Saturday, July 22, 2017

Weekend Notes

I'm nervous.  I posted about enjoying this podcast I found called Strictly Anonymous.  I can't tell you how much the format really scratches my particular itch.  Cutting directly to the chase, I sent the host an email  where I gave a little background about myself and some of the things I blog about.  Long story short, she's going to interview me next week.

The person being interviewed doesn't really dictate the direction of the show.  Kathy purposely doesn't do a lot of pre-interview research because she prefers to just let the conversation go where it goes as if she was just meeting a stranger on the street.  I doubt she has seen the blog, and potentially, she didn't even read my long winded email.

So, we will just have to see what comes out of this little conversation.  I'll share a link when she posts it.

Friday night my wife and I hit our local pub for dinner and a beer.  Turns out she was eager to talk about our situation and such.  You'd think that as much as I let it all out in long-winded blog posts here, I'd be eager to sit in a bar with my wife and talk about our relationship.  Truth is, writing sober is easy; talking about it with my wife requires a two drink minimum.  That's pretty sad, when you think about it.

Her point was that she wanted more open discussion.  She explained a conversation she had with JD regarding the current state of their relationship.  She told him that she fully expects that when he is with his family, that is their time.  Whatever they do in that primary relationship is their thing.  But she needs at least one day a month to see him in person, whether that involves just getting a drink and talking, sex with the two of them or sex with the three of us, she just needs that physical connection at least once a month.  And of course, he was agreeable.

She told me that Pancho sent her a picture and told her that if things between her and JD were not working to her satisfaction, he was certainly available to assist.  I say good for him!  She told me it is complicated.  As strange as it sounds, she doesn't feel like she is cheating on me with JD, but if she were to have sex with Pancho, she would feel like she was cheating on JD!  I just laughed.

All of this led to her asking me what I needed from her.  The truth is, I haven't seen her this happy in years.  This whole opening up to her comfortably, openly talking with JD and identifying him as a boyfriend has created a stress release for her.  I told her that I want her to just keep doing this.  I went as far as to say that if things with JD ended, I would want her to be open to another guy filling his shoes.  She was pretty shocked by this suggestion.

If I were being honest, I would tell her that I would want her to be more accepting of my interest in guys, but that just isn't going to happen.  She told me that if we found ourselves in a situation like a MFM threesome with a guy open to MM action, she would take a break and go to another room while we did our thing.  While that is quite a bit of growth on her acceptance of my Bi side, I think I'll stick with her original, DADT policy.  It isn't like I'm out blowing guys at parks or tapping toes in a men's room.  She really is okay with not knowing that my co-workers and I occasionally play with each other's dicks. That I'm sure of.

Later, we jumped in bed and she opened up her briefcase of toys.  As I used a large magic wand vibe on her clit, she told me that actually, she does want to fuck Pancho for his birthday.  She just doesn't want JD to know about it.  Something tells me this would be one of those things where I come home from work and she has something to tell me!  Which, if you know me by now, you know I'm completely okay with.

I love what she has with JD, but truth be told, I've always liked the idea of her and Pancho.  They've known each other since they were kids.  Plus, I've sucked his dick.  It is nice.

As we continued to play and talk, she asked me to fuck her with one of the large dongs.  I think I got an upper body work-out by ramming that thing in and out with one hand while continuing the buzzing pleasure on her clit with my other hand.  Two years ago, we had one, maybe two plastic vibrators.  Now we have a fucking arsenal.

As I worked on her, she put some sort of strawberry lube on my butthole which freaked me out.  I think it was sold as nipple stuff but she stuck it on my hole.  She then took the small butt-plug, rammed it in, then used yet another vibe against the base of the plug. The sensation was wonderful. And then she blew me.

As I worked on her, she worked on me.  She was soaked from cumming multiple times and finally I just let lose with a week's worth of jizz.  She took as much in her mouth as she could and then let the rest fly on her face and all over my stomach.  Let's be honest, I'm not a 17 year-old who shoots a stream across the room, but God invented buttplugs and strawberry nipple cream for a reason.  I nearly passed out.

That was my Friday night.

Sunday, July 16, 2017

The First Memory...

My earliest childhood memories center around the street we lived on briefly in the early 1960's.  I have vague memories of the inside of the house - a rocking chair and some windows.  That's about it. Outside the street was in a typical neighborhood.  Instead of a cul de sac, our street just ended.  The road stopped and there were trees and such.

I recall my brothers helping me climb up into a tree but I was simply unable to climb down.  I can speculate now that I was just afraid to fall.  My father came and reached into the tree to lift me down onto the ground.

There is another memory of being in the back yard and hearing some kids on the other side of the fence. They threw a ball over then fence and I threw it back.  At some point, I made the decision to walk around the block to see if I could get to the house where they were at.  I went out to the front of my house and started walking down the street.  As I recall, I was either counting the houses or somehow trying to determine how many houses I would have to pass on the other street to get back to where those kids were.  No idea how far I walked or if I ever got there.

The final memory of that street was of the candy man.  There was a man (I actually remember his name) who we called the candy man because he would work in his garage and give us candy when he saw us out playing.  I do very specifically recall going into his garage alone with him.  I might have even gone in his house.  I'm not trying to imply anything good or bad from this visit, I simply don't know.

In my mind, we moved away shortly after that, but I simply have no frame of reference aside from the fact that my father was reassigned to a military base two hours away and we relocated.

One of the reasons I'm so reluctant to believe the historical accuracy of books like the bible is that I often find it difficult to get a straight story on what happened when two people witnessed the same event that occurred an hour ago.  Lawyers will argue that witnesses to events are highly inaccurate in describing what they saw.  No telling how many innocent people are in jail because an eyewitness placed them in a place they don't otherwise have an alibi for.  I bring this up because I want to write about my earliest memories of childhood. But really, aside from being able corroborate dates and locations with my parents, how do I even know if my memories of my earliest beginnings are even real?

I've written before that I was (by today's standards) very promiscuous at an early age.  I'm no longer trying to determine if I was somehow molested or abused in some way.  But I would like to at least draw a line between the first time I started showing my dick to my playmates and how that translated into the person I am today.  Or maybe there is no correlation and I'm just grasping at straws.  

Thursday, July 13, 2017

The Little Blue Pill

Why are we men so embarrassed to tell our doctors anything?  JD finally told his doctor about the issues with maintaining a boner he has experienced and the doctor was apparently quite matter of fact about it most likely being the result of stress in his life and some blood pressure issues.  A prescription for boner pills was written and as soon as it is viable, potentially today, JD will see if he can make that big wiener ridable for my wife.

Of course, when he was telling my wife what happened, she was embarrassed to admit that she had no idea about how these things work.  Rather than Google, she contacted Pancho.  You may recall from a previous blog entry, Pancho responded to some Low T issues that also had some impact on boner production.  One of his medications included the Viagra.  He explained the ins and outs (ha ha) of how it works to her, then offered to come demonstrate said pill in action.

