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.

Scheduling Woes

Scheduling is possibly the most complicated thing about my open relationship, and very likely, it's the same across most open relationships. Between working a couple jobs, hobbies, appointments, my husband's dates, and social events with our 'mundane' friends, trying to schedule my dates is an exercise in juggling and judicious use of a shared google calendar.

Add the spouses and partners of said dates into the equation, it’s amazing anyone ever gets laid.

So when the spouse of one of my partners doesn’t co-operate, and insists that he and I only get playdates when she has a date, it adds another level of challenge. When she blows up our date because hers fell through, that’s simply not cool.

When Flick and I decided that solo dating was something we wanted to explore in our opening up process, I’d thought it would be easier to date other people in open relationships because they’d understand a lot of the challenges inherent to the lifestyle. I'd assumed it would go more smoothly, but that isn’t always the case.

I’m pretty adaptable and laid back. In fact, I’m a total pleaser and will bend backwards to make things easier for others. I understand that it’s challenging to plan things, since I’m in the same boat, but after every date with one particular partner has been rescheduled, changed, and/or shortened many times, it starts to feel like it’s not worth the effort. In the past, I’ve just rolled with it, but when the most recent playdate became a maybe-just-drinks date, then a definitely-just-drinks date including the spouse who’d blown up our playdate plans, I’d had enough.

I wasn’t willing to go sit across the table with the person who was fucking with my night and my sex life, and not in the good way. My husband had a date scheduled to come to the house that night, so I needed to clear out for the entire evening. When coffee or a drink was offered in lieu of a night of great sex, I was pissed right off. At least if dinner and a walk was on offer, something that would take a similar amount of time to a playdate, I might have felt differently.

So I opted out. I decided I’d rather spend the evening elsewhere, even if that was by myself having dinner, reading, writing, or whatever, rather than try to make conversation with the two of them when I was hurt and angry. It felt rude to insist that only he and I went out, which was one of his offers, rather than the three of us, so I didn't feel comfortable doing that. It is a bit of a peek into my psyche that despite being hurt and angered by someone else’s selfish demands, I didn’t want to seem selfish or rude to her.

Since I needed to be out of the house, I messaged another fella I’ve been chatting with online and enquired if he’d be able to meet for a drink and a meal. We’d tried a few times to make plans without success--due to complicated scheduling--but he was free that night so we met up and had a lovely first date drinking beer and chatting.

The evening worked out as well as I could have hoped for, but I’m left with a dilemma about future plans with Mr. Yoyo. I’m trying to decide if it’s worth the effort of making plans when nearly every one of our dates so far has had to be changed. He and I have had some really hot, satisfying sex, and we have had good times hanging out platonically on our own, and with our spouses as a foursome. I don’t want to throw away the friendship with a couple who is open and understands living a bit of a double life, but I’m not sure if it’s worth continuing the sexual relationship when I’m often left feeling fairly disposable.

Yet I also feel torn because she’s his wife, his primary, and her needs should be most important to him. I want my needs to be most important to my husband as well, and I know if I needed him, I could ask him to cancel his date, but I’d only use that in an extreme circumstance. I think that she takes advantage of this primacy by using her veto for non-emergency situations. I know she is not completely comfortable with his dating, despite their having been open since the beginning of their relationship, but I think she needs to be in or out. Agreeing, then messing with his dates doesn’t seem like the loving thing to do.

And if it only affected my date and I, that would be one thing, but in open relationships, one cancelled date can cascade down a line affecting multiple people. Mrs. Yoyo’s date falls through, cancelling Mr. Yoyo & me. If I’d done the same, that would have affected Flick and his date Hot Mama, which would have affected her husband and so on.

I understand that there are complicated feelings related to your spouse dating and fucking other people. Just because I get a lot of compersion from setting up the bedroom for Flick--making sure the bed is made up with the Liberator Throe; condoms and lube in easy reach; clean towels in the bathroom--it doesn’t mean I’m immune to jealousy over knowing he’s having really special experiences without me. I feel it and accept it as part of the price of living the amazing, fulfilling life we share. A price I gladly pay.

There's a good chance I need to make sure I only play with partners whose spouses/primaries feel the same way.

Hands Off!

I'm a big fan of touch. In fact, I like touch so much, I touch people for a living. I'm a hugger. I love getting my hair washed at the salon, I love spa treatments and massage therapy. I love my body touching other bodies when we chat, when we dance, when we fuck. I even enjoy the occasional inappropriately close brush of a body against mine in a busy nightclub or bar. But even if we've been incredibly intimate previously, I don't want you touching me intimately if I haven't given you permission in that specific situation!

