Tease, Denial, and Release

Well Blogosphere, I bet you thought I'd disappeared completely? Nope, just mentally occupied elsewhere. But today my lover went for my favorite of our little games and it inspired me to write.

Anyone who has read my blog knows I enjoy just about all forms of sex play. Ok, maybe truely all but then there are still things I haven't tried and I have to believe there will be something I don't like. Even if you aren't quite as adventurous as I, the fact that you read my blog suggests you are a little adventurous. And though you enjoy more than more thing, you probably have a favorite way to cum.

Judging from the number of guys who seek out oral sex (including "Cum in Mouth" and women who swallow), and their frustration with sex partners who aren't into fellatio, it sure seems that would win in a poll. Well, not for me. I love oral as part of play. I mean, really love it. But it is my least favorite way to cum. The former I attribute not just to oral feeling good, but to how exciting it is to see a woman really get into it. But the cum part? Yes, it it really exciting when you know they want your cum in their mouth, and if they swallow it that is just such an exquisite compliment. I just find my orgasms aren't as intense from oral as from other activities. So yes, suck me, suck my balls, and if you really want to eat my cum then by all means suck me to completion. I will completely enjoy it, just understand that it won't leave my brain splattered on the ceiling.

So what about intercourse? Now this is a complex subject. A very complex subject actually. If I'm having intercourse with someone I love and am in a long-term relationship with cumming during intercourse is the most special, intimate, and satisfying thing in life. With anyone else? I enjoy fucking but again it is not my favorite way to cum. There is the psychology part to this, and there is the physical part. The psychology part should be obvious, with someone else it just is lacking the intimacy. The physical part is that my orgasms from intercourse rarely leave my brain splattered on the ceiling. And they never do unless it is my lover.

So then, what is my favorite way to cum? It is a hand-job. Not a simple old fashioned hand-job, but one involving some tease and denial. I LOVE it when my lover takes me to just before the point of no return then backs off for a bit, then does it again, and again, and again. Isn't that frustrating you ask? Immensely so. And I imagine that at age 18 I would have wanted to kill a woman for doing that to me. But in my 50s I usually mumble something under my breath, put a grin on my face, internalize that a little frustration means a big reward is coming, and (if it is my lover) sit up and give her a passionate kiss while she continues stroking me. Because when I cum it is BIG. It is the brain splattering on the ceiling. It is the momentary blackout. It is the cum that either never stops flowing, or that shoots over my head. It is amazing. And so it is my favorite way to cum.

Of course, I like variety and would never want to cum just one way all the time. But I really do love tease and denial, and ultimately release.

Yes, this blog is still alive

I know I didn't post in February and we are almost halfway through March without a post either. I'll correct that, as soon as I have something to say :-)

Poetry Never Got Me Laid

A few days ago I had a Twitter exchange with @my_oh_mia in which she teased about chics loving poetry. Now before I dispute that, which is what the title of my blog suggests I'm going to do, I did want to thank her for her poetic contribution ( This endless winter\ Cruelly long, yet I smile\ Better Wednesdays soon) which concisely captured my mood as of late. Yes, that is exactly how I've been feeling as my lover's absence weighed on me and as I think about her return. But honestly, when I think back to all the women I've been close to I can't think of anyone who was really that into poetry.

I have written technical papers considered classics, eulogies that left rooms of people weeping, and love letters that turned a woman uninterested in marriage into my (first) wife. But I am definitely not a poet. I find the precision of its form(s) tedious. While I love exercising my brain, until smoke comes out my ears if necessary, poetry just doesn't seem worth the effort. I don't even enjoy reading it. I have a truly vivid imagination (to the point I have on occasion worried about slipping into an imaginary world so deeply I'd end up in a mental institution), yet poetry doesn't generally paint pictures for me. Nothing. I would give anything to be able to read Dante's Inferno. Well, anything except my soul. I can't, my mind draws a blank every time I try. So you can imagine my horror at the notion that poetry works wonders on women. Fortunately, it just doesn't seem to be true.