When my wife told JD about this offer, he actually became turned on and said, he now understands why I get so turned on by the idea of another guy servicing his wife.  Wow, how strange would that be?  JD jacking off to Pancho banging my wife while I jack off to all of them?

Let's not get carried away.

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

Peeping Tom vs Reality TV

Lat week I stumbled upon yet another podcast that I've been binge-listening to as time allows.  It is called Strictly Anonymous with host Kathy K.  The premise of the show is, people with a story to tell (usually something sexual in nature) are interviewed anonymously so they can be free to tell the story openly and honestly.

So far I've heard about a guy who banged his step-mom (which was actually really good); a guy who has been involved in a variety of sexual taboos since a young age (not sure I believed all his stuff); a girl who came on the show under the auspices of having a sugar daddy but in reality, she has a boyfriend who is old enough to be her grandfather.  But, the one I'm talking about now is a guy who accidentally became a peeping Tom.  It is episode 132 dated June 27, 2016.

This guy, Tom (of course, what other nickname would they use), lives in an apartment complex that has a doggy walking area.  It just so happens that when he takes his little pooch out at the crack of dawn each morning, he walks past the window of a guy sleeping in the nude.  Every morning, naked, sometimes with a boner, sometimes flaccid, sometimes with his ass facing the window, sometimes in a fetal position, but always asleep.

The conversation quickly moves from the excitement of this man (happens to be gay) seeing a sleeping guy in the buff and how exciting that is to the social norms of privacy, nudity, sharing of pictures, exhibitionism, and the difference of Reality TV and real voyeurism.  All this to tell you I enjoyed that particular episode, though I was frustrated at times because the host could not seem to grasp that there is a difference between the voyeuristic interest in people unaware that they are being observed, and nudity.  And also, it reminded me about the time a guy let me borrow his radio scanner.

So this is back in the early 1990's before everyone including 10 year-olds had smart phones.  This was also a time when people still had land-lines and we didn't know to encrypt the baby monitor in our houses.  Oh the good old days when you could go to Radio Shack and buy stuff.

This guy ate work let me use his scanner that when set to the 900 Mhz band would scan for anything in the vicinity that was broadcasting on that frequency.  I remember as soon as I fired it up out in the garage, I picked up my wife on a phone call with her sister.  Clear as day, I listened to their entire conversation.  Just family gossip as I recall.  That conversation got me hooked and I recall spending several hours scanning around picking up the neighbor's baby monitor and phone calls.

I ended up setting the device on a scan mode that allowed it to find a conversation, then when that conversation ended, would automatically start scanning again for the next viable signal.  And then I connected the output to a recorder and let it go.  I'd come back later, fast forward through the tape until I found something and move on if it was boring. I did this for several weeks before the guy at work demanded to have his scanner back.

It is amazing what you hear when people don't realize you are listening.  And for a voyeur like me, this is fascinating.  This is exactly the difference between a Reality TV show where not only do the players know they are on camera, but if you believe what insiders say, most that shit is scripted.  A peeping Tom on the other hand sees true reality.  It isn't exciting because you see the person naked.  It is exciting because they don't know that you see them naked.  The guy on this podcast was trying to explain this to the host and she was having a tough time making the distinction.

Through listening to a neighbor have a conversation with his adult aged son, I learned a valuable life-long lesson and advice that I have offered others many times over.  I only knew these people well enough to wave hello, yet, I gained so much from that private conversation.  The man died years ago, but his fatherly advice has stayed with me.

In another case, a juicier tidbit occurred.  I listened to a police officer tell his wife he had to stay and finish paperwork on an arrest and then immediately click-over to call waiting and tell his girlfriend he'd meet her in a few minutes.

In a call I taped, I listened to a city councilman talking with some official conspiring to screw over a local businessman who was not cooperating with whatever plan they had. They talked about rezoning his street and basically surrounding his business with bars and strip clubs.   I guess this is really how things get done.  I really agonized over that tape.  I had thoughts of turning it over to the newspaper, or turning it over to some sort of law enforcement, but the problem was, based on the job I did for the military, I knew all well that I was just as bad for listening to these conversations and recording them.

I've never been the guy that peers into windows and takes pictures of women in a shower, but I have certainly been a voyeur almost all of my life.

Thursday, July 6, 2017

A Yard of Penis...

I must have been about nineteen at the time.  My first overseas military assignment, living in the dorms.  It was Mid-Day Break.  For those of you that have worked rotating shifts, you know the agony.  For those that haven't, I'll explain.

In the military, one of the shift models we worked to cover 24 hour, 365 day a year jobs was to have rotating shifts.  Your flight would cover an hour hour period from say, 1400 to 2200 (Swing), the next flight would work 2200 to 0600 (Mid), another flight from 0600 to 1400 (Days) and that would leave the fourth flight on break.  If you rotated this cycle every four shifts, what it meant was you got a 24 hour period off between each rotation.  That period when you got off at 0600 on your last mid before going back to work the following morning at 0600 was called mid-day break and it was a killer.

People would come up with all sorts of strategies as to how to adjust your internal clock.  Some people would go home, sleep for a few hours, then get up and just be tired all day, then get back in bed and sleep at night.  Another strategy was to "hang".  Basically, stay up the entire day until your body couldn't take it anymore, then pass out with hopes of sleeping through the night until it was time to get up and go to your 0600 shift.

Because we were in the military and always looked for an opportunity to party, on this particular Mid-Day break, we arranged to have a big cook-out in the pavilion area of our dorm. The grill was going, burgers were cooking, cases of beer, bottles of Jack Daniels and Jim Beam were in abundance and the party was on.  Things were going fine until the standard daily overcast drizzle of rain turned into an unexpected downpour.

It was decided the party would move to the third floor day room (a large TV room with couches and chairs for people to hang out).  All the booze was brought upstairs, a few brave souls continued running the grill as best they could and bring up burgers as they were ready.

Meanwhile, the party continued and one of the dorm residents brought out a real Yard of Ale.  Not the novelty one that holds a few beers, but the big one that requires the assistance of another to hold it.  If you aren't familiar, check this out.

As one of the guys who was outside helping to run burgers from the grill up to the party, I ended up getting soaked.  Since we were now going to be inside, I ran into my dorm room, pulled off my wet jeans and shirt and just threw on a pair of running shorts and a new t-shirt.  These running shorts were the kind with the liner, so a skipped the step of putting n underwear.  You can see where this is going, I'm sure.

As the party went on, people were taking turns drinking from this yard of ale.  The person drinking would stand on a coffee table, the yard would be filled and then they would drink for the crowd of people to watch.  Great spectator sport.

When it was my turn, I got up on the coffee table, the yard was filled and the moment I had the container hoisted to my lips, one of my buddies who assumed I had underwear on, decided to grab my shorts and yank them down.  Yep, there I was with both hands holding up this full yard of beer, feeling my shorts drop and my shriveled, flaccid, exposed penis was left hanging for fifty of my closest co-workers to observe until I could pound the beer and hand the glass yard off to someone on order to reach down and pull up my shorts.

