SexyPrime, a blog by Susan Crain Bakos

SWINGING RULES, "CHEATING", AND THE SEXUAL INSECURITIES OF WOMEN--A Conversation With M

 
Photo Credit:  "Lovers" by Hearts

 

I “met” M on Facebook and he quickly became my go-to guy on swinging and group sex and anal penetration.  A swinger with his ex-wife for several years, he jokes that he is known in the California sex community as AssMaster.  His primer on anal intercourse is the best I’ve ever read—and very supportive and empowering of women.  He brings intelligence, humor and a fresh perspective to sex talk.  This week we’ve had a dialogue inspired by two posts, Monday's Ask Auntie Sue and "How many times have you been properly in love?"  

M—

You posed the question if a married person can be a decent affair paramour if they were not in a stable marriage. Well, the short answer is that I'm not sure exactly what you mean by a stable marriage, but I do have some experiences to share.

In the swinging lifestyle, MOST people give LIP SERVICE to being totally horrified by the idea of "affairs" where any of the participants has a spouse/significant other that is not fully aware of and consenting to their partner’s play. Various couples define that differently: some call it  “cheating” if they are all sharing a bed and their partner engages in some play in the morning before their spouse wakes up, even if they were all playing the night before. Many call it cheating if they are not in the same room. Most would call it cheating if the spouse does not know about it, or if they broke any of their "rules". (I.e., if they have a no anal rule and they have anal with a playmate, I've heard that called “cheating”. Same with breaking the condom rule.)

I won't go into details about how much the vocalization of "no cheating by swingers" differs from reality other than to note that in my personal awareness, the cheating was rampant among swingers who were getting unapproved action behind their spouses back.

SexyPrime—

Did you cheat,, M?

M—

During my marriage, I never played without my wife's knowledge, and I have no reason to believe that she played without my knowledge...BUT we each repeatedly found ourselves as the other person playing with a swinger behind their spouse's back. What I typically heard from the women I played with (and not just the one's that were cheating), is that their husband's tried to exercise entirely too much control over who they played with, including several of them that said that their husband VETOED anyone he thought they were actually really into.

SexyPrime—

You can’t swing without a partner.  So what do you do now?

M—

Married women!  In recent years, both in the lifestyle, and in my "vanilla" dating, I've made the odd observation that most of the women who are into me are married, including my last five significant relationships both before and since my divorce. While four of those women are still married, and two of them appear to be making renewed efforts to make their marriages work, I would not describe ANY of those marriages as stable, yet those five affairs with women in unstable marriages were five of the hottest relationships I've ever enjoyed. In particular, I've noted that a middle aged woman in an unhappy marriage will try ANYTHING sexually. They are usually both angry and bored with their sex life, and once they decide to cross the line of infidelity, they have no rules.

That last part is a lot of the attraction for ME...I still don't understand why the women that are attracted to me seem to be mostly married, but I'm good with that.

.SexyPrime—

I can see where you would be the place to go when a woman has decided to let go and try anything.  How do you compare female swingers with vanilla women?

M—

As a group, swinger women are more insecure about their sexual skills than their vanilla sisters. I think the primary reason for that is that vanilla women generally have very few chances (not counting porn) to see other women having sex. Swinger women see other women squirting, or deep throating, or enjoying anal, or making their husband moan in ecstacy, and it makes them feel like they have shortcomings. Vanilla women don't see that so they have no reason to doubt their skills.

It is easy for women to discount what they see in porn, as they should...harder to discount watching a woman from six inches away who is bouncing on your husband's cock and taking the whole thing when you can’t, like the young woman who wrote to Auntie Sue this week.

SexyPrime—

Yes, when I sent you her letter and pictures for consultation, you immediately saw the pics as their kit for posting on swing sites—and said the young woman’s insecurity about her skills was normal.  

M—

I thought the letter did in fact read like a youngish swinger woman who is excited about their sexual experimentation, and is feeling a bit intimidated by other women who can take all of her man's cock when she can't—a situation compounded by her insecurity over the rarity of his orgasms which I addressed in my letter to you about the rarity of my own orgasms.

SexyPrime—

But do you really think swingers have superior skills?
I don’t have your insider perspective, but I have been the voyeur/journalist at swing parties and sex clubs, but  I don't recall being knocked out by the skill level of most of the people I saw, men or women.
One party at a house in a Dallas suburb was like a trip back in time—big hair, fake nails and boobs, extreme tans on both sexes. I expected the Herb Tarlek character from "WKRP" to step from behind a drape any minute. And lots of sexual posing! I am sure there were more faked orgasms in that room than in the average suburban neighborhood on any given weekend.
But, yes, I can see that it would all look different if you were a young woman watching someone else take all your husband's cock when you couldn't.

M—

I do NOT assume that swinging women are more skilled than vanilla women. ON AVERAGE, swinging women have a more varied degree of experience, and many of them seem quite insecure about their sexual skills compared to vanilla women, Many vanilla women who could really stand to read your column and take some good advice, have an inflated opinion of their sexual skills.

I've often been told that many men THINK they are very skilled, and are not. Since men are not my preferred sexual partners, I can only say that is what women tell me, and I assume it is true. I have just observed that among vanilla women, their skills and their belief in their skills has little correlation, much like what I hear about men.

SexyPrime—

Yes, I hear the same thing from men and women:  S/he doesn’t know she s/he is doing in bed.  Often they are the same people who spout the doctrine of soul mate/sexual spirituality love in which technique is de-emphasized.  People, if you don’t have game, you can’t open that soul portal.  Technique allows the emotions to connect.

Otherwise, there’s a lot of faking going on, in the name of god or otherwise.

M—

Oh don't even get me started about the posing and faking at big swing parties and clubs. And while the fake nails and missile tits get a lot of attention, the most bizarre was the mainstreaming of "stripper shoes", i.e. completely ridiculous high heels, often transparent.

I have always considered the larger parties and swing clubs to be the Lowest Common Denominator of group sex for the reasons you cited. On one occasion, at a major swing club near San Diego (that is no longer in business), I was in the orgy room (which was essentially seven mattresses side by side with a walk space at one end) and I noticed that there were 14 people fucking, and it was as 7 couples with all 7 of them doing missionary. The larger crowds tended toward the most conventional sexual expression.

