Tag: open marriage

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Drew’s view

I asked Drew if he would be interested in writing something up for you lovely voyeurs out there regarding his perspective of our first encounter. I assumed it would be a prurient account and not destined for these pages, but it turned out to be quite a bit more (and not especially prurient, actually). Since I think there are things in it that readers here are interested to know and there are other things both Drew and his husband want Belle to know, I decided to post it here.

Today was “The Day”.  The day indeed.  As Thumper has said, while I am technically a Sr. VP and Managing Director for an international company, that really just translates to the fact that I am (almost) a professional traveler and his description of my day yesterday trying to get to his city was, unfortunately, not abnormal. But the silver lining, the oh so beautiful silver lining, was that it led to, “Today – The Day”.  I won’t go into as many details as he will because, well, it’s his blog, but at some point today when I was looking at his sparkly metal enclosed genitals, we talked about me writing this guest post for the Portfolio from my point of view because, among other things, it might be nice to show the world there are more men out there than just Thumper and the vague “Drew”.  This is not a Denying Thumper post by intent because, that blog is about his intimate life with Belle; however, he knows he is free to share any and all of this with her as I also have the same freedom to do so with my spouse (and, now actually have). After reading some of the negative comments on DT from today’s post and even we he met me, there is a part of me that hopes he will pull out a few things from this writing or just post it all, despite my saying it was a private blog for he and Belle, because, from reading the comments, it seems that even some people following kink blogs just really do not “get it” about some same sex activity and, most likely, same sex married couples too.  Now I am far from naive enough to think one post will change those people,  but a Dom can dream, right? Also, my other thought is because I want, in writing, from me, to say to those who care about him that he’s in good hands that I will ALWAYS respect Belle first and, even more importantly, mention, in writing, from me, to the world, that my spouse thinks this is “just fucking great” – more later on that BUT, again, that blog is not about me and him, in most all ways.

First, a bit about me that you all just don’t know since I have really only been introduced to you as the traveling man with the real, live, HUGE penis – you don’t know me, I can pretend –  that Thumper was going to use to satisfy his inner cravings.  Well, Thumper’s craving parallels mine very closely, in just that opposite way, and what we found prior to exposing our genitals to each other is that, unlike most married men who meet for intimate intentions, we exposed our hearts and, maybe most importantly, our minds first, and THAT has created a friendship that I think we each needed, for various reasons, and one that will likely go on far beyond the realm of “fuck buddy” but also one that will stay inside some clearly defined lines and NEITHER of us have any worries about that.  Frankly, at least in my head, meeting and talking with him really made me realize that even though I have a wonderful, incredible, blessed life full of family, friends, and opportunity, I had an empty box somewhere deep in my mind where I sometimes lived in isolation with just me and my porn thinking that nobody else in the world would ever even knock on that door, much less enter it, and that I had actually come to peace with the fact because I did not ever want to risk losing the other 91.7 percent of the other parts of my world.  Finding him meant I, at least, got to put some furniture in that empty box because I realized others actually can come to visit, sit down, have a drink, and leave without trailing mud in and out on my clean carpet, so to speak.  THAT, my new friends, is an incredible, exciting feeling.  It’s really funny how life is, isn’t it?

Anyway, in addition to the sexual parallels, within that box, it’s been a bit like finding your best friend from first grade 40 years later (in any other context I would have said brother, but that’s creepy here) because, sexual urges and proclivities aside, we share a continual growing list of odd, random things, from each of our forty plus years that have intertwined in weird ways that somehow made us each suspect that my penis was going to just fit very nicely within his nether regions.  In addition, as you might can tell, we share a love for writing, words, and the intangible joy that comes from reading and writing that few understand which, to me, is incredibly sexy when speaking to and about deep, intense topics.