And I really hate that I'm going to have to use my words to make that clear. Using my words is hard!


I'm a conflict avoider from way back. Making things tidy and easy (for everyone else) is what I do best. It's probably partially due to my anxiety - taking responsibility for everything regardless of whose responsibility it really is, coupled with not really believing that I deserve to ask to be treated the way I want to be treated. As a woman, I've been socialized to defer to men, to let their needs be more important than mine (there are potentially violent ramifications to non-compliance with that patriarchal trope, which has been made even more clear over the past year and more with the rampant online misogyny, but I probably digress).

So why is it so hard for me to tell someone not to touch me like that? Maybe I feel guilty because although we'd played previously, I'm not really into doing it again, and I haven't ovaried up to telling him that reality. And his lack of appropriate boundaries isn't a small part of that lack of desire to let him back in my pants.

I really like his partner and would be very happy to have a friendship with the two of them. They're cool and interesting and great to talk to about the lifestyle, but I'm leery of putting myself within hands reach.

Hey, Jealousy

We stood pressed together, three bodies, three mouths, three sets of hands, kissing, touching, exploring. They moved closer to each other and I noticed they had an easy rhythm in their movements and caresses, learned with experience. I was met with the shocking realization that I felt like the outsider in a threesome with my husband and our friend.

My sweetie and I have been lucky enough to get to be part of several ffm threesomes simply by asking a couple open and bisexual female friends if they'd be interested in joining us. I always see memes online that suggest that bi women hate this kind of thing, but I'm not sure how else you're supposed to find people. Thankfully, they were game, so we've had some wonderful, sexy experiences together.

Flick and this particular friend, who I will call Hot Mama, had played together once before our previous threesome, which took place in an unfamiliar club setting, so there were so many pieces of new and different that those things captured my focus. This time we were the three of us in the living room of our house and their connection, honed over several more solo play dates, was so apparent it knocked me rather literally to my knees. The wave of feelings was shocking to me as I sank to the carpet and tried to collect myself.

It wasn't exactly jealousy I was feeling. My compersion critter is really powerful and generally what I feel about his dates and seeing him with another woman is all kinds of happy and turned on, and even the occasionally cocky, "The guy who just made you come that hard with his amazing mouth? That's my man!"

What I felt here was left out--always such a danger button for me.

I knelt at their feet, kissing and caressing them through their underwear as I tried to figure out what to do with these intense feelings. I thought about excusing myself, but I knew that would worry them, and I didn't want to ruin their experience. It only made sense that they had this rhythm together, the sensible part of my brain reminded me. They'd been together a handful of times now, and that was bound to happen. I was even glad it was happening because it meant their sex would only get better and better, but that small tantrum-throwing piece of my brain in charge of my fear of missing out was still pinging hard.

Flick clearly noticed my mental withdrawal and knelt on the floor with me, pulling me back into my physical self and reminding me of how much they wanted me there. She joined us and their touch put my body back in charge to savour the amazing physical sensations that three bodies together can create.

Things flowed very well from there until later when she was kneeling between his legs blowing him as he sat on the couch. I moved up behind her to pleasure her and noticed that her back was covered in fresh scratch marks, which could only have been caused by Flick.

Emotions surged. He scratches and bites her? I thought. I love that and he doesn't do that for me. I felt a little sick with the unfairness of my husband giving another woman what I want. Thankfully, the Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (the other CBT) that I use to manage my anxiety kicked in and my sensible brain (SB) started asking some questions of my tantrum brain (TB).

SB: Does he actually know that you like being bitten and scratched?

TB: He should. I'm sure I've moaned loudly in the past when he's scratched me.

SB: But have you told him outright that you want that?

TB: Well, no. But he should know after so many years together. It's not fair. He knows to do it for her.

SB: And do you think she told him she wants that?

TB: Of course. She has a lot of sexual agency. It's one of her awesome qualities that I most admire. But--

SB: And when do you think this conversation took place? More recently that the vague time you remember moaning as he scratched your back?

TB: Of course it was recent. They've only been sleeping together for a couple months... Oh.

This entire in-brain conversation happened as I knelt behind her, getting her off with my hand while Flick held her by the hair and fucked her mouth. I'm very happy to have tools like CBT to counter panicky thoughts with rational questions to bring myself back from the edge of a freak out when neither of them had done anything wrong.