Smaller groups lead to more experimentation and more serious pleasuring. The sweet spot seems to be the range of between two and six people in the room. More than that and it breaks into couples doing the simplest acts while trying not to get kicked in the head by other couples.

It bothers me that a group (theoretically) open to non-monogamous group sex can be so incredibly narrow in their sexual range...and even look down on the "freaks" who were more experimental. Many couples had elaborate sets of rules that barred them from trying anything creative with their non-spousal playmates.

I love swinging, and many of the wonderful people I’ve met among swingers, but I could never adopt the Polyanna view of swinging that so many swingers espouse. Some of the nastier aspects of swinging are very common and any couple that goes there should be aware of them, and not be blindsided by the utopian rhetoric of many self-appointed spokespeople in the lifestyle.

copyright 2008-2011, www.sexyprime.typepad.com; PARTIAL reposts only permitted with link back to original article on SexyPrime

 

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IS HIS ORGASM A SURE THING--OR NOT?

 
Photo Credit:  "Nymph, Winter Solstice" on Photobucket

 

BR, the cousin/lover/lawyer, arranged a rooftop surprise last night.  Christmas lights strung in bare potted trees, heat lamps, a chaise lounge with cashmere blankets, smoky single malt Scotch and two glasses--and a middle of the night view of the first winter solstice lunar eclipse in over 300 years. The man has style.

As we cuddled and sipped and watched the moon go dark red, he asked me what's new in sex. 

I told him that my pal Steve Otero recently forwarded a post by a woman blogger who is concerned that men aren’t living up to their orgasmic potential.  All this fuss over female orgasm, she laments, and what about the male? ( BR laughed.) Honey, in spite of studies finding that men too are faking orgasms—his orgasm is far more inevitable than hers.

Yes, men can and do fake, read my post on the studies—and that news apparently has upset many women who now wonder if the guy rushing to the bathroom to dispose of his condom is really hiding…nothing, no contents.  Faking with a condom is much easier than faking bare.   In a very funny piece on thefrisky.com, a man explains how the naked fake might be done:

Glad you asked. It's when you've been going for a long time and need to fake your way to a finish, and you tell the lady (or "receiving end," to be PC) that you need to finish with a "money shot." Start making the groaning noises, and just as you're about to take your "money shot" -- ideally, the "receiving end" will be squinting, as someone about to get something shot in their face inevitably always does, like point-blank Dodgeball -- and you "bust" into the ether. Ask her if you need to get her a towel and she'll ask you where it went. You don't know. You both start checking hair, sheets, walls, as you grab a towel. Oh, there it is, under the desk, surrounded by the dust bunnies. You don't want to see this. *Takes towel away.*

But when the interviewer asked if he had actually done this, he replied,  No, but I've thought about it. Really though, you're better off just telling her you'd like to finish yourself off if you can.

When Dr. Ian Kerner was asked if men were having more difficulty reaching orgasm now than in the past, the sex therapist and author of She Comes First and He Comes Next said that he's "seeing an increasing number of men who say they are taking longer to reach orgasm or never get there at all. I attribute this rise to the proliferation of SSRI-based antidepressants such as Prozac and Paxil, which can affect a man's ability to reach climax."  On a similar note, a recent Australian study found that men who smoke marijuana daily are four times more likely than men who don’t smoke to have difficulty reaching orgasm. 

So.  Men’s problems with orgasm would seem to be rooted in physical causes while women’s are more often psychological,  i.e. She just can’t bring herself to stroke her clitoris during intercourse because the princess myth tells her the prince will make her come--and Mummy said it was dirty down there anyway.

Kerner also blames “the rapid proliferation of internet porn” for adversely impacting the male orgasm.  Why?  “The availability of so much sexual novelty is making it harder for [some men] to reach peak levels of sexual arousal with their real-world partners."

What do you think about that?

Bottom line:  the studies show that the Orgasm Gap persists.  He comes more often than she does.  And that is all the more galling because she has greater orgasmic capacity than he does.

copyright 2008-2011, www.sexyprime.typepad.com; PARTIAL reposts only permitted with link back to original article on SexyPrime.

Men Don't Feel Desired, Sex Makes Us Happy, He Says She Doesn't Fake--and other favorite sex science stories, 2010

 
Photo Credit:  "Merry Sexy Christmas" on Photobucket

 

2010 was a very good year for sex science geeks like me.  We finally got a big American sex survey that didn't sound like the data was collected by untrained housewives hired by a right wing Christian organization.  (Among other things, the survey says women still fake orgasm and men say, "not in my bed, she doesn't.")  There is very encouraging news in the battle against the AIDS epidemic.  fMRI scans continue to show us how the brain works, including where it lights up in orgasm.  While some clit loyalists will never accept this:  An orgasm is an orgasm is an orgasm in a woman's brain, no matter how she got it, from clitoral stimulation through "thinking off" and including vaginal stimulation alone.

Two of my favorite studies aren't really about sex:

Writing in The New York Times on November 15, 2010, in "When The Mind Wanders, Happiness Also Strays" John Tierney reports on a study that concludes day-dreamers are depressed.  In making their case, the authors report that the happiest people are in the midst of having sex--an activity on which they are truly focused.  (Well, duh....)

But on June 28, 2010, John Tierney wrote "Discovering the Virtues of a Wandering Mind" on a study conducted by another group of scientists.  They found that daydreamers had more creative minds.  Pick the conclusion of your choice.  I'm going with parts of both:  "creative" and happily into sex. Science at its finest.

I reported on the news from South Africa about a vaginal gel that in trials prevented up to 54% of HIV infections with an average of 39%.  It also reduces risks of herpes transmission.  Now comes word that a daily pill in trials on gay men has lowered the risk of AIDS by up to 90%.  The Times article is your most accessible introduction to the study reported in The New England Journal of Medicine (linked in the article.)

I reported on the sex science story that touched me deeply in "Men and Their Missing Sense of Desire."  So many men wrote to saying they hadn't felt desired by a woman in a long time--and sometimes never had felt that.  If you missed this post, read it now.  (How often does a science story include a bit of erotica?  This one does.)

I've posed several sex science questions in the last few months--and will have the answers for you before the end of the year.

copyright 2008-2011, www.sexyprime.typepad.com; PARTIAL reposts only permitted with link back to original article on SexyPrime.