Of course it was only fifteen or twenty seconds, but that was enough for anyone who had not seen my dick in our gang-style open showers to see it.  My buddy apologized profusely, saying he had no way of knowing I wasn't wearing underwear.  It was all in good fun and it wasn't like they nicknamed me, "Tiny McPrickerson" or anything mean like that.

I was thinking about this the other day and I realized that in today's military, this little prank would have been considered some sort of sexual assault.  Then again, this sort of party created to help people adjust to the changing body clock would probably be frowned upon as the military promoting binge drinking.  Times have changed, my friends.

Saturday, July 1, 2017

Repost: JD Has a Party...

This is a repost of a blog I first presented in 2013.  It actually has a lot of meaning to me now, given the things that have transpired this past week.
I've written in the past about our friend and former threesome partner, JD, who, though not the first of our partners, was without question the longest lasting and both our favorite guest in our bed.  It has been years since the last interlude, either in form of threesome or with my wife and JD sneaking away alone for a little fun time.  There have been lunches with JD's wife who, for as far as we can tell, has remained clueless to the entire situation.

Saturday, we went to a party at JD's home.  He has finished his military service and while the wife stayed back, he was away for the last few years, making it home on weekends when he could or having her visit him when her job allowed.

Whenever we visit, and Saturday was no different, there is this immediate connection between he and I and he and my wife.  We make that eye contact that says, "I acknowledge all that has occurred in the past, but for this place and at this time, we are simply friends".  Admittedly, that's the eye contact he and I share; the message between JD and my wife might be slightly different, but I trust it equates to: "We are not going to fuck tonight".

There is no awkwardness or strange feeling being around him or his wife.  This was not always true.  There was a time when my wife was simply terrified of the possibility that, even though past visits have not resulted in any issue, this could be the visit where the wife explodes and reveals that she knows everything.  So much time has passed now, that I think we would simply look at her and say, "That was ten years ago, let it go."

On this visit, there was no discussion of anything even remotely sexual.  We congratulated JD on his career, thanked him for his service, enjoyed drinks and snacks and talked of gardening and decks and barbecue pits and the things that any neighbor or colleague might talk about at a party.

When other people began filing out of the house, we too bid our farewell with promises of getting together soon.  JD asked us if we didn't want to stay longer and have a few more beers, but it was only prudent that we didn't.

When my wife and I got into our truck for the drive home, she commented that he looked older but the same.  She had a few unflattering comments about the wife who, honestly still looks beautiful in her mid-40's.  There was a few moments of quiet between us and then my wife blurted out, Before you even ask, yes.  Yes I would totally fuck him in a heartbeat.

I smiled and chuckled a bit, then thought to myself, Yes, I would totally fuck him in a heartbeat, too.

So what happens next?  Probably nothing, but it makes wonderful banter during our sex talk at night.


And of course, it's all happened...

More of the Sun bathing Beauty...

Jesus!  Before I tell you what I just observed, I need to make it perfectly clear that I'm not going out of my way to be the nosy, perverted neighbor who lies in wait just to catch a glimpse of the attractive lady next door getting some sun.  This lady spends hours, literally hours a day sunbathing.  I simply don't know why she does it given what we all know about the sun and skin cancer.  The fact that I can look out my window nearly any time the sun is out and see her in her black thong is not my fault.

 But, having given my defense up front, let me tell you.

My wife and I came home from a very busy morning and I decided to relax a bit before we head out this afternoon for more errands.  I went upstairs and turned on the TV and gave my dog a treat.  Since I was near the window and the sun was out, I figured I'd take a quick peek over into the neighbors yard.

My beautiful neighbor was standing there in her bathing suit with a tank top over her.  She was patting down her lounger to clean of any twigs or leaves, and scooting it into the position she needed. Once everything was set, she pulled off the tank top and set it down under the lawn chair, then grabbed a spray bottle of tanning lotion before laying down with her feet toward me.

As soon as she laid down it was like her ass cheeks swallowed the thong.  I need to remind you dear readers, this lady is in her mid to late forties, and I would easily compare her to your average thirty-something lady in great shape.  Just looking at her face, you'd never guess she was approaching fifty.
I would have been happy if the show had stopped there and just retreated to my recliner to watch This Old House, but then she started to apply the lotion.

I stood there with the blinds cracked only enough to allow my view but without being seen by anyone happening to look my way.

As God is my witness, the neighbor lady rolled on her right side, lifted her left leg up and began rubbing the lotion from her feet up to her hips.  So limber.  And the bonus is, with legs open, it was like one of those moves a stripper does to give a crotch shot.  Oh to have been just a little bit closer.

I'm embarrassed to even write this but, there I was whispering to myself, "Oh baby, there you go.  Rub it in, oh yes, that's how daddy likes it."

After covering the left leg, she rolled to the other side then repeated this incredibly sexy process again on the right.  Once her legs were done, she laid flat on her tummy, then, I swear to you, she lifted her ass up and sprayed the lotion on her ass cheeks then rubbed it in.  For fucks sake, from this view I realized just how hot it must be to fuck her from behind.  I also realized that she has darkened several shades since I first saw her out in the yard.

I totally get that I am as goofy as a fourteen year old seeing a chick in a bikini for the first time, but damn!   I could not have asked for a better view.

I guess it goes without saying, this is one of those posts that is useless without photos.  Sorry, I wish I could share what I've seen.  I hope the description at leasts gives you an idea.

Friday, June 30, 2017

She Confesses...

It has been quite a week.  I mentioned that Mrs. JD had found some evidence on JD's phone that made it pretty clear something was going on.  That led to an apology note from my wife to her and at least for now, that has put the matter to rest.

Smartly, JD ceased all communications via his phone.  This is what you would naturally do when you know your wife is on to your little shenanigans.  It did not help at all that the computer network people at work have somehow blocked us all from checking our Gmail accounts.  Fuckers.  The end result was, by Tuesday, my wife was dipping into a depression from simply not knowing.  Her immediate fear was that the relationship between JD and her was over.  I think she was too afraid to tell me just how upset she was over it, but it was pretty obvious.

Needing to open up to someone, she turned to our friend Emma.  Yes, by Tuesday afternoon, Emma was messaging me telling me that my wife had opened up to her.  The two of them traded details of their boyfriends, the incident with Mrs JD and more.  In a way, I was truly relived that there was someone for her to share this with.

Wednesday, we went to dinner and I just told my wife it was clear that she was depressed and missing JD.  She admitted she was a little down.  She simply didn't want what the three of us were engaged in to end.  I told her that JD contacted me through our work mail and wanted to meet with me Thursday after work.  This actually sent her into a panic.  Maybe he was going to say he was ending everything.  Maybe Mrs. JD wanted to make it a foursome!

The Thursday meeting with JD went exactly as I suspected it would.  He told me the details of how he got busted, how it was just an shitty mistake on his part and how he had to surrender the pass code to his phone and to his e-mail and FB account (obviously, she did not know about his secret G-Mail account).  We both agreed that the communications between he and my wife had become a little too casual, especially given the line of work he and I are both in.  In his defense, he said there was excitement in doing all the sexting and such right under his wife's nose.  I guess that backfired.

