Tag: open relationship

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An interesting situation

The other day, I got a text message from an old friend.

So, I have a situation you may find interesting. One you may want to ask your buddy Dan about.

And I’m like, Dan? I don’t know any Dans.

Dan Savage.

Oh! Yeah, my buddy Dan. We’re like this.

The old friend is the boy (now a man, obvs) I was with during high school and a little right after (the one with the wonderful cock I’ve mentioned…mmm, yes). One of my oldest friends in the world. Best man at our wedding, even. We’re going to have to call him something, so I’ll go with Frodo.

The interesting situation can be summarized thusly. Frodo and his husband Pippin (just to stick with the LOTR theme) have an open relationship because just like all the gays. Pippin is seeing a guy we’ll call Farmer Maggot…no, just kidding. We’ll call the guy on the side Merry, I guess. Anyway, they’re having a nice time together and Frodo is happy for Pippin and all is well. In fact, Pippin and Merry are going on a little vacation together. That’s how cool the whole situation is.

The interesting part involves their teenage daughter. Apparently, Pippin carries on a prolific texting exchange with Merry and the daughter (who we don’t really need to name, but if we did, I’d go with Rosie) is aware of it. In fact, so aware that she asked Pippin if he was in some kind of relationship with Merry.

I suppose as parents we sometimes fool ourselves into thinking our kids are oblivious to the things we think we do unobtrusively on our devices. The other day, I was listening to a podcast and the guy talking mentioned the name of his blog. My daughter said, “Oh, he does that?” and I was like, What? How in the world is she aware of that (totally innocent tech and design) blog? Turns out she sees me reading it on my computer and instead of just ignoring whatever boring gray website her dad is looking at, she actually absorbed enough to remember its name and the fact I’m on it frequently. So sure, they’re paying attention.

Note, I’m getting this whole story second and third hand. And I don’t always remember things well.

Anyway, Pippin was a bit flustered by this bold inquiry (for which, in and of itself, I give her credit — not sure I ever would have confronted one my parents like that). Not having any Longbottom weed to take the edge off with, my understanding is he punted on the question until he could consult with Frodo. I have no idea how you punt, “Dad, are you sleeping with Merry?” but that’s what I’m told he did.

So that’s where Frodo reached out to me. We are in similar situations with children of similar ages and relationships in similar states of openness. He wondered how I’d approach that question from one of mine. Of course, for me, the question would have the additional layer of previously unexpressed bisexual tendencies, but it’s a potential thing Belle and I may need to address at some point.

I told him I would say something to the effect that there are all kinds of relationships in the world and that some people love and trust one another to seek additional companionship outside their marriage and, rather than indicating a problem, allowing it to happen is a sign of significant strength. As unexpected as it may be, when done correctly, openness in a relationship leads to a greater degree of connectedness and affection for the primary partners. Since Rosie is old enough to hang tough in a deeper conversation, I’d take the opportunity to express my opinion that humans aren’t meant to be monogamous. We can be, by choice, but we’re designed to be promiscuous (a loaded word, to be sure). Every bit of physiological evidence points towards promiscuity rather than monogamy. I think we are driven to pair-bond, but that’s not the same thing.

Turns out, even though Frodo and I are both in open relationships, our thinking about them is different in a significant way. His take on what I just wrote is that monogamy is the ideal and that sometimes, it’s an ideal that can’t be lived up to for whatever reason. I totally disagree. There’s an underlying and implied moral judgment in that position I can’t square with. There are too many ancient human cultures in the world in which monogamy would be seen as wrong and unnatural for those of us under the influence of Western culture to award our approach as the ideal. There’s simply no reason to think eternal and exclusive commitments to one other person is superior or even the most logical approach. It also goes against my sense of sexual libertarianism and desire to be non-judgemental in all consensual permutations of human affection.

But ultimately, that’s a not a significant point of disagreement. Fact is, they’re open and they’re going to share that information with their daughter who is mature enough to hear the truth. And I think that’s great.

Funny little coda to all this. I don’t know how the conversation with Rosie went, but I did ask Frodo if he’d be OK with me writing this post. He said yes as long as I was careful with their identities (hence, Hobbit names). Then, while the older child and I were at the movies last night, he sent me this text.

I should have asked Pippin before saying yes. He’s willing to let you blog about our situation, but there is a price.

Oh? And that is…?

Apparently, he wants a photo of you he saw once on your blog. Wearing jeans and with an erection.

Why, I may blush. Wait a minute, Pippin reads my blog? Oh, my.

The picture Pippin wanted in exchange for letting me write my post is this one. I sent it to Frodo who said it was pretty fucking hot and that made me all squirmy. Then I thought about how the entire transaction left me feeling cheaply objectified and, yeah, well, that works for me, too.