Back in high school I actually did write some poetry, specifically aimed at helping me with seducing a particular girl. She definitely appreciated the effort, but no more than she appreciated other efforts to garner her affection. No doubt my poetry was not particularly good. But then I had precious little evidence that she cared one wit about poetry to begin with. And as I moved on with life that is pretty much what I've found. Very few women cared that deeply about poetry. But all women care that a man demonstrates real effort in courting or trying to seduce them. I suppose that writing a poem is so supremely painful for most men that we get great credit for the attempt. As for me, I'd rather walk on hot coals to demonstrate my love. Because poetry never got me laid.

What?! No Blogs in January?

I realize I haven't made a blog post at all this month...until now. The problem is, you can't have "ramblings of a happy man" without a happy man. And I haven't been happy at all this month. So even when I thought of some topic I've been meaning to blog about, or a new one, I couldn't get up the energy to write about it. Why an UNhappy man? Nothing in my life has been going according to plan lately.

Home life has been wacky due to some health issues. Work life has been stressful due to a few things. And my escape valve (aka, lover) has been absent for over two months. I had an epiphany where I realized just how carefully I had balanced these three elements of my life so that in aggregate they bring me great joy. For example, some of my career choices these last few years were made to enable me to spend more time with my lover. (They were also great choices in terms of things I love to do, and in terms of financial reward.) But when my lover isn't around, the negatives of those career choices get on my nerves. Amusingly those negatives are things that she herself understands all too well. They are all associated with being "an employee" (even if in a fairly senior executive position) rather than working for oneself.

The good news is that there is improvement on the home health issues front, I've gotten a few annoying things under control at work, and my lover is returning soon. The Happy Man is returning.

A Tribute

We all can point to people who have had a huge impact on our lives, usually our parents, grandparents, siblings, or other relatives. A spouse. Perhaps a teacher or career mentor. Today I want to pay tribute to someone I've never met, but whose influence I've felt for the last few years. I know her only through occasional vignettes relayed to me by the woman I love. From those vignettes, and the way my lover talked of her mother-in-law, I know she was a very special person.

When I first met my lover she had been widowed for several years. In those early days we often talked about her husband and I quickly grew to like and respect him. To this day he holds a place of high honor with me, because without him the woman I love would simply not exist. And while her husband was long gone by the time I met my lover, his mother continued to live with her and influence her life. I will forever be thankful for the time she walked this earth, and the legacy she left behind.

I know that tonight my lover is in extreme pain, and my heart goes out to her and to her entire family. You, and the world, have suffered a great loss.

I wanted to f*** her brain

It all started with her Tweets. She seemed smart, funny, flirtatious. In my mind I pictured her as cute and sexy. I decided I wanted to fuck her brain, which is different than "fucking her brains out". Not that the two are mutually exclusive mind you!

I was officially sex-starved, having gone two weeks without. My how that makes me laugh! I have trouble being celibate for two weeks, when I've had periods of years without sex? I've always had the appetite for lots of sex and sexual variety, but I'd forced myself to suppress it. Better to be celibate than seek sexual adventure outside of marriage. At least until the marriage snapped. I'd gotten myself through that knothole, keeping the marriage healthy, and eventually taking on a mistress. And now I realize how much has changed over the last 5 years, urged on by a lover with a very strong sexual appetite herself. The 6 additional weeks until I could again see my lover weighed heavily on me. I couldn't do anything about the emotional hole I was feeling, but I could turn lemons into lemonade. I decided I would seek a one or more sexual adventures in my lover's absence. As always the first question to come to mind was, kink or vanilla? I decided kink was in order, particularly experiences that would be quite different with a stranger than with my lover. At the same time I wouldn't rule out something more vanilla if the right woman came along. I even had an ulterior motive.

I love smart women. I'm seduced by them even if that isn't their intent, and when that is their intent then I figure resistance is futile. That's how it was with these tweets. They weren't directed at me, but there was something about them that made me want to meet and fuck the brain that wrote them. Sexy? Check. Funny? Check (silly even, but in a very brainy way). Sophisticated? Yes, that showed through the silliness. Genuine? She sure seemed that way.

I did not look to see if she had reviews. I did not look at her pictures. I did not look at her prices. I simply sent her mail saying I wanted to see her. And I had one of the best times since starting my adventures.

As for my ulterior motive.... I've always wanted to give my lover the gift of a threesome, but never could think of someone I thought worthy to present to her. As anyone who has read my or my lover's blogs knows, we have done threesomes with one of her friends. That was her gift to me (and to herself, of course). But now, I've found someone I'd be happy to bring to a threesome with my lover. Hopefully we can make that happen soon after her return. Because as much as I love sexual adventures, the ones I love the most are those that I get to share with her.

