Anyone that follows my Twitter knows how I feel about cheating in relationships. I don’t have a lot of sympathy for any of the parties involved. I’m particularly annoyed with sex bloggers that merrily write about cheating with the expectation that as long as they are fucking, the audience will continue to pat them on the ass and tell them how hot they are.  My personal standards for honesty in relationships are pretty intense. Fuck, I’m even on record about this.

For me, infidelity is taking an action or having a feeling that I think my partner would want to know but that I’m not telling him for some reason. I used to say that I ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t want him sitting next to me while I’m doing,’ but I think that is pretty reductive and too prone to literal interpretation. Instead, any sort of keeping secrets feels like infidelity to me.

So, as Mr. Vanilla [since I’m already on a roll with asides, he really needs another name] and I listened to this story my first interest was sort of academic. I thought about my opinions about cheating and at one point nearly blurted out, “God, I fucking hate people that brag about this shit.”

Then I remembered who I was sitting next to. Mr. Vanilla cheated on his ex-wife. He feels like crap about it, he doesn’t justify it with excuses or think that it deserves accolades. Still, he was a cheater. And, some (who operate in the “once a. . . always a. . .” school) would say that he still is.

I contained my outburst and we were quietly listening and driving for a few minutes before I reached for the dial, blocked out Ira Glass and his ilk, and said, “well, that is sort of awkward.”

While infidelity is still an issue in polyamorous relationships, it tends to be less of one because there is less of an incentive or necessity to cheat in most of those arrangements. I’ve been poly for awhile now I’m newly (and quite happily) monogamous. Since I am coming from this other framework, for me the logical solution to having a longing for another partner is to discuss it and potentially change the organization of the relationship. For many people that are monogamous by default, it is to cheat.

Mr. Vanilla and I returned to the topic of the NPR report a few hours later when I reminded him that my monogamy was my choice and that I didn’t make it to restrict him. He re-affirmed his own decision to be monogamous with me. I told him that I hoped he would discuss it with me if he started to have any doubts and that I trusted him.

Fast forward a few days and he is visibly distraught before me after a harrowing conversation with his ex-wife that included a rehashing of his own infidelity. This reminder from a person he wronged of the pain that he caused her was causing him significant guilt and pain. What’s more it was laid bare to me because it interlaced with his fear of making the same mistakes again. Because I love him, every bit of me wanted to take on his pain as if it were my own, grant him absolution, tell him that he didn’t deserve to feel guilty. But I didn’t because it wasn’t true and it isn’t my forgiveness to grant.

What I could give him was the gift of my trust. And in this moment of seeing a person I love deeply at a low of self-doubt, I recognized that it was a very small consolation. But, despite his past mistakes I could look at him before me with compassion and love and know that I trusted him to act in ways that would not harm me. It was a trust that he earned through his actions and displayed character and that he knows all too well that he could lose.  But ultimately, I believe in him and his goodness and I believe in my own ability to bestow my trust and love where I see fit.

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This is a confession of sorts but also a cry for help. I think about myself in reference to kink and sex and realize that I associate submission and service with being feminine. I associate beauty, weakness, and delicacy with being feminine. And I also realize that I am so terrified of being seen as anything other than feminine that I put up some strange defenses against this.

Case study A: Ariel

Ariel is my gorgeous girlfriend. She is beautiful and petite and has long flowing hair. She moves gracefully on high heels. She also has a powerful job in a male-dominated industry and changes car batteries and asserts herself aggressively in conversations. She looks high femme but has always thought of herself as butch. Still, when I touch her I sometimes feel huge, ham-fisted, rough, and all-together ugly. I know she longs for me and I fail her because I don’t know how to be. On the one hand, strapping on a pretty dildo and fucking her for hours sounds like pure bliss but I know that getting to that point will be full of second-guessing myself and my desires and my actions.

Am I being entirely heterosexist in my view of this sexual relationship? Abso-fucking-lutely! Because she is feminine, I feel masculine. (We won’t even get into the terrible fact that I associate masculinity [on myself!] with ugliness) I don’t want to feel this way. It isn’t enlightened, it isn’t sex positive. I wouldn’t teach it to my students. But it infects my reality and I don’t know how to deprogram it.

Case study B: Michael

[Note: This section has been edited for nuance. The lack it previously exhibited, though, is likely symptomatic of my issues with binary thinking.]

Michael is a petite man. We are the same height and I outweigh him significantly. When we first met I didn’t think the relationship would work because of this. I thought I would feel huge and be self-conscious and afraid. So I submitted myself to him. He felt like he was capable of being in charge and I let him be. Even if I couldn’t be delicate and small by comparison physically, I knew I could shrink myself mentally. It works out well that he has discovered enjoyment of beating me until I cry, pulling my hair, grabbing my throat. (Again we won’t get into how fucked up it is that my way of feeling feminine involves simulated victimization) Even when I am initiating sex with him, it feels like an act of service and devotion. He often gives me feedback on how to touch and where and when. I siddle up to him and slither a limb around his body. I kiss gently. The touches are a seduction and they are a worship and only in my most wanton and least self-conscious moments do I allow myself to be aggressive and take up space.

