Tag: open relationship

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Dawning appreciation

Sex at Dawn didn’t so much show me how others live or reveal to me some mystic, hidden secret about human nature as much as it put form and structure around things I had already figured out about myself and human sexuality. It has left me thinking and feeling things more deeply than any book I’ve read in a long, long time. Maybe ever.

Cheating on Belle was certainly the most colossal screw-up of my adult life. I don’t see Sex at Dawn as a way to retroactively create for myself a pass on that in any way. But man, do I wish I had read it before all that went down (not that I could have since it was published about two years after those events). So much of how we human monkeys are put together I intuited from that and subsequent experience, but it’s all laid out in the book. It all makes so much more sense now.

The affair was about more than sex. It was about connectedness with another human. It was about feeling alive and vital. And in becoming involved with The Other Woman, I felt things I didn’t know one could feel for more than one person at a time. Not the same type of love I feel for Belle. But affection and interest and many similar aspects of how I feel for her. Nothing that detracted from Belle’s place in my heart. If anything, I felt more in love with her. I wonder what it would have been like had I been honest with her and all the feelings of significant guilt and fear hadn’t been clouding the picture.

But that’s in the past and it’s what led to the present and the present is good. I regret the choices I made, but not the consequences.

The most interesting reaction I’ve had to the book is how it’s colored my opinion on marriage. Not being in love with someone and wanting to spend a really long time in their company (up to and including the rest of your life). Not on being committed to them and pairing up and building a life. But absolutely on what I think is a government sanctioned perpetuation of the myth of one-man-one-woman monogamous bliss. I think that’s bullshit.

Monogamy is expected. It’s assumed to be the natural order (just like heterosexuality). But it’s not and everything about us says that. Our physiology and psychology are both hardwired against it and constantly fighting it. This is obviously so. And yet, when we succumb to our innate drive to be promiscuous, we either do so duplicitously and hurt those we love or we do it with their (or one another’s) consent and are judged harshly for it by others. The stock assumption is because relationships that are open to other loves or other sex partners are complicated that they’re wrong and should be avoided. This is the same kind of thinking that makes people avoid anything other than standard, married, boy-girl missionary sex and it’s just as wrongheaded.

All human relationships are complicated, it’s just that we have more experience with some than with others. There is nothing innately bad with being in some kind of affection dynamic with more than a single person. There is nothing intrinsically immoral about having sex with more than the one person you’ve decided is the one you love more than any other. Because we have all been culturally indoctrinated to believe we are a certain way and to reject dynamics and realities that don’t align with that paradigm, we react negatively. We recoil and feel uneasy and fearful. We are afraid of who we are because we don’t know who we are.

And that’s why I think state-sanctioned marriage is bullshit. There are many ways for people to find happiness and love and commitment. It’s no one’s place to judge and it’s not the role of the state to pick winners and losers. Conservatives like to say that gay marriage will lead to the destruction of “traditional values” and I hope to fucking god they’re right. People can be happy and children can be lovingly raised and the world and our society will be better for it once we get out of the way of who we are and how we need to be, both on the scale of us as a species and the scale of us as individual people.

Of course, those who choose monogamy are free to do so. Just as those who choose to have their junk locked up by their spouses are free to do so and those who want to be tied up and beaten are also free to do so. Just as any consenting adult is free to do anything else with another consenting adult (or group of adults) that results in no harm to any other uninvolved person. Is there any better definition of freedom than that?

Reading Sex at Dawn has crystalized a lot of things I was already thinking. It’s given form to feelings. I don’t think I’ll ever think specifically the same way again. And that’s a really good thing. If you haven’t already done so and are sex-positive and open to new experiences and want to better understand what it is to be a sexual, loving human being, read it. Just read it. If you’re not those things…what the hell are you doing here?

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Born to fuck

Belle says to me last night sort of out of the blue, “I’m really glad you’re not polyamorous.” She’s making the correct distinction between having multiple loves versus multiple sex partners.

I’m about halfway through Sex at Dawn and it’s rocking my world. Pretty much everything the popular culture wants us to believe about human relationship is wrong. So much guilt and shame and bullshit piled up in an attempt to hold back how humans evolved to be. Not act. TO BE. It’s a remarkable read and I’m sure I’ll say more about it when I’m done.

But the thing that I keep thinking about is the difference between polyamory and promiscuousness. Humans are designed to be promiscuous, but are they designed to be polyamorous? Belle’s right that I love only her. And I do it deeply. But could I love someone else at the same time? I don’t really know. I suspect that if I did it would have a different texture than the love I feel for Belle. I suspect that multiple loves take on unique qualities based on the unique combination of those involved. I know I can’t feel anything like the love Belle gets from me for a man (as we’ve already discussed in length), but another woman?

