55/38/7, part 1

What do the numbers 55, 38 and 7 have to do with ethical non-monogamy?  Probably a lot more than you realize.

No, they aren’t some twisted measurements.  And they have nothing to do with the number of sexual partners you wish you had vs the number you claim vs the truth.  Although I suppose they could.

Instead these three numbers are related to how effectively we communicate.

I want you to ponder something for a couple of minutes.  How do you make initial contact within the confines of your ethical non-monogamous lifestyle?
*looks at watch*

OK.  Times up!

If you are like millions of Americans you use some sort of online dating service or app to find willing, like-minded people to share your life, or at least yourself, with.

According to a study by the Pew Research Center 15% of U.S. adults report that they have used some form of online dating site or dating app.

So the good news is you’re not alone.  Everybody (or at least 15% of everybody) is doing it!

What’s the big deal then?  Why does that matter?  Maybe it doesn’t.  After all, who has time to go out and meet people weekly?  Furthermore, what if you’re already married and you are just looking to enhance your life through an additional relationship?  Ultimately you could put yourself at risk of being outed.  Communicating online has literally become a near necessity.  But it comes at a cost.

And this is where 55/38/7 comes in.  According to research performed by Albert Mehrabian our communication can be broken down into the 55/38/7 formula.  In simple terms this formula states that 55% of our communication is body language, 38% is our tone of voice, and 7% is what we actually say.

This research was originally performed in 1967, long before we relied on personal electronic devices for so much of our communication needs.  One could argue that our experience with said devices have given us the ability to pick up on subtleties via text or email.  And maybe that’s true.  But how much?  And how can we be sure?

A closer look at Mehrabian’s findings show that the problem doesn’t lie with the actual message that is being sent through the written word, but instead it lies with trying to establish context.

For example, if you’ve ever had children you have received a crash course in how to read non-verbal cues.  Little Timmy falls down and hurts his arm.  You ask him if he is OK, and he says yes.  However, he is grimacing in pain and has tears streaming down his face.  As a parent you know by reading these non-verbal cues that he is actually in pain and is just trying to be tough.  He may in fact be injured, and you have to investigate further to know for sure.

Now imagine the same scenario, except you are at work and Timmy texts you to tell you that he has fallen and hurt his arm.  Once again you ask if he is OK, and he replies with a simple “yes”.  You go on with your day because he has answered your question.  There is no body language to evaluate.  He could actually have a broken bone, and you wouldn’t know until you arrived at home and could evaluate things more closely.  The words were they least important part of this interaction.

When we text, we lose our ability to be sarcastic, to flirt, to fully master innuendo.  Words can easily be taken out of context.  Words that are meant to be funny can hurt.  Mild curiosity can be confused with genuine interest.  And politeness can be mistaken for a green light to pursue whatever it is you are interested in.

It’s like having a conversation at a rock concert.  So much is missed.  And ultimately it can backfire.

My only advice as it pertains to communicating through electronic means is to be completely forthright.  Leave nothing to guesswork.

I tell anyone I chat with that I can’t know for sure if I’m truly interested in taking things a step further until I meet them in person.  There have been times I’ve really enjoyed chatting with someone, but the spark wasn’t there when I met them.  Pictures often lie, and there does have to be some physical attraction for things to work.

Add to that voice, smell, facial expressions–all of the little mannerisms that make us who we are–and a bombshell can become truly unattractive.  On the same token, someone who isn’t really turning your key can knock you off your feet when you meet in person.  It’s just impossible to know.

Set realistic expectations for yourself, and for others.  And know that there is no such thing as a sure thing, regardless of what people say.





Feels like the first time


I love 80’s music.  Always have.  It’s nostalgic.  Takes me back to a simpler time when my biggest concern was which cereal to have while watching Saturday morning cartoons.

And while I was never a huge Foreigner fan, I did like the song “Feels Like the First Time” pretty well.  I’ve thought of it often while reflecting on one of the aspects of ethical non-monogamy that appeals to me:  the newness of it all.

The first time I kissed a woman other than Mrs. P.  I remember it distinctly.  It was during the early stages of our disastrous first foray into the swinging lifestyle.  The husband had kissed Mrs. P previously, at a party we held.  Alcohol and a dark room were involved.  She told me immediately, and it was exciting to me.  Seeing the rush that it gave her.  She was flushed.  A little shell-shocked.  And aroused.  It was fucking hot!

