I wanted to share this link to a great post by Emmy at RTWS concerning Miyam Bialak’s recent vlog on Open Relationships. By all means click on the link to the video response by Cunning Minx. Interesting stuff all around.
To my old place: JFBreak
I don’t know why I missed the ding of my phone as I was driving but when I stopped into a store on the way home, I realized I had missed a handful of messages from my wife. No words, just pictures of JD’s dick in her mouth, between her tits, on her stomach.
I sent a note back, “Still there?”
She responded, “Drinking a beer.”
I had missed my chance to join in but in truth, I’m good with that. Compersion is that feeling of joy you get when your partner experiences pleasure. It really is the opposite of jealousy,
Later that evening, my wife asked me if I wanted to get off. I felt the urge but I was also tired. She told me she was sorry I didn’t make it in home in time to do that thing I like to do, but I said it was fine.
I truly don’t have to be present to feel included as long as she tells me about it or sends pictures. She asked what I do with the pictures. Do I jack off? Not really. I look at them and just enjoy the moment.
If someone had not come up with this term, compersion, to describe the feeling, I’m not sure I could ever explain it.
I’ve never really been into the current stereotype of “cuckold” which you will find in porn or on a lot of sex blogs and forums these days. I just don’t need the whole concept of this humiliated, sissified, wimp of a husband who helplessly watches the stronger bull fuck his wife. I mean, by definition, I am a cuckold, but I prefer to think of our relationship as the Hotwife variety. Or, how about simply stating that we are open to a non-traditional arrangement.
We have fun when the three of us, me, my wife and our friend JD, get together. There is a lot of laughter, playfulness and of course, pleasure.
The idea that when the two of them are alone, they have a different experience together, doesn’t escape me, nor does it bother me. I’m simply not jealous of that time. Yet, this confuses my wife. She bends over backwards to initiate the conversation afterwards. Do I have questions, concerns, am I still okay. Do I need different pictures, do I want them to do or not do a particular thing when I’m not present.
I have come to a realization and my wife is frank about the fact that there are things JD does for her that I cannot. I accept this and instead of feeling less of a husband, I’m actually pretty happy that I am open to her having the pleasure JD provides her.
This compersion is something that more couples could use to make a stronger relationship. Imagine if a wife did not get upset upon learning that on a business trip, her husband used a sex worker to engage in a kink that she herself does not offer on the menu? What if instead she encouraged that behavior? The wife won’t blow him, but if he can have that occasional BJ away from her, aren’t they both much happier?
When I come home and my wife tells me that she spanked JD so hard she left welts on his ass, I’m happy for both of them. I’m good with light slaps to the balls, but I have no desire to give or receive such punishment to my ass cheeks. Are we not all then benefiting from this arrangement?
Interestingly, I heard a conversation on one of the podcasts I follow where they just mentioned casually that open relationships are becoming more and more open. That is to say that, society is realizing that this is more than just some 1960’s free love thing for hippies, but that more people are openly admitting to and recognizing the value of these arrangements, however they manifest themselves.
In the past week we’ve watched House of Cards and Orange is the New Black. Everyone knows that Claire Underwood, the President’s wife has a lover, with the his complete acceptance. In one of my favorite scenes this season, Frank confronts his wife’s lover and says, “Don’t cheat on my wife.”
And on OITNB, there were two story lines following polyamorous arrangements, One, a woman with a husband and a much younger lover, another a Muslim woman who in flashbacks relives her husband taking on a younger second wife that she herself instigated.
We can all agree that Hollywood tends to push the envelop in a way that some people argue “forces” lifestyles on us, but to those of us living this situation, it doesn’t seem forced at all.
For now, JD is a fixture in our relationship. Our time with him is very limited, which I think all three of us agree is both frustrating but good. Where I originally approached this from the perverted aspect of getting off on seeing my wife with another guy, something I’ve enjoyed nearly the entire tenure of our marriage, I now grasp the emotional value of this relief valve for all of us. This is nothing to be jealous of for me.
Happy to watch, happy to hear about it,
This is a follow up to the letter to my neighbor, the sun bather.