Taking up space

I haven’t really defined what this means to me just yet. You may have guessed some of it by now, though. I think of it in terms of physical space – my body is larger and I attempt to diminish that regularly. I also think of it terms of political space – my voice should be smaller, my needs should be less important, my desires should be locked away.

This might seem ridiculous to some of you that have met me or read this blog. Of course I take up space in terms of talking about sex. Here I am now with this presence on the internet. Blabbing, opining, discussing in detail, issuing edicts and judgments and ideas. But some of that strength leaves me when I’m making love to some of the people I adore most in the world.

I know that every relationship goes through growing pains and these are no exception, but this issue feels bigger and scarier and more about me being fucked in the head than any I have run into before. So, dear reader, tell me what you think. How do I get my theory to line up with my practice? How do I deschool myself of gender? How do I embrace femininity in a way that doesn’t make me need to masculinize others? How have you done it or how do you wish you could?

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So we met for drinks and talked about school and teaching and the law. We also talked about lubes and blogging and the joys of rope and electro-sex. I’m attracted to Carmine but the conversation wasn’t sexy, it wasn’t flirtatious, it just was.

He asked me back to his place so I texted Jay to make sure it was alright. It was. I knew that something might happen but I wasn’t expecting it. Carmine is sweet and self-effacing. He has a slight Boston accent that makes my pussy twinge when he says words like “car”. I couldn’t, for the life of me see him making the first move.

He did. Standing in his living room he grabs me and kisses me. He leads me to the bedroom and begins taking off my clothes. We tumbled around on the bed for awhile kissing and groping. At one point he paused, excusing himself to go to the bathroom. I posed myself so that I would look effortlessly sexy when he came back in the room. On my stomach, legs bent and crossed at the ankles with feet in the air. He came back in the room and slid on top of me, caressing my back with his body and kissing the top of my head. I felt his cock pressing against my ass and I wiggled a bit as I looked over my shoulder at him.

“You have a baseball bat next to your bed.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you afraid of intruders?”

“No, it helps me think.”

I look at him quizzically.

“It is a guy thing,” he explains, “it is phallic.”

I smirk and decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. He is grinding against me and kissing my shoulders. He asks me what I want and I shoot the question back at him. So, he tells me he wants to fuck me and spanks my ass. Too softly.

I tell him I want to fuck him too but he’s going to have to hit harder. He does.

So we fuck.

Yeah, I know, I always skip that part. Here, let me give you some highlights. He slides into me and his cock is thick and hard and I squeeze him. His eyes widen a bit and so do mine. He pins my hands beside my head. He squeezes my wrists hard and it hurts and I really love it. I scream, a lot. Obscenities, sacrilegious prayers, and incomprehensible things. Throughout it all, Carmine retains a placid and contemplative look on his face. I smile and he smiles back but he is already smiling. I wonder if there is some joke that I am missing. And as his cock slams me, sometimes too hard and too deep. So aggressively that I have to remind him that my cervix is there, he still smiles. I wonder if this has something to do with the baseball bat.

So, we finish and I bite my lip and steal a quick glance at him. I giggle a bit. I’m not being myself so much as an approximation of myself. It is okay, he might know this or it might be too complex for the moment or he might not even care. I ask him to explain the baseball bat again. He picks it up and shows me. He is laying on his back next to a puddle of ejaculate with a baseball bat in his hands and my naked body slung partially over his. He looks a bit like he owns the world. He holds the bat like he is expecting a pitch and moves it back and forth a bit. I duck and giggle. He explains that he’s never even played baseball on a team and he isn’t that big of a fan. It just works. He tousles my hair and asks if I want a cigarette.

I tell him that I’ve never had a cigarette after sex before. Maybe it is too much of a cliche. He gives me an incredulous look. Law students are apt to smoking and Carmine knows that when I’m having a drink, I’m prone to a cigarette or two. I tell him that I’ve probably fucked smokers before but the cigarette never came up. He tells me it can’t be beat.

We slide back into our clothes and walk out on the porch and talk about evolutionary biology and have a smoke. He isn’t lying, it is a really good cigarette. The night is hot and exceedingly Southern he tells me that he hopes that now that we’ve gotten the preliminaries out of the way, we can get more adventurous next time.

Oh, thats right I left out some details. I met Carmine because he likes cross dressing and taking it in the ass from girls with strap-ons. He is also perfectly capable of spanking me and pinning me to the bed while he fucks me hard. Interesting how people and their sexualities aren’t just one thing. My life and relationships would be much too boring if that were true.

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The South is my adopted home but I don’t always get along with Southerners. Most of my friends here are other Northern transplants, but I know my fair share of people born and bred in the dirty dirty. Ian is one of those people. He has a mild twang in his voice, he is exceedingly polite, and he is a tall drink of water. He is also bisexual, has a very nice cock, and is one kinky bastard.

Jay and I have been fooling around with Ian lately and he has me thinking about how purely joyful and fun sex can be. See, Ian is hilarious, he likes to laugh and he likes to make his partners laugh and the fact that he may be fucking someone is immaterial to him deciding whether or not to tell a joke. In fact, he pointed out that my pussy gets extra tight when I laugh, this all might be very intentional!