I knew this was a discussion I needed to have with my sweetie, but it could wait until tomorrow when we had time to debrief (heh!). For now, I had two very sexy people I wanted to have fun with, and if I could set aside those jealous pings, we could have an amazing night.

For the record, we did. Because I let those jealous feelings go, I got to experience the lust and excitement in Hot Mama's eyes as she watched me ride Flick, then later as I got myself off with a toy. I got to see myself in a mirror for the first time wearing my harness and dildo. I got to witness the mind-meltingly gorgeous curve of her ass as I fucked her from behind while she sucked off my husband. I got to be one of the high-fivers in an Eiffel Tower. I even got some wonderfully painful bites of my own when I asked for them.

The next morning, Flick and I talked it out, and I'm going to be getting more of what I want and need. All I have to do is ask.

The Pup Part Three: The Return

After three weeks of total radio silence from The Pup, I received an apology text saying he was sorry he'd disappeared so suddenly, but he'd been caught up in his parents' divorce drama and he'd gone to a dark place, but if I was willing, he'd like to start seeing each other again.

Well fuck.

There's a part of me that had been hoping for exactly that kind of message since he first vanished. Something that assured me that it wasn't in fact that I'm too ____ or not ____ enough for him to want to continue our relationship. We'd had such a great connection and I definitely want that -- and the awesome sex that came with -- back, but I'm also someone who has let others walk all over me in the past and I don't want to let myself get back into that sort of situation.

I also worry whether he has the kind of emotional maturity to be in the kind of FWB situation I'm looking for if got so fucked up by family drama that he couldn't thumb the words 'thank you' in response to a text wishing him a happy birthday.  I was his age when my dad died from cancer and I didn't shut down and block people from my life.

So I told him I'd think about it and that I'd been really hurt by the way he treated me. He apologized, admitted his mistake, and said he misses me. Double fuck. This would be so much easier if he were an asshole and could just write him off. It does speak to his character that he did have the ovaries to send me a message, though. He could have just left it be. I'm sure that getting back in my pussy is a pretty strong motivator, but I could have reacted really angrily to him and he was willing to put himself in front of that potential rage bomb.

After a night of pondering and a very sweaty morning yoga class, I decided to give him another shot. I messaged him to tell him that I'm game but that he's going to have to prove his emotional maturity and offer of friendship before things get sexual between us again. He has agreed so we'll see how it goes.

If nothing else, I practiced demanding respect and consideration, which isn't a muscle I exercise often. And if all goes well, I'll have my fun fuck buddy back. Plus, I finally have an answer to that big, fat WHY?

The Pup Part Two: Headgames and Heartbreak

I knew developing feelings for people was a risk I was taking when we opened things up, but I didn't think it would happen so quickly, or that those feelings would be for someone who would, unexpectedly and (seemingly) out of character, treat me cruelly.

I'd really been hoping when I wrote the last post that all my weird insecurities and fears that The Pup was doing 'the fadeaway' despite his assertions to the contrary were in my imagination. When I mentioned his decreased communication, he apologized, promised to improve, then stopped messaging all together.

*sigh*

I just don't get it. If he decided he wasn't interested in me, I don't understand why he wouldn't simply tell me and cut it off cleanly. His last message to me was,  "Ooh, I'd love that" when I mentioned getting together when he was finished his exams. I sent him two more texts after that, one congratulating him for being done with his exams, then one a few days later wishing him a Happy Birthday. Nothing.

By the time I sent the Birthday message, I was pretty sure it was done. It had been 5 days since his last confusingly-enthusiastic message, but I was finally coming to terms with believing his actions rather than his words. As an anxious person, I really try to take people at their words because I can't always trust my interpretation of actions. Someone glances at me, I think they're judging me and finding me wanting. Someone doesn't seem as excited to hear from me as I'm expecting, I assume they dislike me. I know I have a warped sense of people's responses to me, so I tend to believe words. When the words are running really contrary to actions, it really fucks with me.

I decided to be classy, despite wanting to send a 'What the absolute fuck?" message, and I sent him a text wishing him Happy Birthday, said it had been nice getting to know him, and wished him the best for the future.

Nothing.

I guess I shouldn't have expected a response. When you cut off contact with someone, you cut off contact, but there was no discernible reason to do so, so I kept racking my brain to figure out what I'd done wrong. Of course, my brain being the hyper-critical place it is, I was able to come up with everything I'd said and done since we'd met as a reason for why he'd dump me without notice.