So, fast forward a month or two and I kissed the wife.  We had already propositioned them to try this with us.  They consented.  Mrs. P and the husband were in another room, fooling around.  So I kissed her.

And it was terrible.

There was no spark.  No excitement of that first time you kiss someone new.  At least not for me.  It didn’t help that she was a terrible kisser.  Dead lipped.  Boring.  Just…not good.  Where was that spark?  This didn’t feel like the first time!  Not at all.

Well, that whole situation played out how it played out.  And I thought maybe that feeling just wasn’t to be found.  In fact, I got more satisfaction and excitement out of hearing about Mrs. P’s exploits than I did out of my own encounters.  My heart would race when I saw how excited it made her.  I could feel her reacting physically, emotionally and spiritually.

And I was fucking jealous.

I wanted that too.  In fact.  I needed to feel that rush.

The next woman I kissed I was into quite a bit more.  She had obvious interest in me, and I was interested in her.  Unfortunately I couldn’t share that with Mrs. P because I was cheating at the time, an event I briefly alluded to here.  But the rush was there.  The physical reaction.  The racing heart.  The adrenaline rush.  The dopamine dump in my brain.

But it faded quickly, due mostly to my feelings of guilt over what I was doing.

Then there was our first trip to Champagne.  Definitely an adrenaline rush, complete with a bonafide fight-or-flight response.  The excitement of doing something we perceived as so daring, something that we had to keep secret for ourselves, was exciting.  Now we’re comfortable there.  The faces and surroundings are familiar.

Our first threesome was one for the ages.  It was our experience with Big Dog, a night that included non-stop fucking and sore muscles for days.  Talk about an incredible first time.  Adrenaline.  Dopamine.  Adventure.  The thrill of something forbidden and taboo.

The first blind date was interesting.  Meeting someone you had never seen in person was unnerving.  Intimidating.  Awkward.  All in all it was fine.  But it’s not something I have ever gotten totally comfortable with.

The first time I kissed someone in front of Mrs. P.  I had seen her fucked six ways from Saturday by Big Dog, and by a friend of ours.  But through it all she had never seen me so much as lay a hand on another woman.  We were leaving a blind date with a couple when the wife, extremely drunk, put her tongue in my mouth.  It was a little awkward.  And eye opening for Mrs. P.  But everything we experience has it’s first time.

The point of all this recollecting is that many adults who have been in a relationship for any length of time have forgotten that feeling that a first time can create.  Every time I kiss a different woman (I’m a bit of a kissing slut.  I like to kiss women!!!) I get a little charge out of it, at least initially.  And then I decide if it’s something I want to keep doing, or not.  Or whether it’s something I should keep doing, or not.  They’re not all good, but they each have their first time.  As we grow stagnant in our relationships, it’s easy to forget that that feeling exists at all.  We’ve all kissed our spouses a million times.  Fucked them (or made love to them, if that’s your poison), touched them, held them.  We’ve seen them when they look their best, and when they look like hell due to illness or fatigue.  But rarely do we get to experience sexual firsts with them.

That’s one of the things I believe this lifestyle has to offer.  There are as many firsts as there are people.  And sharing those firsts with your spouse becomes it’s own firsts of sorts.  I believe this is a great way to keep relationships fresh.  A great way to keep things exciting.

And while it may never feel exactly like the first time, it sure beats the hell out of co-existing with the very person we are supposed to be living with.


Where will I ever find the time?

There are only so many hours in a day.

Sad, but true.

We’ve run across quite a few different people in the lifestyle so far, and everyone has their own circumstances that dictate how they navigate the world of ethical non-monogamy.

As I pointed out a couple of days ago, we don’t do the spontaneous thing.  This is partly due to us wanting to know others a little bit before jumping into bed with them.  Another facet that dictates this pace for us is our life situation.  Each of us have full-time jobs.  And we have four children between the ages of 5 and 15.  The result is very little down time.

In fact, we have to plan everything.  What we’re having for dinner throughout the week.  Who is packing their lunch the next day, and who is buying.  Which laundry needs to be done when.  Sports practices.  Sporting events.  Choir concerts.  Sleep overs.  Birthday parties.  School dances.  The list goes on and on.