Like Thumper and Belle, my spouse and I have been together for 17 amazing years.  Also, like Thumper, I am the one who is controlled at home, although we are not as advanced as he and Belle, but that day is coming and I will likely wind up with a metal penis myself soon (once we figure out how to get around my travel and airport security, especially international).  You see, I was just a bit later than he was in admitting my kink side and my spouse is now becoming more open to the idea of control, especially controlling my, well, you know.  While Thumper’s submission admission was encouraged by the story you all know, mine took a back seat to my career as I climbed that ladder early and fast and finding peace with the discipline needing, bondage craving, plug loving, chastity craving side of me just took some time and I am finally embracing it.  Unlike Thumper, my spouse is a Man, I have never even touched a female’s genitals (he’s teaching me what I need to know about them though through pictures, stories and soon, I assume, some sort of police type doll so he can point to the places that he likes to touch), and, most importantly to this situation, I have a dominant side that is in a dead heat with my submissive side as to which one will win and, lately, that dominant side is off and running faster and faster and is coming incredibly easy for me to run with.

After confessing all of this to my husband about four or five years ago, we have talked, cried, laughed, gained horniness, lost horniness, and spent thousands of dollars on gear from websites and catalogs that we thought would make us the perfect D/s couple. Except, we found, BDSM gear does not the Master and slave make.  It only enhances it.  You still have to deal with the fundamentals – the two people involved.  In our case, he has no desire to be submissive and, while I craved being his sub, I still was left with a void for my dominant side.  I had wondered if that dominant need was a way that I was trying to hang on to my masculinity and that it would go away as soon as I found myself in a collar.  It did not. It will not.  Now that Thumper has list of things I control (that Belle has no interest in controlling), I am 100 percent absolutely fucking sure that the Dom side of me will never, ever go away, and that is pretty cool.

Because of this side, my husband has told me for years that I had his permission to find a boy, a sub, or even, perhaps a slave (I’d be unlocked for visits if we ever get to that stage).  His feeling was this would enhance our relationship versus hurting it and, while I looked, I can’t say I ever really 100% believed he would or could be so wonderful about it.  This was a two way street though, because I also had to give him the same permission to find whatever he was missing in our relationship as well.  The rules were simple: Our relationship ALWAYS takes priority.  We would have no secrets.  We would be safe.  We would not have random one night stands, the person would have to be someone with at least a few small, short, even delicate strings, but they had to have some strings and it had to mean something, in some way, just because those are the people we are.  There is zero worry in either of us leaving each other for some side action, ever. Period.  Zilch.

That was five years ago and, frankly, neither of us had taken each other up on the offer seriously, although the husband did have a dalliance or three a year or so back which tested me, but I found I rather liked it.  Sadly, it wasn’t anything lasting. Although, that point served as the realization that giving each other the freedom to seek what we did not find at home wasn’t a bad thing and that we would survive anything and thrive with it. At that point, I knew one day I would find “the boy”, I just never dreamed he’d be a bunny.

So, all that to say, today was The Day.  You know the details of how it happened more randomly than planned and even through the stress of that and putting Belle first, it worked and it worked well.  We connected and I found my inner dominant was alive, thriving, and actually a freaking creative genius.  My brain likes Thumper the man. My penis likes, well, evidently adores, Thumper the boy. It’s quite a pairing really and one he may write more about as the weeks and months move forward but I am not here to tell those sticky details.

If you have read the latest Denying Thumper, you know all of this and also know that he had that mild freak out moment upon exiting the airport and getting on the highway about his “asshole-ish” side wanting to run away, just slightly this time, but it was still there.  As he said, it was less for him this time that in the past and it’s nothing he and I won’t work through, especially with our miles and times apart and the fact that we like each other as people, even though, for the record, let’s just say we were very right about our suspicion that my huge little man – you don’t now me well enough yet that I still can’t pretend – did fit nicely “down there”.  What you don’t know is that the feeling he had is not just limited to a bisexual man sexing up a gay man and then running, it might just be men in general because I too had that feeling and remember having that way in the past, even with my husband when we met, and, I can still remember an awkward conversation in my car, more than 17 years ago where I tried to slow things down because I was feeling that “asshole-ish” part of me wanting to run away to Yemen simply because I liked, even possibly loved, him. He didn’t let me win that conversation that night and many years, two houses, several job changes, and multiple german cars later, I thank the universe each and every single day that I lost that talk.  After Thumper dropped me off today, the plane simply could not fly fast enough to get me home because this day just made me want the husband in my arms more than ever. EVER.  Plus, I could not wait to tell him as I was so proud.