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The one where I use words like “baleful” and “quadrilateral”

Some days, you want to write on your blog, but you can’t think of anything interesting to go on about. Other days, you have a thing to write about but no time. Still others, you have multiple things you want to say. That’s what today is. I have, like, three topics I want to go over (maybe four) but I have to spend the better part of the day at a photo shoot so just this one’ll have to do. Bonus points: it’ll be another post about me and Belle and me and Drew and Drew and Axel and I know how that riles up a certain demographic who reads me.

Drew tweeted this yesterday:

Then he wrote a post in which he mentioned a comment I’ve received but have yet to release from purgatory. The juxtaposition of these is interesting in that the commenter said something to the effect that he was surprised I was still seeing Drew as he assumed the “novelty” of the situation would have worn off for me by now. Then he said some disparaging and (perhaps unintentionally) ugly things about gay men.

I’m torn about releasing the comment since this guy’s native language is obviously not English. While I think his bigotry is pretty clear, I’m not sure I want to engage with someone who may not be evil, clearly needs educating, and doesn’t have a firm grasp of the words needed to talk about it in this forum.

Regardless, it’s the “oh, how happy we are” feeling that all four points in this quadrilateral relationship share against the continued feeling of some that a) Drew is an awful gay man bent of ruining my marriage, and b) Belle is a powerless victim caught up in my perverted fantasies. Or something.

An example. Last night, there was a ballgame on. I was watching in bed with Belle, my head laying on her stomach, her hand in my shirt rubbing my chest. This is my favorite place in all the world to be. Drew misheard something the announcer said and texted me about it. I laughed and told Belle what he said. She laughed. I texted back. Drew texted back. I told Belle what he said. We laughed some more. Then we kept watching the game.

Note, there was zero discomfort. Zero awkwardness. My phone was clearly visible to Belle the whole time the exchange was taking place (though, to be fair, some of it happened on my watch). Please, if you’re still harboring any doubt or concern about our relationship, knock it the fuck off. If you can’t knock it the fuck off, just keep it to yourself. I don’t want to hear about it.

Drew posits in his aforementioned post that the thing keeping some from accepting a merry band of four like ours is their own issues.

I actually now think the thing that is the hardest for most people to comprehend is the absolute 100 percent faith, trust, and allowances that our spouses allow us to have because that kind of freedom is very scary and something that many may dream of, but may not be able to handle when they are granted it, if they are granted it in whatever form or format that may take.

The two most important words in that sentence are “faith” and “trust.” He suggests that perhaps the reason some can’t get their heads around how we’re living at the moment is because they lack those things in their relationships. I totally agree. We are smeared with the fear and doubt of others as they try and fit our template over their lives and see nothing but grief and pain. It’s impossible for them to fathom that opening up our marriages in the way he have has led to more fun, more love, more contentment, and a deeper meaning for all of us.

At this point, I’m way past letting other people’s biases and fucked up issues get in the way of my happiness. Or Belle’s or Drew’s or Axel’s. If you have a problem with us and how we’re doing things, turn that baleful eye back on yourself and see who you are. Because we don’t have a problem with this. Not one of us.

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The inconvenient ebbing

Have I mentioned I’m bisexual? Oh, that’s right. We’re calling it biflexipan now. I feel like I must have brought it up at some point…

When I was young, I didn’t really understand my own sexuality or how it worked. I say now I’m a Kinsey three (and I know I am since Buzzfeed proved it for me — where were they in 1989!?), but that’s something that vacillates. I only average out to a three. I couldn’t get a grip on who I was for a long time because I didn’t realize that the oscillation around three was something I didn’t really control. I assumed that I must be gay (or mostly gay) because other guys turned me on and I wanted them to fuck me and only gay men want to be fucked by other men (at least as far as I knew). My pesky insistence on also being turned on by women and really enjoying sex with them (plus my inability to feel a real emotional connection to another guy) had to have been rooted in my inability to let go of the assumption and expectation that I should be straight. Like I didn’t want to disappoint my mom by turning out gay so I never let myself feel it and live it. Also, many of my gay friends told me “bisexual” meant “gay as soon as he figures it out.” Perhaps I was only fooling myself into liking women because I was afraid of the alternative.

I remember a gay friend telling me at about this time that I was confused. I also remember reacting very negatively to that word (mostly because this same guy told me I couldn’t exist and I really felt that maybe I did), but really, I was confused about how I worked. I didn’t get that how my attraction changed was natural for me and not something I could influence. That it just happened. I also had no understanding at all that emotional sexuality is separate from…sexual sexuality. It wasn’t until I met Belle and the enormity of the emotions I felt for her swamped everything else I felt that I decided to stop worrying about it. I still didn’t understand me and I knew I wasn’t “cured” of my attraction to men, but because I loved her as much as I did, none of it seemed to matter as much. For the first time in my life, I was with someone with whom I felt a deep need to procreate.

FF about twenty years.

