Archive for The Lifestyle
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.
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.
The Little Engine That Couldn’t
Posted by: | CommentsShe left her wristwatch at my house. I waited a couple days to see if she’d contact me. Not about it per se. But to thank me for hosting her and her husband for dinner and play. Only, she never sent a note. Which saddened me. I’m a stickler for common courtesies.
So, I wrote her and said I had it. It took two weeks of e-mails back-and-forth for us to find a day and time to meet. She suggested doing so at a grocery store in the middle of the day. 12 noon to be exact. A grocery store? I was speechless. What was I missing?
Perhaps I should go back to the beginning.
A few weeks ago, Tank and I went to a swinger’s meet-and-greet a mile from my home at a locally-owned restaurant. I’ll bet at least 150 people were there—identifiable by the multi-colored beads that they’d been given when they checked in. Dancing outdoors under the stars. Eyeing each other as though they were at a high school dance.
I’m sooooo into Tank that I’ve little desire to flirt when he’s around. Plus, when left to my own devices, I tend to be a shy person. Midway through the evening he left me on my own for a while to get us some drinks. But first, he’d given me an assignment.
“Baby, I want you to approach a guy. Any guy. And flirt with him. I’ll find you.”
The first man I approached barely spoke three words to me. That corked me. He’d just demonstrated while I’ll have work forever, teaching people how to schmooze. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a married man laughing at what he’d witnessed. Not being one to miss an opportunity I approached him.
“I don’t think he’s all that interested in me. Or anyone else who’s here for that matter.”
“Well, then, his loss is my gain. Why don’t you have a seat and chat with me. My wife is off somewhere. I’m sure she’ll return soon.”
And she did. Followed soon by Tank. Both of them were bearing drinks. The four of us hit it off immediately. And much to our surprise, when Tank and I returned to my house and viewed their profile, we realized they were seeking a couple exactly like us.
“Randi, I’d really love for us to be with a couple.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m just more into groups—you know, a few of my girlfriends and lots of black men with large cocks.”
“I know, babe. But I think you’ll really like the intimacy of being with one couple even though they’re new to the lifestyle.” Whaddha think?”
Trusting Tank implicitly, I invited them to dinner at my home two weeks later. They quickly accepted. But, I must admit, I harbored a bit of a concern about the wife. She seemed more reserved that her husband. While she didn’t flinch when her husband kissed me with his tongue at the meet-and-greet, she hadn’t responded outwardly to Tank’s warmth, which is infectious.
I spent several hours the two days before they arrived getting ready for the evening. Arranged to get my full Brazilian wax done early. I love being soft and clean. Went to three grocery stores for fresh flowers and the perfect ingredients for our meal. Made sure the house was clean. Made dinner from scratch with several chocolate dessert selections. And selected what I considered to be just the perfect music.
The dinner conversation was delightful. That’s when we learned that the wife had grown up a very good girl, the perfect daughter, just like me. No dates in high school. No real sexual adventures till she’d met her husband.
We had a blast playing Twister. My idea. I’d been trying to figure out a way to get us all into contorted physical positions so we could have a few laughs. And sure enough, leave it to Tank to cause me to tumble in a fashion that put my ass with its pretty little dark blue and magenta flowered thong in the air and my black skirt around my breasts.
The agreement was that the losers would shed clothing. But instead, I saw the wife take off her top and her husband his shirt. “Hmmm. Maybe I’d figured wrong about her.”
After a second round, of which we lost again (you’d think we’d be winning given that Tank is a rock climber and can easily contort himself into multiple positions), the wife took off her skirt and her husband his pants.
And, as only Tank can do, he gently asked a few questions of the wife.
“What do you like?”
She looked away from him and her husband—and didn’t respond.
“You must like something that you husband does to you.”
Her husband piped up, “Can I respond for her?”
“Actually, I’d like to hear from your wife. In her words.”
(Whispering) “Uhmmm. I don’t know.”
“Well, what does her husband like? You’ve been married for 16 years and have a couple kids so I’m thinkin’ you know him well.”
(Laughing softly) “Yeah …”
I couldn’t contain myself. I spoke up. “Can I tell them what I think you like with me?
“Sure.”
“You like anything I do that allows me to look in your eyes at the same time I doin’ I to ya.”
The husband looked at me. “And how long have you two known each other?”
“Three months. But we talk about sex all the time.”
Her husband came over an gave me a wet kiss. “Any chance we could go to the sofa?”
“How about we go upstairs, to my room?”
I led the pack. Shedding my top and skirt along the way. With the wife behind me. I know how much men love to look at women’s asses.