Also, if you have read it, you know Thumper talked to Belle. That simple fact made me feel amazing, because, whether she realizes it or not, she now controls two men, although one of whom she has not and most likely will never meet, although stranger things have happened.  Well, I talked to the husband too, upon arrival home.  I’d been gone 10 days (a very rare occurrence as I am usually just 3-4 at a time) and there was a lot to cover, so I didn’t know how to just do it.  Actually, he was very wonderful and took me to dinner to my favorite Mexican place, one he actually hates, and we started talking about my morning.  It was going so smooth and then suddenly turned into a Seinfeld episode because as I said, “yes, we did” we started hearing a woman scream “Jake, Jake, Wake up Jake” over and over again from the bar across from our booth.  It turns out an old man, a regular there, passed out and they thought he had died.  He didn’t and to make this quick, instead of confessing the morning over cheese dip, we, both being somewhat tall, aged athletic types, were summoned to help carry this man, who had wet himself – yeah – to a nearby couch where he would await paramedics.  After a lot of Purell, we actually started eating again and, finally, he said “So, did you fuck him?” right as the waitress stops by the see if we dropped something on the floor or if it was the old man’s and then proceeds to pop a pocket Bible on the table – really – I have ALWAYS thought God had a sense of humor and this just proved it to me.  Oh the comedic timing.

Side story aside, he was AMAZING.  His first question to me though was “how was Belle with this and does she know I am good with this too?” I thought that was random, and sweet but showed me that he really, really was okay with it and was almost encouraging.  Actually, in fact, he was excited, I mean, literally excited -“down there” – because he had wanted this for me for so long and was so proud I took the step to do this and very proud I found someone like Thumper that we did not have to worry about showing up on our porch, telling friends, or wanting more.  The funny thing is he told me that selfishly, he now felt even more free to explore his interests, following our same guidelines, and that made me so happy too.  Finally, when we got home, he read the Denying Thumper post, the first time I had shown him the blog, and his response was something like “It’s amazing how much he loves her and how they have worked this out.  She is his core and I can only hope one day you write something that says the same thing about me to those who dare judge you two”.   He then said, and I so love this,  “I hope you take as much control of him as allowed, learn from it, grow with it, use it, and keep his ass plugged and in line as I know you want to control that.  Tell me about it or not tell me about it.  That’s fine.  BUT, BUT, the absolute only thing is I am counting on you BOTH is to make 100 percent fucking sure that his service to you, gives me and Belle much better service at home, because, well, while you may own his ass, she owns all of him and, well, I own you, dude (his term for boy).  Don’t you two let us, the significant others, down.  EVER.” How fucking great is that?

So, now,  I really am free and it feels amazing (as did Thumper btw).

I think to sum this up in a succinct little package I might close with the fact I like him.  I like his metal cock.  I like his now plugged ass, as that is one of my rules. He is My boy (well, loaned) and he is and will be a fucking great one.

Thanks for letting me guest post.

Drew

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The Day

Today was The Day with Drew.

He was originally going to have a brief layover in town that only would have allowed an hour or so of getting to know each other in person time but then had a delayed flight that would have caused him to miss his connection so all of a sudden he was here overnight. The plan morphed into picking him up at the airport and spending some time together, though not too late, but then that new flight was similarly delayed. All of a sudden, the one hour visitation was potentially a lot more since his flight didn’t leave until the following afternoon.

I’ll admit, this was stressful to me. On the one hand, I didn’t want Belle to necessarily be aware of the The Day, as I’ve said before, since I didn’t want her to have to think too hard about it. I didn’t want it sitting out there. Before, The Day was in December. But now, it was now and she was aware and would be and I felt stress about that. She, though, showed none. Zero. I would go so far as to say she was bordering on encouraging. It wasn’t until last night when I was able to see her face to face that I was able to say how I felt as succinctly as I could. I never want to hurt her ever again. Not like I did. Not anything like it. And so much of my stress was that I would, inadvertently, do that. She assured me that she didn’t feel like she was going to be hurt. So that weight was lifted.

I was also stressed because Drew really wanted to see me and I wanted to finally see him and things kept shifting and I kept having to balance the desire to see him against my desire to be respectful and mindful of Belle. I didn’t want to disappoint him. So as things finally seemed to gel, I realized I could see him all morning today if I cancelled and moved some meetings. Me, being the boss, was able to do that and so I cleared my morning for him.

So, I’m not going to get into the sordid details here. Let’s just say today was, in fact, The Day.