I doubt it if only because I’d know how it would make Belle feel. Not that it’s going to happen, of course, but the merest whiff of the potential to hurt her would cause me to immolate any other potential affection dynamic. The term “affection dynamic” is interesting to me as I think about love in the context of what Sex at Dawn says about us as primates. The entire concept of one-on-one exclusive and eternal love might just be part of the big lie that I talked about. When Belle says she’s glad I’m not polyamorous I hear fear that if I was I might leave her. As if love is binary. I will never leave her. I will die with her. Period. But that fear based on the idea that one person is always with another single person is pervasive.

She said again it’s why she’d never want someone of her own on the side. She’d be afraid of developing entangling emotions for them. I would be shocked if she didn’t, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think she should if she wants to. I don’t fear her leaving me. I know what I am to her. Of course, if such a thing were to happen and I needed to find a way to share her, that wouldn’t necessarily be a straightforward process for either of us, but I do not fear it.

I’m just spitballing here. Not making any suggestions or saying anything will happen. But I am trying to process where cultural conditioning ends and real human behavior begins. If anything, Sex at Dawn makes me angry. Angry at the powers and individuals who are invested in and part of the industrial complex of enforcing the dominant paradigm of human relationship in Western culture. Angry at those who are judgemental and rigid and think my business (or yours) is theirs. Angry that we are so fucking hung up on sexuality that we can’t talk about it. Not the average reader of this blog. I’m sure we’re relatively OK talking about it. But all of them. The ones who have been taught that sex and desire are things to fight against. To resist. To minimize.

We are sexual monkeys. We were born to fuck. Perhaps even to love. But we traded that in for what we have now. And that makes me angry.

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In the shadow

I’ve had a stressful week. I know, that’s not a very encouraging start to a post on a blog about kinky sexual practices.

I’m starting to wonder if I don’t have some kind of pathological disorder when it comes to getting stressed out about otherwise totally achievable tasks when they start to pile up. That, and leaving home. This week, I had a bunch of smallish things I had to do that you’d think someone in my position would be able to pull off without breaking a sweat but they were related to going on a business trip to a place I’d never been to meet people I didn’t know. That made me freak out a little inside. Well, maybe more than a little. I was functional, but eaten up with dread and that created a block that led me to put off what I knew I had to do for about two weeks until the last minute. And now I’m on said trip and walking around with a little ball of foreboding in my stomach. I’ll probably be fine once I’m actually in the conversations I’m here to have, but it’s leading up to them that’s bugging me.

The week started out, though, really well. Sunday, Belle and I had zero sex but I was left feeling very satisfied. I even told her I liked the day and she was surprised since I never got unlocked and never got into her pants.

That morning, she started out by telling me I wasn’t getting out. I was to remain as I had been and there would be no free penis time that week at all. That brought forth the forces of gnawing repressed sexual hunger and the warm and cozy sense of total submission to her. They met in my chest like opposing firehoses sprayed into each other’s maws and the resulting conflagration of energy combustion fueled my craving little bunny persona. I simultaneously wanted to rip her clothes off and fuck her violently while also bowing down to her will and curling up in the shadow of her domination. That is what being submissive feels like to me and it’s wonderful.

In any event, we started to get down to the business of getting her off but were distracted by the noises of children and their sleep-over guests and she decided we’d stop. Of course, I wanted to keep going. Badly. Really badly. But her decision was enough to throw a blanket over all my cravings and I didn’t put up a fight. Again with the gnashing and thrashing of my subjugated sexual monster overlaid with the obedient fuzzy bunny rolling over on his back. I felt really good about myself that I was nearly as satisfied by my reaction to being left locked and loaded than I would have been by feeling her come against my fingers or tongue.

Later that night, as we went to bed, she said she wanted me naked and next to her so I was expectational but all she wanted to do was feel me there and I didn’t get annoying. Another win. She also said she kinda sees the point of the clear Holy Trainer in that being able to observe the penis all smashed in there and controlled was a turn-on to her. Not so much that she liked it better than the Steelheart, but she got it. She reiterated to me again (because I need to hear it) that, in fact, she prefers me the way I am when denied and locked up over the me who isn’t locked or has come and, while the sex lizard bellowed in anguish, the rabbit purred. If, indeed, rabbits purr. Whatever purr-like thing rabbits do, it was doing.

So she left me feeling exactly like I want to feel. On many levels. And there was no sex. And it was still awesome.

