressed me. I got to stroke his lovely cock while he was close by. And we joined the Toronto couple in another room as her husband slowly—and I mean slowly fucked her while she lay on her back and sucked down the entire dick of the guy I met over the holidays. That reminds me: I need to ask him how it felt.
You curious about the ransom? Me too. Tank hasn’t responded yet to my request. Lord only knows what he might have up his sleeve.
CNN, Are You Serious?
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I first read this article (“The Downside of ‘Friends with Benefits’”) the day it was published. The premise is that “friends with benefits” have more “concurrency” (several relationships at once) is speeding up the transmission of STD’s because they don’t protect themselves given they know each other. Evidently, people in romantic relationships tend towards monogamy and thus don’t have this issue.
Really? Huh. What’s wrong with this picture? Who made the assumption that people with multiple partners don’t use protection in their sexual relationships? Or that “friends” don’t talk about the subject? Or that romantic relationships imply monogamy?
When I was 26 years old and divorced from my first husband, I went to work in a hospital in the town in which I’d gotten my college education. One of my closest friends was a woman in Human Resources, Barbie, who interviewed me when I came to the organization. She was gorgeous: tall, perfectly proportioned no matter what she ate, dark brown shoulder-length hair long and thick eyelashes, and porcelain skin accentuated by a perfect smile. I idolized her.
Not only did we see each other at work, we exercised at the same gym four nights a week and went out together on Friday evenings for happy hour as part of a group of about ten women. One of those evenings she stumbled onto Jim. He projected as the perfect gentleman—and had a terrific job. They quickly fell in love and saw each other every moment they could. The rest of us loved him too. We all socialized together. What a gem of a guy.
Several months later, I sauntered to Barbie’s office—we had planned to go to lunch together that day to plan the upcoming weekend’s activities. Only I was told she was home ill. Ill? I’d just seen her the evening before and she seemed just fine. Something didn’t feel right. SO I took a chance and called her at home. Her ex husband, who I also knew—a really sweet guy—answered the phone.
“What are you doing at the house in the middle of the day?”
“I’m doing some laundry for Barbie.”
“Laundry?”
“Yeah. She needed some help.”
“What’s going on? What’s the matter with her?”
“Hold a sec. Let me see if she wants to talk with you.”
Barbie sounded fine when she got on the phone. Didn’t seem like she had a cold or the flu.
“Hi. I was worried about you. They said you were sick so I thought I’d call and see if there was anything I could do to help.”
“No. Nothing you can do.”
“You sure.”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“You ok?”
“No. Not really.”
“What’s going on, Barbie?”
“Jim and I broke up.”
“Over what?”
“He didn’t tell me he had herpes and now I have it too.”
“Oh my God.”
Only what she didn’t know was that the “oh my God” was not so much for her as it was for me. My mind immediately flew back to my activities two weekends earlier. Barbie had gone out of town for a conference. And Jim had called me, wanting to know if I’d like to play tennis. Having nothing else on my calendar, I immediately accepted. We played outside for hours. Afterwards, we went back to his condo for a beer. When I tried to get up to leave, my whole body ached something fierce. Jim had me lie on the floor on my tummy and proceeded to give me a slow, sensual, full body massage. Before you knew it, we were fucking our brains out in his bedroom. We went through a box of condoms. He had great endurance. The (unprotected) oral sex was also fantastic. Before I left, we both agreed not to say a word about what had happened.
And now, here I was, listening to Barbie tell me he has herpes. And that she did too. I panicked. I wondered if I did. Who would I see? In a hospital, words gets around, no matter which physician you saw or the Hippocratic Oath. Nothing stayed confidential.
As soon as I hung up the phone, I made an appointment at Planned Parenthood, the only place I knew I could go and spill my guts.
Twenty-five years later, I can still recall that phone conversation as though it happened yesterday. It left an indelible imprint on my mind. And a lesson that’s served me well through the years.
Suffice it to say, I don’t buy that people in romantic relationships are monogamous. All you have to do is look at the number of people on the Ashley Madison website where affairs are GUARANTEED. Or that the communication about sex and STD’s is heightened in these sorts of relationships. Nor do I buy that people in concurrency relationships—people like me—aren’t strict about the use of protection. Because we are.
But then again, that sort of story wouldn’t ever make the news.
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.
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?