As I’ve gone along in life, I figured out a while back that one of the main reasons I couldn’t be gay was because, once done having sex with a man, I didn’t want to be anywhere near him. I wanted to get as far away as possible. Super unfair to the other guy, obviously, and not a good way to build a relationship. I figured in the case of Drew (or whoever might have taken the bait on me in my condition), this wouldn’t be an issue because I’d never come. But, I realized after I dropped him at the airport, I felt a little taste of that old feeling. I am that guy gay’s seem to hate in bisexual men. Fuck and then gone.

I’ve told Drew this as I always want to be as honest as possible, but I don’t think it’s a real problem. The fact that he lives far away and won’t be in town really often means I can just leave when it’s over. And in the time he’s away, my interest in him can rebuild. It’s the perfect arrangement, I think. If he lived here, I don’t think my inherent assholish attitude toward men would allow me to be a very good partner in this scheme.

Also a funny thing, I didn’t feel this way until he came. Even with him, I have developed the tendency to feel certain aftereffects of orgasms I don’t have. It’s really weird.

The other thing I found interesting is, at some point, I realized I really wanted to be with Belle. Like, really. I craved her company. I do like Drew very much and had a swell time with him (which, as I said, we won’t be talking about here in detail), but Belle is the absolute love of my life and nothing is ever going to change that. I can’t wait to be with her tonight.

No matter where I am or what I’m doing, I always want it to end with me being back in her arms. Even on The Day.

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Quality time

It’s always nice when the various orbits of family life occasionally align so that parents can find some good old fashioned quality time for themselves. Saturday was one of those days for us.

The second child was going to be at a friend’s house at a sleep-over birthday party and the first child is more than able to take care of himself so Belle bought tickets to a movie and made dinner reservations for us. Dinner and a movie. I mean, crazy. Just like the young people do it. Never mind the movie started at 4:30 in the afternoon and the dinner reservations were at 6:30. Not quite senior special hour at Denny’s, but close. What matters is we had a real fucking date.

Earlier in the day, Belle had rewarded me with a nice long list of things to do for the weekend. They were all mundane domestic-type things, but they weren’t things we needed to do, they were things I needed to do. And that makes a big difference. Also, since I was doing them, Belle was free to go for a run and otherwise just focus on things she wanted to do for herself. That kind of thing feels like warm honey poured on my soul.

So I was able to get most of my tasks finished in time for the movie (we saw The Skeleton Twins which was good but often felt too much like a couple of well-known comedians trying very hard to show they have serious actor chops). We had dinner at a nice upscale casual spot on a city park. Belle commented that it wasn’t as crowded as she would have thought and I reminded her city folk don’t do dinner at 6:30 PM. They’re barely breaking out the cocktails at that time. Sure enough, by the time we were finished eating, the place had filled up dramatically with young and beautiful people (some of whom were veritably spilling from their bodices).

During the meal, I got a text from the first child asking if it was OK with us if he went and spent the night at a friends house and we were more than OK with it. That meant our afternoon and evening alone would be capped off by an entire night alone. What kind of decadent fantasy world had we entered?

I had already arranged with Belle that I’d give her a massage when we got home but having the house empty meant we didn’t have to be creepy parents with the door closed and romantic music playing behind and got to leave the door open. I lit up all the candles and turned on an old k. d. lang album we used to have on tight rotation when we first started our relationship and we both got naked. And I mean naked since she gave me the key to the Steelheart beforehand.

Not that she wanted the penis. Maybe she thought she was being nice or maybe she just didn’t want to mess with it in the morning, but once the meat was free, I had lost my interest in the massage and was singularly focused on getting it wet. She redirected my attention and that’s how I found myself sitting on her ass rubbing lemon verbena scented oil into her skin.

The penis didn’t get totally hard, but it laid on the small of her back pointing up her spine and plumped out to about 70%. I could feel the end of it hypersensitized from being in the tube for a week brushing against her skin as I rose to get better leverage against her shoulder muscles. I felt stupidly horny but she said I just had to “be strong” and wait until morning. As usual, such a demonstration would be good for me. So I was good and, even after she was fast asleep and I was Tumbling through the porn, I very specifically did not play with the erection.