In the end, his plan was to ride this out, come up with a new e-mail account that he could access from work, and then, when possible, meet with us/her as he can.  He apologized for letting this all happen and I just explained that it was a risk we've all taken.

When I left and headed home, I called my wife to let her know of what took place.  She asked if we could do dinner at our local pub and of course, I was game. We had a beer and some pizza then headed home to have afternoon sex.  Unlike our normal utility sex, this went on for over an hour.  Yes, readers, my dick can on occasion stay hard for an hour.  Granted, it was more like that Mormon style Soaking (look it up).  We mostly talked as we fucked and this was when she confessed that she had been talking with our friend Emma.

And as Emma had informed me earlier (by the way, feeling creepy being in the middle of the conversation) my wife told me about how she realizes she is Polyamorous and that she feels good about being able to know that she is not the only wife out there who is happy to be married while having a boyfriend at the same time.

She was shocked that I knew what Polyamory was and I pointed out that all those sex podcasts I listened to were actually informative, not just about sex.  I think I may find a paperback version of Insatiable Wives to give her.

We'll see how this all plays out.  Our conversations with Emma, her ability to hang on while JD works out his problems with Mrs. JD.  And who knows, perhaps my wife opens up to even more fun.

Monday, June 26, 2017

Random Memory

For some reason as I was drifting off to sleep last night I had a a memory pop into my mind from when I was probably six or seven years old.  It was the year my dad was in Vietnam and we lived in a small house near my grandparents.  There was a little boy who lived next door and he was my age.  His name  was Lee from what I recall, but I could have that wrong.

This kid Lee had a father who was in the military.  I only know this because he was in uniform the day this happened.  The father had one of those old-school campers, the kind that slides onto the bed of a pick-up truck.  When not in use, it sits on legs that extend out in.  This one was parked in the driveway in front of the house.

My guess is that Lee was able to get the keys to the camper and I vaguely recall us going inside of it to play.  I know for sure we had our pants down and were inspecting one another's privates when the door suddenly swung open.  It was Lee's father.

We quickly marched out and Lee started crying even before the beating commenced.  He knew what was about to happen but I had no idea.  I stood helpless in the yard as my friend got his ass whooped by his father, in a military fatigues.  What stood out most vividly in my memory was the black combat boots kicking Lee as he just curled up into the fetal position on the ground in the front yard.

There was lots of yelling but none of it comes through in my memory.  Just the sight of that kid being kicked, and me standing there wondering if I would be next.  I don't know how it ended.  I don't know if my mom came outside or if the man just yelled at me to go home.

We never got in that camper again, that's for sure.

Sunday, June 25, 2017

Play Time Problems...

So Friday afternoon was the culmination of a pretty stressful week at our house.  I came home and my wife just looked at me and said, "I need a drink."

Off we headed to our local pub for dinner and some beers.  We chatted a bit with the man who does the cooking and then the bartender asked about our grandkids and such.  I think they enjoy us coming in when we do because we are easy to make happy and we always leave a substantial tip.

When we got home, I grabbed a few more beers and headed out to the hot tub.  Problem was, with this heat it had the tub entirely too hot.  In the winter, 101 or 102 is fine, but not when it is 98 degrees outside.  It can be just stifling.  I've been known to throw bags of ice in the tub to cool it down, but that wasn't going to happen.  

Instead, we got in bed to do some playing.  My wife proposed she give me a good manscaping.  She asked me to take a few pictures to send JD since he was flying back into town after a work related trip.  She sent this one of her working on me to tease him.  Unexpectedly, he responded saying he had just landed.

Of course, I suggested he sneak by our house on his way home since he only lives a few minutes away.  Unfortunately, he had already told his wife he was on the way and that blew any chance of making an excuse of a flight delay.

There was lots of manscaping and I even turned the trimmer on her at some point.  A good time was had by all.
Saturday afternoon my wife gets a text from JD.  It turns out that he failed to delete the very last message she sent him which included a PG-13 rated cleavage shot.  No nipples, just cleavage and face.  His wife found it on his phone.

People, you need to know that when you play with a married person who does not have permission to play outside the marriage, this is a risk.  Everyone involved needs to be careful, and if the deceit comes out, everyone needs to be able to stand up and take what comes.

JD and his wife are no strangers to infidelity, nor are they strangers to threesomes, wife swapping, or just couples getting playfully naughty in hot tubs.  It's just that that play has never happened with the four of us.  She is not the gullible wife that others might be so she flat out asked if he was engaging with threesomes with us.  He lied and said no.  He said it was just playful flirting and that I was fully aware of and on-board with it.  She told him to end it and he said he would (liar).

My wife waited to hear something from her.  We just assumed that once she got drunk that evening (a daily occurrence) she would message her or worse, post something on FB (the devil).  Neither happened.

I don't know where this goes.  The marriage between JD and Mrs. JD is one of convenience and for the sake of the child.  That doesn't change.  They have both cheated in the past.  They haven't had sex with each other in quite some time.  I don't offer this as an excuse for our role in it, I'm just telling you how it is.

So now we sort of sit back and wait.  This is not the fun part of inviting others into your bed.  It is a risk.


Friday, June 23, 2017

Simulation Aircraft Cup?

I was skimming through Amazon the other day and this popped up.

I don't even know what to say about the description.

Thursday, June 22, 2017

Random Missives...

Dear Random Note Reader,

I was siting in the office of a female colleague who has been super flirtatious in the past.  Okay, she has showed me her pussy, that has to count as flirtatious.  She is tall, in fact she towers over most of the guys in the building.  She is a runner and has the legs and tan to show for it.  

As we talked about some work related issue, I stopped mid sentence and said, "Jesus, your legs are so smooth and long and beautiful.  I'd love to just rub them and fondle them."

She got a really embarrassed grin on her face and actually looked away trying to hide her quickly reddening face.  

"What's wrong? Did I upset you?" I asked. 

"No.  It's just that I never hear any compliments from anyone."

"Well, I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true." I offered. 

This made me think about my own wife and what a true, unromantic asshole I can be.  


I've realized that two of the younger women I have occasional emails with are just unreachable for me.  In both cases, I think that my standard words of wisdom or advice are completely useless.  It makes me feel old and it makes me feel inadequate.  

I get colleagues of all ages and levels of seniority come to me for advice about issues both work related and personal. I'm just one of those people who seems to be able to make people feel better about the situation they are in.  Yet with these two women, I find that I have nothing of any value to offer.   Of course, I'm referring to both Emma and Erin.   

Both have their own personal issues that I want desperately to offer my advice on, and in both cases, I seem to find nothing of redeeming value to say.  Emma actually tells me the truth, that my words often do more harm than good.  All I can do is apologize for being inadequate.  Erin is a little less forthcoming in her complaint. She simply tells me she loves me and ends the conversation, not to be heard from again for three weeks.  