What is "straight"?

Once again a question from Silvia-Mckenzie elicits a long response from me (meanwhile @Poohbear98188 summed things up rather succinctly). Silvia asked, "What is 'straight'"? I've thought about this a fair amount over the years, initially triggered when a big burly manly lumberjack-like (although he was a computer programmer) friend of mine introduced me to his gay lover. While completely ok with me, I didn't "get it" from a chemistry standpoint. I tried imagining them having sex and it was kind of like trying to imagine your parents having sex. My brain just would not go there (and I finally watched gay porn just to see what my mind refused to conjure up images of). And so, as I've explored my own sexuality and observed the many variations on sexuality (thank you WWW!), I've had numerous thoughts about the topic. Today was a perfect day for Silvia to have posed this question, because today an acquaintance let me know that he was transgendered and working his, or rather her, way to GRS. More on this later.

I know how my body and brain react (from the subtle to the more obvious that @Poohbear98188 mentions) when I see a beautiful woman, smell her, interact with her, etc. Indeed, my body even reacts that way (though perhaps more on the subtle side) with an unattractive woman. My body and brain have no such reactions to any man. To take @Poohbear98188's point a little further, I can't even tell a good looking man from a not very good looking man. (And on a side note, when some "I'd never have sex with anyone other than my husband" woman tells me she'd violate that rule to have sex with Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Denzel Washington, or some other hunk of the moment, I am indeed baffled about why that particular male elicited such a reaction). I'm just not programmed to react sexually to men. And thus "straight" to me is not about what acts one does or does not participate in, it is about what chemical reaction occurs. Opposite Sex only reaction = Straight. Same Sex only reaction = Gay. Both Sex reaction = Bi (to varying degrees, just to complicate things).

Of course life can never be that simple, and so for many years I have been struggling with a conundrum (triggered by a particular movie whose name I forget). Let's say I meet a woman who is beautiful and sexy. She seduces me and we retire to someplace private for sex. We kiss passionately and I am super turned on. I remove her bra and bury my face in her gorgeous breasts, kissing them and sucking on her nipples. I kiss down to her navel and slip off her panties. And out springs a penis. Do I recoil in horror and run for the hills? Or, do I live in the moment and pop it into my mouth? And if I did the latter, would it be a sign of some latent "gay" tendencies or just an acknowledgment that a "chic with a dick" is first and foremost a chic? I don't think I want to know the answer, just in case it is different from what I think it is. Note that I will likely never face this sexual "kobayashi maru" because it requires that I not know (nor suspect) that the chic has a dick until after I am super turned on and in the midst of foreplay. But certainly this scenario throws a monkey wrench into my otherwise simple answer for "What is 'straight'?"

Of course there are other complicating scenarios. What if you are a submissive with no interest in men whatsoever, and your mistress orders you to suck another man's cock? Perhaps she is doing it precisely because she knows you find the idea revolting and the only reason you will do this is to demonstrate your deep submission to her. And you do it, because the alternative is to acknowledge you can't submit to her at the level she (and probably you, before reality struck) desires. Sorry, you forgot to mention to her that was a hard limit. So you suck. By my chemical reaction theory you are still straight. However, if you actually tell a femdom you want a "forced bi" scene then it isn't so clear. Perhaps you find it degrading and you are into degradation. Or perhaps you are bi-curious but could never bring yourself to do something about it, so you abdicate responsibility to the dominant but still get to try it out. Ah the complications of sex!

Which brings me back to an interesting complication I never would have thought about had Silvia not posed her question, the TG acquaintance. As expected I have never had any sexual reaction to this person when he was living as a male and I can't imagine having any reaction to her now that she is wearing women's clothing, taking hormones, etc. Now fast forward a few years to Post-Op and a well faded memory that she was once a he. Plus make the assumption that he turns out to be a fairly attractive she (which thinking about his build, facial structure, etc. is actually not a bad assumption). He will be a she in every externally detectable (to everyone except a forensic anthropologist) way, but it is the same person. Why is it that having a sexual reaction to that person two weeks ago would have been classified as "gay", while having a sexual reaction to that person two years from now will be classified as "straight"? It is enough to make your head really hurt.