So to receive a message at 6pm on a Saturday night asking us if we want to get together is so inconceivable to us that it’s laughable.

No lie.  We actually laugh.

This is not meant to be a judgement on those who can and do live a life of spontaneity and adventure.  It’s just not possible for us.

We feel there are several different factors that can impact adult playtime.  A major one is shared parenting.  We have met several couples who are on their second marriage, or who aren’t married at all, who share parenting responsibilities with their ex’s.  God love ’em!  Generally they are without children every other weekend, giving them a regular and predictable chunk of free time every other Friday and Saturday night.  It’s just not our reality.

Then there are those who have no children.  They are free to play every weekend if they so choose, unless work gets in the way.  Hell, they are often able to play during the week as well!

Even scouring the websites for compatible playmates takes time.  Lots of it if you really want to dig deep.  Would I rather do that than pack lunches and check with homework?  You bet your sweet ass.  But duty calls.

On June 11th we are venturing to Champagne in Fort Wayne for their annual event called the White Affair.  It’s one of their biggest events and kicks off summer.  We went last year and really enjoyed it.  But even with six weeks notice, it has taken some serious planning.  Fortunately the oldest is old enough to watch the siblings, so child care is taken care of.  But then there is the wedding of one of our relatives that his happening over two hours away from Champagne.

This is going to take some serious driving, some serious time, but it’s worth it.


Won’t you at least buy me dinner first?

If you have spent any time in the swinger lifestyle, you are aware that there are as many methods as there are swingers.  Everyone has their own agenda, boundaries, kinks, desires and expectations.

Essentially it’s like playing a sport, like football, where everyone has a slightly different set of rules.  It makes it exceedingly difficult to know what to expect at any given time.

Mrs. P and I aren’t what is referred to as “bed hoppers”.  Well, I’m a bit of a slut, but she’s not.  We love sex, but we like to get to know people a little bit first.  And while I am much more impulsive and adventurous, I have my limitations as well.

Over the past four days we have received two different messages that illustrate my point.  First, on Thursday night while we were travelling out of town we received a PM on SLS.  The message was literally this:  “Nice tits!  Are you interested?”

Uh, thanks.  And are we interested in what, exactly?

First off I need to mention that we very clearly outline our preferences and expectations in our profiles on both sites, a practice I recommended in my post about swinger websites.  I’m serious.  We make it so easy.  We both have our types, and it is clearly stated.

So, this person obviously didn’t read our profile, because he was not our type.  In any conceivable way.

In addition, what kind of pick up line is that?  Basically he was saying, “Nice tits.  Wanna fuck?”  Um…no.  I read his profile out of curiosity and found it very entertaining.  He is in his early 50’s, with a 27 year old “girlfriend”.  Of course there are no pictures of them together, because they’re likely not a couple.  This girl was so far out of his league it was laughable.  Basically, she’s the bait.  And then she’s not available when it’s time to play.  But we can still have a threesome!

He also mentioned that he could fuck for a long time, with reasonable frequent rest breaks.  I suppose it’s good to know your own limitations.

Finally, he made it clear that he had no interest in any sort of conversation.  Just fucking.  And only at seedy hotels located near the highway.  And only after a snack at a local eatery.

As tempting as it was to take him up on it (sarcasm alert) we decided to reply with “No thanks.”

On Saturday night we received a message from a younger couple.  Again, they didn’t read our profile or they would know that we don’t play on short notice due to having kids, and because we need to know someone a little before we make that move.  In addition, he was not Mrs. P’s type.  She’s a relatively tall woman, and she prefers a man taller than her, with a larger build.  This guy was considerably smaller than her.  Tiny.  Not her type.  Read the profile.

Anyway, this mail came through on SZC.  The message said, “Are you interested in playing some cards, having a few drinks, and maybe an orgy tonight?”


I literally could not get this line from Anchorman out of my head.  So, we’ll play some cards, have a few drinks, then get to fucking?  Great!!!!

Needless to say, we declined that offer as well.

Ultimately it is difficult to find someone who’s rules match up with your own.  But by staying true to your own boundaries and not compromising on what it is you are looking for, I believe you will provide a better experience for yourself in the long run.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

You see it all in this lifestyle, or whatever you choose to call it.  The profiles.  The people.  The first meetings.  The experiences.  The fallout.