The sex we have been having with Ian isn’t sensual, poetic sex. It also isn’t rough, aggressive sex. In short, it isn’t sex blogger sex. But I love laughing in bed, it is the most natural thing in the world for me. (Listeners of Bedroom Radio know that I giggle after most orgasms.) Something that falls by the wayside in erotica is just how hilarious sex is. Just by itself, inherently, it is prone to serious laughs. You have naked people, genitals, bodily fluids, and tricky maneuvering. When God is in the mood for some slapstick comedy, he peers down on everyone fucking. And smiles.

In many ways, Ian is the perfect third for Jay and I. He matches our silly and playful attitudes. I don’t have to affect some fort of sex kitten persona with him. I get to sarcastic, bold, and forthright. I ask for what I want unabashedly with no coy or seductive pretenses.

Last night when Jay filled his hand with lube and spilled most of it on the bed, we all laughed. When Ian pointed out that it looks like snot, we laugh some more. When I slip and nearly hit the floor stepping over the spot where Jay spilled the lube, we all completely lost it. And it is okay. Nothing is missing. The genitals all remain and the adventurous spirit keeps hold. I’ve never believed in the idea that a “moment” can be lost but even if that is true, a moment given over to laughter with friends hardly feels like a sacrifice.

The sweating and grunting? The screaming and whimpering? The pleasure that takes us over? They are important too, and they have their own moments. But they aren’t what make this sexy and fun – I don’t know if they are even the goal.

[Curious about that picture at the top? Well this is what happens when I hand Jay a marker and tell him that he can write on me. We later discovered that I left a stamped impression of fireworks on the bed sheets. What can I say, it was the 4th of July.]

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“No, I don’t do that.”

“I feel really bad.”

I can’t see his eyes because he is wearing mirrored sunglasses. I feel exposed. Realizing that impending tears are stinging at my eyes, I wish I had a pair of my own.

“It’s fine, really.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

So, I get in my car and drive away while he continues with the very important things he has to get done that day. His excuses aren’t even excuses, they are totally reasonable. Jude lost his job and has been frantically applying for new ones, he has a lot of places to still try. I’ve made him feel like shit because he can only meet me for a few hours and have a drink.

Still, the tears are starting to sting and as I pull out of the parking lot, I shake my head. I’ve tried to make sure that our dialog is something like a movie. Dramatic, dry, witty. This is the moment where he is supposed to call me and tell me to come back. He’ll grab me as I step out of the car and pin me against the door and kiss me.

But I keep driving.

I get stuck in traffic and send what I am pretending is a playful text message.

“Now that I’m in this traffic, I am mad at you.”

He calls a few moments later and tells me that the place I suggested was hiring. I hold my breath. He launches into more apologies. I feel the tears stinging again, and my gum gets slimy as my mouth starts producing extra saliva. I tell him I need to concentrate on driving and get off the phone.

I stop for gas and as I’m pumping I send another message.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?”

“OMG I am such a retard. I had so much on my mind I didn’t even think about it.”

It occurs to me that kissing people isn’t an item on the to-do list and usually, when I don’t think about kissing someone it is because I really don’t want to kiss them. I volley back the classic pained martyr response:

“It isn’t important.”

“Yes it is, I’m a jackass.”

“Not being attracted to me doesn’t make you a jackass.”

Passive aggressive with a side of self-deprecation. This is the man that regularly tells me that he wants to rape me and now I’m taking jabs at him because I haven’t been kissed. I feel like a child and a fool.

He replies, “No, I just wasn’t in a remotely romantic or sexual mood. This is how I get when I’m depressed.”

I know what he is saying. He has been in this emotional state for weeks. I realize that I’m being the most shitty and unsupportive friend to him right now. I also feel embarrassed and conflicted. I am still holding out for the movie ending but gas isn’t 4 dollars a gallon in romantic comedies.

Does my rational mind know that Jude does want me and today’s just a bad day? Sure.

Does my rational mind win out over the feelings of the girl that feels like she is back in high school – fat, rejected, foolish? No. I am still that girl.

So, I send one last passive aggressive message: “Okay. Feel better. Bye.”

Then I turn up the 80s radio, and let the tears finally come.

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The people that are being honest* with their partners and doing things correctly always stand at risk. Especially when they play with people that are single but inherently monogamous. This accounts for my conversation with Jude. I’ve told him my fear that what I have with him or might have with him has a built-in expiration date until he can find a girlfriend that he commits to. Now, there are a variety of reasons that I could never be that woman in his life (the fact that I am already in a committed relationship might not even top the list) but it leads to some uncomfortable twinges when we talk about our lives. He feels absolutely no jealousy towards Jay but does feel a bit towards the other men I speak to. And when he tells me about other women, my sense of urgency to get to him and get to be with him is increased.

Now, most of you might be thinking, “Jesus, Ellie, you have Jay and you have these other people, you are so lucky, stop complaining!” I can’t say that I even have an answer to that sentiment other than the gut feeling that I both know how lucky I am and still want to honor the challenges that our little household faces on a daily basis.

So, Tom’s thoughts on the trepidation he and C. experience about their third partner leaving them for someone monogamous is a real fear in my life right now. One that could thwart something lovely for me before it even really starts. And also a fear that has me feeling like a bad and selfish person who would begrudge a friend finding happiness. See the rub there?