So what does this all mean? Well, not much. Except maybe we should all stop worrying so much about labels and just enjoy ourselves.

It's all about control

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Everything a man does he does to get laid

This topic was sparked by Silvia-Mckenzie's Tweets about a debate on Everything a man does he does to get laid. I responded on Twitter, but the topic deserves a deeper response.

Humans are animals, and as such everything we do is tied to a continuation of our species. Everything. Or at least, everything we do is the result of our biological imperative to continue the species. For non-humans the link is always obvious, for example when puppies and kittens "play" they are practicing hunting skills. For humans the link may be more circuitous, but it is there. Sports, for example, are linked to our practice of hunting and survival (e.g., defense of self and the group) skills. Even baseball. Does anyone think that the ability to hit a target the size of an animal with a 95 MPH fastball might be related to our ability to take down game with a rock? I sure do. Any wonder that men are more into sports then women? Playing with dolls is about preparing to raise children. Any wonder that girls are more into dolls than boys? Those very same boys who, having never seen a war movie or been allowed to own GI Joe can be found in the back yard playing soldier?

The thing about humans is, our brains let us channel biological imperatives far beyond the obvious and break "the rules". Take music. I have no idea how music ties in to our biological imperatives, except perhaps for one word: Groupies. Ok, so that is a special case. But it appears to be a generalization...music helps encourage reproduction ("sex") and thus humans have developed it into a high art form. Music may have other continuation of the species benefits, but do any of us really care? Certainly not the guys (and gals) who make the music. You join a rock band to get laid. You are a roadie to get laid. You put on a Barry White 8-track (sorry, MP3) when a woman is visiting in order to get laid. Got it?

Of course the biggest example is S-E-X. We are programmed to have sex to reproduce. And that means intercourse. But humans took this drive and turned it into every imaginable sexual activity. And some unimaginable ones. The rest of the animal kingdom pretty much sticks with intercourse, because they are just following the reproduction programming. Well then, how much other human male activity is tied to "getting laid".

We do things for three reasons:

1) To maintain our own personal survival
2) To maintain the survival of our group (and thus offspring)
3) To create offspring

There are no other reasons. Obviously #3 is directly tied to getting laid. Men were designed to impregnate as many women as possible. There is no real need to discuss this, just look at how men's genitals work. What about #2? What really motivates a man to want to protect and provide for the group? Why not just look our for ourselves? Well, women are attracted to men who provide for and protect them and their offspring. And even in this day and age, when women can largely provide for themselves, a man who doesn't take care of his family is widely looked down upon (by both women and other men alike). So, unless you can protect and provide for the group you are unlikely to get laid. Thus, men are driven by their desire to have sex to provide for and protect the group. Further, women seem biologically driven to seek out the men who can best provide for them and their offspring. They may say "money doesn't matter", but in reality their genetics encourages them to have sex with wealthy men over poor men. And thus, men are driven to success.

That leaves us with #1. Well, you can't reproduce if you aren't alive and reasonably healthy. Men keep themselves alive in order to reproduce. So yes, that sip of coffee you just had was really just part of getting you ready to get laid.

What does this all mean? Does it really matter? Humans are at the core animals with all of the animal kingdom's biological imperatives. Our brains let us reach far beyond those imperatives, and do things without clear links to those imperatives. But if you drill down deep enough, everything is motivated by the need continue the species. Which means reproduce. Which means getting laid.

Why I haven't been posting...

I know I haven't been posting much here. I do have a backlog of topics, but beyond having time constraints I've been concentrating my activity on Twitter (http://www.twitter.com/paramour425). But I really should start posting here again.

Five Years

If I'd known how important the date would become to me I'd have recorded it for posterity. Alas, all I know is it was sometime around "now" in 2004. I was doing work for a client of mine in the Pacific NW and decided an upcoming trip would be a good time for my annual extra-curricular adventure. I'd come across an ad on Eros for one "Fallon Delicio" and was immediately captivated by her. After reading every word on her website I realized this was a woman I just had to meet. Fallon had a booking form that was, to say the least, unique. It was more like what one would expect from eHarmony.com, that is questions to ascertain compatibility than the matter of fact time/location details and safety-oriented questions that most paid companions ask. Amused, I filled out the form and awaited Fallon's response. Fallon expressed disappointment that I had no children, but apparently I otherwise passed her bar and a dinner date was set up. It was a date that would change my life.