Throughout our journey we’ve seen more than we ever knew was out there, and we’ve gone places within the confines of our relationship that we didn’t know existed.  It has been wonderful, awful, beautiful, ugly, exciting and painful all in one.

If you are new on your journey you are probably excited at the prospects that line the road before you.  I know I was.  And that’s good.  That’s part of the experience.  It’s part of what makes this such an enticing possibility.

I can’t tell you what your experience will be like, but I can tell you what ours has been like.

The Good

As I mentioned in my post yesterday one of the best aspects of this for us is how open our communication has become.  We’ve always been good at sitting down and hashing things out through talking it through.  But this was different.  Where as before I would have held back certain details for fear of making Mrs. P uncomfortable or uneasy, I now realize that those details are where the truth so often live!  Keeping those details to myself was not only me trying to protect her in some noble, chivalrous way, it was also me protecting myself.  If I hold some things back, I have plausible deniability later.  I can plead ignorance, innocence or whatever I like.  But if I put it all out there, then I have shown all my cards.  I have exposed myself completely, and that view is not always the most flattering.  That kind of honesty takes an immense amount of trust.

Speaking of trust, this is another aspect of our relationship that has taken some major hits at times, but has become stronger through this process.  Mrs. P is not a suspicious person by nature.  She has always trusted that people will ultimately tell the truth, or that they at least want to.  Because that’s what she would do.  She is the most honest person I’ve ever met.  And sadly she had to learn the hard way that not everyone possesses or even wants this attribute.  We’ve met so many liars.  People who claim one thing and then do exactly the opposite.  People who pose as a couple when they are in fact single.  People who send a picture that is either 15 years old, or that looks nothing like them.  People who say they would never ignore you after getting what they want, and then do exactly that.  And a husband who swears he is on the level and ready to commit to honesty, and then lies.

The Bad

That guy was me, just in case you nodded off during that last paragraph.  I told her I trusted her, but then did things that proved the exact opposite was true.  I told her I had cut things off with another woman who she did not approve of, when in truth I was fucking her.  I was the lowest of the low.  A cheater.  A sneak.  So many things that I don’t like in others, I exhibited.

It eventually came out, but not because I offered the information up.  I was willing to take it to my grave.  Someone else outed me so I was forced to confess.  It was the single hardest thing I’ve ever done.  The fallout was horrendous.  The hurt unimaginable.  I fully expected her to leave me.  I deserved it, no doubt.  And it wasn’t for reasons that most people associate with cheating.  It wasn’t because I had been with another woman physically.  It was because she approached me about it, told me that she thought it was going on, and I told her it wasn’t.  I lied.  And worse, I made her feel like she was losing her mind because her intuition was telling her one thing, and I was telling her another.  The dissonance this created for her was cruel and terrifying.  Ultimately she decided to stay with me, partly because she loved me and partly because she trusted that I could turn this around.  That I could become a better person.  That I could reach my potential, or something close to it.

This lifestyle will make you do things you aren’t proud of if you’ll let it.  You’ll lie, cheat, sneak, manipulate and hurt others if you let yourself.  It takes a tremendous amount of self-control to stay true to your ideals.  The best advice I can offer is to made a decision early on about what you are and what you aren’t willing to do, what you want and what you don’t want, what your boundaries are, and then stick to them.  Refuse to compromise.  That’s not to say that your boundaries won’t change as you gain more experience and progress on your personal journey, but don’t abandon them.  Take them out often, study them, ponder them, reflect on them and try them on.  If they still fit, keep them.  If they don’t alter them as you see fit.

The Ugly

Oh damn!  Is there some ugliness out there.  And I’m not just talking unattractive folks or ugly behavior.  I’m talking about some shit that is straight up crazy.  Here is a small sampling of some things we’ve seen, heard or experienced.  You can guess which one fits into which category.

Two couples agree to meet.  Arrangements are made.  A meeting place and time are set.  Couple #2 shows up and they are unrecognizable.  The pictures they had shared are no less than 15 years old.  They are old and rather grey, which is no big deal so long as you share pictures to match.  And even more shocking, Husband #2 missing an arm.

AN ARM!!!!!!!

