Swinging in Paradise: Desire Recap - Part 2

Wednesday was a tough day. I’d been pretty shaken by the previous night, but did my best to bounce back. I was also really sick by this point and had barely slept the entire trip (I get terrible insomnia when I travel). I had some sort of digestive bug before I’d even left home, and being in Mexico did NOT help matters. I was very excited about the events of the day -- pegging demo and flogging demo -- so I took a bunch of medicine and rallied to keep going.

After the pegging demo I stuck around to snuggle Cooper with Ophilia and Raina. Flick was off to the flogging demo and I was really torn--stick around to support and pleasure my friend or go watch something I really wanted to learn more about with Flick. I knew I’d feel guilty either choice, but I was snuggled and happy so chose to stay, and had a great time when snuggle time turned into three of us giving him a triple handjob. Although I did my best to fight it, my brain was constantly pinging that I was doing something wrong, and also that they might have wanted someone other than me to be there.  

As we wrapped up, I headed into the flogging demo and chatted about my distress with Flick, who off-handedly mentioned I hadn’t gotten to enjoy either thing. That hit me really hard and as I began to get emotional, all my insecurities of the week swept in coupled with frustration with the anxiety that ruins many experiences for me, and I had to race back to the room before the tears hit.

Flick came back to our room after the demo and found me crying my face off, we cuddled and chatted. He was having a lot of jealousy issues of his own, both about my connection with Will, and feeling insecure about how strong his feelings were for Peach, and his shyness getting in the way of putting himself forward with her.

We had dinner that night with a sexy, young couple we’d been spending a lot of casual time with but hadn’t had much of a chance to chat with in a more intimate setting. It was nice to focus on only two people, after having spent entirely too much of our day in our heads and emotional selves. We danced and socialized after dinner then headed to the hot tub.

That night Wes and I decided to split off from the crowd for some one on one time. We chatted for a couple hours lying on one of the beds nearby, both surprised with how quickly one could form an intense bond in the setting at Desire, and then segued into some extremely hot fucking. When I returned to the tub, wobble legged, I couldn’t see Flick. I looked around at all the various thrusting asses on nearby beds, but none of them belonged to him.

A little panicked I headed back to our room, worried that my disappearing for so long with Wes was an issue for my sweetie. Turns out, he wasn’t upset about my shenanigans but was feeling really lousy about his own lack of confidence. He’d been spending time chatting with Peach and a way more confident guy literally put himself bodily between Flick and Peach, and grabbed her attention away. This part of Flick always surprises me, since he’s so much more naturally social than me, I forget how shy he really is. We talked for ages, dazed and frustrated by what an emotional day it had been.

Thursday morning we met up with Mal and Peach and decided to get together for a foursome in the late morning. I love daytime sex! They’re such a sexy couple and we had an amazing time, though we had to cut things a little short to grab lunch before the Swingset and Gentle Perverts Social Club live podcast recordings. There’s a great moment in the live Swingset podcast when I shut down Dylan’s brain by taking off my top. For an attention whore, you wouldn’t have thought I’d blush bright red and try to slide under my seat when all eyes turned my way, but I really didn’t think anyone was looking at me when I had gotten overheated and removed a layer.

After the outstanding tassel twirling class that followed all the chatting, Flick showed off his wingman skills to kickstart a sexy date between me and the cute guy from dinner the night before. “Maybe you should show him our room.” “Um, would you like to see our room?” He did.

The sexy shenanigans continued that night when I had my first opportunity to act as unicorn. We’d been flirting for several days with a couple and the sexual tension was really building that evening as we all danced in the lobby bar. Flick wasn’t feeling up for a sexy date, but he kept working his wingman skills and encouraged the three of us to go have a great time.

Liana and Aiden were unlike any of the other couples we met. Their energy, although incredible and sexy, was also gentle and we had a wonderful, tender night full of firsts for all three of us. I learned, amongst other things, to tuck the straps of my harness into the waistband so they don’t tickle my partner’s feet. We went to join the fun and conversation in the hot tub afterwards as a lovely denouement to the evening.

I woke Friday morning, the final full day of the trip, to the sound of Flick clicking his phone’s home button. I’d had another terrible night’s sleep and was all bleary eyed as I rolled over. I caught glimpse of an image on his phone that I swore was Peach in a Life on the Swingset shirt, no bottoms, gazing all sexy at the camera.

I was devastated.