Ultimately, though, this is all about honesty. I don’t think that a sex blogger has an obligation to be honest to anyone other than their romantic partners. So when I see someone that is being honest with everyone but their romantic partners, it rubs me the wrong way. Here is the comment I left for Tom:

Confessional writing about these sorts of “sins” isn’t productive if everyone pats you on the back and says you are a princess. In fact, it only becomes enabling. So many of us are writing sex blogs to seek the approval of other people (of course it is fashionable to say “I write this only for myself” as if that explains why one would host and promote it on the internet.) I don’t think there is anything wrong with getting that validation but one can’t admit wrong-doing without being spanked for it a bit. If you go through your life that way, you will be convinced that your actions are somehow okay.

I got blasted/warned/attacked on this blog when Jay and I started seeing each other. Even though I was being COMPLETELY honest with C (my C, not Tom’s). I didn’t feel it was fair but I also knew that my experimenting was reminding people of a lot of bad memories and feelings. While this blog isn’t exactly a public space (it is mine), I have no reason to shut out the (often helpful) perspectives of others. Even if they don’t speak to me, they likely speak to someone.

*Full disclosure: Many of my clients are married or in relationships. I have deeply complex and conflicted feelings about my place in their lives. However, one thing I will say is that this fact is why many of them would never be lovers and will always be clients. No matter how much they turn me on.

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It occurs to me that the way to get anyone concerned with any issue is to demonstrate to them the impact that it directly has on their life. Now, certainly injustices done to a woman in his life would make many feminist boyfriends care deeply about feminist causes. But, I would argue that this is going to elicit a very particular, personal, and only partially useful response – the desire to protect his partner. Now, I think that everyone in life can use a cheering section but a protection response sort of buys into a whole ‘nother set of gender stereotypes, those surrounding masculinity.

But guess what? The word “masculinity” only came up once in 75 comments. So, here is where I think that the Feministe discussion falls flat – it assumes that men need to respond to feminism and support it in some intrinsically male way. Well fuck that, in my book a feminist boyfriend is one that recognizes the gender wankery all around us and understands what it is doing to both of us. He sees that masculinity (as an institution) is just as insidious as femininity and that they depend on each other to survive. My feminist boyfriend knows that sexual violence against men isn’t an anomaly and bravely shares his experiences with it to give other men the courage. My feminist boyfriend cross dresses if he feels like it. Has a beard if he feels like it. Lets me fuck him in the ass if he feels like it. My feminist boyfriend sees the things he is coded by society to be and makes his own fucking decisions about that – just like his feminist girlfriend.

[via BeingAmberRhea]

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::Timid wave::

It has been awhile, perhaps some of you thought that I just decided to never come back from Thailand. Well, I did. And school has been intense. But, you know a few things are true when I show up after a long hiatus.

1. The emails asking me when I’m coming back have started to actually make me feel guilty.
2. I have something clever to say.
3. I am procrastinating on school work.

I was having a conversation with a friend (male) about the way he responds to requests for cock shots from all of the ladies that are jocking him. (I’m not entirely convinced that this actually happens, but I decided to play along to preserve his ego.) Anywhooo, he sends me a picture of himself with a suction based pink jelly dildo thwacked onto his forehead. Totally classy, right? (Did, I mention that I would totally do him if he wasn’t such a sadist that I was convinced I wouldn’t be able to sit for a week afterwards?)

This got me thinking about unsolicited cock shots. In the adult dating world they seem to be like a business card. “Oh hello, nice to meet you, I’m a professional dog groomer and I like snowboarding. I hope we can get together and have some fun. Attached you will find a picture of my penis! Cheers, Tom” (This was an actual Myspace message that I got from THE Tom, by the way.)

Honestly, I’m always left scratching my head on these. What do I do with this penis photograph? How do I evaluate it? Well, after careful research, testing and 2 focus groups I have developed:

Ellie’s No-Muss No-Fuss Grading Rubric for Cock Shots

Step One: Did the sender give you a picture of their cock?
If No: Proceed to step two.
If Yes: Fail. Delete the email and bleach your retinas.

Simple, huh?

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This is why I was amused, nay, concerned when I was chatting with a dude that went out of his way to tell me on 3 separate occasions that he isn’t a pedophile. It would go like this:

Ellie: Some totally normal, mundane crap that I say to people. Not regarding pedophiles.
Guy: not a pedo here, trust me.
Ellie: Um, okay good.
Guy: i was just feeling u out. there are a lot of police knowadays looking for pedophiles and the life, and trust me, i’m not one, however, i guess i’m more or less looking for a relationship with a person my age
Ellie: Right. More crap that I say.
Blah
Blah
Blah
Guy: for pedophiles and the like…………………………………………
Ellie: WTF?

Then I blocked him. I think a preoccupation with pedophiles is enough to deter me.

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Date #1
I agreed to take a study break to meet Charlie outside my office in campus. He was a graduate student as well, although in a different department. It didn’t feel right. He was married, I wasn’t that attracted to him, I made out with him anyway. I knew I couldn’t/shouldn’t/wouldn’t do it again but lacked the spine to say so. Instead, I let him finger me, felt dirty and told him over instant messenger a few days later that I didn’t want to see him anymore.