So now I’m in this part of my life where on Wednesday I have my face buried in snatch and on Thursday I’m sucking dick. On the one hand, how fucking awesome is that!? But on the other, it’s a bit jarring. I am not the perfect Kinsey three I average out to. There’s a certain fluidity to it, but there’s zero fluidity in the logistics of how it plays out. I see Drew when I see him and those dates are set weeks or months in advance. Whether or not I am especially interested in his…er, services, there they are.

Up to this point, it hasn’t really been a problem (and even now, to use the word “problem” suggests there is one and there really isn’t). Some visits, I’m really into the idea of him being here and others perhaps less so, but this time I was way over at like a Kinsey one-and-a-half. However the tidal forces of my sexuality work, they were ebbing relative to the idea of mansex. But, you know, even one and a half twigs is enough to kindle a campfire with, so things weren’t awkward or weird. He knew something was up. I dropped vague hints. Still, a fine time was had by all.

I suspected this mismatch of opportunity and desire was going to happen when, in the days leading up to his arrival, I found myself rolling my eyes at things he would say to me that otherwise would have been funny or whatever. This wall, or whatever it is, has always been there and when it’s up I can never get over. Whatever guy I was with or who wanted to be with me would say or do something and I’d be like, Oh god, what a fucking guy thing to say/do, and get immediately turned off. Often enough, the “guy thing” works for me, but when it doesn’t, it does not. This kind of experience used to really throw me for a loop. Cause me to spin into a kind of perpetual re-evaluation of who I was and what I wanted out of life. Now I’m just kind of, Feh. I’ll get over it.

Of course, this is in no way a reflection on Drew. Luckily, I like him as well as have sex with him so even in the middle of this little episode, things are good between us. There have been guys in my past with whom I really only wanted sex and, when this thing came along, I’d run away from them faster than Jerry from Tom. My affection for him is genuine so this isn’t a crisis. Just a little thing.

Just about nine hundred words into this post and I realize I have no way out of it. Seems a pretty fair metaphor. This is just who I am and there’s no way out of that, either.

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But what about Belle?

Reader Mario commented:

I’m new here, so excuse me if this question has been previously addressed. Since your wife allows you to have sex on the side with another person and you’re doing that, obviously you could hardly object if she did the same (though I’m not assuming you would, in fact, object). If that has already happened, or if you anticipate it could happen, how do you feel about it? And I don’t mean as a fantasy scenario, but as a real situation.

I’ve written about this from both real life and a fantasy perspective, but I don’t know that I’ve really given it much time since our marriage has opened up.

First off, there’s no way I can have sex on the side but then pretend like for her to do so would be a problem. Of course, if it’s OK for me, it’s OK for her. This is speaking as Belle’s husband and not as a sub. I am quite confident in my position in her heart and am not worried she’d find someone she liked better than me. She might find someone she liked as much or better in certain regards, but I’m the love of her life and we both know it (as she is mine, of course).

With me, there’s stuff I want to do that she just can’t provide because of her gender. She could get pretty close using helpful objects and I’d be really cool with that, but she doesn’t want to (that’s more or less how we ended up with the current arrangement). On the face of it, it doesn’t seem like she’s missing out since she’s essentially into guys and I’m a guy. But, I’m not a normal guy and she’s not always able to have the kind of sex she likes with me. Plus, I’m all subby and shit and maybe she wants someone a bit more assertive or even dominating. I can pretend and play at that, but I’m sure there’s a style of sex she might want from time to time that I’m not so great at providing. I’m totally OK with that, perhaps because of my perspective as someone who wants things none of his sex partners can 100% provide. (Protip: Even if you’re not bi, no sex partner will ever give you 100% of what you want.)

Thing is, my Belle’s not just into sex. She wants there to be a more complete package. At least, that’s what she says. When she was younger, there was one guy with whom she had a relationship she pretty much controlled and they fucked just to fuck (at least, that’s my recollection of it), but she now professes a need for emotion to be involved as well. That also makes perfect sense to me as I’ve almost always been that way myself. I’ve had a lot of sex partners over the years, but very few that I had no emotional connection to at all (maybe not love, but friendship). So I wouldn’t be alarmed at the prospect she’d become emotionally connected to this mythical side person. I’d expect it.

I’m not saying I wouldn’t be jealous. I know I would be, but I don’t think a little competition is bad at all. Again, it’s about confidence. The thought of having to vie for her attention to a certain extent, but assured that I’d always ultimately be her primary partner, is thoroughly exciting to me. Sure, yes, there’s a subby thing going on there. There are aspects of their relationship that could work really well against my kinks, but this wouldn’t ultimately be about me. It would be about her. I think it’s important to understand I get that and would never try and direct her somewhere to satisfy my desires through her actions.

There was a time when I would have said there was zero chance something like this would ever happen. I still don’t think there’s much a chance, but it’s more than zero. I love her enough that I’d do whatever I could to help her achieve this if it’s what she wants. Ultimately, I want her to be as happy as possible and to get as much enjoyment as one can from life.