When it is mentioned that this is information that should have been shared, Wife #2 gets angry about how shallow Couple #1 is for even noticing that he is missing a limb.  Again, not necessarily a big deal, so long as you maybe point that out in your earlier communication.  Maybe take a picture that reflects that situation.  Just sayin’.

Or how about a man who is contacted by a woman who proposes he partake in a threesome with her and her daughter.  Pictures are provided, and they’re hot!  Sounds like a winner.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, maybe he should have known how unlikely the legitimacy of this contact was.  But fellas, are you telling me you wouldn’t have been even a little bit curious?

So he goes, and it is a woman and her husband.  Both, as he described them, “old and haggard looking”.  Turns out the husband wanted to watch him fuck his wife.  Instead our courageous adventurer smoked all their weed and left.

Then there’s the couple that was contacted by a decent looking guy, around 30 years old.  Could be fun, as he is unattached and seems relatively sane and intelligent.  So the husband gives this guy the instruction manual on how not to screw this up.  Something along the lines of, “don’t ask for nude pictures, and don’t send pictures of your dick.”  Hell, I’m no smarter than any other man, and I can follow those directions.  How hard could it be?

Pretty hard apparently.  Within the first 30 minutes of them chatting, he sends 12 pictures of his dick and asks for a picture of her pussy so he can jerk off to it later.  When she informs him the next day that she is not interested in getting together he is absolutely shocked.  He literally cannot figure out what he did wrong.

This is just a small sampling of some of the crazy shit we’ve either experienced or heard from people we’ve met.  And these are tame.  They get so much worse.

My advice, however unsolicited it might be, is to set a reasonable pace, be wary of everyone until some trust is built, and operate only within your boundaries.

And be sure to write some of what happens down, because it will make a good story one day.

Let’s start at the very beginning, a VERY good place to start

Every journey begins with a first step.  It’s the natural progression of things.  But beginnings are slippery things, not always easy to pin down and analyze.  Sometimes a beginning is a monumental event.  So huge in it’s scope that it’s impossible to ignore.  Other times, and more frequently in my opinion, beginnings are a series of small events that build momentum.  Eventually there is enough energy there to propel you forward and set you on your way.

Our journey into ethical non-monogamy definitely falls into the latter category.  It began with a conversation.  That’s all.  Late at night, in bed, in the dark.  Simple.  Innocent.

Well, maybe not completely innocent.

A little backstory is necessary, so I’ll provide it here.  Mrs. P and I are high school sweethearts.  Not only had we never slept with other people, we had never dated or kissed other people.  And that was OK.

Our sex-life had never been great.  We were late bloomers in that regard.

She was raised in a very conservative environment where premarital sex was strongly cautioned against.  In fact, any sort of unsavory behavior was strictly forbidden.  No drinking, no fucking, no getting tattoos.  Nothing that would make you appear abnormal in the eyes of others.

My upbringing was one of parental apathy.  It wasn’t that my parents weren’t around, it was that they weren’t strong.  They provided no modelling of how a grown-up person should act.  Things weren’t forbidden as much as they were feared.  We don’t *insert activity here* because it’s dangerous and just wrong.

So either way, sex was forbidden, either because it was morally objectionable, or because it was scary.  Take your pick.

We did have premarital sex when were in college.  But not often.  Once we were married it wasn’t much better.  We were a once or twice a month couple, depending on the mood of that month.  But let me make this clear:  this was not her fault.  I think there were several factors.

First, she had always been on the pill, a known killer of libido as it stops ovulation.  She was also inexperienced, but so was I.  On the flip-side, I wanted sex more often, but I was too immature to communicate that effectively.  So instead I spent a lot of time feeling resentful.  It was a perfect storm of boner-killing dysfunction.

Then we decided to have a child.  Away went the pill, and up jumped the libido!  She was suddenly much more interested in sex.  We had it quite a bit.  It was hotter.  More fun.  Exciting.  But I’ll be damned if she didn’t get pregnant the first month every time we tried to conceive!  Four months of sex with a purpose?  Nope.  First month and pregnant.

Four kids later and this pattern persisted.  But, it was life.  It was OK.  We had a great marriage (we thought).  Never fought.  Things were peaceful and as they should be.


We didn’t know there was anything else.  We were resigned to our own lives.