I keep meaning to write the details of how Fallon seduced me, but that will have to wait. What is important is that after spending a few hours with Fallon, better known as Silvia-Mckenzie Navah, my once a year philosophy was put on hold and I arranged to see her on my next trip. Then on the next. And by November she was my mistress. Five years later I have trouble finding words that adequately describe our relationship. She is my lover, my mistress, my paramour. She is a source of constant joy. A spark of life that powers me. A woman I admire, respect, and treasure above all others (indeed, above all women or men). She is perfect (and that is meant both sincerely, and as an inside joke). She is the reason this blog is titled "Ramblings of a Happy Man". And if anyone hasn't figured it out, I love her.

Silvia, it has been an incredible five year. Here's to 50 more!

On the hypocracy of my calling women frumpy...

Ok, I've developed a real pet peave about frumpy women. That reason is simple, I've run into so many awesome looking women in their 30s, 40s, and 50s that it is pretty clear most of the rest just don't take care of themselves. Yes, women can be so hot in their 40s and 50s that it makes one wonder why middle-aged men ever get interested in those 20 year olds. Well, perhaps because so many women in their 40s and 50s "let themselves go". But that isn't my real topic here.

I've always dressed "down". It's part of my generation, my career, my persona. Yet for a while now I've wanted to change that. I started to a few years back, after losing some weight. I started to buy, and wear with more frequency, nicer clothing. Then I gained back just enough of the weight to make wearing those newly bought items impossible. Damn! I refused to buy new nice clothing in the bigger size, so I'm quickly wearing everything out and have little to wear. Then a couple of recent events made me dress down even more. Oh my god, if you can apply the word frumpy to a man I'm getting there.

So, here is where I'm at. I'm going to quickly get back down to the weight I was at when I bought some nicer things and then keep pushing to the weight I really want to live at. I'm back to working out regularly, and will push some goals there I haven't been at for about three years. And then I'm going to buy a whole bunch of new clothing and try to relegate bluejeans to occasions that realy justify them!

Can I do it? Well, now that it is in the category of something to be conquered I think so. That mountain just has to be leveled. "I wanna kill. Kill. KILL" :-)

The benefits of being flexible

No, not that kind of flexible (which being a middle-aged man, I’m not).  I’m talking about the kind of flexible where you don’t get overly fixated on one particular plan.  In other words, the ability to go with the flow.  And to do it without actually being directionless.  I happen to be someone who doesn’t usually freak out when plans change.  And when it comes to my love life, I actually embrace it.  I find that it means more adventure, more intimacy, more intensity, more variety, and an ever better connection with my lover.   Maybe another way to put it is that I keep my eye on the long term.  There are an infinite number of paths to get there, all with their own joys and pleasures.  And I don’t care which path is explored on any given day.  I’m always moving to where I want to be, and taking in those joys and pleasures along the way.

The Fine (lost?) Art of Girl-Watching

One of my favorite past-times is “girl watching”.  While I believe all men (and I expect women) engage in this practice, changes in our lifestyle have caused some of the “art” to go out of it.  This is definitely not a change for the better.

I engage in girl watching all the time, alone or with one of my favorite partners (either my BFF, or my lover), but for some reason it really has been on my mind a lot this summer.  Perhaps that’s because my BFF has spent the summer insisting that we meet in the very best spots for girl watching rather than necessarily choosing based on the quality of food or other useful characteristics.  Or perhaps it is because my lover and I like to keep each other amused with messages about the hotter women we spot (or, sadly, about how so many women let “frumpy” take over their lives).  In any case, I’ve been doing a lot of girl watching and realized just how un-productive it has become (even ignoring the one time my BFF and I lucked out and tried a mediocre restaurant that just happened to have some women playing beach volleyball next to it).