But then the week started. The thing I had put off was on and in the forefront of my mind and the trip was perched down at the end of the week like a vulture and these things were interrelated and bugging me significantly. Then the furnace started acting like a fuckhead. And then it snowed and got really cold.

Fucking life.

In short, I got moody and irritable. But I tried like hell to hide that from Belle. Turns out, a lot of that feeling got rerouted to Drew. I didn’t want to be a dick to him, but trying to raise the enthusiasm necessary to be engaged in that dynamic was very difficult. And it made me even more annoyed. Not specifically with him, but with it all just being one more fucking thing I had to stress over. More things that piled on top of all the others that were freaking me out. I was really kind of a mess.

But it led to us having a conversation today to reset expectations all around. We agree that what we are able to do with each other is frosting on the cake of our primary lives. It’s entirely optional. It has to live in whatever air pockets exist around our “real” lives. And in my case, this week there were none. Plus, for me, this is just about sex. And I don’t say that in any way that should be construed as minimizing it because I think sex is very important. But I just don’t know that I’m wired in a way to be able to handle what we had both tried to establish in the past few weeks. Which is to say, I’m not looking for a polyamorous situation (and I’m not saying he was trying to make this into one) and I can’t do what I thought I could absent that kind of commitment. What I really want and have always wanted was a friendship with a guy who’ll screw me on the side. And that’s about it. And that’s OK with both of us.

So yeah, resetting expectations. He wondered if this would look like some kind of failure, but I rejected that. We aren’t failing at anything. We’re doing something new for both of us that’s also quite complicated. It’s evolving. It’s adjusting to the contours of our primary lives. If we can make that happen and still feel like we’re getting what we want out of it, how can that be failure? Quite the opposite. And there’s still elements of D/s involved because that’s who I am and it’s the kind of sex I need to have (future post topic: kink as a sexual orientation). It’s also who he is and what he wants. So we’re not totally abandoning that aspect at all. Evolution.

I’m still feeling a little freaked out and hate that I’m not home with Belle right now, but I think I’m over the worst. The hardest parts are behind me and I’ll be home in less than 24 hours. Home to my Belle and the warm bed and my place next to her, curled up in the shadow of her dominance. Purring. Or whatever it is rabbits do.

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Addendum to previous post

Forgot to mention one other things Belle said last night. She was reading about the Holy Trainer v2 coming in and deciding whether or not she’d let me wear it (I really need to remember the order of operations on this stuff). Yes, she will, but she said the only way I’d ever see Drew was locked in the Steelheart. The Steelheart is, more than any other, her device. It’s her favorite. The one she’d leave me in all the time if she didn’t indulge me with some variety from time to time. I’ll never see him in the Looker or the Trainer or anything else. Just the Steelheart because it’s the most powerful symbol of who owns what’s inside.

Plus, you know, you can’t see the penis inside it. Drew doesn’t get to see that (in real life — I’ve left enough pictures of it all over the internet). The penis is 100% Belle’s and she will not share it, ever. Also, the Steelheart is the only truly and totally secure device she has. Not that she doesn’t trust me, but it’s not only the most powerful symbol of her control, it’s also the most literally controlling.

And…that’s fucking hot. All the way around. I love that she feel so possessive of it and me and that helps me appreciate what a great gift she’s given me in allowing me to see Drew.

And speaking of him, he feels terrible about he excessively possessive thing I mentioned. He suggested going back and editing that post, but I told him that was a bad idea. It’s already out there and, in my opinion, blogs like these only move forward. I’ve never gone back and substantively edited a post here. All my mistakes and foolishness from the early days are still there and, when I look back, I find plenty to be embarrassed about. Instead, I told him he should write a new post about it and move on.

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Time and relative dimension in space

We have moved from the giddy, nervous newness stage of allowing a third party a place at my table and into the practical reality of how it’s going to function so that everyone involved, but especially Belle, feels comfortable. It all has to settle into a stable routine.

Each person in this little triangle has their own perspective and vulnerabilities. I feel it’s my responsibility to look out for both mine and Belle’s since I’m the one who wants this and she’s the one who has allowed it to happen. That’s not to say I don’t think of Drew in all this as well, but the priority is Belle, first and always. The thing I have been struggling with is that I’ve found myself putting me last in line. I suppose this is a submissive’s trap, but I’ve realized that if I don’t take care of myself then I’ll probably fuck up my first priority (keeping Belle as comfortable as possible with the arrangement).