Here’s the deal, I took this picture by just pointing my phone over the fence during a week day when I knew the neighbors were at work. It seems so simple but even I, the guy who has seemingly risked so many risks at work, would never even consider taking a picture like this if the sun bathing beauty were outside.
It goes beyond the embarrassment of being caught. That would be on me and I’d say whatever I could to talk myself out of it. But what about her?
You can see that she has sheets up to block the view between the cracks of the fence. In fact, the panel I lifted my phone over has a sheet blocking the cracks on my side.
I actually like this lady and would hate to make her feel unsafe or exposed in the privacy of her own backyard. Even if I was the guy who had to face the music, I couldn’t allow myself to make her feel uncomfortable.
Now we can talk all day about the things you have to put up with when you live in a community full of other people with homes pushed together like chicken coops. You can say it is the risk you take when you walk into your backyard knowing the neighbors can see much of what you do. Look no further than the risk my wife and I take when we get in our hot tub naked.
If the man who lives behind us hoisted his fat ass up to peer over the fence and see into our hot tub, I’d just look at him and say, “Really?“
Of course my wife would probably just whip out her tits and flash him.
My point is, we all know the risk but that is no reason to be the guy who makes a lady who just wants to tan her delicious ass and fine legs and perky boobies any more uncomfortable than she has to be.
So for now, no pictures. But I’ll look out the window and sneak a peek without her being the wiser.
Dear Sun-Goddess Next Door,
I’m a horrible neighbor. You don’t know this but first, my wife corrupts the foreign family on the other side of us by flashing her tits. Now, I have this confession about you.
I’ve noticed for a while that you have sheets strategically placed over panels of the privacy fence between our yards. At first, I told my wife I thought it was some new home and garden technique to spiffy up the back yard. I mean, after all, you are a designer. I learned that when I stalked your Facebook page.
Anyway, about two weeks ago I was upstairs in my man cave and just happened to look out the back window into your yard. The sheets covering the fence all made sense now that I could actually look down into your yard and see you sunbathing. Topless.
In fairness to me, a) I’m a voyeur and b) you are extraordinarily beautiful. I see you some mornings coming back from the gym as I’m leaving for work. Your dedication to a fit life is working because in spite of you being close to fifty, you easily outshine women half your age.
It’s only too bad (for me) that because of the angle peering out through the window and the fact that I don’t have super-power eyes that allow them to work like binoculars, I could only get a nice view of side-boob that day.
But yesterday, I took the dog out back and casually caught a glimpse through one of the fence panels that didn’t have a sheet covering the tiny spaces between boards, and I saw some movement in your yard. Of course I quietly retreated and went back upstairs for a peek out the window.
I’ve always enjoyed you in the yoga pants you wear, but it was especially nice to see you on your stomach wearing a thong with your perfect ass cheeks facing my direction.
I know it is completely unneighborlike of me to admire you from afar, but there is one thing I feel like I need to tell you: Don’t forget the sunscreen.
Dear Director of Human Resources,
I walked into CoWorker H‘s office to discuss a work related issue and immediately segued the conversation into an invitation to meet me in one of our break-out offices for a blow job. These are private offices with limited access, and since I had opened one for just this reason, I was comfortable that we would not be disturbed.
“Do you mean right now?” H asked.
“Now or when you get a few minutes.” I said, shrugging my shoulders.
H looked at his computer screen and said to himself, “I guess this can wait.”
We walked into the back office and I took a seat in front of one of the computer systems and logged on, suggesting that if anyone were to come in, we would look like we were discussing work. As I typed in the password, I could hear H unzipping his Casual Friday jeans.
I spun around in the chair to find his fairly erect fat cock in my face, and without hesitation began sucking him. His dick is thick and big. It isn’t as long as I’ve seen but I pride myself in taking him all the way to the back of my throat without gagging.
As I used my tongue and mouth to pleasure him, I wrapped one hand at the base and stroked it, borrowing a technique I’ve watched women on Tumblr videos use. I was pleased at the sounds he made as I eagerly sucked him.
When I removed the hand from the jerking motion and moved my mouth all the way to the base, then began swirling my tongue on his hard cock, I could hear his soft moaning. With both my hands on his ass, as if to pull his dick further into my mouth, I could feel his legs trembling. I know this feeling having been the recipient of wobbly legs myself from time to time.