The previous day during the podcast, Cooper had mentioned a Swingsetter sending such a photo to the podcast, and I was sure he was talking about me. When I glimpsed the photo, I realized he might not have been talking about me. Maybe I was only one of many women who’d done so. I’d considered putting my hand up during the podcast to take ownership of the act, and as I thought about it, I had this visceral experience of the humiliating feeling of what it would have been like if I’d been all, ‘that was me’ and Copper had said, ‘oh yeah, I forgot that you did that too.’ I staggered to the washroom and sat weeping on the toilet for about 10 minutes with a washcloth over my mouth so Flick wouldn’t hear.

When I got myself together, I went back into the bedroom and asked Flick to see the photo of Peach.

“What photo?” he asked.

I was furious! “The photo of Peach in the Swingset shirt! The one you were looking at when you woke me up.”

“Uh, that was a photo of Star in a Janus Cat shirt.” He pulled up photo and showed me the photo of his paramour from home.

My brain is such an asshole. They don’t even look alike. There was no reason to believe she wasn’t wearing pants. I’d just tortured myself for about a quarter of an hour, felt so upset I thought I might puke, and it wasn’t even real. Fuck.

I was in such rough shape that day I could barely eat, but it was our last day, dammit! Took a bunch of ginger, choked down a protein bar, and snuggled with Flick on the beach bed. We went for a sail with Mal, and the sea breeze felt wonderful. I sat in on the Ending the Sexual Darkage podcast while Flick grabbed lunch. I hadn’t spent nearly as much time as I’d expected to exploring the kinky events during the week, so it was awesome to peek in on that crew and hear some of their stories.

I caught up with Will after the podcast and he invited me back to his room while he checked-in to his flight. We chatted as he did his thing online, talked about a bunch of our experiences during the week, and the various feelings that had been cropping up. Elle popped in to grab gear for the foam party, but he and I decided to stay in. I ended up going back to my room to grab a bottle of massage oil and gave him a massage, then the naked cuddling led to a blow job, and a gentle fuck, since I felt too ill for anything more vigorous.

It was a great way to solidify our connection at the end of the trip, since it had been a couple days since we’d had any one on one time, and I’d finally figured out how essential that is for me to feel secure with a partner. At home I date solo almost exclusively, and all the group sex, though amazing(!!!) is a completely different experience, and I’d been feeling pretty insecure (evidenced by crazytown beginning of that morning).

When we felt up to moving again we grabbed a bite of lunch (food finally seemed like a good plan instead of punishment) and going to the wine social before parting ways for the rest of the day. Feeling more secure, I was almost a person again. I’d survived the worst of the Desire crucible!

Coming up in Part 3 (final part) - More Friday sexytimes, Slave Leia gets funky, and saying goodbye to paradise.

Swinging In Paradise: Desire Recap

Ah, Swingset Takes Desire.  It’s so hard to articulate what an experience it was, even after being home for over a month. I remember reading about last year’s trip before signing on for this year, and thinking it couldn’t really be the life-changing experience people touted it as being. I read the #ssdesire hashtag on Twitter and saw all the people who didn’t want to cut off their wristbands from the resort. ‘It’s just a vacation,’ I thought to myself. ‘Get over it.’

I was that person this year. At the risk of sounding like a shill for the company brand (and I should clarify that I paid the full cost for the vacation myself, not paid/discounted by either Swingset or Desire Resort and Spa), I have to say it’s not just a vacation. It is a life-changing experience.

We’re going again next year.

That is almost entirely due to the people we met. Swingsetters are something special. I had no idea I would be returning home with so many amazing new friends, and some connections that go well into crush/new relationship territory. Until this trip, we’d been poly in theory. Coming out of it, we’re ready to take more steps forward into that relationship style.

There’s really too much to put in a single post, so I’ll focus on a recap of the highlights of the trip. There was so much more learning about myself and Flick, about our relationship, and about our relationships with other partners than I would have ever imagined from a fuckation. But for now, let’s look at all the awesome.

We got in around 10pm the first night, which was tough because we missed all the first night festivities--welcome party, prize giveaways etc. We had a solo, quiet shuttle ride from the airport and I found myself kind of embarrassed to be going to such a place. ‘He knows we’re perverts,’ was the refrain in my head as we got closer and closer to the resort. Once we arrived, we didn’t care anymore. Our wonderful, sexy friends were waiting for us in the restaurant, and we felt extremely special as the concierge personally escorted us to the restaurant to meet them. After a quick kiss and cuddle, we scarfed some dinner before the restaurant closed, dumped our bags in our room, took a few deep breaths, and headed to the hot tub.