 

"ACTING OUT" ORGASM--And Men Fake (uhm, "Act Out") Too

 
Photo Credit:  "Red Umbrella" on Photobucket

 

"I don't fake orgasm.  I fake the pleasure experience," said a petite 22 year old blonde New York University student.

You have to give today's college women credit for this:  They may be as conflicted about masturbation, as insecure about their bodies and confused about male sexuality (and their own) as their Mamas were, but they won't wear the label "fakes orgasm."

 Hip to the language, psychologists at the University of Kansas in a studyasked nearly 300 college students, 180 women and 101 men, whether they had done something similar to "pretending to orgasm"--and how would they describe it and when did they do it. The phrase of choice;  "acting out orgasm."  Two-thirds of the women and 25% of the men admitted they had, most often during intercourse.  Their reasons were exactly the same their Mamas and Grandmamas give for faking O:  To end the sex and spare his (or her) feelings.

According to the report--

"The participants who faked shared a common sexual script in which both genders feel pressure to orgasm during intercourse, with the woman orgasming first. In some cases, people are so wedded to this script they pass up the chance to orgasm for real in order to fake orgasm at the 'right' time. The study found that 20 percent of the women pretended to orgasm because their partner seemed about to.

"Some of the women wrote that they actually could have orgasmed, but they chose a pretend orgasm in the right sequence — before or during the man's orgasm — rather than an actual orgasm in the wrong sequence."

A few generations ago the prevailing sexual myth was Simultaneous Orgasms with women faking theirs as he had his.  Then Baby Boom women demanded oral equality; and cunnilingus is now a required sex skill for enlightened men.  So that myth has been replaced by Either/Or/Both, She Comes First, They Come Together. 

Many women of various ages have told me that they fake the "she comes first" cunnilingus orgasm either out of embarrassment that "he's been down there so long without making it happen" or "it just wasn't going to happen" due to his lack of skill or her inability to relax or both.  Many experts, of course, blame our goal-oriented, female orgasm-focused society.  When they say to women, "Don't make orgasm the goal, just enjoy the sex"--I hear echoes of these words said softly by generations of women past:  "I don't care about orgasm, I just want the intimacy."

"I don't care about orgasm" is a lie.  If it were true, then women wouldn't stop wanting non-orgasmic sex with their husbands.  Gleeful in their "intimacy," they would say YES! every time.  Statistics show us that is not true.  Women turn off to sex more than often than men do.  I believe they shut down because they are tired of becoming aroused, only to be let down without release.  Simple as that.  Sadly, if both partners were less inhibited (and wed to their script) and more playful, she would always have her orgasm, one way or another, before, during or after his. 

The Kansas psychologists are on to something.  They have identified the problem:  It's not that a woman can't have an orgasm, but that she (like her partner) considers sex a performance art with acting a good orgasm at the proper time preferable to having a real one in real time.  Orgasms matter.  Keep playing until she has one.

THE SCIENCE QUESTION OF THE DAY:

Have you ever foregone the pleasure of a real orgasm to act out/fake one at the "right" time?

copyright 2008-2011, www.sexyprime.typepad.com; PARTIAL reposts only permitted with link back to original article on SexyPrime.

 

 

 

THE CLIENT, THE SEXLESS MARRIAGE, THE CONVERSATIONS: A SexBabesof NYC Update

 

Photo Credit:  "Red Pointy Heels, Red Closed Rose" by Ausblonde on Photobucket 

  

 

“I don’t know why we stopped having sex.  It’s probably something I did, but I don’t know what,”  my SexBabesofNYC client said over our lunch at Cipriani’s. (And to people who said no one will pay a lot of money to talk—Oh, ha!)

“I was stunned by what you wrote recently about men [in “Diary of an Affair, part three;  The Domination Tests”]:

“They are the men whose dog persona is more ‘whipped’ than ‘dawg!’ pulling after work into the parking lots of Hooters, Fridays, Houlihans, Rub Tuesdays—into the strip clubs and the sports bars—no longer looking for love, yet still longing, even if their desire is buried deep.  The firm young female flesh on display connects them with their youth, when last they felt desired.” 

“Jesus Christ, that is the truth," he said.   "It’s the same truth for the Wall Street man walking into Stone Street Tavern or Trinity Wall and the Upper East Side Sugar Daddy meeting his busty babe at Bemelmans for champagne.  It’s the engine driving clubs with bottle service charging a couple hundred bucks for Kettle One.”

Pull out the plastic; flash some bills.  Message relayed:  want me, want me, want me.

Women still hold, if not all the cards, the best hand in the game of sex.  Whether she is the prospective hook-up or the wife, he’s not getting it if she says No—and he’s not getting it any way she doesn’t want to give it.  Men still have the greater comfort level with payment in one form or another—meaning they can get a reasonable facsimile of anything she ever gave them or didn’t.  (When I asked “Will women pay for sez?” many emailed back and said, Hell, no.)  In this Great Wall Street Marriage Stand-Off, she wielded the cut-off but he optioned the buy-in.   He prefers Call girls, The Girlfriend Experience.—to Sugar Babes.  They ask him about his day and  kiss his tired brow before swallowing his cum.

But here is the dirty little secret:  they also listen to him and sometimes only listen to him.  The man pays for sex but sometimes doesn’t exercise his carnal prerogative.  He just wants to talk.

It would drive women nuts to know how often the man who blanches at “can we talk?” pays for sex but opts to talk.

Do husbands and wives stop having sex because they have also stopped talking, and listening, to one another?

His wife is planning a big party for their twentieth wedding anniversary.  They haven’t had sex in “something over a year” and the time before that was “something over six months or maybe close to a year.”  He can’t remember exactly. 

“We don’t talk about it.  I admit I am curious.  I would like to know why she stopped wanting me sexually.  But I am not going to ask.”

As it does in so many of the estimated twenty million sexless marriages in this country, the lovemaking slowed down like a carnival ride until the day someone noticed it had stopped altogether.

“Do you want to know the most frequent reasons for heterosexual bed death?” I asked.

He grinned at the play on “lesbian bed death” and said, NO.

“I want to tell you about the time we had sex in a hotel room when she was on her period.  It looked like we had been sacrificing small animals in there when we left.  She sucked my thumb after as she was falling asleep.”

He told me about it.  Very hot sex.  It happened about two years into their marriage—and it never happened again.  A woman would want to analyze the story and look for the clues as to why it never happened again.  He wanted to remember, re-live it.  I glanced into his lap and noticed the erection pushing against the fabric of his trousers.  He was happy in the moment.