I'll share this little note I sent to one of them today:
I know saying this is more for me than you, but I feel like I'm unable to say anything of any value to you.  I think I probably upset you more than anything.  It really is confusing to me. That's not your problem, but mine.  I guess I'm just so used to being able to come up with something to say that makes people feel better, and in your case, I seem to do the opposite.  I've always known you to be a very intelligent woman and perhaps that is part of the problem.  I say things to you that sound smart to other people, but to you, my words are simple and of little value.   
I'm not trying to feel sorry for myself, sorry that I can't impress you.  I'm just trying to state what is probably obvious to you.  I just don't have the mind to compare with the conversations you want to have.  I'll admit it is depressing.  I enjoy what you have to say, but there is no joy in being a burden for you to have to read what I have to offer. 
Meh.  That was pretty lame.  But it felt good to say it.


There is a sense of dread when I wake up these days. It isn't me not wanting to get up and head to work   It actually has to do with the weekends coming sooner, the months going faster and the years starting to spin forward much quicker than I recall they did when I was much younger.  In the grand scheme of things, I know I am still fairly young.  I mean, the people who are ten years my senior still seem reasonably young in my mind. But I'd be lying if I didn't say that I'm starting to wish things would slow down a bit.  

I got a call from my doctor's nurse a while ago with instructions to double a dose of one of the many drugs I take.  It's just another sign to me that I've got to get my shit together.  Someone told me not long ago that I was in a downward spiral.  I don't think she meant physically, but it seems to fit.

I have been walking around my neighborhood after work these days to help get some exercise.  It is already in the high 90's here in Texas (102 as I type this) and it isn't unreasonable to find that sort of heat oppressive when it comes to exercise.  

Yesterday I was ready to do my walk when my wife suggested I go with her to our local grocery.   I turned on my Fitbit to track my steps and interestingly, I walked almost as much in the air conditioning and with the added bonus of seeing a fine buffet of young professional women either shopping on the way home from work or shopping on their way home from the gym.  In either case, I approve!  Call me a pervert but I love a woman dressed for a professional setting and I also love a woman dressed for the gym.   I guess I should be happy that I'm at least getting exercise while enjoying the view.

I've already had my mid-life crisis (many of you followed it as it happened on the blog), so this is just me saying, I need to make the best of things before they slip away.


Please don't get the idea that I'm in some sort of funk.  These are just some random notes I e-mail myself throughout the day.

Also, if you e-mail, please know that I am only able to access my e-mail from my truck during the work day.  Yep, one of those jobs where we can;t have cell phones inside or access naughty G-Mail accounts.  I do try to check and respond as many times as I can, but I actually do more than flirt with my co-workers and sneak off to back offices for BJ's.

Comments and e-mails are always appreciated.

May your day be filled with joy,


Wednesday, June 21, 2017

C'mon Blossom...

Dear Readers,

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.


Friday, June 16, 2017


Dear Jealousy,

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,


Sun bathing Beauty Part II

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.

Sun Bathing Beauty

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.

Creepily Yours,


Office Work

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,


Finding Release

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 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,



Dear Attitude Adjuster,

I've been angry recently. That's not like me at all.  I can't pinpoint the start but there has just been this under tone of a seething anger.  Stressful, tiring, and I can't seem to shake it.

If you were to spend time with me, you probably wouldn't notice.  I'm very good at burying my moods.  Aside from the occasional person asking me if I'm stressed, I think I'm otherwise not one of those people who comes across as angry.  I'm not the first guy you look at and think post office shooting.  

This was a four day weekend for me and I purposely did not bring my work laptop home.  On Friday I spent time with my wife and some of the grandkids.  That evening, we went to the little bar down the street and had dinner.  While there, we thought about maybe taking an overnight trip to a casino a few hours away but that thought ended when we saw the casino hotel was booked. 

The next morning, I suggested we take a day trip to one of the many small Texas towns that has tried to revitalize itself with Main street shops and boutiques.  

The drive was okay but I found myself quietly becoming aggravated at the conversations my wife initiated.  Just complaints about people.  Sort of like me, complaining  about her right now.  

I just wanted to enjoy the drive without a running commentary about everything that pisses her off.  

When we got to the town and parked, I immediately copped an internal negative attitude about the shops we would visit.  I totally understand the need for business to make money, but I'm flabbergasted at the sheer gall some of these people have to charge what they charge for little Pinterest style crafts or crap they buy in bulk for pennies.  

I think there are super rich people who will come in and think dropping $50 for something that should cost $7 or $8 is fine.  I just don't.  And people wonder why Walmart is so successful.  Well, low prices and little Chinese kids working for a nickel a week.  

Anyway, I found myself really acting internally like an asshole and I didn't want to ruin my wife's time.  She truly enjoyed the day and irritatingly thanked me half a dozen times for surprising her with the day trip.  We went onto an art shop that was really nice.  A lot of the art was just shit, but there were some pieces that I felt would look nice in our home.  And then I started looking at the prices.  There was one wall with paintings of from the same artist.  Never heard of him but he was good.  But $2,500 for a painting that isn't as good as some of the high school student artwork I see at the Rodeo each year?  I so understand the time and skill that goes into it, but I thought it was just a hobby.

I did see a few photographs that were nice.  There was a black and white of an old bridge that crosses the Colorado River.  It was a nice picture but they wanted $275 (without the frame).  The funny thing was, the lady at the counter in the store right next door to the art gallery sold us post cards with the same bridge picture, but presented in color for $1.49.  That lifted my spirits, actually.  

As an aside, we easily blew $100 on ridiculous things that will no doubt be sold at a garage sale for pennies or more likely donated to the children's home.  

On Sunday my wife insisted that I go with her to get a pedicure.  Not going to lie, it feels good to have an Asian lady massage my feet and calves.  Too bad they all have small boobs.  Of course I look down their shirts.  That aside, there is definitely a stress relief in the whole process.  

I'm looking forward to going back to work This morning.  I feel like I need to get in the zone of my work and just take my mind off whatever it is that seems to be on my mind.  I can't figure out why, but going back to work just might be what I need to pull myself out of this funk.  

I'm rarely angry.  But when I am, I usually know why.  This has been different.  I'm going to count to ten, hit send and be done with this, whatever it is.  Wish me luck.

Over it,



Dear Bloodline,

What a great concept for a show.  A well respected family in the community who have a few really ugly secrets.  Everything was going great until you found out the third season was going to be the end of it all.  Honestly, I wish you had pulled a Deadwood and just gotten cut-off with no attempt at closure.

Season three had so much promise.  We would figure out how the writers were going to wrap up the story and put everything to bed.  And then came along episodes 9 and 10.  I was so confused.  There was no attempt to help the viewer understand what the heck was going on.  In fact, I watched episode 9 twice and was only more confused.

I think my biggest complaint about modern TV shows is the idea that the viewer is supposed to know what the characters are thinking.  I invested quite a bit of time in this show and it seems like you guys just gave up.  Breaking Bad.  Now that was how you end a series.  The Sopranos.  Yes.  But this Bloodline; You're not a bad show, but you did a bad ending.