I felt a little self-conscious getting nude for the first time, but I saw naked bodies all around me, in all shapes and sizes. I took another deep breath, dropped my wrap, shoved it in a cubby, and headed to the tub, pretending it was the most normal thing in the world to be doing.  I floated over to a group of people and was soon wrapped in the arms of my sexy friend Will, getting introduced around, and making out like crazy because he and I hadn’t seen each other in months.

Flick and I had planned to just go visit for a little while in the tub--we’d been travelling for more than 12 hours on 2 hours sleep--but as soon as Will suggested he and I go play together on one of the nearby beds, I was suddenly energized. I checked in with Flick, who wished us well. There is often talk in hokey romance novels of the world disappearing when lovers kiss, but I have to say, the noise and music of the hot tub area simply vanished while Will and I were getting our sexy on, and it was a bit of a shock to notice it all again when we came up for air.

Will and I returned to the tub for a while and joined in conversations where I got to meet people I’d chatted with in the pre-Desire chats and had perved their pics on Kasidie.com. Several people didn’t recognize me until I introduced myself, which was a good reminder to do so instead of just smiling at people and wondering why they hadn’t said hi.  Still unable to keep our hands off one another, soon enough Will and I needed to return to the beds next to the hot tubs for another round, before more hot tub time and conversation.  Much later than expected, Flick and I headed to our room and slept deservedly well.

We spent the next morning lounging on a beach bed and connected with Peach and Mal, a couple we’d chatted with on Kasidie and were really looking forward to getting to know better. They were super sexy and super geeky, our favourite combination. Will also came by and before we knew it, Will had fetched Elle and the six of us were headed back to Peach and Mal’s room for our first ever orgy. Wheeee! This trip was off to a good start!

The day was full of conversation, sexy and otherwise, laughter, flirting, kissing, frolicking in the ocean, dancing, hot tub. I’d never spent this much time naked in front of people and most of the time, it felt effortless. I had a weird thing where I felt the need to wear clothing, even a fairly sheer wrap, as I went from place to place in the resort, but was fine being naked once I was settled somewhere. Brains are weird.

The next day was more of the same, beach bed, flirting, ocean, kissing, dancing, and a fun group dinner. I’d found my groove. It was so effortless and comfortable to be there. That night I got fingered on the edge of the hot tub by Wes and Will until I overheard people sitting below discussing their fear of getting ‘Gallaghered’ by my ejaculate. Turns out, it is challenging to come back to an orgasm while laughing hysterically at the visual of having to hand out plastic garbage bags to all nearby spectators.  

Flick and I partook in our second ever orgy and I had the pleasure of having the njoy eleven expertly wielded upon my person by Will, while surrounded by Flick, Elle, Wes, and Raina. 4 extra sets of eyes belonging to incredible, sexy people heightening every sensation, and after I’d orgasmed out, we broke into many delightful configurations, ending with me fingering Will to orgasm as the others surrounded, stroked, and sucked him. A perfect bookend to the beginning of the proceedings.

There was a foam party in the pool the next day, which was simultaneously the best and worst time ever. The resort was having trouble with the foam cannon, and must have kept adding more and more detergent because when it finally worked, the foam was thick, toxic, and burning on the eyes. It also created foam so tall that there was a risk of drowning or suffocation. We solved the problem (somewhat) with much ridiculous bouncing, and best-thing-ever three-way makeout sessions that created perfect pockets of air that felt happy and safe until you broke away and realized you were suffocating in foam. Still, much laughter and fun, and sexy slippery times ensued.  

We danced a bunch to the lobby band that evening, having a great time until I experienced my one and only moment on non-consensual touch when a drunken Swingsetter stroked my pasty-covered nipple without seeking permission. My nipples are a real red flag zone for me so that was especially not okay. He looked shocked and chagrined by my strong response, but later, I found myself beating myself up for not stopping him, instead of being angry for him assuming that I would stop him if I wasn’t okay with it. Enthusiastic yesses are what’s required for consent, not expecting someone to stop you if they don’t want the touch. That singular event was the only time I was touched without permission all week, which speaks to the overall awesomeness of Swingsetters and how clearly the message of the importance of consent has been embraced by the community as a whole. Celebrating not receiving bad touch says something about how messed up ideas of consent are in general society, but that’s a whole other topic.

That night brought the high school play party, which started out well for us, but quickly went downhill. You can read all the details in Swinging in the Deep End.

Coming up in Part Two: three person handjob, the live Life on the Swingset podcast, phone photo misinterpretation drama, my first time as a unicorn, using my words, more sexy shenanigans, and painful goodbyes.