Date #2
I had been talking to Martin online for months and months. He is in an open but not quite polyamorous marraige (I need to write down my thoughts on the differences in the future). We met for drinks, flirted, took a nice walk. He kissed me and then I kissed back. Then we kissed some more before fooling around in my car. It didn’t feel too dirty then but it does a bit now.

Date #3
Noah captivated me a few months ago. We chatted online for awhile and shared a lot of common interests. By the time we met, I had developed a serious crush on him. The sort of infatuation that is reminiscent of high school. I should have taken that reminiscence to be prophetic and guarded myself a bit – I never had much luck with romance in high school. Noah and I sat at the bar nursing single beers for over 3 hours then walked back to our cars together. I mustered the courage to grab his hand and he didn’t seem to mind. I didn’t know if I could come up with the courage to kiss him.

So, instead I told him that I wanted to be kissed. He told me to come up with the courage myself. It took a few moments of maneuvering and nuzzling to get there but I managed. It was one of the most terrifying leaps I’ve taken in awhile and I wonder now if it was the correct move.

He kissed back, passionately, moving his soft lips over my face and neck. Burying his face in my cleavage and nibbling and my skin. Hands in my hair. Lips on mine. Squeezes everywhere. Tongues dart – sighs released. Some sort of giddy high that I don’t feel often washes over me and I stop to stare in his eyes, to play with his hands, to brush his hair away from his face and drink him in.

It all felt very very mutual.

In many ways it was.

But, we won’t be doing it again.

Regret isn’t the word to describe how I feel but trepidation, anger, anxiety all spring to mind. The fear of hurting this vital, gorgeous, sensitive man keeps me in check. But the need for self-preservation keeps me at a distance.

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[11:18] lumpesse: squeeeee!

[11:19] vinnietesla: The Chinese Menu was a success, huh?

[11:19] lumpesse: yeah yeah yeah

[11:19] lumpesse: holy crap, I have no idea how to write about this

[11:20] lumpesse: this is the reason that I haven’t written about the threesomes yet

[11:20] lumpesse: they sound like logistical impossibilities

[11:22] vinnietesla: And yet!

[11:22] lumpesse: like if I read porn that described the stuff we were doing last night, I’d be like, “bullshit, genitals don’t line up that way”

[11:22] vinnietesla: Ooh!

[11:23] vinnietesla: Wow!

[11:23] vinnietesla: Now you’re being a tease!

[11:23] lumpesse: haha

[11:23] lumpesse: okay, want the story from the top?

[11:23] lumpesse: (jay says, “I’m not sure we’d know who was the top”)

[11:24] lumpesse: So, they came over, we ate, I’m an excellent cook, blah blah blah

[11:24] lumpesse: we sit around after dinner having wine and ginger cosmos, I get pretty tipsy

[11:24] lumpesse: I think everyone is except jay who doesn’t drink

[11:25] lumpesse: we’ve been talking about sex for awhile, it gets quiet and I finally go, “so, who wants to play spin the bottle?”

[11:25] vinnietesla: Okay.

[11:25] vinnietesla: Hee!

[11:25] lumpesse: no one even says much, everyone just scoots their chairs back and jacob grabs the empty wine bottle from the bar

[11:25] lumpesse: and we all march into the bedroom, giggling

[11:26] lumpesse: I’m apparently spilling my drink during this process

[11:26] vinnietesla: You don’t recall, huh?

[11:26] lumpesse: No, I do

[11:26] lumpesse: but someone had to point out to me that I was spilling

[11:26] lumpesse: and I was all, ‘oh, so I am, oops’

[11:27] lumpesse: luckily I stopped drinking then

[11:27] vinnietesla: Okay.

[11:28] lumpesse: so spin the bottle

[11:28] lumpesse: we started with traditional rules until everyone had made out a few times

[11:28] lumpesse: (when I was a kid it was just a kiss but times they are a-changin’)

[11:29] lumpesse: then we decided to up the ante and the person that spun got to remove an article of clothing from the person they landed on while making out with them

[11:29] vinnietesla: Okay.

[11:29] lumpesse: boys making out is fun to watch, fyi

[11:29] lumpesse: anyway

[11:30] lumpesse: once everyone was naked, the game lost its utility and we all got on the bed

[11:30] lumpesse: (I don’t know how)

[11:30] lumpesse: and then fucked in a plethora of bizarre combinations for like, 2 hours

[11:30] lumpesse: that is where my narrative breaks down

[11:31] lumpesse: notable firsts included me and sylvia both being DPed for the first time

[11:31] lumpesse: me eating her out

[11:31] lumpesse: watching boys go at it

[11:31] lumpesse: jacob had never sucked cock before, etc

[11:32] vinnietesla: Oh wow!

[11:32] lumpesse: lol

[11:32] vinnietesla: That’s a nice lineup of firsts.

[11:32] lumpesse: have I actually impressed you?

[11:33] vinnietesla: You’ve done a bunch of stuff I hain’t.

[11:33] lumpesse: I like to imagine you as someone that has done everything I have a million times before.

[11:33] lumpesse: it worked so well, too

[11:33] vinnietesla: Not so hardly.

[11:33] vinnietesla: The foursome or the imaginary vinnie?

[11:33] lumpesse: the foursome

[11:34] vinnietesla: I’m curious how the DP was.