After several minutes I backed off and asked him if he was okay. I wanted his load and was ready for him to flood my throat, but I wasn’t sure he was ready. He responded by putting his dick back in my mouth, which made me happy.
As I continued to service H I began contemplating how I should position his cock when he unloaded. In all the times he and I have played this game, he has never cum in my mouth. I don’t feel bad for a few reasons, most of which is, he prefers giving head. But also, he has had some male issues and in order for him to ejaculate, he has to have certain conditions working in his favor.
As I continued the enjoyable task, I imagined a load big enough to cause me to choke or perhaps pull away mid ejaculation creating an awkward mess for both of us. Alas, his dick would not cooperate this time around. The nerves of being at work and potentially being walked in on is certainly a limiting factor.
I have no such fear these days. We switched places and now I was standing with my dick pulled from my jeans and his mouth was working me.
I shut my eyes and let my head fall back as H worked my dick with his brilliant tongue. The man, for only taking up this pleasure in his mid fifties, has the skills of a well paid experienced escort. I flip that little switch in my mind which accepts that orgasm is not only an option, but fairly imminent. I’ve “passed the falls” as Savage describes, and the moment of release has arrived.
I let H know that I was about to cum and that only increased the pleasure that he was deriving from sucking my cock. The man loves my dick and the taste of my seed.
Where moments earlier I had been contemplating how to handle his load and the what ifs of not being able to swallow it all, now I was flooding his throat with every last bit of juice my body could produce since having fucked my wife only last night. Not bad for an old guy, hey?
H doesn’t allow a drop to escape his mouth. By the time I am placing my spent pud back into my jeans, he has left it completely clean of any remnants or evidence of cum. My legs are left just as wobbly as his and I have to take a seat to recover.
Over the next fifteen minutes we talk about sex and the people we work with; who we would enjoy blowing or banging. When we leave the back office, he heads off to lunch with another colleague and I grab my lunch from the refrigerator to heat up. Business as usual.
Employee of the Month,
Dear Prudish Church People,
There was almost a full week of no sex in our house. Well, to be clear, no PIV sex, anyway. Of course, I’m happy to accept blame in that, more often than not (98%) it is the wife who initiates sex. So if she makes an attempt and I don’t respond positively or at all, another day goes by.
I was ready for action but because I waited for her to initiate, and she didn’t before I fell asleep, it had to wait another day.
If you read this and immediately see a problem, I’d say you are not blind! And, though I’ve written about this topic ad nauseam, suffice it to say I take full responsibility.
It’s weird. I’m in a constant state of semi-arousal with the ideas or images of sexual thoughts on my mind. Yet, I don’t feel the need for release or crave the touch that I once did. In other words, a sexual conversation, reading a sex blog or looking at a few pictures stimulates my mind enough to pacify my urges. It isn’t that I don’t want sex, but I certainly don’t need the physical aspect of it nearly as much as my wife does. And truthfully, it has been that way for years.
What is new is that my wife has now realized that self-pleasure is an acceptable response to the lack of balance in our urges. She happily notified me that she had given herself an O while laying next to me as I slept. She has also asked why I don’t jack off in the shower. I’m not saying I don’t, but frankly I just don’t feel the urge to release my energy the way I did when I was fifteen or even forty.
I’m happy to say I find her new found freedom to rub one out a nice thing. I mean, I’ve encouraged this for years but her fucked up Catholic upbringing has been an issue. But I guess if she can admit to God that she has a boyfriend, then fondling herself is no great leap.
I’m thankful for this new aspect of her life. I could come across like a jerk and say that her finding the pleasure of masturbation relieves me of some of my husbandly obligation, but the truth is, I’m glad she has found this for herself.
For this, I want to thank my buddy, JD. He has done his part to not only fill her briefcase hidden under the bed with toys she would have never bought on her own, but he has also been instrumental in helping her find her own personal pleasure machine.
To the parents and the parishioners who made self-love a bad, evil and naughty thing for a girl to do, please go fuck yourselves. No, I mean, I encourage you to give it a try, too.
With great (self) pleasure,
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