Swinging in the Deep End - Learning Boundaries

One of the events I was most excited for at the Swingset Takes Desire was the High School Play Party. We’ve been to a few swinger events at local clubs, but have not yet met a crew of people who do play parties the way my friends in other cities have described them. Adding the element of the high school games like spin the bottle was a fun twist and we were down to get down. The rules were first bottle match meant chaste mouth kiss, second match was frenching, third match you went into the shower stall near the hot tub for ‘7 minutes in heaven’. Either party had the option to refuse at any time.

The game started with a medium crowd of people, with all of whom I had either already established a sexual relationship or at least an intense flirt that I was happy to have lead somewhere more physical. As the bottle spun, I got the chance to smooch a few people I hadn’t had the chance to put the moves on yet, and it was a fun, light way to have that happen.  The fact that I happened to be sitting in a spot that the bottle favoured due to the uneven tile floor... no complaints from me.

A few more people joined and after some dissatisfaction about the chaste kissing part, and that the game was moving too slowly, it was decided that we needed to up the ante so that the first kiss was frenching and then straight to the shower. It was a still a small enough crowd that I could go for that, and when Flick made my dream come true by frenching one of the other hot guys on a first match, I was in my happy place.  I was so impressed by the guys in the game either kissing one another or opting out, without any ridiculous chest pounding or making a big deal over it.

The group grew larger a few more times and it got to the point where I no longer knew everyone in the crowd. Since we were merely at kissing, I was perfectly happy to give and accept kisses, even if that was essentially my first introduction to someone.

Everything changed when the ‘7 minutes in heaven’ started.

When I looked up to see oral sex happening in the shower as the immediate step after frenching, my stomach dropped and panic began to set in. I am exceptionally naïve to have imagined there would be making out, maybe some grinding as the next step. Admittedly, the people in the shower were people who had already established sexual connections, and so it made complete sense for them to go right to a more advanced level, but it was setting a precedent for those of us watching. Even if the players in heaven had been out of sight, so we only had to wonder what they were up to, it would have been okay, but I felt sick dread, rather than sexy fun as I watched.

If the group had remained with the initial, smaller crew, I likely would have been willing to step out of my comfort zone a bit, but as things progressed, all I could think was that I was either going to have to blow someone I didn’t know/didn’t have chemistry with, or have to reject someone rather publicly and have it be this whole awkward awful thing. I knew that I had every right to say no at anytime to anyone, but it was a different situation than someone approaching me at an event and me saying, ‘no thank you’ to their advances. This would be everyone in a large group watching me say, ‘no thank you’ and potentially humiliating a really delightful person I felt a friendship connection with.  This was a high school play party, but I didn’t want to be the person sending someone back to that terrible time by turning them down in front of all their friends.

I mentioned my fears to the sexy friend in the seat next to me and he was on the same page, so at least I knew I was not alone. I tried to figure out a clever code phrase to say to Flick, but ended up just asking him to come talk to me away from the group. He felt exactly the same way I did, so we decided to opt out and leave the party. We bade our surprised friends goodnight in a rather sudden way and headed back to our room.

Leaving felt like a shitty option too, because we’d been so excited for a night of play with the people we wanted to play with. There are only so many nights at Desire, so missing out on one of them sucked. And we probably could have just gone into the hot tub for a while and popped back in on the party when the dynamic changed, but I knew I’d be overly conscious of the laughter and ruckus from fun and games we were missing out on.  Leaving was the best bad decision we could make.

We spent a couple hours lying in our bed chatting and processing, and trying to figure out what we could have done differently, but couldn’t come up with anything. We were simply out of our depths in the situation and leaving before one of us did something we really regretted was the only call.  I suppose it was a good opportunity to learn a hard boundary for us. We’re just not open to play with people unless we’re really into them, and we’d rather give up the potential sexy connection with people we are into than do something we’d rather not with those we don’t know or feel chemistry with.

Another fucking opportunity for growth, as they say. It would just be nice if doing the right thing actually felt good.

Fanfiction Saved My Sex Life

Like most couples in long-term marriages, our sex life has encountered some serious ups and downs--phrasing!--over the course of our 21 years together. We’d been in one of those down slumps approximately 2 years ago when I discovered the rich web of slash fanfiction dedicated to a TV show I was obsessed with at the time. I couldn’t believe there was so much out there. Even more so, I couldn’t believe how much of it was really good.

I started devouring everything I could get my fingers on by a few discovered authors, and gradually I started branching off to more and more writers, reading story after story after story. Sure, I found some terrible drek as well, and plenty of the mediocre, but for the most part, I read a lot of great stories that stimulated both my brain and my lady parts.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but I started masturbating like crazy. Total wank fest! The stories were so hot and I was almost always turned on by something. And the more I read and sought out stories, the more I found newer, hotter stories. Then I found the ones that were dirrrrty and I was completely hooked. I could explore kinks I’d secretly held for years, and I was discovering new kinks I’d never considered at an astonishing rate.