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Homecoming

Belle’s home from her two week overseas adventure so all’s right in the world again. It’s been hard keeping my hands to myself and I’m sure I’m annoying her with the attention, but I’m just so happy to have her back in the house.

She landed Friday afternoon and was in the typical jet-lagged haze for the rest of the day. I was able to keep her up until 9:00 PM (totally innocent — we were watching Friends) but then she crashed and was sound asleep seconds after she settled in. At about 4:00 AM, the penis in its tube woke me up. I realized she was laying there staring at the ceiling so I made my move. Turned out pretty well. She gave me the key and I got her off with a fully hard penis waiting impatiently between us. Then, when it was time for me to go for a ride, she told me she wanted to feel me come inside her. A little part of me rebelled at the notion, but I didn’t say anything and dutifully ejacualted as requried. It was not a great orgasm as orgasms go and I’m OK with that. But it was copious and that’s pretty much what she wanted. She told me she needed to feel me “mark” her on her return. That the orgasm had nothing to do with me, really. Sort of an unfortunate byproduct of what she needed to have happen. Regardless, she wanted me locked right back up. I was only out about three hours.

I was out and about all day and not in the office until late in the afternoon. I stopped in only because I was expecting a package from Mr. S to be waiting for me. Indeed, there it was. My business partner called me out for only coming in to pick up a package and wanted to know what was in it. I said it was something for home but he wouldn’t have any of that.

“It’s clearly something you don’t want to tell me about.”

“Clearly.”

“Now I know it has to be something illicit.”

“You’ll never know, will you?”

“You mean you have secrets you don’t share with me?”

I wanted to say, “As a matter of fact, I do. Not only does my wife lock my cock in a steel cage just about all the time and I go weeks and months without coming, I like to stick things in my butt and, oh, I have a boyfriend I get to fuck around with on the side. Did I mention the bondage thing? Or the masochistic tendencies? How’s that for secrets? Want any more?” But all I said was, “You have no idea.”

In the envelope was the Oxballs Cock Lock. I’ll be posting my full impression later, but I was anxious to get it home in time for the weekend. I’ve been wearing it since.

Yesterday’s orgasm has really done nothing to my overall horniness level. I was ready and raring again this morning for something, though Belle told me that there would be no more coming for me any time soon and I wasn’t getting out of whatever device I happened to be in, either. Regardless, I wanted to feel her come, but I wasn’t pushy about it. Luckily, she was amenable to the idea.

Before we got down to it, though, she told me how she and our trainer had been flirting with one another via text while she was gone. I’m convinced this is SOP for male trainers and their female clients. Belle knows what this does to me and, even though I asked for details, she wasn’t forthcoming. I told her I’m pretty sure that someday he’ll send her a cock shot. Yes, he’s that kind of guy. I’m sure with a tiny bit of encouragement from her, it’s entirely with the realm of possibility.

FullSizeRender 18This is not a new thing with him. He once sent her a picture of himself shirtless. Yeah, I know. Fucking hot, right? Based on my own personal experience, I know a guy who will send that picture is also a guy who will send others and of a more personal nature.

Anyway, I immediately wanted to fuck her. She wanted to be marked yesterday, but today, it was me craving the marking. But nope. Wasn’t going to happen.

Before we started, she got her new little purple vibe out of her drawer. She had taken it on the trip with her and, she reports, used it multiple times to get off. I, of course, got off zero times while she was gone. Yes, of course, she knew that. And now I know that one of the times she got off was while she was on the plane. I told her back when I doing that sort of thing, I’d jack off on planes, too. She said that sounded hard to do in one’s seat which is where she was when she did it with her vibrator. In her seat. GAH.

Yes, it was in business class which meant a lot more privacy than back where the they keep the goats, chickens, and regular people, and the thrum of the engines probably helped cover the thrum of the little vibe, but still. Jesus, I wanted her.

The best I got was to be the one pressing it against her clit when she came. And that’s pretty great, too, of course. She told me I might get out tomorrow for some fucking, but I’m certainly not coming.

After her orgasm, we laid in bed and chatted and snuggled. She looked across the room where the t-shirt I got for Drew was and she reminded me I forgot to give it to him. I mentioned to her the recent comment on his blog about how he was “taking me down a path she can’t follow” and the seemingly persistent impression of some people that she’s been coerced into this arrangement that allows me to have my fun with Drew. Like she’s a wilting ingenue in the sidelights.

In fact, giving me permission to play outside our marriage was her idea. She proactively gave me that option based on rules and guidelines she established. The notion among some readers that she’s a victim in all this or that I’m somehow taking advantage of her is preposterous. I’m honestly perplexed by this. I told her these types of people are worried about how Drew is going to ruin our marriage. She laughed and said something along the lines of, “Yeah, look how terrible it is.” I told her how there was concern that Drew was turning me gay. She laughed and laughed. “He’s doing a bad job of it,” was her thought.