I woke up several times as the end of the erection was fired by simple contact with the sheets. That would invariably cause my chest to fill with the old familiar carnivorous butterflies fluttering around and feeding on my previously contained sexual energy. But still, I was good. No playing. Nary a squeeze. All this was made more difficult by the fact that she was uncharacteristically sleeping nude like I almost always do. Every time I touched her, I felt her hot skin and the butterflies roared.

I was awake hours before her. I checked my phone and looked at Facebook and more Tumblr and all kinds of things. I managed to fall back into a light doze just before she woke up for good. Again, like good modern adults, we were quickly back on our respective glowing screens and I took the opportunity to tweet:

Since the house was empty, she was able to come as loudly as she wanted and she usually wants to come pretty loudly. Her orgasms are such a big deal to me that I nearly shot my load myself just hearing her climax. Fucking hell, but feeling her come is the greatest thing ever. I’m so much more aware of how it impacts her whole body now. It’s just glorious.

After her basking period, she told me climb aboard. As soon as the penis slipped into its warm and wet home, she said in my ear, “You will come.”

Called it.

How did I know? No clue. I could just feel it, though. It was right there. As obvious as the boner between my legs. She was kinda miffed later that I knew it was coming.

So I started to fuck her and was pretty pleased with myself that I didn’t shoot immediately. But not too long into it, when I felt the orgasm coalescing in that familiar way I’m usually really good at fending off, I lost control. I had wanted to edge several times in the hopes that the eventual orgasm would be plentiful and enjoyable, but at the first edge I felt as though a third party stepped in and took over. My old friend the lizard pushed the fuzzy bunny out of the way and forced me to keep fucking. It’s an odd sensation to feel one’s primal forces take control from the higher brain, but that’s what happened. I even remember thinking, “No!” But it was too late.

The orgasm wasn’t pleasurable. Not at all. I was also noisy because I could be, but I cried out in such a way that Belle asked me near the end if I was OK. No, I wasn’t. I felt like I passed a marble through my prostate while someone simultaneously slammed me in the small of my back with the flat side of a shovel. The intensity removed any pleasure. I came too hard.

The dopey glowy part after was kinda nice, but didn’t make up for the fact that I felt somehow violated by my own psyche.

In the hours that followed, whatever salutary benefits my denial creates evaporated leaving behind only the gritty residue of pent-up frustration. I fucking wanted to come again. NOW. But she wanted me back in the Steelheart. She’s no dummy. She knows how this works by now. So, only a couple hours later, I was felt the cold tube envelope the needy penis just as she wanted.

I finished my remaining tasks, but without enthusiasm. I forced myself to let the subby rabbit come forward and be good even though my temper was very short and I felt pretty irritable. I did all I could to shield Belle from that. As the day wore on, I could feel a slow steady drip start to refill my sub reservoir, but the dominant feelings I had were far from subby.

The new thing for me this time around was Drew lurking in the background. I wondered how coming would change my enthusiasm for having a guy on the side. Not only that, but a guy I was supposedly subbing to. I will admit (as I already did to him), that enthusiasm took a big hit. Had it been up to me, I wouldn’t have volunteered for any contact with him and would have retreated into myself. That’s my default behavior with regard to men and sexual release which is why I could never have a romantic relationship with one. After I come, I’m just not into them and actually actively avoid them.

But I wasn’t rude and I soldiered through my default inclination. I felt bad for him because he’s been away from home for a while now on the other side of the world for business and has been feeling the isolation. So I was nice. I admit I had to work at it, but I didn’t want to make him feel worse than he already did. In any event, I was honest with him and he understood. It’s all new and weird, and not only for me. For him, for Belle. For all involved.

I feel like I’m a better sub now than I was in the past. Before, this one orgasm would have sent me spinning. I had no leverage against the changes it causes in my chemistry and no way to shield anyone around me. I’d spiral down and get depressed and angry at wanting more and not being where I wanted to be. I’d resist going back in the device and conveniently forget to put it on even though I knew that’s what she wanted. But now I feel much stronger. I feel like I know how to deal with it and know it’s not the end of the world. A lot of this is because I’ve really and truly let go of resisting her control over my orgasm even (and especially) when it involves giving me one I’d rather not have. There’s freedom in that and, surprisingly, strength.