 

Tomorrow, a new Sex Wardrobe Basics technique:

THE BOYFRIEND JEANS MUTUAL HAND JOBS

copyright 2008-2011, www.sexyprime.typepad.com; PARTIAL reposts only permitted with link back to original article on SexyPrime

 

DIARY OF AN AFFAIR, Part Three, The Domination Tests

Photo Credit:  "Nipple clamps in place" on the Babeland.com site 

 

“You will clamp your nipples this morning as you shower and you will describe how it feels in detail.  I’m thinking of how you are going to please me when we are together.   I want you to take my cock all the way down your throat.”

I had planned in this post to pick up Sir X’s fantasy in “Diary of an Affair,” Part Two, beginning with him coming into the hotel room to find me bare-assed with a variety of implements nearby. That inspired an interesting email exchange between us.  He has asked me to bring the following toys and implements from Babeland to our rendezvous in D.C. next week:  the Medium Pink Flogger, Candy Apple wrist restraints, rope, the Mona vibe, TWO, Pink Vibrating Nipple Clamps, Protouch Plug, Squeel—and purchase a wooden spoon and wooden hair brush with natural bristles.  Now I will wait to write about what happens to that ass (and the rest of me) until I can report on the experience, not imagine it.

We have moved rather quickly to a new place.  A week ago he wrote:

“Susan,

You are mine now.  I will treat you with the respect you deserve.  You have my permission to maintain your current relationships with the two lucky men that are privileged to enjoy your female delights.  But you must tell me what goes on when you have them.  If you don't there will be consequences.

You now need to tell me what items of pain and pleasure you have.  You also must keep a camera with you at all times.  You are going to take the pictures I tell you to take. 

If you agree with this we can continue.

X”

I almost can't breathe.

Yes, I do agree.

I love this.  I am his.  I want him to give me orders.  My pussy is engorged just thinking about it.  

“I intensely desire to see you right now, partially unclothed, squeezing your breasts and nipples.  I am feeling the power exchange—and my desire to tease and torment you with both denial of the sex you want and the intense sensations of pain at the same time is very strong.  My testicles are in pain with the need to explode deep, deep inside you as your cunt spasms tight around my cock.

“I am so fucking hard right now.  My cock is throbbing against this lap pad my laptop is on.

“Tomorrow morning, I will send you the first Rules of the Day.

”I am in charge of your sexual release now.  You may not have an orgasm unless I permit it.  Do not masturbate unless I give you permission to do so.”

First shopping list:

“Pink leather flogger to strap you ass;

Wooden hairbrush, must have natural fibers which I  drag across your breasts, especially your hard, erect nipples.

Wooden spoon to spank your pussy.”

First order:

“Take two ice cubes and hold them against your nipples for four minutes.  Tell me how it feels.”

Second order, that day:

“Put two wash clothes in the basin and fill with hot water.  Put the ice cubes on your nipples for four minutes.  Now squeeze water out of the clothes and apply them to your nipples.  Tell me how it feels.”

 

It is exquisitely exciting to do what he tells me to do.  My nipples burned and went numb by the fourth minute.  In the second exercise the warmth brought them painfully back to feeling—like the nipple clamp coming off, only softer, different.  Oh, god, I wanted to masturbate, but I didn’t.

He sent a video of him masturbating to ejaculation.

“Your reward for being a pleasing obedient woman.  You may not play this until tomorrow morning

“You may not masturbate until you have watched the video three times,  or you may watch as much as you want but you must wait 90 minutes to touch yourself.  I want you squeezing your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples, and you must use the ice cubes on your nipples when you masturbate to this video.”

I am thrilling to the idea of him being in charge.  The video is so hot.  I felt intimately connected to his cock watching it work toward ejaculation; and I wanted that cum everywhere.  No wonder we instantly trusted one another and felt such an immediate connection.  His suppressed dominant and my repressed submissive recognized each other at "hello." 

I can barely breath when I think about all the things he will do to me, how he will tease and torment—and own— my body and then bring me to such a level of extreme pleasure.  I fantasize looking into his eyes as he torments my nipples and I almost orgasm at both the anticipation of the pain and the excitement of sharing the experience with hin so intimately--and, of course, the intensity of the ultimate pleasure.  

This morning, I put on the clover clamps—wicked—and walked around in them for about five minutes until my nipples were numb.  Then I tugged the chain, automatically tightening their grip and gasped.  So much for numb.  I got into the shower.  Running first cold, then hot, then cold again water over my clamped nipples brought them stingingly back to life.  Out of the shower, I unclamped them and almost cried out from the sudden intense pain--a pain I felt in my groin, tickling its way into my pussy.  God I wanted him to be the one unclamping them..  I put the flats of my palms against my nipples to feel the heat and then held them throbbing between my fingertips.  I wanted his fingers on them.  

Afterward, I couldn't get him out of my head........

and there is something else I have to acknowledge:  I am drawn to this man on so many levels;  I "get" him.  I like him.  I know who he is, one of those men, long married to or involved with a woman who isn't interested in his body anymore, if she ever was.  They are the men whose dog persona is more "whipped" than "dawg!" pulling after work into the parking lots of Hooters, Fridays, Houliahans, Ruby Tuesdays--into the strip clubs and the sports bars-- no longer looking for love, yet still longing, even if their desire is buried deep.  The firm young female flesh on display connects them with their youth, when last they felt desired. 

He called one night from Hooters where he was supposed to meet a friend for a drink.  "I was so late, he'd left already.  Here I am alone drinking a beer and looking at, well, the hooters.  These girls are so young.  If I flirt with them, I think, This isn't right..."

"I want you so much; I want to do so many things to you, but I also....I want to talk to you. I really do."

 

copyright 2008-2011, www.sexyprime.typepad.com; PARTIAL reposts only permitted with link back to original article on SexyPrime.

DIARY OF AN AFFAIR, Part Two: You Tell me Yours and I'll Tell You Mine

  Photo Credit:  "Sexy Woman" by Michael Vahle on Photobucket

 

My fantasy lover is the really smart guy--the enlightened man who does not have some major issues with women--who can be the intelligent sex beast I crave behind closed doors—and, yes, I would like it if he were also sweet, funny and adorable sometimes too and could hold me tenderly and make me giggle.