Once I’d been reading for a few months, I got the idea for a story of my own, and soon I was madly writing fanfiction as well as reading it. And between all the necessary breaks for frantic self-abuse, I discovered that spending endless hours describing men’s bodies in exquisite, pornographic detail made my husband’s body more and more appealing. All the time I was detailing the texture, weight, scent, and taste of cocks made me want his cock more and more.

Up to that point, I’d bought into the lie women are told about how penises are ugly and silly (I could probably write a paper about the sociological reasons for this lie, about an oppressed group seeking power through ridiculing the symbol of that oppression, but I won’t. You’re not here for that. Bring on the dirty stuff!). Sucking cock had been a chore I did because I loved him, not because I loved it.

Writing extensively about cocksucking changed all that.

As I wrote more words dedicated to hot, messy, sticky, delicious blowjobs, I was discovering their hotness and I suddenly wanted cock in my mouth. On purpose. Cocks are beautiful and sexy and smooth and velvet, and they feel amazing on my tongue, and they smell good, and...well, I’m a fan!

My preferred porn has always been gay male porn, so I don’t know why it was a surprise to me that I was a huge fan of peen. After I started writing slashfic, when I watched porn I began to focus less on the fucking and more on the oral and it was hot. Really fucking hot. Somehow, taking away the power differential that tends to be present in much of the hetero porn I’ve seen, the blowjob became an incredibly sexy act for me (not that power differentials can’t be super-hot in sex when it’s all consensual and hot for everyone involved).

Inspired by my reading, writing, and watching, I started initiating oral on Flick without expectation of it leading to other things, but because I wanted to do it. This, in turn, made him feel sexy and appreciated, and he started initiating more, which made me feel sexy and appreciated. The best kind of positive feedback loop.

Writing (and reading) dirty stories was also an exercise in discovering many unknown kinks, and owning those kinks in the written word helped me claim them in real life as well, which led to conversations with Flick where I revealed some of my deep, dark likes and wants for the first time in a two decade relationship.

By the time our discoveries and reveals came around to wanting to have some sexual adventures together, we’d had 6 months of the best sex we’d had in at least a decade, possibly our entire marriage. At that juncture, we both felt safe to reveal the deepest of the married person’s deep, dark secrets: ‘I want to fuck other people.’

As we pack our bags heading to Desire Resort and Spa with other Swingsetters, I can’t thank those dirty stories enough.

You've Come A Long Way, Baby

First published on lifeontheswingset.com - Oct 30, 2015

I spent some time recently reading through some blog posts I wrote early this year. Those memories, plus a few experiences I had this week that have reminded me how far I’ve come in my open relationship adventure.

I was recalling our first swing date with another couple and remembered how freaked out I’d been about being naked in front of people. I wasn’t (as) nervous about the sex; it was really about the nudity. Sex is about doing. I’m good at doing. Nudity is about being. I’m terrible at being. Before becoming non-monogamous, I was rarely naked, even when alone in the house. Especially when alone in the house. Friends often accused me of being like Tobias Fünke (Arrested Development) who was a ‘never nude’ and even showered in jean shorts.

Since we opened our relationship, I’ve become so comfortable being naked. It’s almost effortless to hang out or wander around naked after playtimes, at the local nude beach, or alone in the house. Much of the associated fear and discomfort related to my body has eased, and I enjoy it much more. This is all a good thing, since we’re heading to Desire Resorts in a couple weeks, and I’m assuming I’ll be nude much of the time while I’m there. A year ago, I doubt I could have contemplated such a vacation.

We had a date with one of our wonderful unicorns this week and it was great. Really, really great. At no point did I wish I was alone reading a book or watching Netflix. Since our first, clumsy night together, we’ve really gelled, and our chemistry has gotten better and better. That in itself is interesting because she’s someone we hang out with regularly in a purely platonic fashion. She and I do yoga together weekly, and there’s no flirty spark when we spend time together in that realm–though I did forget myself one time in the change room and laughingly scold her about sending my husband home to me with above-the-collar hickeys. But when we start kissing, and start getting naked, wow are there sparks. It’s a really fun paradox.