Tank opened the sliding door to my balcony and led me outdoors. “Let’s give them a moment to play with each other and get comfortable.” A few minutes later, we walked back in.
The husband immediately shifted his attention from his wife to me. He sat on the bed, with me in front of him, and undid my bra. He fondled and kissed my breasts, taking each in his mouth. And then put his right hand behind my neck and pulled me down for a kiss. I started massaging his cock and got on my knees to take off his jockey shorts to get a better look at his uncircumsized cock. And positioned it inside my mouth.
By this time, Tank was kissing the wife and was caressing her body, His hands are amazing. They can soften me in a moment. But she seemed a little stiff.
After ten minutes of quietness in the room, I made eye contact with Tank. He immediately came over, put me doggy style on the bed, and proceeded to fuck me from behind. I squealed. And yelped. Loudly. Enough to alert anyone who was listening to my enjoyment.
Then Tank stopped. And turned me back over to the husband. As he went back to the wife.
For the next hour, I was miserable. The husband tried to give me oral. But it was clear he didn’t know where my clit was located or that it was something he needed to stimulate. I whispered lessons to him.
“Stimulate my clit. Here’s where it’s located. You can suck it, pull on it, tease it, lick it. Want me to show you how I masturbate?”
While he seemed eager to learn, his sexual prowess was at a first grade level, at best. I was mortified, I hadn’t signed up for a shitty evening. He was behaving like the little engine that couldn’t.
It was easy to get him off orally. And to sound like I was enjoying myself. For many of my adult years, I’d learned to fake enjoyment. But no sounds out of the wife. And I’d noticed that every time Tank got close to making her come orally, her body froze. Like she didn’t want to come. Or, wasn’t all that familiar with the sensation.
All through this experience, her husband kept baiting me.
“Touch my wife. She likes it.”
“No. she hasn’t asked me to. Nor has she reached out to me.”
“But she won’t do that. I know she likes it though, Kiss her, OK?”
“NO. She has to appear receptive. And she doesn’t right now. She’s in charge, not you.
“Oh, come on. Just for me. Won’t you do it?”
“I will not. She needs to want it. And she doesn’t seem to right now.” By this time, Tank had heard me. I’d propped myself up on my left elbow.
“You look so content, baby.”
I smiled. Content? CONTENT? I was bored out of my mind!! All I could think of was “get me outta here. NOW!”
After what seemed like forever, things came to a close. The husband and wife got dressed and Tank escorted them to their car. I finished cleaning up from dinner. When he walked back in, her gave me a long hug.
“Babe, how ya doin’? You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”
“You really want to know?”
“Yes. I do.”
“It was horrible. Awful. The guy didn’t even know where my clit was or how to stimulate it. You’d think he’d never had sex before. Geez. What do you think their sex life is like?”
“Good question. The wife wasn’t all that responsive either. Every time I’d get her close to cumming, she’d push me away. I’m not sure what’s going on with them. But it’s like I promised you, baby. If you didn’t get fucked well, I’m here for you. What do you need?”
And that’s when I saw the watch.
Tank and I had one helluva fuck session that night. One for the memory books. It was hard and long—and delicious.
The wife was at the checkout counter when I arrived at noon. I asked, “Do you have a few minutes to chat and catch up?” She acknowledged that she did.
She was all talk when it came to describing the prior weekend’s out-of-town activities with her husband, children, and her husband’s niece. They’d attended her son’s soccer tournament and toured a museum. Drank a lot of booze. I learned that even though they were new to the lifestyle that her husband wanted them to play with others every Friday and Saturday evening. And that she wasn’t sure she had the energy to do so. Even though she was starting to feel a sense of addiction to the sex they were having with strangers.
I’d looked at their online profile before driving over that day. No one had “certified” their play with them so I suspected the experiences weren’t all that noteworthy to others.
I decided to relay to her in a comical way my unpleasant swing experiences with Maestro, in the hopes of letting her know that she was in charge, not her husband. (see About Last Night). She was quiet. It was hard to read her reactions through her dark sunglasses. Right before we parted ways, she softly said, “I think I have a lot more learning to do.” I chuckled inside, thinking to myself, “Honey, you and your hubby have a lot of learning AND talking to do. I hope to God you aren’t put in an uncomfortable situation any time soon.” But, having worked as a therapist in a former life, I’m very clear that I don’t own her challenges.
Tank and I are bound to see them again at another meet-in-greet that’ll take place in three weeks. Frankly, I’m not looking forward to it. Good thing my parents taught me how to be gracious and to put on my game face when honesty isn’t called for.
And, in case you’re wondering, I still trust Tank implicitly. I’ve no doubt we’ll find a couple or two who are just right for us.
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.
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?