[11:34] lumpesse: the sexiest thing was probably jacob fingering me while he fucked sylvia and she was sucking jay’s cock

[11:34] lumpesse: and her and I were kissing on occasion

[11:35] lumpesse: I feel like I need a stick figure drawing to demonstrate this stuff

[11:35] lumpesse: the DP was interesting.

[11:35] lumpesse: I think that sylvia liked hers more than I liked mine

[11:35] lumpesse: I was basically over-stimulated by that time

[11:35] lumpesse: it was pretty hot, though

[11:36] lumpesse: I’d want to try it again for sure

[11:36] vinnietesla: Cool.

[11:36] vinnietesla: What size bed do you have?

[11:36] lumpesse: omg, I only have a full

[11:36] lumpesse: I can’t believe it operated

[11:37] lumpesse: someone was basically off the bed at most times in terms of doing something from the sides

[11:37] lumpesse: but still

[11:37] lumpesse: actually, right in the beginning we had basically just swapped partners and were all on the bed next to each other

[11:38] lumpesse: I think I’m just going to publish this IM convo instead of trying to write about this

[11:38] vinnietesla: I think that’s a great approach—

[11:38] lumpesse: So, ask any more questions that you have ;)

[11:38] vinnietesla: My father taught me a wonderfully dumb trick for breaking through a writing roadblock:

[11:39] vinnietesla: You just write “So what I’m trying to say is…” and go from there.

[11:39] vinnietesla: And then go back later and erase the preface.

[11:39] lumpesse: very true

[11:39] vinnietesla: Had you played with a chick before?

[11:39] lumpesse: I’d only kissed girls

[11:39] vinnietesla: Was it at all uncomfortable watching jay with another woman?

[11:40] lumpesse: no, it was hot

[11:40] lumpesse: Actually, one of the sexiest things I saw was her being DPed

[11:40] lumpesse: because I was pretty exhausted at that point and just watched

[11:41] lumpesse: Oh and after I came the first time I needed a breather

[11:41] lumpesse: so I got up and grabbed my new crop and walked around giving everyone swats with it

[11:41] lumpesse: and handed her my paddle so she could do some hitting too

[11:42] vinnietesla: Sounds like the atmosphere was largely sensual rather than BDSM-y, though.

[11:42] vinnietesla: New toys notwithstanding.

[11:42] lumpesse: yeah, definitely

[11:43] lumpesse: everyone was doing some biting and hitting but it was going in almost every direction

[11:43] lumpesse: more indicative of our collective tastes in someone rough sex than anything else

[11:44] vinnietesla: Yeah.

[11:44] lumpesse: jacob is sort of alpha male and I did find myself pretty overcome with the urge to top him a bit

[11:44] vinnietesla: How did decision-making flow—

[11:44] lumpesse: I got the crop out with his ass in mind

[11:44] vinnietesla: like, when you got DP’ed, was that your project?

[11:44] vinnietesla: Cute!

[11:44] vinnietesla: I sympathize with that impulse to top the toppy.’

[11:45] lumpesse: I think jacob brought it up – just something like “so, ellie and sylvia both have a fantasy that requires two cocks, who is up first?”

[11:45] vinnietesla: Hee!

[11:45] lumpesse: It was sylvia’s first group sex with multiple guys

[11:45] vinnietesla: In general, was there a ‘plan’ like that, or did you just all take care of yourselves.

[11:45] lumpesse: previously it had been other girls

[11:45] vinnietesla: Uh huh—

[11:45] lumpesse: everyone just sort of did stuff

[11:46] vinnietesla: It appears to be MMF week for some reason.

[11:46] lumpesse: jacob was sort of on fantasy patrol, making suggestions

[11:46] vinnietesla: Converstaions are turning that way all the time.

[11:46] lumpesse: it was really hot this time since the guys were touching each other and there was another girl

[11:46] vinnietesla: How much bisexual experience did they have?

[11:47] lumpesse: I felt a little less overwhelmed than when it was just two guys

[11:47] lumpesse: she had a lot and he had a little

[11:47] lumpesse: whereas for jay and I it is switched

[11:47] lumpesse: so that worked out well

[11:48] vinnietesla: I’m confused—

[11:48] vinnietesla: jay had been with other guys before?

[11:48] lumpesse: yeah, he had boyfriends for ages, he identified as ‘gay’ for a long time

[11:48] lumpesse: but it has been almost 10 years

[11:49] lumpesse: he was considering himself straight for awhile but since we’ve met he has revised to bisexual

[11:49] vinnietesla: I didn’t know that!

[11:49] lumpesse: now you do!

[11:49] vinnietesla: True dat.

[11:49] lumpesse: (I love your exclamation points, they let me know I’ve done well)

[11:50] vinnietesla: So do you see this staying essentially sexual, or is there potential for romantic involvement.

[11:50] vinnietesla: Why thank you.

[11:50] lumpesse: I’m really not sure.

[11:50] vinnietesla: Aren’t they impressively errect?

[11:50] lumpesse: I see it remaining as a sexual friendship for sure.

[11:51] lumpesse: I’m not even sure how romantic involvement would work for a group.

[11:51] lumpesse: I guess I’m still old fashioned in thinking of it as something that happens between pairs even if there is overlap in the pairs

[11:52] vinnietesla: well, there’s truth to that.