In fact, Belle is and always has been the one who holds all the cards in my extracurricular activities. I operate under her rules and within what she’s comfortable with. She lets me do with him a) things she is not interested in doing with me, and b) things she cannot do with me but that she knows I want. She’s as much in control of that relationship as she is ours.

I suppose there will always be those who worry I’m going to leave Belle for Drew or some other man. That, contrary to everything I’ve written here on the topic, I’m not the bisexual heteromantic guy who thinks boobies are awesome and loves to munch on pussy. Luckily, the only person whose thoughts on that matter really count is not one of those people. Belle is confident in her position over my heart. She knows me. Knows what I want. What I need. And I am so happy and feel so lucky that she handles me as well as she does in whatever bed I find myself.

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Love and hate

Over on his blog, Drew wrote a post that was also a question. Basically, since he now has personal insight into outwardly-appearing “straight” couples and how they interact, along with his intimate understanding of how homosexual couples live and interact, he wondered how the two were different from one another. Gay couples are more often open than non-gay (apparently) and gay couples are often open with one another about their sex lives. Are “straight” couples the same? How are they different? And, of course, I use “straight” in quotes since that’s how Belle and I appear from outside.

I think M/M couples are more open in both senses of the word. They’re more often open sexually and they’re more open with one another about it. My simplification of their experience would be that it’s easier for them because they’re all guys. In a mixed gender scenario, you have something like alternating currents involved. The differences in how the genders process sexuality and the associated emotions need to be negotiated and that, more than anything, is what keeps F/M couples from chatting too freely with one another about sex and relationships. Of course, some do. But many (most?) don’t. When the couples are divided and grouped into their component genders, talk of sex increases because the currents are all the same. But even then, there’s a lot of uptight straight people out there.

And, of course, guys are allowed to be slutty in a way society frowns on for women. When the sexual dynamics are all about M/M sex, there’s a lot more of it. I’m not saying men are simpler sexually than woman or that woman are too complicated or whatever, only that it’s very easy for men to have sex without consequences (and that’s multiplied by about 10 when it’s sex with another man). I think men are also socialized to more freely have no-strings-attached sex than women. If it sounds like I’m saying men are pigs, I won’t lie and say that’s not true, but I think women could just as easily be pigs if we were all raised outside our dominant “good girls don’t”/”monogamy at all costs” paradigm.

So no, Drew, “straight” couples tend not to talk about one another’s sex lives unless their participants are broken out into their gender groups in which case they might. At least, that’s my experience.

Two caveats. First, openly kinky people are probably more likely to have these conversations than the non-kinky or the closeted kinky. Second, I clearly have no idea how those in F/F relationships relate to one another. Zero.

Now, when it comes to actually being in an open relationship, I think there’s more of that going on in the “straight” community than is let on. It’s such a taboo (or has been) that even if a relationship was like mine and Belle’s, chances are quite slim that information would be volunteered, even to close friends. Therefore, I think it’s impossible to know how many couples are open in some way (whether that be swinging or “fine but don’t tell me” or a cuckolding thing or like ours or whatever — there are many available flavors).

I would encourage my readers to check out the comments to his post because there’s a lot of good stuff there. But there was also this from someone called Pat…

I really don’t understand why everyone is so casual about this. For the straight couples it’s cheating. Plain and simple. For the gay couples, I guess you could call it a form of cheating but since those marriages are soon to be voided, I suppose it won’t be.

I made a vow when I married my husband to stay with him and only him. This bow [sic] was to him but also to God. I like to keep him in chastity to make our sex life stronger, but it’s just for us.

Open and cheating are not the same thing. I can tell you that for a fact since I’m someone who has cheated and is now in an open relationship. Open is so much better. And, if you read my last post, you’ll see how open can also be perfectly casual. In fact, I have to imagine it’s at its best when it’s casual. If I was sneaking around with Drew behind Belle’s back, that would be cheating. Since I’m not, it’s not. Plain and simple.

Regarding the dismissive hatefulness of the rest of that first paragraph, all I can say is you’re on the wrong side of history. You’ll soon be relegated to the same bin we keep racists who hated interracial couples and religious fanatics who persecuted the left-handed. That makes me very happy. We’re leaving people like you behind. I don’t say that with hatred in return. It’s a simple observation of fact. You’re either on the equity bus or you’re under it.

Also, point of fact, regarding the “marriages will be voided” comment, the question being taken up by SCOTUS would not, even in its most damaging result to marriage equity, void any marriages already performed. Nor would it stop marriages in states, like mine, were the elected legislatures made it lawful.

Regarding the question of vows, I can’t imagine why we couldn’t renegotiate whatever we laid out to one another soon-to-be twenty years ago. I can’t imagine why one would let their younger, less experienced selves place them in such a rigid box like that. Funny thing is, opening our marriage has been nothing but good for our relationship. So if by doing so we’ve strengthened the marriage, how is that going against the spirit of our wedding vows?