Also, Belle’s more confident in her role. She’s not feeling sorry for me and is less willing to accept my backsliding. She has a better handle on how my chemistry works and has no qualms manipulating it to both of our advantages.

I can’t say I’m back in the groove this morning. Not even 70% there. But I know I will get there and I’m choosing to focus on the glimmers of my subby groove I can feel out there and not on the shards of willful lizard thinking. In my forty-seventh year, I feel more confident in who I am sexually than at any time in my life. And more accepting of it. I’m very lucky that the light of my life is right there with me.

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Twice on Sunday

Belle and I talked this morning about me going outside our relationship for things she doesn’t want to provide. She reiterated that my permission to do so remains. So, worries of drama or other calamities by some were unfounded.

Her guidelines are a little clearer now. For one, she doesn’t want my dalliances to interfere with our life. They should be on my time. That complicates things a bit, but life is complicated. She doesn’t necessarily want to read about what I do and wants any blog posts on the subject to be behind a jump so she can ignore them. She also wants to retain her privacy and anonymity. Finally, and as she’s already said, the penis will always be locked up. That’s hers. She said it turns her on knowing that even in that kind of situation she controls it.

An unanswered question for both of us is how this might affect our dynamic. Since she’s the most important thing in the world to me, all I can promise is she’ll always have primacy in all things. Whatever relationships I develop alongside ours will be subordinate. Based on my previous experience with extramarital relationships, I think I can say my feelings for her will not diminish (and might even increase), but this is new territory for both of us. A lingering possibility in all this is that some day she might want something outside our marriage. I told her I don’t feel I have any say in that. In my mind, she controls both what I’m allowed to do with my body and what she does with hers. She mentioned that she thought it was funny, after all we’ve been through and after all these years, that we’d both find things we can’t give the other. She can’t/won’t give me a certain flavor of sexual experience I crave and I…here I expected her to say I wasn’t well enough endowed, but it’s that I’m not able to take her (and, maybe a little because of the size of the penis). I can’t fuck her and use her and come in her the way she wants. She craves being topped and I’m not a top. Maybe someday, she’ll let herself have what she craves.

In any event, she said she doesn’t have any problems with me seeking outside activities. She’s surprised in how little the prospect bothers her. At first, she figured it would be a very transactional thing. I’d find someone to fuck me and that would be it. But neither of us are capable of transactional sex, I don’t think. I need to have some kind of connection to the person, even if it’s not romance. Even so, she’s perfectly comfortable with me proceeding.

After that talk, we had lovely, leisurely sex. She told me up front I wasn’t going to come out of the device. She let me out Saturday morning so I could fuck her with Blue (which, she reports, “doesn’t even feel that big anymore”), but I had to put another device back on before I got out of bed. At least she let me in without Blue after she came. However, this morning I was left in the Looker 02 while she writhed under my fingers.

She came nicely and while she was basking I did my best not to grind the locked penis into her. The L02’s insert was choking the stifled erection and I told Belle how badly I wanted out so I could enjoy her. “You’ll have to wait,” she said. I replied that part of me hated that answer but another part of me knew it was best for me.

She didn’t let me fuck but she did allow me to lick. I moved down between her legs and sucked on her clit and inhaled as deeply as possible her essence. It was the first time I’ve ever gone down on her where I wasn’t trying to make her come. I was able to just enjoy the feeling and taste of her on my lips and tongue. I rubbed her wetness all across my face drenching me from my nose to my chin.

The other day when I picked her up from the airport, I experienced something probably only 17-year-olds and perpetually denied guys feel (at least as strongly as I did). She was in the car with me and I was happy to see her but at some point I felt it. Her pussy. It was there, too. I could sense it. Feel it’s gravitational pull. It left me feeling a little light-headed and with a chest full of butterflies. It intensity of it left me digging my fingers into her thigh which, I realized, was itself so close to it’s radiative heat. I so badly crave her pussy now that I’m not allowed to play with the penis and pretty much only come out of a device so I can fuck her. It’s like the other side of the coin from the penis now. She has me very well trained to be in tune with it.

Eventually, she started to warm to what I was doing. Every time I flicked her clit her leg would twitch until I was attacking it like it was my everything (and it is). She told me to get Pink so she could finish herself off while I sucked on her tits.

She came for a second time and I was left squeezing my swollen nuts.