What do I mean by unproductive?  Well, anyone who has worked in the downtown area of a major city (think New York or Chicago) and now works in a suburban office park understands.  If you’ve ever worked someplace like Wall Street then you know all you have to do at lunch time is stand outside the front of your office building and a parade of lovelies that rivals the Miss America pageant will, well, parade on by.  In 30 minutes you get to gaze at dozens, if not hundreds, of women dressed to the hilt.  Not a one would be caught dead in flats (unless they are on their way home, but that is a subtlety that only those in the know understand).  All of them trying to look their best without crossing some imaginary line of being “too sexy at work”.  And somehow, perhaps because they all put so much effort into looking good,  they seemingly all did.   And so, instead of partaking of all the fine restaurants nearby we would snarf down a sandwich at our desks then wander downstairs for the sightseeing.  By we I am talking about millions of American men, but also specifically about my BFF and I.   We were young, and those were the days!

Now I dare you, snarf down that sandwich and head on outside to the front of your typical suburban office park building and count the number of women who go by in 30 minutes that could be the subject of your fantasies.  Between the low traffic, and the tendency for (both men and)  women who inhabit these places to dress down, you’ll likely fall asleep within 10 minutes.  It just isn’t an environment conducive  to girl watching.   If you want a prime example of the downfall of  “American Civilization”, this is it!

Now I know that I’m a part of the problem.  I work in a suburban office park.  I dress (way) down most of the time.  And I have a tendency to refer to people who dress up for work as “suits” (meaning all show and no substance).  I’ve become a product of my environment.  At the same time, I know I look better in a suit than in my preferred blue jeans.  So rather than just complain about the situation I have an offer to make.  If the women of America will go back to dressing to the hilt, even when working in the suburbs, I’ll do the same.  Your move.

The perils of threesomes

This is actually my third attempt to blog on this topic. Events just kept overtaking my writing. But now enough time has passed that I can write on the topic.

My lover has already done a podcast describing our actual threesome, so I won't be going into those details (much). But I do think it's an interesting topic to blog about myself, particularly the part that was a surprise. But first a little setup.

Until last week I'd never had a threesome. The opportunity hadn't come up, and it was not high enough on my adventures list for me to have arranged one on my own. However, my lover and I had discussed it a number of times and she suggested we ask her friend SexxiKennedy to join us. Last Tuesday it just happened that Kennedy was in town and we talked her into coming over to visit us. When Kennedy's car pulled up in front Silvia-Mckenzie excitedly called me over because "you have to see her get out of her car...she is so beautiful". Indeed she is. Kennedy ended up spending a couple of nights with us, and that's where you'll just have to go listen to Silvia-Mckenzie's webcast for details.

I had a great time having both my lover and her friend around for a couple of evenings. I'm sure I was the envy of every man who saw us together...after all I had two beautiful women with me. I must admit I've gotten used to all the men looking at Silvia-Mckenzie when we are in public. At first it was a little disconcerting, even though it was great for my ego (hey, they may want her but she's with ME). And I'm less surprised then I was at the beginning of our relationship when I go somewhere on my own and they remember me because I was in once with Silvia-Mckenzie. Now I wonder who will remember the guy with two hotties wandering around town last week :-)

On Wednesday morning I realized something important, probably expected, and really quite cool. I was so totally into my lover the previous night that when I'm with her other people barely exist. We spent a couple of hours dancing in a club Tuesday night and even though it was really crowded, as far as I remember no one else was even there. Even Kennedy just "vanished" from my conscious, and making that beautiful a woman invisible is something even Penn and Teller aren't up to. Angelia Jolie could have thrown herself at me and I would have ignored her (ok, BS...I would have invited her to join us for a foursome). All kidding aside, I really liked the reminder of how intense my feelings are. It is one thing to "feel" them (which I do all the time), it is another to be able to see them in action.

The threesome actually happened on Wednesday night. Once again for details you'll have to listen to Silvia-Mckenzie's podcast, but something very important solidified in my head. When two people in a relationship have a threesome with another person (and I don't care if that person is a friend, paid companion, or just someone you picked up for the purpose) the third person is just a sex toy. The threesome was about Silvia and I, Kennedy was our sex toy. I think that's a very healthy way to view things because it keeps everyone's priorities straight. And that, as it turns out, is the real purpose of this blog post.