My other experience this week was a first sexy-date with a guy I’ve been chatting with for a while and met up for a coffee and a walk last week. We have a really easy banter via text, but both of us are slightly awkward penguins in person. Plus, he’d never been with anyone but his wife; they married young and had had no previous sexual partners. I had no problem being his gateway-slut into the deep end of non-monogamy (in fact, it was quite a buzzy thrill to get to be that person), but wow, was it ever awkward.

I think one of the main issues was that we’re both pretty submissive (as is his wife, which is why they’ve had trouble clicking sexually). I can take charge a bit, especially to initiate things, but generally during sex, I like to be told what to do, or at least, enthusiastically encouraged what to do. So with him being completely in his head and freaked out because every single thing we were doing he’d only ever done with his wife, and me trying not to go too fast or too far, happy to ‘ruin’ him but not wanting to break him, it wasn’t the smoothest ride.

I’m definitely willing to give it a few more shots, though. I remember that ‘deer in headlights’ feeling I had when I started getting down with new partners, and I’m willing to step-up and attempt to be more dominant with him to see if he relaxes more while being bossed around. It’s really not my natural inclination, though, so we’ll have to see how it goes. Maybe it can become something I enjoy–variety is what non-monogamy is all about, after all–but maybe we’ll discover that someone else would suit his needs better. It’s a fascinating place to be in, though, as the ‘experienced’ one, considering that I still feel like such a n00b much of the time.

So as much as it’s galling to quote a cigarette ad from the 70s that exploited feminism to sell ‘slim’ cigarettes to women, it does feel like the an appropriate title and summary. From my first, panicked moments of non-monogamy to becoming the guiding hand (and lips, and pussy) on someone else’s adventure, I have come a long way, baby.

I Only Need What You Can Give - Recalibrating Expectations

I’ve been trying to work out a new approach to my secondary relationships because what I’ve been doing hasn’t been working for me. I spend much of my time riddled with self-doubt and angst--and sometimes bouts of ugly-cry tears--based on the communication whims of my partners. I just can’t do it anymore, nor do I want to.

I feel like I’ve got a couple options as far as response to the communication disparity. I can demand changes of my partners, or I can figure out how to be okay with what I’m getting. If I do the first, things may or may not change in my relationships, so I think I will be served better by the second approach, and that’s what I’m working on.

Being that I’ve been at this open relationship thing for less than a year, it’s difficult to shake the monogamous mind-set of seeing relationships as having to be a certain way or they have to end. Non-monogamous relationships don’t have to follow that model because none of my partners have to be everything to me. Accepting them for who they are and what they have to give me will free me from much of the angst I’ve been experiencing when communication doesn’t look the way it does in my ideal scenario.

Part of this shift in mindset comes from radical acceptance. I was messaging with a long-distance partner with whom I wanted to video chat/masturbate together, but it’s not really his thing. He was careful to make it clear that it wasn’t just me he didn’t want to do that with, and I had a very clear moment when I realized that even if it was only me he didn’t want to do that with, it would still be okay.

Of course, I would love to be special in my partners’ eyes. I would love it if they thought of me as often as I think of them, but it’s truly okay if they don’t. And my acceptance is not meant to be an acceptance of being treated poorly. I have a history of being a doormat, but this isn’t coming from a belief that I don’t deserve better. None of my partners are treating me poorly, they simply aren’t as chatty as I am, and don’t tend to initiate conversations as often as I do.

When I’m in a healthy headspace, I can see that for what it is--they’re busy, they don’t feel the need to connect as often as I do--but when my overly anxious or depressed brain is calling the shots, the message I hear is that I’m unimportant, merely a convenient set of holes they use when they’re horny and ignore when they’re not.

By recalibrating my dependence on the external stimulus of text messages for affirmation, I’m hoping to take away some of the power my illness can hold over me, much like my ‘I love you’ tattoo does--well, brain, you’re telling me I’m worthless, and that my friends and family wouldn’t even feel a loss if I wasn’t around, but when I was healthy, I took the time to get these words inked into my skin, so I’m going to believe them rather than you.

Thinking about love was the other part of what spurred me to thinking about a change in mindset. I’m not currently in love with any partners other than my husband, but I’ve worried that I might fall in love with one of them, and they might not love me back. I have in the past developed feelings quickly and intensely, so this has felt like a real risk. But I’ve come to realize that although it would be nice to have someone reciprocate those feelings, I don’t need that. My love wouldn’t have to be a selfish love that depended on being returned. I could simply love someone because I did, and I could enjoy loving them, and that could be enough.

As luck would have it, after pondering this topic all day at work, I heard from one of my partners that he needed to take a break from our physical relationship. He’s going through some things and needed some time to figure it out. I was able to freely and honestly tell him that it was just fine, that I was available if he wanted to chat, and that all I want from him is what he’s able to give.