In early 2012 I started having…thoughts.  Fantasies, I guess you could call them.  Most of them revolved around watching Mrs. P with another man.  Of joining in on that scenario.  Basically, a MFM threesome in which she was the star.  It was my go to fantasy.  But it was an impossibility.  It would never happen.  And that was OK.  Some things are meant to live only in our minds, and I was OK with that.

It was also during that same time that there was talk of swingers in our town.  We live in a small, very conservative community.  Such things were only whispered about.  At parties and social events, when the alcohol would flow and tongues became loose, someone would mention names.

“So and so are swingers!  Isn’t it scandalous?  Who would do such a thing?  How could anyone be OK with their spouse cheating on them?”  All the usual judgments were made, followed by carefully worded assertions that such a thing would never be condoned by us!

One night, while lying in bed, I told my wife about the most recent rumor.  A couple we knew by name, but not personally, were dancing with the devil.  They were swingers.  Isn’t that shocking?  The logical progression of the conversation took place, with us wondering how that would even work.  Are they all in the same room?  Do they go to separate rooms?  How do they decide when to take that step?  How do they find other people to swing with?  Are other people in our town swingers?  Is it groups sex, or just sex in the same room?

Suddenly we were all over each other.  We had talked ourselves into a frenzy, simply by discussing the possible scenarios.  This was the hot sex we had been missing.   There wasn’t anything routine or predictable about it.  It…was…AWESOME.

The next night we started with the hypothetical situations.  Could you handle me being with someone else?  Could I handle you being with someone else?  What if I had to watch it?  Have you ever fantasized about being with other people?  More than one person?  Who?  When?  Again, we couldn’t stay off of each other.  The night ended with great sex.

We were onto something here.  And guess what?  It wasn’t just the sex.

I can hear you yelling “Bullshit!” in your head.  But I’m serious.  There was an element of openness and honesty there that we hadn’t explored.  We didn’t talk about these things, especially when it came to our fantasies of other people.  This was new.  And we were suddenly closer.

Our favorite game was a little something we called “Would you?”  What about that guy?  Would you?  What about her?  Would you?  How about that couple?  Would we?  It was fun.  And safe.

We knew a couple.  We hung out with them on occasion.  And they were the only couple who wasn’t a solid no, for whatever reason.  They weren’t people we hadn’t ever thought of in those terms.  But the initial “no” wasn’t there, and that was interesting.

On her birthday that year we hung out with them.  We got extremely drunk.  Had a lot of fun.  Nothing happened, but at one point I was sitting on a couch with the wife, and Mrs. P was sitting on the other with the husband.  It just happened.  Again, nothing more happened, but it was interesting how that dynamic seemed to present itself.

For the rest of 2012 we played our game.  Talked about our fantasies.  And had better and better sex.  It was fun.  Harmless, right?  Nothing was ever going to happen, so what could it hurt?

And then 2013 happened.  Our perfect disaster.

Harder than it looks

Hey, get your mind out of the gutter!

I’m talking about any sort of ethical non-monogamous lifestyle.  Aside from the horrible social stigma associated with both the poly and swinging worlds, there is the inherent difficulty in finding someone you click with well enough that you want to invest in them.  And that’s what it ultimately takes:  investment.  An investment of time, energy (both physical and emotional), sometimes money.  It all adds up.  Whether you’re poly, or a swinger, this isn’t an easy endeavor.

As I stated in my original post, I tend to identify along the lines of a swinger, while Mrs. P stands on the poly side of the fence.  Neither of us are hardliners.  We just have our preferences.

Our journey began from a swinger mentality.  We were really interested in exploring something different.  Something that was unlike anything we had ever done before.  And swinging was it.

Our first exploration, though ultimately disastrous, was with long-time friends of ours.  We had known them forever.  They lived and continue to live nearby.  It wasn’t even remotely strange for us to spend time with them on a Friday or Saturday night.  It didn’t raise eyebrows in our community for people to see their car at our house.  So in terms of convenience, it was ideal.

Money wasn’t an issue because we didn’t have to travel to hotels, clubs, bars or anyplace along those lines.  It was BYOB, which is about as cheap as you get.  Aside from an air mattress I bought for him to fuck Mrs. P on, the cash outlay was minimal.