I want him to thrust as deeply as he can into every orifice, to claim me, to leave his mark, but not to ask if he can—to take because he knows I am his on some deep primal level that has nothing to do with domestic arrangements.

So this man I told you about last week in Diary of an Affair, part one, my Facebook contact/fantasy man?:  We email.  We talk.  He sends me photographs and fantasies.  I confess my desires.  We walk around a thousand miles apart swollen for one another.  I have a gallery of his photos on the desktop; and I find myself clicking them open more than once a day.  Oh, god, I love chest hair.

Some emails:

“I want your mouth around my cock.  I want to hold your head down as I thrust into your mouth, pinching and tugging on your ears, pulling your hair.”

We recognize something in the other that we both need and want that will fulfill us in ways past experiences have not.  We are both looking for an intense, wild ride with the right person—yes? Instinctively, we trust one another.  We're not fools so we must be on to something.

“YES, YES, YES!”

I want you to indulge your secret fantasies as well as mine--and make me GASP.......

He wrote this story:

It all began as a normal, random act of Facebook.  I clicked on a  suggestion to "add as friend.”  With that click, we connected. We both jumped off the proverbial cliff without even looking down to make sure there was water to land in.

She calls from the airport terminal and says, “I made a reservation at Proof.” Excited does not do justice to the emotions enveloping me.  I am ninety minutes away from the first time physical meeting that has been nearly two months in planning.  This is an affair of texts and phone calls and release in separate acts of masturbation.  And now… I jump in the shower, again, only cold water which does nothing to reduce the energy that is pulsating throughout my body.  The flow of the water across my head does give my mind some diverting white noise.  I use this as a calming mantra.  Without it, I feel that I will spontaneously combust.

I exit the Hay Adams Hotel, her choice, and hail down a taxi, tell the driver the location and wait.  As I pass through the restaurant door I am already scanning the room, looking to see if she is here yet.  This is a good time and place for the first meeting, mid-afternoon, the lunch crowd gone, the staff unhurriedly setting up for dinner, only two tables occupied.  I ask for the reservation under the agreed upon name.  He tells me I am the first to arrive and calls a waitress to take me to the table.   I sit facing the door, because I do not want to miss her entrance.  It feels like an eternity, but only about ten minutes pass before I see her come through the door.

One of the rules in an affair, she said, is no PDA's or Public Displays of Affections.  Instead of jumping up from the table and rushing over like a happy puppy, I remain seated as she makes her way toward me.  I stand and extend my hand to shake hers, but she pulls me into a hug.  She whispers into my ear, "I'm not wearing panties."  Fewer, better words are ever heard by a man, in a public place, said by a woman he wants to ravish.  We order some appetizers and a bottle of wine and try to make it look like we're having an afternoon business meeting, but the only thing on my mind is getting her naked and plunging my cock deep inside her pussy.

Eating the appetizers seductively, we stare at each other, both wanting to rip clothes off and get down and dirty.  We talk in suggestive comments.  She gets up to go to the bathroom and returns with her blouse unbuttoned further down—and no bra.  I see the round edges of her breasts and her swollen nipples easily visible through the silk.  She holds her hand up to my face and says, “Breathe deeply.”   The smell of her sexual arousal is delicious.

“You’re being very naughty,” I say.  “I might have to provide some education in proper behavior to you.”

Her aquamarine eyes burn hot and her lips part in a sultry way suggesting she wants that teaching.  She has confided her desires to me—and she wants to be dominated by a lover who expects her to take his cock any time, any way he wants to thrust it into her, a strong man who understands the judicious use of erotic pain.  No holds barred, she wrote, no topping from below, push my erotic limits. My swollen cock presses against my pants.  I ask for the check and she excuses herself for the ladies room again.  When I sign the receipt and follow in her direction, I see that the ladies room door is slightly open.  She is standing just inside the door, her blouse completely open.  Checking to be sure no one is watching, I entered the bathroom.

I put my hands around her on her lower back, pull her in close and nuzzle her neck and kiss her deeply.  We’ve been waiting so long for this. She grasps my belt.  I withdrew from the kiss and move us toward the handicap stall, more room to maneuver.

“I can’t wait any longer,” I say.  “I must have you now."

In the corner of the stall so we can use the hand rails, I put my mouth on her breast.  I cover her hard nipples, first one, then the other with my lips and suck and tease them with my teeth before biting down on them.  She lets out a low soft moan.  I open my lips and flick one erect nipple with my tongue while squeezing and twisting the other one—hard.  She gasps.  I put one hand went below her skirt, slide ut up the back of her leg.  She shivers.  I bite her nipple again.  Lifting the skirt, I alternately caress and sqeeze the curve of her bare ass, while firmly twisting, pulling and pinching her nipple with the other hand.

I push her to her knees.  With trembling hands, she pulls down my pants and underpants in one quick move. She wastes no time in sliding her lips around my throbbing cock.  The warmth and moistness of her mouth and tongue make my cock even harder.  She sucks, simultaneously swirling her tongue around the head.  I don't want this to stop, but I can wait no longer to be deep inside her. 

I pull her up and wrap her compliant arms around my neck as I raise her skirt and grab hold her ass cheeks.  She is totally open to anything I want to do with her.  I lift her up and wedge her in the corner, slightly resting her on the hand rails.  I watch as she guides my cock into her pussy.   Omigod how incredible it feels… my cock parting her drenched pussy lips.  She is so hot inside, giving off more heat in her silky wetness than my cock has ever felt inside of a woman.  I feel every fold of flesh as my cock penetrates deeper into her.  She wraps her legs around me and pulls me in tighter.  We furiously thrust against each other.  In mere seconds, we are both enveloped by waves of orgasm—but they were seconds that have been held in check for many weeks. 

As we leave Proof, the staff tells us, “Please come again soon.”

 

NEXT WEEK, SUSAN PICKS UP THE FANTASY.  SHE IS WAITING FOR HIM IN HIS HOTEL ROOM WHEN HE RETURNS FROM A MEETING.  AN OPENING TEASER:

He calls up from the lobby.  I check the coffee table to be sure everything is  ready for him to choose.  A pink leather flogger, the old soft belt I pulled from his jeans, a wooden hairbrush, a thin whippy cane, a wooden spoon, a plastic spatula.  What will he use?  And will he use more than one implement?  My breathing is shallow, erratic.  I am fevered.  A feeling of erotic dread builds in he pit of my stomach, sending out fiery tentacles to ignite my genitals.  I want this.  Whatever he will do.  I want.