Of course, you can choose to make promises to your imaginary sky friend, but I’d rather stay focused on Belle and me, thanks. In my estimation, promises to gods have resulted in immeasurably more suffering and pain on this planet than the opposite. They’re all too often used to shield and justify hateful, damaging, and abusive words and actions. I’ll have nothing to do with them.

Pat also went on to say…

I’ve recently started reading [Thumper’s] again now that it’s back to more he and belle and chastity versus the gay fantasies and his feelings for sex with you.

You will understand that hearing you say you’re happy to read my blog again now that you perceive it to be more about one part of me than another you find distasteful does little to endear you to me. If there was a way for me to blot out my words so you and people like you couldn’t read them or find any value from them, I would. You must take me as I am, all of me. Both my wife and my boyfriend (and his lawful husband). If you choose not to, then please stop reading me.

I chatted with Drew about Pat’s comment after she made them and how much more emotional things like that make me than him. His said something that made me profoundly sad. Of course, he’s used to comments like that. Words that degrade and dehumanize and minimize him and his feelings and his life. He’s accustomed to dealing with injustice, prejudice, and intolerance. I’m not. I have lived in my privileged “straight” lifestyle and have only recently been exposed to terrible people in such a personal way. Unlike Drew, I haven’t had the opportunity to build up a thick emotional scab.

I don’t want that scab. I never want to let words like her’s roll off my back. Whether or not she was intentionally hateful, she was and I always want to feel an urge to say, “FUCK YOU,” than not. Impolite? Oh, sure. But justice is often impolite…at first.

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Dining among the beautiful people

Belle and I went out to dinner Saturday night at a shmancy new restaurant that feels like it’d be better suited to Soho than our fair prairie metropolis. Even the people in it seemed to be imported from one coast or the other. Where do these people live? Food was pretty good, though.

Anyway, we had a chance to talk, just the two of us. It was nice and something we needed as there were real life things that had to be discussed (but are unrelated to the world of this blog). Along the way, Belle asked how things were going with Drew.

At no point in my life did I ever think my wife would be asking me about my boyfriend but there she was doing it and all I could do in response was smirk. But it was fantastic and wonderful and such a great thing to be able to chat to her about him and me and me and her and the funky life we all lead. She’s entirely comfortable with the position Drew has in my life and that makes me very comfortable. It’s amazing to me how well this whole thing is working out and I’m impressed with all four of us involved that we’re able to be so perfectly cool about it.

To clarify about Drew’s “position,” I feel for him about how I’ve felt for all the other men I’ve been involved with. In the way my brand of bisexuality allows, greater than just a friend but less than someone I’m romantic with. I feel close to him and very fond and am quite pleased the pressure to have to feel more than that isn’t present. It’s great to have a relationship like this where I can be totally honest about what I need and can give back and not have to worry I’m not giving what he needs. In fact, I think I’m giving him exactly what he needs.

I told Belle again that I encouraged her to find her own Drew-like person, but she again said it wasn’t for her (and no, I’m not harping on it). She’d be afraid of developing an attachment beyond that which I have (or can have) for Drew, nevermind the time commitment something like that would require. Funny thing is, I expect if she ever did pick someone up on the side like that that she would develop feelings for him but I don’t find that in any way threatening. I know what I am to Belle. That said, of course, I’d be jealous. But not an unhealthy jealousy grounded in fear and insecurity. Maybe jealousy isn’t even the right world (or maybe we don’t have a word for it). I think whatever frisson I imagine I’d feel would actually be healthy for me and our relationship. The natural byproduct of our inherent promiscuity as a species. A little high octane fuel, as it were.

A little while back, Belle said she was glad I wasn’t poly. Thing is, I don’t know that I’m not. Do I love Drew? I don’t know that I’d go that far. As I said, I’m fond of him. I feel inside me the capacity to be fond of more than just him, though like Belle, I can’t imagine having the time. When I was unfaithful to Belle, I think the part of it that may have bothered her most was when I said I had “feelings” for the other woman. And of course, I did. I’ve never been good at sex without some kind of attachment like that. But nothing in those feelings changed how I felt about Belle. If anything, it drove me to feel more deeply for her. Nothing in those feelings were a threat to Belle. Same with the feelings I have for Drew. There’s not a finite reservoir of affection inside me that can only be divided up so many times. I don’t think that about any of us. More than ever, I think the limiting factor in how many loves we can have is that insecurity and fear. If not in us, then in our partners.

But whatever. The point of this post is to point out how great my wife is. That she could find the security in herself and to know well enough what she is to me to allow me the freedom to have Drew on the side. She’s awesome and I’m lucky. We’re all lucky. And for that, I’m grateful.