One of the first things you'll hear about threesomes is that they are emotionally risky. How could they not be? The first time you see your lover having sex with another person should be a revelation, and if you aren't prepared for it then bad things can happen. And you can't always prepare for it. Now going into this threesome I wasn't too worried because although it was my first time Silvia-Mckenzie has had them before. So if anyone was going to have a problem it was me, and I knew I wasn't going to have a problem. Well everything went fine, and seemed fine the next morning, and then sometime Thursday afternoon Silvia-Mckenzie experienced what she describes as her "spasm". You can see it in action on her blog.

It isn't my place to say what caused Silvia-Mckenzie's "spasm", though I now understand it. What is important for anyone considering a threesome is this: If someone as emotionally mature, comfortable in their own skin, secure, and "seen it all" experienced as Silvia-Mckenzie can be thrown by something that happens during a threesome then any of us can. Do not assume that you, your partner, or the third party is completely immune from having some kind of unexpected emotional response. Human interactions are just too complex to be completely predictable.

Wow, is it August already?

Although I've intended to blog at least once per week, I almost completely ignored the blog in July. What can I say, summer is all about being outdoors and active not indoors sitting at a computer. Other than work I've really avoided the computer this summer. So while I still intend to blog at least once a week (and have already started a little piece on girl watching), expect gaps as long as it is warm and sunny out!

When something is missing

For the last two weeks something has been missing from my life.  There have been moments when I’ve been way too busy, and having way too much fun, for me to consciously been thinking about “it”, yet always felt the absence.  Everything is colored by the lack of “it’s” spark.  Each day I’m away from that spark my heart feels a little heavier.  The loss starts the moment we separate, and I’m not whole again until my eyes first set sight on “it” again.  I’ve grown accustomed to week long separations.  That doesn’t change how the separation weighs on me, just that I cope with it.  When the separations are longer, others can detect “it’s” impact on my mood.

Of course “it” is my lover (to whom I apologize for referring to with such a pronoun).  Her presence in my life is a blessing beyond what I can describe, and her contribution to my happiness is priceless.  I am a very happy and lucky man.

Steve McNair

I hesitate to write about the Steve McNair case, since the facts aren’t all in.  But it looks like his mistress murdered him then committed suicide.  Ok, as a man with a mistress I’m fascinated by stories like this.  Partially for the “there but for the grace of god go I” aspect, and also because it highlights what seems like DOs and DON’Ts if you are going to have a mistress.

There are at least two scenarios in the Steve McNair / Sahel Kazemi case that I’m wondering about.  The first is that McNair really was estranged from his wife and was dating Kazemi in a traditional sense.  Perhaps he announced his intent to try to reconcile with his wife and Kazemi snapped.  That isn’t really a “mistress” kind of relationship, so I’ll ignore it for now.  The other is that McNair lied to Kazemi and lead her on about his intent.  There are two problems there.  One is that you shouldn’t lie to your mistress.  The second is that you should have a mistress who really wants to be a mistress, not someone whose goal is to displace your wife!

The “shouldn’t lie” is really quite simple.  As a shadowy, outside your public life, deep intimate relationship your mistress serves as the one person you can share your secrets with.  You can tell her things you can’t share with your wife, friends, business associates, etc.  Having this outlet, and its associated bond, is one of the joys of having a mistress.  But for that to work you have to trust her.  Because a mistress holds in her hands the power to destroy you.  Perhaps simply by revealing your relationship, but more devastatingly by revealing your secrets.  So the reality is that you want to establish and maintain a very trusting relationship with your mistress.  You already start out with a bit of a handicap, since obviously you are willing to lie to your wife so why should your mistress trust you?  That’s a tough one, and honestly a topic I agonized over (and still do) .  I hate lying to my wife, and it bothers me even more that I demonstrate to my lover that I’m capable of such deception.  But that is the nature of the beast!

Which brings me to the second point.  You really want a mistress who wants to be a mistress!   If that’s a role they seek, then you don’t have to lie about your intent.  And they fully understand and accept the need for you to lie to your wife, even if lying isn’t in your nature.  And, even if you do fall in love with each other, it doesn’t have to threaten your marriage.  Or your life.  Finding a mistress who really wants to be a mistress (rather than your girlfriend or wife) and what that really means is a topic I want to write about.  But not today.

To sub, or not to sub…that is the question

In “sex”, as in everything else, everyone seems to need a label.  Or many.  So when it comes to “vanilla” (whatever that is) I’m properly labeled as a Straight Male.  That seems easy enough.  But what about BDSM?  Well I find labels there a lot tougher.  Failing to find anything that really fits, I identify as a Switch.  So what does this really mean?