It's especially shitty because I'd totally fallen for him. He'd seemed so nice, so genuine, so geeky - all the things that normally signify a good guy. He had a cat. He volunteered with troubled teens. How could he end up being the kind of guy who would just brick wall me? How could he not respect me enough to just tell me he didn't want to see me anymore?

How am I not worth a couple words in a text message?

That final question is really what has caused me the most distress over the past few weeks as I grappled with having my heart broken by someone for the first time in over 20 years (who didn't die or move away). I went from the high of feeling like this awesome, sexy, desirable, confident older woman that he should feel lucky to get to be with to a piece of discarded trash, unworthy of respect or consideration, even from a 'nice' guy.

I was pretty shattered and sank into a fairly dark funk that I'm only now crawling out of - the timing of everything paired with the anniversary of my mother's death and mother's day back to back to back really adding to the pain and despair. I've felt really guilty as well, since my husband has had to be witness to my heartbreak over another guy. It's been hard to talk about it with him, yet he's the person I go to when I'm in pain and need to talk. One of the weirdest parts of this style of relationship.

I'm back on the dating horse (only way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Amirite?) I've chatted with a few people and even slept with one of them, though I have to confess that our connection was nothing like what I'd had with the pup. Eventually, I will stop comparing people to him and the feeling of loss will fade.

I know that it will just take some time, and that even if I had an answer to my 'But Why????', I might like it even less than the stuff I've come up with.  It's still exceedingly difficult not to keep thinking it would be better if I only knew why.

The Pup

I started chatting with a young guy (26 to my 41!) from okcupid after he messaged me. He's a fellow geek and we had a ton to chat about which made it easy. He's definitely got a thing for older women and since I seem to have a thing for younger guys, it worked out well. We texted like mad for about two weeks before we were able to hook up. Finding time that wasn't already booked with other social activities was tricky enough, coupled with needing to find time when my husband was off at other activities so he didn't feel displaced from the house for my dates.

During those two weeks my ego received a delightful stroking. He was so eager. Constantly talking about how he couldn't wait for it to be the day we'd planned to meet up. We chatted and sexted and exchanged photos. He even sent me video of him jacking off and coming, which I find ridiculously hot. My husband and I started calling him 'the pup' when I first started chatting with him (a reference to a hated nickname my husband had been given by one of her other boyfriends when he was 19 and dating a much older woman), but it turned out to be a surprisingly accurate for my new beau.

I'd attempted to scare him off with really detailed descriptions of our other activities. He'd never been in a non-monogamous relationship and I wasn't sure he could handle it up close, but he just thought my descriptions of other partners and encounters were hot. He even talked me through my nerves before a date with another guy when I started freaking out and considered cancelling - It's going to be great. You're going to have such a good time. He's gonna fuck you so good. At that point, I was kind of smitten.

When we first started chatting, I was worried about him being insecure, but as he got comfortable, he got confident, going as far as to ask me to greet him at the door for our first hook-up totally naked. I ovaried-up and did so. It was pretty exhilarating. He's really skilled as well - maybe a little chintzy with the oral the first time round but we'd engaged in two weeks of foreplay so I don't blame him - we've had great sex together. Really. Great. Sex.

It's after the sex that things get weird. He doesn't want to stick around for long, which I hear is a typical guy thing, but I'm used to the lingering chatting of swingers after the fact. I didn't ever have casual sex when I was young so I've never experienced a guy wanting to run out the door to go get Subway when the fucking is done. I know different orgasm hormones do different things to the male brain after sex but I'm still there, sexy and naked, it seems like it should be worth sticking around a while for. He doesn't text for a few days, when I'm also used to the swinger messages the day after mentioning how much fun we've had. I've ended up texting him, because I refuse to be all idle and passive, but there's that stupid Cinderella part of my brain that wants him still chasing me.

I've been so socialized to follow the fiercely engrained, patriarchal bullshit script that tells me the only way I have value is if I'm being pursued and if I give up that role, no one will want me. Yet it's the powerful, confident, take-what-I-want woman I am that attracts people to me. Strangely, I can be the powerful me during the pursuit and sex, but the passive, insecure me pops up once the afterglow wears off.

I'm hoping it's just part of the learning-curve, since I'm so new to the sluttery thing. I've been operating under the MO of pretending like all is normal and simply texting him, but the post-coital distance has been harder on me than I'd like it to be. I'm probably going to have to ovary-up in this arena as well and simply tell partners what I need/expect after the fact.

Dammit! I signed up for cock, not personal growth!