There was a tremendous emotional investment as these were close friends of ours, and we all four were travelling in uncharted waters.  Emotions ran high.  Jealousy took its toll.  Long conversations were necessary, though not always performed.  It was exhausting.  So in that way, it did take time.  Time to think it through, build relationships that differed from their previous incarnations.  Time to communicate with one another.  It was very consuming.

Ultimately it failed, so we were back on the hunt.  We presented ourselves as a couple, looking for a couple.  What an adventure that can be.

If you are in the swinging lifestyle for any length of time you’ll hear and see references to “unicorns” everywhere.  A unicorn is a single, bi female.  She’s willing to be the third in an already established relationship.  She plays with the woman.  She plays with the man.  She plays with them together, or possibly individually as the situation warrants.  And then she goes away.  No strings attached.  It’s basically the holy grail in the swinger world.  It is even referred to in poly circles, though it is considered controversial.  Some say it is just fine to look for a unicorn to complete a triad.  Others say it is demeaning and fundamentally devalues the person who is being sought.  To each his own, I say.

But we weren’t looking for a single bi female.  Mrs. P is very straight.  She’s not even bi-curious.  So this should be easy, right?  Wrong.  In our experience the true unicorn is finding another couple and developing a situation in which all parties are interested.  Generally one person from one couple isn’t into the person they need to be into and it ends up being a deal breaker.  And even if all parties are attracted as necessary, there’s the additional layer of the two men getting along, and the two women getting along.  It’s just a huge dynamic to try to manage.

We’ve had some close calls.  A couple about an hour away was our first.  We met them about a year ago at a bar after chatting online.  Mrs. P liked him pretty well, and he seemed to like her.  I liked the wife pretty well, and she seemed to like me.  It really looked like it was going to work.

I will say that they physical attraction we had to them wasn’t great, but it was enough that we wanted to move forward.  So we did.  Our next time seeing them was going out to get pizza, then back to their house.  They had no children, so they hosted, which was nice.  We had decided that we would get physical with them, but not have intercourse.  For some reason that seemed like a reasonable place to draw the line.  Not really sure why, looking back.  But we informed them, and everyone consented.  After eating pizza and having drinks we returned to their house for additional drinks.  Within 15 minutes she and I were in a guest room completely naked and having a grand old time!  No intercourse, but everything else possible.

After a few hours we left, and we had an hour car ride to talk, which is also nice.  It’s a great time to debrief each other.  Sort out our feelings.  It turns out he was a little more passive than me.  She eventually had to ask him to kiss her.  And he did.  They kissed, had some petting, but nothing more.  Mostly talked, which isn’t all bad as Mrs. P likes to develop a connection, and she does that through conversation.  We decided we would see them again.

The second outing was at their house.  They made dinner and we had drinks.  Within 15 minutes of dinner ending she and I were in the same room upstairs, and we were fucking.  We went at it for a few hours, having a really nice time.  She was fun and funny, not afraid to laugh and joke around, which is important to me.  I mean, when you really think about what it is you’re doing and how ridiculous the whole thing is, you have to laugh.

At one point she and I heard Mrs. P and the husband coming upstairs and going into the master bedroom.  Shit was going down!  Good for Mrs. P!  Apparently husband mustered up some gusto and was making his move.  A couple of hours after they came upstairs it was time for us to go, so we left.  I got in the car and gave Mrs. P a big smile and asked her how it was.

Her response?  “Nothing happened.”

What?  How is that possible?  You were alone in a bedroom with him for 2 hours!!!!!

Apparently he had taken her to his bedroom, stripped her naked, took off his clothes such that he was down to boxers and a t-shirt, kissed her for awhile, then showed her photo albums for 2 hours.

I can’t make this shit up folks.

He actually said, “Is it OK if this is as far as it goes?”

What could she say?  No?  So she laid there, naked, with the lights on, while they looked at photo albums.  And let me take this time to point at that Mrs. P is a very attractive woman.

After trying to make sense of that the only explanation I could come up with is that he was over-excited, and had also been drinking, and was having performance issues.  I’ve been there.  It’s not fun.  It’s embarrassing and frustrating.  But guess what, if your cock isn’t going to cooperate, there is nothing you can do about it short of pharmaceutical intervention.  When this has happened to me, I simply tell the woman.  Apologize.  Assure her that it has nothing to do with her, because it doesn’t.  And offer to do anything else she wants to do.