For me, it all culminated on Sunday. I have some things I need to do for myself and a community of friends that I’ve been putting off since essentially the day Drew showed up and started distracting me. The day ended with me doing things for him and doing things for Belle and not having completed her list of tasks and totally ignoring my own needs and, on top of everything else, I fucked up my Achilles tendon and probably won’t run again until the end of December so my mood was shit. But I didn’t want to show any of that to either of them. I was feeling pretty crap and like I was holding on by my fingernails. Pressured.

Of course, none of this is Belle’s problem. She’s not expected to make room for Drew and how that changes me. I have to make the room. So this had to be an issue taken up with him. We talked yesterday and set some good ground rules going forward. Rules about when we communicate and how and what his expectations are with regard to my submission. We also discussed how I can easily share my sex and even my submission (to the right person) but I can’t share my heart. Not with him. There’s nothing wrong with him except that I’m not capable of feeling a certain way towards a man and I needed him to really and truly get that (which he did and does).

So on Sunday, late in the day, I was laying on the couch with my head in Belle’s lap while she watched football (three games). She was stroking my hair and mentioned she didn’t think she could let the Drew thing happen if he was local. She’d feel too possessive of me.

“You have the local franchise,” I said.

“I have the only franchise,” she corrected in a sweet yet totally serious and I better be paying attention tone. “He’s just renting.”

Then, last night, she told me she read his initial post over on his new blog. She said she wouldn’t be going back there, at least not for a while. She felt his tone was too possessive of me and I totally get that. I felt the same thing when I read it, but I know him and know that he came off sounding more entitled than he knows he is. But she doesn’t know that and she didn’t respond well. She’s still giving me the freedom to explore a relationship with Drew, but made it clear that there are landmines we need to be aware of.

This is, of course, exactly what I want us to do. Communicate. Be honest. I don’t think there’s a snowball’s chance this will work if we’re not. Part of being honest is establishing space. The space she needs apart from what Drew writes, the space she needs in our relationship that is exclusively ours and inviolate. The space I need from Drew to do that. The space I need to make sure I don’t get consumed by the task subbing to two people so it’s impossible to accomplish.

Moral of this post: We’re being cautious, sensible adults as we move through uncharted territory. And that’s good.

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I’m too annoyed to even come up with a title

The recent series of posts has elicited some less than inspiring comments. At the prospect of Drew…

I just want to say that I am less than excited about your romps with another man than I am about your interaction with your wife.

After hearing that I had been with him…

Well hopefully for her sake you used protection or will be tested for hiv.

And after I posted his POV of our first encounter…

Is this going to become a gay blog now?

The overwhelming majority of comments have been positive and supportive and, for that, I am grateful. Thing is, since this is a blog about kinky sex and other perverted diversions, I would have only expected comments that suggested my readers were open-minded when it comes to sex of all kinds. Apparently not.

With regard to what kind of blog this is, it will remain what it has always been: A journal of the sex and relationships I am part of. I don’t make this shit up. It’s not a “choose your own adventure” novel. And, to be honest, it’s not like my interest in having sex with another man is something I’ve never mentioned before. It’s interesting to me that all of my several posts about me playing with my own ass were passed over without criticism but when another human of my own gender does it, the peanut gallery starts chirping (and all I did was say it happened, I didn’t even talk about it in my typical level of gory detail).

And seriously, who the fuck thinks it’s OK to pipe up with their narrow-minded and frankly ignorant opinion on a blog about a real person doing real things in real life? Do you confuse me with a source of entertainment for you? Do you suppose for a single goddamned minute I give a shit if what I say offends or fails to give you a chubby?

I have spent too much of my life worrying about how others would judge me because of who I am and how I feel and what makes me happy. I still struggle with that today. If you find anything I discuss here (you know, the real and factual details of another human’s search for satisfaction and happiness) offensive, get the hell out. Just go the fuck away. Are you doing me a favor by reading my words? Do you think so much of yourself that you think your comments criticizing my relating what happens to me should, in any way, change how I live or what I write on my fucking blog? Get over yourself.

For the record, OF COURSE we had safe sex. I’m not a 16-year-old. For the record, I don’t give a shit if you don’t want to hear about me having sex with other men in between loving my wife. And finally, if you don’t approve of the direction my blog is going (which is also the direction my life is going, not incidentally), let Google be your friend and find yourself some other source of masturbatory inspiration.

Three comments is not a lot, I know. But I assume that they may represent the views of a chunk of people who come here on a regular basis to absorb the peeks I give into my private life. If that’s you, then I respectfully ask you never come back and delete your bookmark to my site. Life is too short for us to interact.

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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.