All that said, I also need to figure out when I need to back away if something isn’t serving me well, when investing in a relationship that causes me more pain than joy isn’t in my best interest. In an ideal situation, I’ll be so zen that I won’t feel the pain, but I know that’s not realistic.  I’ve come to realize how one-sided one of my relationships is and I think I need to put on the brakes. I’ve had warning signs since the beginning that it wasn’t going to be a super-smooth ride, but I blithely ignored the negatives thanks to the sense-altering buzz of New Relationship Energy (NRE). I don’t feel like I need to give up the relationship entirely, just recalibrate my expectations of what I want out of it, as well as how much time and effort I’m willing to put into it.

It’s hard, though, because when things have been good, it’s been really good, and I let myself get swept up in a lovely world of make-believe where we get closer and closer. I think we may have reached our limit of closeness, though, and I know that with time, I will be okay with that. I’ve got some awkward and painful days ahead of me as I get to the other side and grieve the relationship I thought we had/were building. Once I’m through the hurt, I will come to embrace the one we’ve got.

This is a pattern I’m doomed to repeat if I don’t get myself sorted. I’ve already been through it once, and fuck, did that ever suck. I was heartbroken and miserable, and also felt incredibly guilty that my husband had to watch me going through that over another guy. I’m hoping that this time won’t be as bad because I know what I’m in for. It sucks though. I really like him. But I don’t have to stop liking him, I don’t even need to stop crushing on him. I just need to ditch any expectations I had of this becoming more than a casual thing.

Grieve the fantasy, embrace the reality. My new mantra.

Getting to Open - Part 2

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Getting To Open: A Non-Monogamy Origin Story

(First published on Life on the Swingset)

Let's blame it on Dan Savage -- or more accurately, send him a thank you pie -- that Flick and I opened our relationship less than a year ago. We'd had 21 years of mostly successful monogamy, but after seeing a live recording of the Savage Lovecast last October, we started discussing our relationship and what we wanted it to look like in a way we never had before.

We were in a really great place in our relationship, celebrating 18 years of marriage and having better sex than we'd had in many years, perhaps ever. There'd been the usual miscellaneous ups and downs in our partnership, and we’d had a few years of lacklustre lovin', a common occurrence in long-term partnerships, but due to a variety of reasons, we had over the previous year, come together better than ever.

Partly, it was due to me being in my 40s and coming into a confidence I hadn't dreamed of in my younger years. I'd been incredibly insecure in my 20s and it had been hard to own my sexuality. I'd had a few bisexual adventures, with Flick’s consent to explore outside our marriage, but other than admitting my attraction to women, I just couldn’t step up and announce what I wanted in sex, though admittedly, I don’t think I knew myself. In my 30s, I'd essentially tried to shut down my sexual self after an indiscretion of the non-ethical kind had come to light, and I’d slut-shamed myself into turning off all but the essentials, even long after Flick had forgiven me and moved on. I backtracked all our baby steps into exploring kink and other more adventurous sexual play so that I could be the good wife I thought I should be.

Fast forward 10 years of hairshirt-wearing good behaviour and I slowly found myself again. I saw my doctor and a couple Psychiatrists, and learned that I wasn’t just high strung, but had Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Figuring that out, and getting some treatment, let me label the constant worry about how Flick might react to my sexual desires and get some distance from the debilitating thoughts. Slowly, I was able to be a complete person again, a person with a sex drive that wasn't abnormal or deviant, but that was a healthy, essential part of her.

Sitting in the theatre at the live podcast listening to Dan and Dr. Lori Brotto discuss studies that showed the key to long term couples' sexual happiness was sexual adventure, I knew Flick and I had to shake things up. What kind of adventures could we have?

Public sex was the first thing I thought of. I’d recently read an article in the local queer weekly newspaper about a sex club operating downtown. I’d had no idea that such a thing existed, but now that I knew, I really wanted to go and get fucked in front of an audience. I’m a raging exhibitionist, but it has to be in an appropriate setting (Hey, anxiety!), and a sex club was the perfect combo of both appropriate and public.

High on both of our lists was a threesome with another woman. I'd really wanted that to happen when I was doing my bisexual explorations in my 20s, but the women I'd played with were partnered and our guys weren’t into the tradesies proposal I put forth. I’d had no idea how else to find someone (this was back in the mid 90s when internet dating wasn’t the default setting).

Shortly after we started discussing various options, I had a work trip out of the country for a week. While I was away, Flick told me about a hot, flirty Brazilian woman he'd met at the conference he was attending.

