Archive for expectations
A Man of His Word
Posted by: | CommentsOne day, a few weeks after this all started, I found myself at his house, washing his cherry red Porsche. And then his conventional white car for work. And finally, my grey Honda truck.
I’d been silent for most of the hour we’d been together. Finally, I couldn’t contain myself.
“Tank, do you think you’ll ever kiss me passionately again? I miss those kisses.”
His response was immediate—and firm. “If you have to ask, you don’t deserve to be kissed like that.”
My response was visceral. I could feel the sting of his words in every cell in my body. As I wondered what I’d have to do to be deserving of such kisses again, a single tear scrolled down my left cheek. A few minutes later, I walked in the house, got my things and quietly left—without a hug or a peck on the cheek.
Is This All There Is?
Posted by: | Comments“What do you want to do, Randi? Do you want to go upstairs and freshen up or do you want to go sit out on the boat dock?”“The boat dock? Was he crazy?” The heat was still oppressive outside, even at 7 in the evening. “I’ll go upstairs.”
“I ran. Into the master bathroom. Man, I looked a mess. Mascara all over my face. My eyes redder than they were when I’d arrived an hour earlier. “Where’s a towel?” I soaked it in cold water and applied it to my face as a compress.
I heard her voice. Isabel was always gracious—and flirtatious—when she interacted with Tank. We’d met her a few weeks earlier With her partner. He’d contacted me online, wanting to learn more about me. I quickly set the record straight that I had a swing partner and wasn’t interested in playing alone. Much to my surprise, he said he had a partner, too.
She asked to chat with me by phone before the four of us met. I thought I’d met a kindred spirit: a jewish woman, a year older than me. Fairly new to the lifestyle with a kink for spanking, not during sex, but beforehand as a stimulant. She’d been the BDSM route and pulled back a bit in favor of swinging.
It was a Friday evening when we all had dinner together at a brewery. The three of them did most of the talking; I chose to sit back and observe the interactions. This was the first meeting with a couple where Tank and I agreed all we’d do is meet—no play.
We met a second time at a meet-and-greet the following Saturday night. She was all over Tank like a wet noodle. And he was into her in a big way. She was getting the sorts of passion kisses I hadn’t had from him in a while. But that’s the life of a swinger—especially when you’re a single. Sometimes your partner is more turned on by newness than by familiarity and what he can have on a regular basis.
Isabel had shown up at his house this evening for a posture assessment. Her body had been wracked with pain for years—sciatica she said—and Tank felt differently—and had offered to see her professionally for free. She’d been without work a long while and had just started a new sales position.
Once I put myself together, I quietly walked down the stairs and sat on the fourth one from the bottom. I watched through the step railings as Tank had her position her body in various ways so he could assess her pain and her multiple problems. She finally saw me.
“You okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
“You don’t look well.”
“I know.”
“We have to get together and play soon—the four of us. I’m sooooo looking forward to it.”
Like I didn’t know. She’d been calling me almost daily to say how much she was looking forward to that opportunity. I remember one day in particular when she called to gush about Tank for 45 minutes. And then called back five minutes later to say how sorry she was not to have mentioned her interest in both of us as a couple.
Before she left, she pulled out her calendar and rattled off dates that she and her partner had available to meet with us. Tank had told her at the meet-and-greet he thought it’d be fun to spend the whole night together as a foursome and have breakfast together in the morning. He agreed to a date a few weekends later. I kept quiet.
After she left, he walked me over to the kitchen table and turned two chairs to face each other. I sat down. So did he. And he held my hands in his. We sat quiet for a few minutes.
“I’m not going to see you any more if you decide to no longer continue our relationship.”
“Well, that’s the problem, Randi. It’s a relationship. That’s now how things got started. You were seeking another swing partner to add to the mix and then things changed. Although I am jealous that you know how you feel.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be. It’s painful to love somebody who doesn’t love you back. I’ve known that for a long time. That’s why I never told you how I felt. Was it ever good?”
“It was great in Palm Springs. Everything was moving along great. Then things changed. I had to focus my attention on my daughter because of what happened on our trip (side note: she’d decided to act out at home and Tank pulled in all the reins on her when he got home). And you wanted more time with me—and I didn’t have it. There were birthdays and high school graduations.”
“But you never asked me out.”
“You never gave me a chance, Randi. Every week you were telling me about a party or who’d written to you to play with us. There was never time for me to ask you out.”
“But you told me to orchestrate everything. I was just doing what you told me to do. And now you’re telling me what I’ve done hasn’t been working. What do you want? You need to tell me. Otherwise, I won’t know what to do.”
“I want us to take a break from swinging. For at least a month.”
“What about us? Do you want a break from us too? I told you a long time ago that if ‘we’ don’t find ourselves going forward as a couple, I will disappear. I don’t think I could be your friend given how I feel about you. It would be too hard for me emotionally.” (But truth be told, I didn’t fully understand why this was so important to me. I just knew it was.)
“I want to see you. But I want us to stop having sex. It’s too much. I need to figure out how I feel about you. Without the physical stuff.”
“So what are you saying? You want to press the reset button? What do we call ourselves?”
“Well, I’m not planning to see anyone else so I would be dating you exclusively. So I guess you’d be my girlfriend. Does that work for you?”
“Yes, only we also need to talk about the rules. What I can and can’t do. I’m not going to call you anymore. If you want to see me, you’ll need to call me. And we need to recalibrate regularly so we know if things are going okay. The airline ticket I gave you for the end of September. It’s yours no matter what. I just need to know if you plan on using it with me. I got us a hotel room and things would change for the bat mitzvah we are to attend if you don’t come with me.”
“I need space, Randi. And I need to make sure that my brain, my heart and my physical reactions match. Right now, this (he pointed to his head) isn’t connecting with you.”
I was devastated. He knew how much I prized an intellectual—a brain connection. I felt like a dagger had pierced my heart.
“I understand. But there’s more. God told me to ask you why you’re sabotaging this relationship. Every time things get good, you back away. And your daughter—there are ways you interact with her that are more like interacting with a significant other than a daughter. Sometimes you talk baby talk to her and she pulls hairs out of your back. Those are more intimate acts. I know the two of you have been alone a long time, but I need you to reflect on these things.”
“I need to think about this. You’re telling me things I haven’t thought about.”
I left Tank’s home that evening, not knowing exactly when I’d hear from him again. Whatever lesson I needed to learn had been set in motion.
Oh Me, Oh My
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Last night, as I was shutting down for the evening and contemplating tonight’s activities, Tank called me.
“Hey Babe, I just got a text from B4 about the guys.”
“And ???”
“Well, you know how we agreed on eight to ten? And how B4 has to invite more than that to get that sorta turnout?”
“Yesssss . . .”
“Uhmmm. Usually 60 percent of the guys commit to showing up. In your situation, 90 percent of them plan to attend. Sooooo, that means there’ll be 13 guys, 15 if you include me and B4. Are you OK with that?”
I couldn’t stop laughing. Ninety percent? What the hell had B4 told them about me? Looks like I’ll need to take a long nap this afternoon. I wouldn’t want to disappoint them!
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.
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?