I step out of my skirt and lean forward, resting my elbows on the arm of the sofa.  With my feet in four inch heels as wide apart as I can make them, I thrust my ass back and out, to greet him.  I hear his key in the door...

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DAIRY OF AN AFFAIR, Part One: The Internet Seduction

Photo Credit:  "Lovers" on Photobucket 

 

Frequently strange men email me photos of their penises—and I am unmoved.  I delete them.  Or I write, “I am not aroused by a cock I’ve never met.  Put it back inside your pants, please.”

Now I am having spontaneous sleep orgasms, waking in orgasmic thrall to the images of a cock I’ve not yet met.

I told you about the stranger in the chair in the post Men and Their Missing Sense of Being Desired.  After a Facebook introduction, he sent me a photo, basically a bare-chested torso shot; and I put myself into that picture in a variety of ways, one described in the post.  He had me from the first photograph.  We quickly moved to emails and phone conversations—and, yes, more photographs—bypassing that awkward “getting to know you” phase.

He asks, “Want more?” before sending the next, more explicit photo.  I like that.  Already he is making me ask for it; and now that I have seen it, I know he will make me beg.  Without bragging or posturing, he knows what he has.

In one shot, he is standing, his chin and part of a smile visible above the bare chest—and a hint of cock showing where the unfastened jeans dip below his waist.

“Want more?”  Yes, please.  I squirmed in my chair waiting for it.  Oh—and more is so nice.  Standing straight out, beautifully formed—as regal a cock at attention as I have ever seen.

“More?”  Yes.

“Tell me what you want to see next,” he said.

“I want to see it in your hand.”

And, yes, in his hand, perfect.  Absolutely the perfect penis.  Beautifully shaded, thick and sturdy, proud head rising regally above the shaft.  Omigod, the quality of his erections……..

Twice before I have been dick-matized by exceptional cocks.  My heart pounds; and I know it is happening again.  But he, the man, has also captured my imagination.  The secrets he tells me, that I can’t repeat, are thrilling.  I want him more.

I write:

Tell me how you like it, how you want it, how you want me to handle that cock, how you plan to use it.......................

What do you love that you don't get enough of?

What do other women not want to do or don't do well?  I want to give you what they have not.

Don't be shy.  Don't think you have to say "the right things."  I want to know what you REALLY want....

I want:

To make him come in my mouth.

Him to tease my clit with the head of his cock, tease my clit with his fingers and tongue, roll it between his thumb and first finger, as if impaling my desire on a hook, while he barely penetrates me...

And make me beg him to fuck me hard.

And then do it, hard.

To take him up my ass, all the way, every inch of him until I feel his balls slapping against my pussy.  I want him to take long, slow deep strokes, pulling nearly out and pushing all the way in again, harder each time, until he is fucking my ass like no man has ever fucked it.  I want him to take me to a place through pain to intense pleasure and hold me there with his thumb massaging my clit until I think I will die from it.

 

He writes a fantasy

From behind, his hard cock is pressing against her firm ass.  The smooth leather of the skirt feels good against his cock.  His hands are at her waist moving slowly up to each button of the creamy white silk blouse.   She pushes her hip harder against his cock, very slowly moving side to side.  He leans his face in and begins to lightly kiss her neck.  She shivers and moans with pleasure.  The buttons on the blouse give no resistance, and he only needs to do three as she rarely has anything buttoned above her breast line.  When this last button is undone, he pulls the blouse open and back, peeling it down off her arms and dropping it to the floor, one easy move.   The demi-bra has her breasts lifted high, her nipples thrust out.  He unhooks the front closure and easily removes the bra.  He grasps her breasts tightly, her hard nipples pressing against his palms.  She grinds her ass against his hard cock, urging him to pump her. He pushes her forward against the desk and lifts her shirt up revealing her nakedness.  She never wears panties.  He reaches a hand down between her legs and she eagerly spreads them apart.  He pushes his hand between her legs and against her vagina.  She is very wet and his middle finger easily penetrates between her lips. He's teasing her now.  She reaches behind her, finding his cock and pulls him toward her.  She's breathing heavily; and little whimpers escape her lips, almost against her wll.  She is trembling and he knows she has to have him now.  He drives the head of his cocks into her, splitting her open; and he drives hard into her, making her gasp.  She leans flat against the desk, pushing herself harder against him.  He grasps her hips and pulls her as he pumps her hard.  The feeling of being inside her is nearly indescribable.  He breaths in deeply of the smell of her sex, intoxicating to him.   He's pumping her hard but trying to stay off his orgasm until he knows she will orgasm too.  Her moans and the way her pussy starts squeezing his cock harder tell him she is about to cum.  He pulls her hips harder toward him and pushes in deeper.  He can feel the head of his cock opening her up deep inside.  This extra tightness against the top third of his cock takes him over the edge. The next entry deep inside her rewards them both in waves of orgasm.   They stay in the position for several minutes afterward not wanting to give up the closeness they have just shared.

We agree:

That we want a hot, sweaty, steamy, no-holds-barred, push-the-erotic-limits affair.  I want to rock his world.  I want to leave him feeling sated, sore, exhausted but still so turned on that I have to masturbate in the airplane rest room to make it home.

And we make plans to rendezvous in a month...

copyright 2008-2011, www.sexyprime.typepad.com; PARTIAL reposts only permitted with link back to original article on SexyPrime.

"HUBBY AND I--OBSERVANCE OF A MARRIAGE" by Lynda Belle

 

 

I am pleased and proud to introduce Lynda Belle to you if you don't know her already.  She and I are FB friends, with 471 friends in common!  I value her feedback on SexyPrime posts.  And I just love hearing from her, no matter what the topic of the day.  When a few days go by without a note from Lynda Belle, I write and ask, Where are you?   She is a smart Babe who loves sex, my favorite kind of woman.  

She gave me permission to reprint this essay on her marriage as a guest blog.  Lynda, I wish I'd had what you have.  (Don't tell anyone, but my remaining romantic/sex life ambition is to fall in love again--and fall in love with a man I absolutely adore.)

Now readers, your special weekend treat:  Lynda Belle on her marriage.