To begin with there is nothing very vanilla about my vanilla.  Oh, an evening of activities most people consider vanilla is high on my list of fantastic things!  There are times when nothing is better than passionate kissing, hands and mouth everywhere, and ultimately pumping my seed into the place that was designed to receive it.  Yup, that is vanilla.  But most of the time my sex play involves at least something kinky.  That can be as simple as being teased for a very long time (which at 20 would have been torture but in middle age is exquisite in its frustration, fantasy, and release), or as wild as having my lover clamp a Kali Teeth Bracelet on my cock.  And while tease/denial, CBT, and chastity devices are all staples of BDSM, when I engage in these activities with my lover they are simply kink.   We do not relate as D/s, but rather as lovers who both simply enjoy playing with each other in almost any imaginable way.

But, I have always wanted to try D/s and chose to try being a submissive first.  The very first thing I found is that anything submissive outside the bedroom really turned me off.  Oh, I could play the role a bit online for a chat or two.  But after that my natural alpha male re-asserts itself and I lose interest.  In the bedroom I can take the submissive role and run…or rather be bound up, with it.  Unfortunately it has been very difficult to have a satisfying submissive experience.  I’ve had two, which I’ll talk about in other blog posts.  But the other half dozen or so I’ve had left me unsatisfied, and thinking I only enjoyed submission in the privacy of my own mind.  I did finally have the kind of submissive experience I was looking for, so now I know reality can be as good as fantasy.   Thus playing as a submissive is still very much on the table.  Does that make me a submissive?  I don’t think so.

You see playing the dominant role in D/s play is also on my list of interests.  I’ve just long had it as a lower priority than exploring submission.  Why?  Frankly, because male dominant/female submissive is all too vanilla!  I know I exaggerate, but I think everyone knows what I mean.  Thus exploring the more unusual female dominant/male submissive side of things was just more taboo and more mentally stimulating.  But now that I’ve done that, my interest in finding submissive play partners is going up.

So, I’d play with a woman just to share a kink.  I’d happily submit to a woman (and explore multiple kinks with her) so I can experience the joys of sub-space.  And I’d be thrilled to find a play partner to help me learn how to dominate.  Switch does sound like the appropriate label, doesn’t it?

The Waitress

The door was still locked when I arrived at the restaurant seeking a bit of breakfast before a long day of work.  I looked inside but could see no one, briefly wondering if it had joined the many others killed off by the recession.  A quick check of my watch revealed it was 5 minutes before opening time, so I took out my smartphone and began reading email.  At precisely opening time I heard a sexy “Good Morning” and looked up to see one of the waitresses opening the door.  She’d served me a couple of times in the past, and I’d always noted some attraction, but this time I really “woke up” and took notice. 

As she walked me to a table I noticed the swing in her hips and a bit of a joyful “skip” in her step.  Since I was the only customer there was a lot of time for small talk.  There was a definite twinkly in her eye and a delightful squint when she smiled (which she did a lot).  Having eaten at this particular place quite often I knew their routine, and she wasn’t following it.  Even as other customers entered, she found an unusual number of reasons to swing by my table.  Every bit of her body language and voice said “flirt”, and she was reeling me in.  My mind went to a movie scene of brushing everything off the table, throwing her down, and doing her right in the restaurant.  What a great way to start the day!

What I notice each time I see this waitress is that she doesn’t fit any definition of “type” that I would give someone if they forced me to say what I was attracted to.  Her loose waitress outfit hides any notion of curves, though her body language suggests otherwise.  No breasts, legs, or butt to really check out.  Cute, but not beautiful.  Medium-long hair, but done in an odd style (and multiple colors) that shows her youth.  And young, mid 20s, an age that doesn’t do anything for me (except of course make for good eye candy).  So why did I have such a strong reaction to this waitress?

I do find that I’m often attracted to someone even though I can’t easily describe why.  So what did this waitress have, besides being the most delightful flirt?  One, there was that sparkle in her eye.  That’s always been something that captures my attention.  It is probably related to the biggie, a clear zest for life.  Sheer Joy.  That is something in my top 3.  It’ll get me every time.

I left a really big tip.