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Correlation vs. causality

This morning, the stupid penis refused to work again. This happened a few weeks ago, too. Just like then, I was really ready to go beforehand. Due to Belle being sick since last year (literally), we haven’t had sex in like two weeks and maybe that’s no big deal for guys who can take matters into their own hands, but it’s a real problem for those of us who can’t. It led me to feeling very irritable and grumpy and all-around not nice. But I digress.

We started with the kissing and petting and then her clothes came off and I felt her snatch for the first time this year (OK, I’ll stop) and the familiar THUMP in my chest when my finger parts her lips and finds the delicious hot wetness. I know for a fact I had a hard-on at that point. Then I got her off and she came really well and I pressed myself against her as she writhed from the intensity of it. Again, hard enough to fuck. As her basking began, though, things started to peter out. That’s not without precedent as I’ve been trained to see her coming as an end to sex, but I started to freak out just the same. The idea of not being able to keep it up (more of a fear, really) is, itself, not unlike a baggie full of ice on one’s junk. It’s a self-perpetuating condition.

Belle asked me if I thought it had to do with Drew. He was here this week and, last time I failed to pressurize, he had been here just before, too. I suppose it’s possible the reluctant hard-on is a symptom of adjusting from one kind of sexual experience into another. It’s been a really (really) long time since I was swapping back and forth between boys and girls in the same week. If, in fact, there is a connection, it’s subconscious. It’s not that I don’t want to be having sex or am fixated on something not right in front of me. But I can’t really say. Is it just a correlation or is there causality?

Thinking back on it, the last time I can recall this happening was right after I had the affair and before I told Belle about it. It also happened with The Other Woman (which, I’ll tell you right now, is not the best way to maximize your extramarital action). I suppose there may be a part of my brain that has difficulty transferring control of the hydraulics or something. This time around, I feel no guilt. Only gratitude. So it’s a mystery.

Unlike the last failure to initiate, we didn’t stop until I was able to chill out and get it up. Usually, if she tells me about how long I’ll be denied or locked up or whatever, that’ll get me hard (even when in a device) so I asked about that.

“How much longer do you think it’ll be until I get to come?”

“I was thinking about letting you do it this morning.”

Oh. Go on…

“Why today?” I asked. Not that there has to be a reason. I suppose any day is the same as any other.

“I don’t know. Maybe as a way to mark what’s mine.” As in, a way to reassert her control following Drew’s visit.

The night before, I said to her that I was very grateful to her for sharing me. That that exact phrase popped into my head when we were laying together watching TV earlier in the week and she was playing with the little hairy patch at the base of my back and I was feeling all warm and happy and secure. I’m so happy she shares me.

“I’m not sharing you,” she said, “I’m loaning you out.”

I didn’t see a lot of difference between “sharing” and “loaning,” but she did. If you share something with someone, you are giving some of it to them to have. You and they are equal owners of part of whatever it is. If you are loaning it to them, it’s still yours. You’re only allowing them use of it. No exchange of ownership implied.

“OK,” I said, “Thank you for loaning me out. I do appreciate it.”

So, making me come right after he was here would be a way to drive home who’s in charge. Not only of my orgasm, but of me and my sex. My entire being. Fucking hot, right? Things began to stir.

I knew that if she made me clean my seed from her after I came, that would get me good and hard because, of course, semen prior to ejacualtion is the sexiest fucking thing but .056 milliseconds after, it’s demon vomit. The idea of eating it prior is remarkably intoxicating. Of forcing me to eat it, whoa boy! Instant hard-on. So I got all up inside her.

Now, I thought I was going to come. I fucked with that goal in mind. It’s a different kind of fucking (not on the outside, but on the inside). And I got really close. Really really. Then I had the thought that she had only said she was going to let me. Not that I could. So I asked.

“No,” she said.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Of course, I didn’t. But did I want to. For real. Ooooooh man, did I want to.

I said to her I could have just gone ahead and done it. That her previous statement on the matter would been sufficient to establish intent on her part. But, of course, it doesn’t work that way and she knows me better. It’s not my orgasm. Not my penis. Not my sex. It’s all hers. Forever and always.

All the best things in my life are directly attributable to her.

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Belle’s analogy

At some point yesterday, I was showing Belle something on the Facebook and a message from Drew popped up. There’s no telling what he might be saying (or showing) so I quickly flicked the pop-up away and we kept doing whatever it was we were doing. I was 22% flummoxed.

Last night, as we were laying in bed going to sleep, she told me I didn’t have to worry about going out of my way to hide how and when I message him. It wasn’t a big deal to her. Also, she volunteered that she thought about my time with Drew as not being unlike when she went for a mani-pedi. A treat for myself that just doesn’t involve her. Without the noxious fumes.