 Photo Credit:  From Lynda's Facebook page (linked above)

 

Been married since 1986 and raised two daughters, now in their 20's. God that makes me feel old. I often say that Hubby and I don't live any particular lifestyle but our own. How could we? I don't know anyone who could live our lifestyle. We have literally been in each others hip pockets 24/7/365, except for a total of 5 years. On that note, the rest of the time we have been together. Own our own businesses. Have traveled and lived all over because the mood struck us. I think I loved the US Virgin Islands, St Thomas and St John, and California the best, but then again Cozumel should not be discounted. Yup, he is a beach bum at heart.

We hang around the house in our undewear, and very nocturnal.

So. What’s our secret?

I would be lying if I said we haven't had our fights. You can't live that close with someone, and be passionate and not fight I don't think.

When we met we became friends first. I even told him 'Don't ever tell me you love me. I don't do marriage and long term relationships. There is no such thing.' LOL I figured he would get it. I'm wife #3, and he is Hubby #1, one and only. yah that worked out really well. We sat down and talked about everything. It's not that I didn't want to be together, I just didn't see the need for the certificate. Marriage is all about ~having~ to be together until divorce. Where as living together is about staying together because you ~want~ to and no divorce.

Circumstances demanded we say the dreaded 'I do', which was better than not being together at all.

 So what's our philosophy....

 To us monogamy is being in love with only one person, and we are. Totally. Truly. Sex? Well, what the heck does that have to do with monogamy and a happy relationship? Was my thoughts. Don't get me wrong. If one of us isn't happy then by God the other better not stray! Open communication, about ~everything~! Being together is about figuring out how to communicate where the other person gets on the same page, so to speak; and being able to listen to the other for who they are, not hear how you think. (did you get that?)

Me and Hubby are complete opposites. He is a technoid encyclopedia inventor explorer beach bum and I'm all about music, art, love, peace, and environment. With that said Venus and Mars often applies. I think he is an Earthling and I'm from another planet. He is very 'Well I learned...." and i think for myself, curious about everything and investigate all. Rarely do I take things at face value, where as he hears it on the news and that's the way it is. I just roll my eyes...a lot.

So what's the glue? We are both very passionate about many things, but mostly each other. We encourage each other to open up and share. Simple pleasures are the best! We watch porn and erotica together. I fold the pages of my Playboy on articles I want to discuss, and we vote 1-10 on the models. I'm Playboy, he's Penthouse. That works too. I read erotica to him, and then we play. *0)

I read widely, and anything I think he will think is hot I read to him. We have no issues with mutual masturbation or pretty much anything as far as sex. We are willing to try most anything more than once. Just because you don't like it the first time....

He is very into 'taboo' again I roll my eyes. Most is not so taboo, but then again, some things were and now aren't. I guess my point is we discuss it, then do it. Read it, watch it, and have fun with it...~together~.

I say we are swingers, and he'll say 'We are NOT swingers!' We have fun with others in oh so many formats, ~but~ we ~never~ switch. So I guess because we don't then we aren't. (He has been backed up in literature and those in the lifestyle-what ever.) I enjoy being wicked with my husband. I love pleasure and pleasing him. We love fulfilling each other's fantasies; and yes he so pleases me and rocks my world.

He loves taking me shopping and I'll wear what he wants me to. Totally different taste in that department as well. So, we compromise. My sexy lingerie I wear under my clothes when not together, though he is coming around, and the trashy stuff I wear for him when we are together. (This is a personal opinion of terms mind you) I have bought stuff for him and he wears it for me. Everything we do and have is his, mine, and then there is ours.

We can tell each other any kink, any fetish, any dream, desire, want and need, and the other does their best to do their part. Sometimes it takes a couple of times to get it right; but it only expands and gets better from there. Sometimes the “guilts” set in and the other makes it okay. Who cares what the media, society, and how we were raised define what is okay. ~We~ are what matters, not them.

When we first got together I asked him, "If two people are together and then get married, then shouldn't they provided the other part of the fulfilled fantasy? If not your spouse then who?" We never understood those who were more worried about what others thought, or lived by "well that's just not done."  Why? I don't get it. Never have. Sinful!

I have had GFs who divorced their husbands because they looked at magazines. I bought my hubby his subscriptions for his first birthday we were together. How do people get jealous of a video? We watch together and do with each other. "That's Hot!" We love playing IFT (I'd F That) together. He points out for me, and I point out for him, and every once in a while-not so rare-we both point out the same. FUN! We are both into PDA, and I just don't understand why people don't. 'OMG I French-kissed my hubby waiting in line." Played footsies under the restaurant table...amoung other things. (depends on table cloths) Snorkeling, beaches, and the best is sailing! Ever done things on a boom? Made him stear off course once masturbating on the boom while catching some rays...Why not?

Kiss me good morning. Kiss me good bye. Kiss me hello. Kiss me goodnight. Tell me you love me often. Have silly pet names, and names only the two of you share. No room is off limits...okay the kids room is off limits in our book, but when they moved out all bets were off. Road trips, picnics in the forest...a week should not go by without intamacy and that does not necessarily mean sex. This is not to say we haven't had our dry spells...because we have, but I think the years of minimum of twice a day took care of this. We haven't done it all, and more to explore, but I think my biggest point is...

In order to get through the really rough times, your good times need to be good, great, to extraordinary. How ever you define that. Don't be afraid to discuss your needs and ~never~ assume they won't get it. I think that's the biggest problem with relationships that I have seen. There is too many no I won'ts and not enough 'okay let's try'. Too much of "well society says if you do that then it means..." Men may want a lady in public and a slut in the bedroom, but guess what, ladies want a gentleman when PC correct is needed and a wicked lover when it's not. It doesn't matter what the experts, society, media, etc define! It matters how the two of you define...

So, yes, lovers, slut, tantra, kama sutra, BDSM (he's my Sir and I'm his pet), Kinky, Fetish, washing each other in the shower, in the ocean, pool, hot tub, in the bedroom, kitchen, closet, back patio under a full moon. Imagination, creativity, exploration, and education. You have to be friends and lovers. Husband and wife by your terms NOT societies or how you were raised to define this; because when it comes down to it, the kids grow up and move on, friends come and friends go, society changes the rules daily, money is here today and gone tomarrow, healthy and sickness, young and older, and all that is left is you and your mate. It is not about you or me, them or they, but the we! Yet, isn't that what it is suppose to be all about?