[11:53] lumpesse: But I could see myself becoming romantically interested in either of them or both

[11:53] vinnietesla: After all, any group involvement is composed of a set of pairs,

[11:53] lumpesse: right

[11:53] vinnietesla: when e and b and i were getting entangled for a couple weeks,

[11:53] vinnietesla: when e soured on b that was the end of that.

[11:53] vinnietesla: weakest link and all that.

[11:53] lumpesse: I can see that

[11:54] lumpesse: I’d think in our case the strong links would be in the two established couples

[11:54] lumpesse: obviously

[11:54] vinnietesla: Of course.

[11:54] lumpesse: if either of those came into jeopardy the whole thing would sour pretty badly

[11:54] vinnietesla: I had some interesting conversations on a message board with a guy in a double marriage.

[11:54] vinnietesla: He refers to his wife, his girlfriend, and his boyfriend,

[11:54] vinnietesla: You can extrapolate from there.

[11:55] lumpesse: okay, that makes sense

[11:55] lumpesse: I could conceptualize two parallel committed relationships where everyone is sort of dipping into the other track from time to time

[11:56] lumpesse: it that makes sense

[11:56] lumpesse: but for now, all I know is that they can come over for dinner whenever they want

[11:56] lumpesse: ;)

[11:59] vinnietesla: Hee!

[12:00] vinnietesla: “More dinner parties like that one please!”

[12:00] lumpesse: seriously

[12:00] vinnietesla: You’ve had a pretty eventful year or so.

[12:00] lumpesse: insanely

[12:01] lumpesse: I’ve gone from one sex partner to seven during this calendar year

[12:02] vinnietesla: As in lifetime record?

[12:02] lumpesse: right

[12:03] vinnietesla: Impressive!

[12:03] vinnietesla: I think six new partners a year was the criterion S gave me to keep my slut license current.

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Let me set the scene. We met at a nearby coffeeshop that I frequent regularly. Occupants included a former DJ at the radio station and a current grad student in English. I quickly ignored my concerns – it is just coffee, right?

The first hour or so we talked about mutual interests (literature, music, teaching). I found him funny, engaging and attractive. Then the conversation turned to me and I feared that I would shock him with my sexual lifestyle and proclivities as I described this blog, my podcast, phone sex work, my relationship, and my preferences. I talked a lot, perhaps too much.

Finally, the conversation turned to the situation at hand. And the ethics and emotions surrounding it. I was somewhat amazed by his level of consideration and thought in the decision he was making. No apologies or excuses. Perhaps I’ll write an entry soon on the ethics of adultery because it is something I have been thinking about a lot. I left the coffeeshop knowing that the Professor was about to embark on a very personal and life-affirming journey. Like many risks, it is not one without selfishness. But, I was convinced of the purity of his motivations and the desire that lay behind them.

When I got home, J and I had a long conversation about my coffee date and continued to hash out and digest what I had witnessed and learned. I realized that the reason I date other people is just what the Professor described: excitement, trepidation, flirting, desire. I went to bed with a hopeful heart (not to mention some very dirty thoughts) after sending him an email letting him know I’d love to see him again.

This afternoon (when I was nearly done writing this entry) I received a reply. The Professor thanked me for my time and conversation, he shared that he had a lot of thinking to do. He also wrote that he suspected I was ambivilent and didn’t think we should see each other again.

I wish I could say I was shocked, but I’m not. I guess the awkward moments that I found to be pregnant with sexual tension were just awkward, afterall. Sometimes you jump in with two feet and get what you want, but sometimes those moments of hesitation and second-guessing can shipwreck our intentions. I’m not the type of woman who looks a man in the eyes and says, “I think I’d like to make love to you.” I also don’t think that this experience will make me become one. However, I suppose I’ve learned my lesson that candor and resolve can make all the difference. That lack seems to be the crux of my present disappointment.

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I scrambled for the radio and just caught him announcing. Fuck fuck fuck. I recognize him as a philosophy professor that sometimes does shows during the summer. So, I’m presented with an ethical problem. I know a big secret about him (conspiring to cheat on his wife) and he doesn’t have any clue about me. I bit the bullet and decided that he was at much higher risk than I and told him who I was. I was expected a flurry of embarassment, backtracking, and begging for mutual secrecy.

It wasn’t that simple. The Prof didn’t seem phased too much and kept hitting on me. This had me floored but surprisingly intrigued. It seems deliciously dirty to have an affair with a professor (even if he isn’t from my current department).

We’re having coffee tomorrow.

Too bad he isn’t the one I wrote this about.

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As we fell quiet, concentrating on our waffles, I noticed J fiddling with something in his pocket.

I didn’t think anything of it, perhaps he was checking for his wallet or re-arranging his keys.

The fiddling continued.

I looked on with curiousity as he pulled some money out of his wallet, selecting a crisp 5 dollar bill, and laid it flat on the table between us.

He looked into my eyes with a sort of earnestness and intensity that I’ve only seen a few times before and made a proposition.

“I’ll give you 5 dollars for your other sausage.”

The man liked the sausage that much. I obliged as no link of sausage is worth 5 dollars to me.

What should I do with my 5 bucks?