In addition, she’s given her approval for me to go to LA with Drew over some weekend this summer to take in a ballgame in my hometown. Haven’t picked the dates yet and I need to figure out the logistics around the various metal detectors I’ll encounter (not just at the airport — MLB stadiums all have them now, too). I may need her to either let me wear plastic rather than the Steelheart or we’ll need to figure out some kind of picture-sending thing to ensure security.

I tell you this for no other reason than to point out what an exceptional spouse I have. Opening our marriage up in this way has only made it stronger.

With that, I wish all my readers a very merry Christmas and joyeux Noel.

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Moist mishap

This past holiday week was not unlike having two and a half weekends all mushed together. And, as such, we had a fair bit of sex. Belle wouldn’t let me out of the Steelheart on any of the occasions I was allowed to get her off, though, and even though I’m still kinda getting over the two orgasms she let me have a week ago, that cranked me up pretty good.

I had that “orgasms aren’t that bad, maybe we should let me have more of them” thing going on but that’s since receded. What didn’t is the crazy intense urge to be inside her, especially after being given the chance to play with her pussy as much as I did. Serious teeth-grating kind of intensity. But she wasn’t having any of it.

Sunday morning it was unclear anything would happen since so much already had. Turns out, she was willing to let me have a fuck. And only a fuck. She didn’t even take her top off. It was very transactional. Like she was rolling her eyes and enduring what I wanted as a treat for good behavior. There was a time when that might have bothered me, but I was so horny and needing to get the penis wet, I dove right in anyway.

And it was pretty fucking great, to be honest. She didn’t let me do anything to get her juiced up so it was a tight, dry fit at first and normally I’d be worried about her but, you know, she told me to so I let myself get off on the feeling. I was doing really well and enjoying the lack of impending orgasm that sometimes happens when I know we’re not trying to make her come. I can just fuck and fuck and never get very close and that’s what it was like…until it very suddenly wasn’t.

I don’t know what happened. I think I got so into it and the feeling of it and how wonderful it was and how I wasn’t thinking about coming at all that when I realized it was all of a sudden and quite freakishly right fucking there that I froze. And just in the nick of time, too, because while I spewed forth all the seed that had been frustratingly collected over the past week and through all the sex, etc., I didn’t have any of the other orgasmic symptoms. I didn’t feel like I had come. Except in one particular way: The penis immediately and completely went limp.

“The worst thing in the world for you,” Belle said immediately after, “Something you can’t categorize.”

Funny. But it was kinda true. Such a weird thing. In retrospect, I’ve labelled it a ruined orgasm. The rapid depressurization of the penis tissue was, I think, caused by being freaked out by getting so close to coming and not having been able to feel it approach until the very last moment. But I was still pretty damned horny. Horny enough to drool over the Tumblr and feel more of that molar-grinding kind of frustration later in the day while the free penis meat moved around distractingly inside my pants.

And I’m still out. Belle said she was feeling lazy and left me free until we arrive in NYC tomorrow. Don’t know which she wants me in, but I’d vote Trainer 2.0 only because the plastic will make the various metal detectors tourists sometimes find in New York less annoying. And, since I’m basically on my own for the first several days we’re there as she does work stuff, I don’t know why she’d care. But it’s her choice, not mine. I can work around the steel if that’s what she prefers.

Finally, I want to wrap this by clarifying something that I think a significant number of you (though not a majority) appear to think is the case regarding Belle and me and the openness in our marriage she’s allowed. Namely, some of you are apparently of the opinion she’s being victimized or taken advantage of by me, her sex-crazed maybe-homosexual and apparently insensitive lout of a husband. Or something like that. Trust me, nothing could be further from the truth. I have been very careful to check in with her and get a sense of her well-being through this entire experiment. I continue to do it even now. She doesn’t post here so you have to accept I’m telling the truth and haven’t left her tied and gagged in the closet (which is my thing anyway), but it’s true. She’s perfectly OK with what’s happening as long as it happens within the bounds she’s set up. Really. And having those boundaries is a very normal part of open relationships. Look it up.

Second finally, it’s honestly shocking to me the comments I continue to receive here (let alone those on Drew’s blog) from those who have a problem with men having sex with other men. Or, even more unsettling, men falling in love with and marrying other men (as is the case with Drew and Axel). Please, if you feel that homosexuals should not marry or, if they have already done so, are not really married because they’re gay, get the fuck out of here and never return. I honestly hate you and it pains me to think you would gather any value from my blog. People like you are part of why this world sucks for people like me who are not part of the standard of normal, let alone for the millions of loving gay people who are just trying to have a fucking life. You are the worst.

And with that, I shall bid you adieu. If you’re a cool cat who lives or works in NYC and wants to hang out, eat something, or imbibe a beer or two, let me know. I’m pretty much a lone spirit until Thursday afternoon. I have some stuff I want to do, but my schedule is pretty open. Also, know that as an avowed introvert, placing myself out there like that makes me really freaked out. But I’ll try and be normal anyway. As long as you are. And aren’t planning on trying to kill me or something.