“Ooh, I'm sad you didn't score and tell me all about it," I messaged.

"O.o"

":D"

"I didn't know that was on the menu," Flick answered.

"I hadn't realized until recently, but it is," I replied.

In that moment, I didn’t feel the sick dread I'd always felt when a hot woman flirted with him. Gone was that ever-present sense of she's so much hotter/sexier/prettier/more fun/wilder/buxom than me. He'd be crazy not to leave me for her. All I felt was arousal and giddy excitement that he could have an awesome adventure, and that I could get all the vicarious details. I hadn't heard the term ‘compersion’ at that point but I was feeling it. I was feeling it right then and also later on as I lay in bed grinding against my vibrator and imagining the possibilities. Oh was I feeling it!  

The hot Brazilian woman no longer felt like a threat because I'd come into owning my awesomeness. Flick could go have an adventure, but then he’d come home to me. He’d be crazy not to.

When I returned home we fucked like crazy -- the other thing good for the sex lives of long-term couples: separate vacations. We planned our next move, booking New Year's tickets at a local swing club my one openly open friend recommended, and we started talking threesome.

(To be continued)

The Incredibly Wet Journey

I had no idea until very recently that I am a squirter. It wasn’t something that had ever come up in partnered sexual experiences or solo play. When I’d heard it talked about, I figured it was something that you either could or couldn’t do, like rolling your tongue (can’t) or liking cilantro (also can’t, yuck! why would you sprinkle soap on your food?!). If it was something I was capable of, you’d have thought it would have come up at some point in the previous twenty-six years of my sex life.

The change began (along with so many awesome thing in my sex life) with Dan Savage. I was getting my perve, er, education on listening to his Savage Lovecast and heard one Cooper S. Beckett chatting about swinging. This led me to track down the Life on the Swingset Podcast, and his book My Life On the Swingset: Adventures in Swinging and Polyamory, where I read the epic tales of the njoy Eleven dildo.  I must have it!, I thought and rushed to the njoy website, where I discovered the price tag. I must have the less expensive model!, I thought, seconds later, and hauled out my credit card to order the Pure Wand.

I really just thought I was ordering an awesome new toy. I have a decent toy collection but I’m always excited to try things that come highly recommended, and when I held the cool metal curve of the Pure Wand in my hands about a week later, I had no idea what I was in for (or I’d have put down some towels).

Within about 5 minutes of using the toy, I felt an irresistible need to bear down against it, and then felt a crazy sensation as fluid started gushing out of me. It wasn’t anything like a clitoral orgasm, but it felt really nice, and really wet. “Holy Shit! I just squirted!” was the text that went out to my husband and the fella I was sexting at the time. After I stripped my sheets to launder, I was back online to order a waterproof Liberator Fascinator Throe to protect surfaces from my new skill.

Things progressed from me ejaculating only with the Pure Wand to it happening with other toys with any sort of g-spot curve to them. Then an intrigued play partner got very inquisitive with his long fingers and made me gush repeatedly one evening. The more it happened, the more likely it seemed to happen, and I started packing a Throe with me anytime I had a date outside the house, as well as ordering a second one to cover the couch when I had dates at home (much easier than having to haul it with me from room to room).

Once I figured out what it felt (and sounded) like just before, I started getting a little too results-focused and that would often kill any potential release. Relaxing, and enjoying the build of sensations was much more effective in getting me there. I’ve also had partners who’re entirely too fascinated with my ability and hammer away relentlessly at my poor g-spot until I’m begging for mercy (and left pretty sore the next day).

Recently, there seems to be a cascade effect that happens, much like multiple orgasms. If a toy or a partner has set me off a few times, I start having deep waves of spasm and continue to fountain with only clitoral stimulus, or sometimes, without any stimulus at all. It’s starting to feel more profoundly pleasurable as well, regularly causing me to burst into a bout of hysterical laughter or tears related to the intense release.

Occasionally, I’ve gone off unexpectedly, like when Hot Mama was fucking me with her lovely Feeldoe and got hosed down as we played in a club one night. I’d thought that the curved shape of dildo or fingers was an essential part of stimulating the Skene’s glands to produce the fluid until this week when I was being thoroughly fucked (for the third(!) time that afternoon) by a delightful young partner (with almost no refractory period), and I went off like a geyser all over him. It was the first time I’ve squirted in response to good old-fashioned PIV, and it looks like I’m going to have to make sure I warn future partners that it’s a possibility.

And perhaps buy stock in Liberator, since I’m probably going to want to order a few more Throes.