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The past week and a half has been really exciting and fascinating. Laying my head in J’s lap with my cell on speakerphone while we both talk to C (and they make fun of me together) was probably the surreal highlight of the week. J and I have been spending a lot of time together getting to know eachother and I’ll be the first to admit that a bulk of that time has been spent in bed.

I get the distict feeling that he is totally in awe of me, which is a remarkable place to be in a relationship. The sex has been entirely fantastic and such a whirlwind that I’m hard-pressed to focus on one particular incident. Although, if I had to pick, being tied up with thirty feet of black rope probably tops the list – I suspect he would concur.

One of the best things about J is that he, like me, seems content to dissect and talk about sex ad infinitum. We’ve spent many a happy hour with our limbs tangled up, my head on his chest, doing the instant replay of what just went down between us. Sure, we were both there but I like saying things like, “You had the sexiest look on your face when you were biting my nipple.” I also like hearing things like, “You made a great noise when I brushed my finger over your clit.” We usually keep up this dialogue about the sex that just transpired until we both get turned on again.

Can this work out? Is it too good to be true? Do I deserve the affection of two wonderful men at the same time? For now these questions batter my psyche almost constantly but I just keep talking to C and J about how I feel. In turn they keep shocking me with their kindness, empathy, and love. Could I be the luckiest girl in the world? I’m not sure but I defy you to present me with someone happier.

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1. I was a virgin when I met C and had basically never been touched by a man before. Kisses during spin the bottle in middle school were more or less the extent of it.

2. Because of this, I have changed a lot sexually in the time that I’ve been with C (3 and a half years now).

3. He and I have decided that our relationship doesn’t need to be monogamous to be lasting as long as we communicate. At this point it doesn’t seem like he is that interested in other partners (my libido is way stronger than his).

Okay, with that exposition out of the way, I can tell my news.

I met an amazing man and between Monday and Wednesday we spent an awful lot of time together and it was completely delicious. I’m having a lot of trouble deciding which facts to tell you about J and what details to relay because so much seems significant. So, I’ll start at the beginning of our first date and go from there.

J and I had planned to meet up at a dessert place as we had both already eaten dinner at home. To be quite honest, the first bit of time together felt awkward. But it felt awkward in a very good way. The nervous tension didn’t seem to come from having nothing to say to eachother but rather way too much and struggling with which words should make it out of our mouths. So, I did what I usually do in a situation like that. I put my mouth on auto-pilot in order to thrust the conversation forward. Of course my voicec gets high and nervous and I speak too quickly but given a mundane subject (“all about my cats”, “specific details of a meal I ate in Turkey”, “why people in my library science classes are idiots”, etc.) I can craft a nearly endless stream of speech to fill any conversational lull. Doesn’t it sound charming?

Amazingly, J thought it was charming and mistook my anxious verbal diarhea for intelligence. When the restaurant closed up, we didn’t want to part for the night and moved onto a bar and then another bar which we managed to close out. I want to make it clear at this point that alcohol had no impact on our evening. I had one drink in 2 hours at the first bar and sipped a drink at the second but forgot about it and left it more or less full. I was just too engaged in the conversation to pay attention to my cocktail.

After closing time at the bar, the night should have been over. Isn’t 6 hours plenty of time for a first date? No, it isn’t. We walked around the area for a moment, sitting down by a fountain and talking about where we could go next. Despite being January, it was incredibly warm outside, probably in the low fifties. So, I grabbed his hand and declared that I would take him on a walking tour of campus. J is relatively new to the area and hadn’t seen the campus before – I’ve been a student here for over 5 years and know the stories about all of the pretty 200-year-old buildings. We walked around holding hands forestalling the inevitable. I felt like there was electricity running through my body and my voice was audibly catching as I ran through the campus facts that I could conjure.

As we stood on the steps of built-in-the 1960s totalitarian monstrosity of a classroom building, I gestured to the dorm I lived in my freshman year. He was holding my hand and standing very near to me and I don’t know if he was looking at me or the building as I pointed out the illuminated roof and the revolving restaurant on top. My words ran out of steam as he began tracing his fingertips across the palm of my hand. I could feel my heart beating in my chest and was sure that it was so loud he could hear it as well. Just when the moment became too nervously delicious and unbearable to go on, he pulled me to him and kissed me.

I’d like to say there were immediate sparks and it was perfect and wonderful but I’m not quite there yet. As much as I had been waiting for that kiss, it sent my brain into a spin. My mind was going crazy for the first two minutes as I processed my reality, “Oh god,” I thought, “I’m kissing someone and it isn’t C. This isn’t how things are supposed to go! Shit, it feels sort of numb like kissing does in dreams. Why isn’t my body reacting to this? What is wrong? Maybe there isn’t chemistry between us after all! J’s lips feel different. Should I stop kissing him?”

It is no wonder that I couldn’t enjoy the kiss at first with all of these thoughts swirling through my head. And then the tension cracked. I don’t know what happened to cause it. Perhaps J pulled me closer or caressed my hair. He did something that pulled me out of my solipsistic internal monologue and reminded me to my body again. And here my body was, standing in the moonlight in the arms of an incredibly sexy and charming man and his mouth was on my mouth and it felt wonderful. I told my thoughts to shut up, I moaned into his lips and I melted.

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