Doing it Right

Dear Co-Worker Who is Doing it the Right Way,

When you first came to me, nervously wanting to confess something you thought might have an impact on your job, I was quick to ease your mind that all would be okay.  Of course, I was convinced you were about to confess that you were either gay or bi.  I did my best to make your confession easier by jumping the gun and announcing that, surprise, I'm bi!

You were polite in acknowledging my sexuality but then took a deep breath and reported that in addition to being happily married, you and your wife had both agreed that life would be even better if you were open to explore relationships with others.  In fact, you revealed, your wife had a steady boyfriend that she was seeing, and that you had also engaged in some fun times with other friends.

Not to be outdone, I quickly shrugged my shoulders and revealed that my wife also has a boyfriend.  We never allowed ourselves to go any deeper into details, but I assured you everything would be fine.  I then offered what I consider to be the rules.

1. Never lie about it.  If you are asked directly, do not lie about your situation.
2. Refuse to be blackmailed.  If someone attempts to hold your lifestyle against you, simply go to your leadership and out yourself.  

The reason you see all these former military leaders and high officials appearing before congress and being fired from their jobs is not so much that they enjoy sex outside the marriage, but because they lie about it when confronted.  If you intended to be in the military and play this game, you cannot lie about it when confronted, and you cannot make yourself a security risk because you are not willing to reveal yourself when the circumstances require it.

During your recent promotion ceremony, you invited both your wife and your girlfriend to attend the occasion.  Aside from the small number of people who know your arrangement, no one was the wiser that the friend helping your wife during the ceremony was more than just a friend of the family.

Any further detail is way too much.  I just want to congratulate you on being better at this than me and better than so many of the people who start down this path.  Everyone agrees that the key to success is communication.  You and your wife and her boyfriend and your girlfriend  have demonstrated the ability to communicate in a way that allows each of you to enjoy positive relationships both inside the marriage and out.

I wish you'd write a blog.

Respect to you and yours.


When the End Justifies The Means

Dear Moral Authority,

We sat in our regular pub and had a tall beer waiting to meet up with another couple for dinner.  The conversation shifted from the routine rundown on how our days had gone to the series of messages she had that day.  My wife explained that she had been contacted by a guy she dated briefly during our separation, twenty years ago.  Long story short, he wanted her to give things a try again and she just laughed him off, explaining to him that she had the best possible arrangement she could ask for.  She loves her husband, has no intention of ever leaving, and, she has her boyfriend and plans to continue that relationship as long as it makes sense.  Why would she give all that up for some guy she didn't really like twenty years ago?  She ended the conversation with this guy by suggesting he forget her and never contact her again.

When I was a kid, it was a standard kid ploy for convincing your parents to let you spend the night at a friend's house by having each kid go to his mom and say, "Jimmy's mom says it's okay with her if it is okay with you."

In a case like that, you helped motivate your mom to say yes since, in her mind, another adult had already made the approval.  Yes, it was a little white lie, but if your mom agreed, was there any real harm done?  Of course, maybe parents already knew that trick from when they were kids and it just didn't matter.  At least, I don;t recall my mom ever picking up the phone and making a call to establish the veracity of my claim.

As many of you know, about 18 months ago, I initiated a ploy with a buddy of my wife and mine, to arrange for a reconnection of sorts.  I'll spare you a long back story, but in a nutshell, a guy that we had engaged in threesomes with more than a few decades ago came back into our life.  The reasons the threesomes stopped in the first place was due to military moves.  Now, as fate would have it, our families live within a few miles of one another.  Opportunity.

I had joked with my wife about the possibility of rekindling the threesomes, but as with many women who hit middle age, she suffered from some body image related self-esteem issues. Her thought was, "He won't want to be with me."

She never ruled out the possibility of us resuming our threesome activities, and in fact, it was a constant topic of discussion as we would go down the list of acquaintances who I was turned on to imagine her fucking.

Step in my little instigating mind.  I reached out to our friend, JD, and explained to him how I truly was missing our fun times and how my wife just needed a nudge to get her back into the swing of things.   To be honest, he didn't quite understand my point of view or why I would willingly go along with this.  I tried to explain to him the concept of compersion, but ultimately, I just reminded him how much I would get off whenever we had our threesomes in the past.  I think that made the most sense to him, and he was eager to get started.

Before long, there were Facebook chats, text messages and even phone calls.  Initially, she asked me if I had put him up to contacting her.  I flat out lied and told her no.  She did ask one or two more times as his interest seemed to grow.  I was honest in telling her that he and I met for lunch and that we had e-mailed, and yes, I let her know that I told JD I was open to more threesomes.  But I never confessed to her that I had established first contact and suggested he try to sway her back into threesomes.

As an aside, this is a tactic I do not encourage others to follow.  I'm not going to try to list off reasons for why I chose to use this deceptive method, but I can tell you, I'm very happy with the outcome.  If that makes me an asshole, so be it.

Over a period of months, the conversations continued and what developed was a rekindled friendship.   We had stayed in touch with JD and his wife over the years, visited for cookouts or birthday parties, but we were never close, per se.  What my wife learned was that the marriage was a pure facade for the sake of their young child.  There had been no sexual contact at all in some time.  Talk of divorce was and is a constant theme, but remaining together for the child is the argument closer.  In short, this was not a guy trying to get some action on the side but rather a guy revealing intimate details and finding a shoulder to cry on.

It had been probably four or five months of conversations before we had the first renewed threesome.  During that night as JD was getting dressed, my wife asked, "Are you sure you guys didn't plan this?"

That was the moment we should have come clean.  Instead, JD said matter of factly, "No, not at all."

In truth, there is simply no reason we could not confess to our deception.  In this case, the ends truly did justify the means.  At this point, my wife is so happy with how the relationship is going.  I'm happy, she is happy, JD is happy.  But I won't confess now because there is simply no reason to.  My wife's doubts were about her appearance and nothing more.  I didn't pay some guy to pay her false compliments, I simply encouraged a guy who I knew was attracted to her in the first place, to let her know.

I guess my question is, am I so emotionally hollow that I can't see how wrong this is?

I often think about that commercial featuring Honest Abe Lincoln.  He is cornered by his wife, portrayed by a woman of size who turns around and asks, "Does this dress make my behind look big?" 

Poor Abe hmmms and haws and every husband in the world understands his dilemma.  Though for most of us, the answer is a resounding"No, honey, your ass does not look big at all."

My deception is wrong.  I accept that I'm not as honest as good ol' Abe, but really, given the outcome and given the happiness my wife has been experiencing for some time now, shouldn't I get a pass?

Hoping for clemency,


When Granny Gets Naked

Dear Someone Else's Sexy Granny,

I've looked at a wide variety of naked pictures on the Internet and I keep finding myself intrigued by a single topic of interest that I can't quite understand.  I'm hoping you can explain.