So agree to disagree. Fight clean and have dirty sex. Take time out before it goes into the ugly zone, and make parenting a joint effort but let your kids know how you love them is not the same and make your mate never forget why your together, Open communicate about everything and anything. No Secrets, No lies, and as little time wasted as possible. Appreciate and rarely take for granted. Good times, bad times, and everything in between but that's life isn't it? Sometimes relationships are a burning inferno, and sometimes just a glimmer of light. Don't let the spark go out, because even under the coldest ashes there is usually an ember you can blow on to get the warm cozy fire burning.

Just a point of view and my two cents.

 
Photo Credit:  "Flowers" by Keefer on Photobucket 

 

 

copyright 2008-2011, www.sexyprime.typepad.com; PARTIAL reposts only permitted with link back to original article on SexyPrime 

WHY THEY CALL US "COUGARS"--AND THEM "DIRTY OLD MEN": An Older Man and His Asian Girl Fetish

Photo Credit:  "Masks" on Photobucket

 

Woody Allen and Soon-Yi Previn are credited with leading a trend:  Old white guy/young Asian girl.  (Surely there is a more photogenic couple out there to carry this banner.)

Famous old rich men recently married to younger Asian women include Rupert Murdoch and Wendy Deng, Leslie Moonvies and Julie Chen, Bruce Wasserstein and Angela Chao and others.

“Were these tycoons consciously courting Asian babes?” Marie Claire asks. “Do any of them qualify for the unnerving "yellow fever" or "rice king" moniker? It's unsavory to think so. But after two or three failed attempts at domestic bliss with women of like background and age, these heavy hitters sought out something different. Something they had likely fetishized.”

The “fetish thing” is “a common experience among Asian-American women," says Bich Minh Nguyen, who broaches the stereotypes in her latest novel, Short Girls. "They're dating a white guy, and they may not know if it's a fetish thing."

The expert on East/West sex, especially from the white male fetishist perspective, is Richard Bernstein, author of The East, the West, and Sex.  He says the Orientalist illusion continues to influence.

"Historically, Asia provided certain sexual opportunities that would be much more difficult for Western men to have at home. But it remains a happy hunting ground for them today," he says, citing one phenomenon in the northeastern region of Thailand called Issan, where 15 percent of marriages are between young Thai women and Western men well into their 60s.”

It’s one thing to discuss dispassionately a cultural phenomenon, however, and another to sit across from an Asian American woman in her mid-thirties now and listen to her story of sexual exploitation some twenty years ago.  Using the name “Moni,” she wrote to me requesting an interview because “I am good reader of your books.  I learned to have my first orgasm in The Orgasm Bible.”

As she described him, the 55 year old has Woody Allen’s sex appeal—sex appeal?!  The man has sex?!  It appeals?!—without his talent, money, wit.  We briefly worked on some projects together; and I found him to be—

  Yet he has three or four pretty ex-wives, all “Asian girls,” a fiancée, Korean-American in her early forties who knows nothing about the girlfriend, a Korean dancer, 20 years old (or so he says.)  He seems to spend his free time—and there is much of it as he is barely employed—scouting Asian girls for possible hook-ups and Asian girl porn online.  (I know this because he bragged about his habits.)  He has a collection of photos—his various Asian girl lovers stripping, posing, sucking his cock and more--which he shows to other Asian girls.

 And if they were all 18 vs. 16 or even 17 and a half, is that really so much better, giving his age and history?

“I was dancing with his dance company,” Moni says, “not a principal but chorus.  I was not legal.  I lied about my age.  He knew all the trues because he had my papers.  I was 16 and he told me he could help me to be a better dancer with his cock.

“He was obsessed with his cock, which is big, but not so big.  It was big for a virgin.  He took my ass too.  It hurt in the ass and he pushed all the way in.  He said dancers had to live with pain and not show it on their faces.  I sweat so hard keeping my face still.  Sometimes he said I was ‘naughty’ and would have to take it up my ass.  He liked to call me ‘little naughty girl’ because he said I liked sex so much.”

Did you feel like you couldn’t say No? I asked.

“Oh, please,” she said, with a tiny high bitter laugh.  “You were always an American woman.  You could always say No or Yes.  Not until I became an American woman did I feel like I had this power over my body.”

He worked his way through the company, mainly composed of Asian girl dancers, and lost interest in her fairly quickly.  She was “glad for that much.” 

Did you like sex a lot with him?  Was he right about that?

“I pretended to like it a lot.  I learned how to fake good screaming orgasms because he liked other people to hear him having sex with one of us.  He told me women said he pleased them more than any other man.”

Yes, he told me that he pleased his lovers more than any man had ever pleased them.  I am always suspicious of that claim.  The man who swears no woman ever faked orgasm with him has just never paid close attention. 

“He yelled at us a lot.  He was a very hard man.  If he had sex with you the night before or that morning, you might  not get yelled at so much.  He liked to make the girls jealous of each other by comparing them sexually to one another.  It was not a happy place to be.  I know he did get some grant money, for his nude ballets, but we were never extraordinary.  He was not.  If we hadn’t done some nude dancing, we would not have lasted long at all.”

Did you ever tell anyone what was happening inside the dance company?

“Not then.  Later, after I was out of that and safe, I did tell some people.  Some of the girls have stayed in touch with one another and we make jokes about him.  Some would like to come forward because they say he has done to that young Korean dancer now what he did to us.  She is more talented, but her body is too athletic, her thighs too strong, to be successful.

"She thinks she is using him"--not that he should be handed a "get out of rape free" card on her hubris.

Were they always only Asian girls? I asked.

“Mostly.  I remember a pretty Latin dancer he had sex with, but mostly Asian.  He told us we were more feminine and submissive than white women and white women don’t turn him on.  He says they are too big and even the skinny ones have fat.”

She added, “I know now that he is, and you used this phrase, ‘rather creepy.’  When I was 16, I thought he had power, that he could get me deported or elevated to citizenship.  I didn’t think his cock could make me a good dancer.

“I was never that stupid and his cock was never great.”  She paused.  "I heard he had sex addict treatment but I didn't believe it."

 

copyright 2008-2011, www.sexyprime.typepad.com; PARTIAL reposts only permitted with link back to original article on SexyPrime.