First, it isn't that my sole interest is in women of a certain age who end up posing nude, I like all sorts.  But for most every other genre of content I come across, I can come to an easy assumption as to why the subject of the picture chose to be photographed.

One of my favorites, for instance is selfies.  A guy or gal will take a picture of their nude body with an iPhone and now we all get to see it.  In probably most cases, the person who both took the picture and sent it never expected that we would all get to see it.  Truth is, they snapped the pic to send to a lover (or in the case of guys, some unfortunate female who made the mistake of reading a text message).

Others are people who just want to show off their body.  Hell, I've got a few pics of my own out there.

Is there the same thought process for a woman who is collecting retirement benefits to expose herself?  I'm not complaining at all, mind you.  As long as the old gal was not forced or blackmailed into getting naked and showing us her goodies, I'm all for it.  I confess, I have a thing for women with experience in mind and body.

 Oh sure, I want to bang thirty-something's too, but when I was much younger I experienced a woman who is my age now.  When I was twenty-five, I was banging a married fifty-two year old.  Truth is, she told me she was fifty-two but it was obvious she was  probably closer to seventy than fifty.

It was usually dark when she would get in my bed - she wanted the lights out - but I could see the gray in her pubic hair by moonlight.  I can't even explain why I was so fascinated by that aspect, but now when I see an attractive lady with gray hair, I always think of her pubic area.

This was all before the onset of digital cameras and phones that are like little movie studios.  I asked one time to take a Polaroid of her nude body and I thought she would cry at just the thought of it.  She had a very fit and firm body but she worried I would not want to see her in the light.  And she didn't want her husband to get proof.

I think about the older secretary in my office.  She is in her early sixties.  She is extremely thin but has these large saggy breasts that, when presented in the right blouse look very nice.  I'm such a horny goat I've even imagined sex with her.

But back to the topic at hand.  Ladies in your sixties and even seventies, are you still horny enough to pose nude for all the middle aged guys imagining their older neighbor or the high school English teacher with the big knockers?   I'm certainly not judging, because I'm a fan.  I just want to know what motivates you?



To The Man Next Door

Dear Neighbor,

I've lived here for close to two years and have tried to be as friendly as I can.  In spite of the fact that I will say hello or smile when I see you, you pretend that I do not exist.  There is no return of a smile, no nod of the head, nothing.  Through some quick Googling, I learned that you are Egyptian.  I've known people from Egypt and they all seemed nice to me, so I'm just assuming that you are shy, or simply an asshole.

So fast-forward to yesterday afternoon when you peered through your dining room window, over the height of my privacy fence and down into my hot tub to watch my nude wife giving me a blow job.  I know you were probably embarrassed when I told my wife we had an audience and she unattached her mouth from my cock and turned around to look, thereby exposing her big boobs.  She laughed when you quickly backed away from the window, but it was pretty obvious you saw that we saw that you saw us being naughty in our back yard.

I just want to say, I apologize that our yard is not completely private and that my wife is not as modest as your wife is.  Hell, if I were in your situation, I'd be as friendly as I could.  But that's just me.

Deepest apologies,

Your Neighbor, JFB.

Asking an Expert

Note:  I've made several attempts at writing letters to people like Dan Savage, Dr. Drew, Tristan Taormino and others in the past, but I always delete them.  This is a letter that I wrote over several days following a very emotional couple of weeks.  I won't bother sending this to Dr Ley, but if he stumbles upon it, I'd welcome his thoughts.

Dear Dr. Ley,

I would like to apologize in advance for the long-winded note that follows.  I know your time is valuable and to be honest, I don't expect a reply.  I do think though that what I'm going to tell you may be of interest to you for your next project, or for consideration in you practice.  Or perhaps, this is all normal stuff.

I first heard about you and your book, Insatiable Wives, on the Savage Lovecast.  Since buying your book, I think I've listened to you on at least a half dozen other podcasts including Chris RyanTristan Taormino, and others.  I feel like your message has been both consistent and informative, and most importantly, reassuring to me.

I'm a married bi man, 52, been married for 32 years and for a good portion of that marriage my wife and I have "played" with a few select others.  Our current situation is that she has a friends with benefits arrangement with a married guy we've known for over two decades. It is working out wonderfully, and is consistent with some of the more successful hotwife/cuckold couples you used as examples in Insatiable Wives. We are by all accounts an otherwise normal, successful married couple with two very well adjusted adult children.

There is no question that I was the one to introduce this concept into our marriage, and it was her who who finally gave in after a few years of fantasy talk and suggested we "just get it over with" the first time we had a threesome with a friend.  That first experience quickly led to a second and third.

I've often wondered if my desire for this arrangement was the result of being bisexual (I consider myself to be hetoro-normative/bi-sexual to borrow from Dan Savage) or if perhaps there was some deeper issue.  Was I abused as a child; was I secretly gay and this arrangement allowed me to offload some of the husbandly duties?  The Internet was only in its infancy when we started and at that time, I thought there were just a few men like me.  Later, sites like and others made me see there were couples all over the world engaged in this activity.  But reading your book and also Chris Ryan's Sex at Dawn has given me comfort that this kink is fairly common.

Of course, common or not, we are not wide open about our arrangement.  I am honest about being bi and if asked, I've never hidden the fact about our marriage and the extra player in the bed, but in truth, I've been very secretive otherwise.  The kids don't know, the neighbors don't know, etc.

Until recently I wrote a sex blog where I discussed these topics and just generally discussed sex and such, from my perspective.  During the course of my ten year blog/journal (I was not well known, had only just over 100 followers and probably got about 200 visits a day at, I often wrote very introspectively wondering about why I was the way I am.  Why did I crave sharing my wife?  Why did I crave sharing my secrets anonymously with other bloggers?  Why did I crave secretive arrangements purely to discuss sexual topics?

This last issue, the secrets, is what has caused me some recent issues.  In spite of our marriage arrangement, my blog and the majority of the people I communicated with were unknown to my wife.  I've been having an affair with the Internet.  I have also, for years, gained the trust of selected friends and co-workers with the sole purpose of gaining a confidante with whom I could share my intimate sexual details. My wife may know these people but she does not know the conversations we have.

I have always been thrilled to learn other people's secrets, but in looking back, I have always gotten more of a thrill when exposing my own sexual behaviors to them.  In fact, in almost all cases, the initial discussions where I reveal the first secret (a confession that I'm bi) is not only sexually arousing, there is an adrenaline rush that I get.

Looking back, I have exposed intimate details about my sexuality to dozens of people in person, and in spite of the fact that I've done this most often in the office environment; due to being very selective and deliberate with vetting people, I've never had any work related issues or blow back.  I know, I'm not the poster boy for the HR department, but the truth is, everyone I've shared my secrets with has in turn revealed intimate sexual details about themselves.  Who knew so many people were perverts?  Well, probably you did.

Back to the problem about secrets. It isn't that I was discovered by my wife.  Instead, a lifelong friend, a much younger married woman who I began emailing after a few revealing chat sessions on Facebook, suddenly became convinced that my secretive behavior is the result of my having been sexually abused as a child, something I have no memory of, though admittedly have wondered about.

During our conversations, we did bring up the fact that I had these unanswered questions that I kept trying to explore in my mind.  I explained that there were only a few stand-out moments that seemed to fit any scenario that perhaps I was molested.  One scenario involved my father that seems unlikely to have been an issue.  Camping with the family, my father took me to the public restrooms for a shower.  I remember seeing him nude and that was fascinating, but no negative memory.  Another possibility, an older neighbor invited me into his garage where he gave me candy.  Sounds sketchy for sure, but I don't have any further memory.  Both of these memories are from probably age three.  I started playing "doctor" and show and tell games with other kids my age probably around kindergarten.

For me, my only questions surrounding potential childhood abuse was not that I feel broken or have some history of wanting to in-turn abuse others, but that I was so very interested in exploring sexual things as a child, and I keep reading that the only way a child at that age (think under five or six) shows such an interest is if that was learned behavior.  Dr. Drew Pinsky is adamant, it seems, whenever a caller to one of his shows describes these behaviors in a child, the only answer is that the child was either abused or witnessed this behavior and is now repeating it.

I did have a situation I do recall vividly and that was of a neighbor, an older boy of about sixteen or seventeen and his brother of thirteen or so, when I was about ten.  Without question, these boys were grooming me for something.  There were the secrets, the dares and the escalation of reasons to remain secret about the things we talked about and did.

They showed me a magazine of their fathers that contained child porn.  Of course, to a 10 year old boy, I was fascinated but to be clear, I was never exposed to such material again, nor did I seek it.  Later I witnessed the older boy semi-fondle a very young girl by tricking her into exposing her privates.  His methodology was to point at the leg of her little shorts and with his finger, lift the shorts to expose her vagina while asking her the question, "What color are your shorts?" 

From a distance, it could appear innocent that he was pulling the material to show her the color he was asking about, but even to a ten year-old, I knew this was him exposing her.  I know for certain because he made eye contact with me before doing the trick again.  At that age I was definitely aware that was wrong and I basically backed myself away from the friendship.  I didn't say anything to her parents, but I avoided further contact with both brothers,  This was all in a military housing area where we lived in town home-like buildings, so it was difficult to avoid them, but thankfully, their father was transferred soon after. and they moved away.

My friend has recently said that the way I learned this grooming behavior from these older boys is exactly how I meet potential new secret friends, or connect with people I know to escalate our conversations from vanilla to sexual.  I lead with a secret, gain some trust, learn a secret, gain more trust then seal the deal.  But the deal is, talking about sex.  That's it.  Not having sex, not asking for money like blackmail or anything, just a mutual sharing of our own experiences.

When you meet people via the Internet, you have a good idea of their interests based upon where you meet them.  A forum like OurHotWives or some sex blog gives you a fair indication that you can share a conversation about sex, and the person you engage will be interested and likely share.  For me, starting a conversation about sex with someone I only know from work or as a casual acquaintance requires a little bit of tiptoeing up to the line and backing off if there is no interest. My friend has translated this behavior which many others call normal adult testing of the waters, so to speak, more like the behavior of someone who is genuinely doing bad things.

I must tell you that when we had the conversation where she laid this all out, I was both surprised, but also relived.  Relieved to have someone tell me that my behavior was proof that I had been molested or assaulted as a child, thus explaining my lifelong sexual behaviors.  Lest you think I'm ashamed of my behavior, I'm not.  I don't see anything wrong with the relationship my wife and I have, nor do I think my interest in talking about sex is just a horrible thing.  But I was relived that I could at least point, in a way to some reasons.

I think I've always been open to receiving feedback about myself.  That is to say, constructive criticism, down right accusations of being a jerk, or just helpful hints have been something I welcome and quickly attempt to evaluate and act upon in a positive way.  That said, when I was told that my behavior was bad and it was because I was behaving in a way that I had been taught, the result of childhood trauma, I took it very seriously and immediately went into self evaluation mode.

For the first several days and probably a week or so, I think I was in shock.  I had always wondered if I was a victim of some abuse.  How else do you explain the early promiscuity?  More importantly, I immediately began to evaluate each relationship I had been involved in.  I divided friends and colleagues into two categories: secrets and no secrets.

I quickly recognized that the no secrets people were those that I have conversations with involving little or no honesty about anything personal.  The secrets people were those I could share the most private details with.   In my mind, I was imagining this as some evil plot.

But wait a second.  Isn't that kind of normal?

Are there people who are so open with everyone that regardless of the level of trust, they will share any detail?  I have some colleagues who are extremely religious.  I don't hold that against them but I'm not going to walk up and describe the last blow job a gave.

When I did reach out to trusted friends to ask advice, to a person I was told I was over thinking things, I wasn't a monster, and that all adults vet their friends for levels of intimacy and trust.

Don't they?

I'm not shying away from the fact that I may have been abused in some way. I don't deny that my personality was impacted by the experience I had as a ten year old.  I just don't think that I'm the horrible person I felt I was being made out to be.

I do acknowledge that I've played some people as a way of gaining  trust.  I agree that this is a shitty thing to do, though pragmatically, if the intent is not to harm but rather to become friends, how is this any different than the mating rituals men and women go through everyday?

Women routinely wear sexy clothes and spend an hour putting on makeup to be attractive.  Guys will refrain from burping, farting and cussing; they open doors and buy flowers.  They avoid telling about their failings and exaggerate their status in hopes of landing the right girl.  We mask who we really are in hopes of gaining favor of the person we are attracted to.  Is this not deceptive? Isn't it accepted as the norm?

I hate that over the last several weeks I've felt like I keep defending myself not only to people who will listen to me, but to myself.  Like I'm trying to convince myself I'm not inherently a bad person.

To be sure, I have some things I need to work on.  The biggest and clearest wrong thing I've done is that as a sex blogger, I've written about my wife and others without their knowledge.  My only defense is, I use fake names and obfuscate personal details that would reveal our identities.  Welcome to the Internet.   But I guess to wrap this all up, the question, Dr Ley, am I a horrible person because I like to talk about sex?  Am I a jerk for trying to first determine if I can trust a person before I divulge some of the specifics of my own sex life?  As a guy in his early fifties, should I be concerned that, if I was the victim of some yet to be identified child abuse, I need to re-gear my entire personality to course correct?

I'd appreciate your views.



These Are Letters to Me

I have blogged for years.  When I stopped not long ago I decided it was time for a different approach.  I have always been one of those people who attempts to work out frustrations by writing letters or e-mails with no real intention of ever sending them.  It is a simple thing to do and I highly encourage it.  You simply write as if you were sending a sternly worded letter to that neighbor you are mad at, that boss you are upset with, the girl you wish would like you.  Then, you spend some time editing it, then you delete it and move on.

Here, I'll be posting some of those half-baked letters that I've never intended to send. You are welcome to respond in comments, or send me an e-mail if you like.

This blog definitely contains adult content. Please don't read my letters if you are under the age of legal consent, whatever that may be for the place you live.