He didn’t do that.  Which left Mrs. P confused.

Ultimately all he would have had to do was let her know that he still wanted to be with her, and we would have seen them again.  Instead, the next time he spoke with her he blamed her.  Told her that she was too sensitive and jumpy and that it weirded him out and that’s why he stopped.  No one before or since has had this problem with her.  So I’m not sure I believe that.  Either way it doesn’t matter, because his willingness to cast blame was enough to kill it.  It was dead.  We never saw them again.

Since then we have looked and looked.  We have met a few couples, but nothing has worked.  We met one couple at the club and struck up a conversation.  Ended up dancing and kissing.  Chatted quite a bit and decided to meet for drinks in the vanilla world.  We had a nice time and decided the smart thing to do would be to meet at the club again, so we did.  It was fun, but the wife was on her period (hey, shit happens).  We decided to go to a private room anyway.  She wanted to watch husband and me fuck Mrs. P.  Sounded great to me!  Sadly, Mr. Whiskey won the night, as neither husband nor myself was able to perform.  You win this round, alcohol.  Ultimately we still had a great time and decided this might be a thing.

We made plans to meet again at the club since it was the most convenient place and all of us enjoyed dancing (poorly).  However, about two weeks before that something happened.  Husband took to telling Mrs. P that she wasn’t responding appropriately to his texts.  He literally tried giving her a tutorial on what she should say.  All of it had to do with complimenting him on his incredible intellect, manliness, huge arms, etc.

Are you fucking kidding me?  Who does that?  How narcissistic can a person be?  So, as you can imagine, that was the end of that.

So, back to the drawing board.  We continue to look, online and at the club.  But it’s harder than it looks.

Running with the Big Dog

As I mentioned in an earlier post, our first trip to Champagne in Ft. Wayne was eye opening in so many regards, and we had an awesome time.  While we were there Mrs. P took interest in another club-goer and ended up dancing/making out with him for a while.  For the sake of his anonymity, and ours, he will be referred to as Big Dog–a pet name my wife developed for him–from here on out.

After we returned home from the club we realized that we had no way of finding her new friend.  All we had was a first name, and his physical description.  Not much to go on.  We didn’t even know where he lived.  So, like all any other red-blooded American who has reached a dead end, I took to the internet.  I literally just sifted through single male profiles on SLS in the Ft. Wayne area.  My attempt at finding him was futile.

It was then that I spoke with our local friend, the one who introduced us to Champagne in the first place, since she was a regular there and seemed to know a LOT of people.  After a brief description she was able to give me a first and last name, so I moved my search to Facebook.  Still, no dice.

When I told her about my fruitless search she remembered that she knew his name on SLS, and so I turned my attention that way.  Immediately I was looking at his profile and was able to contact him.

Now, before you start thinking I’m some sort of stalker, understand that this was at a time when our experience in the LS was limited to our original disaster, which I’m sure I’ll go into at some later time.  That couple was local and familiar to us. We had no idea how to navigate this experience.  So, I sent him a message with the expectation that he would either A) not remember Mrs. P (everyone was quite drunk and the club was packed) or B) would remember, but would think our search for him would seem weird.  Either way, we were poised for rejection.

It turns out the opposite was true.  He asked me if we had seen his post in the SLS forum.  I had no idea what he was talking about.  In the forum section, which is like any other chat room, there are different topics that are started and discussed.  In the topic about the Halloween party at Champagne he had put out a message to Mrs. P.  He remembered her first name, which is all he had to go on, and had told her he wanted to see her and that we had left before he could get her number.  Sure enough, when I looked at the forum there was his message.  To say Mrs. P was relieved, and flattered, is an understatement.

A dialogue began between them for a few weeks, over text and through some phone calls.  The interest between them was mutual.  It was exciting to see her excited.  Add to that the fact that Big Dog was more than willing to chat with me as well, which to me shows a level of respect some men don’t seem to understand, and it was an ideal situation.  So, we decided we would meet Big Dog back at Champagne for an upcoming event.  We made it clear that there should be no real expectations, because we didn’t know how the night would go, or if the two of them would still feel that same spark in person.  All parties agreed.

About a week before the event I was working on reserving a hotel room for the occasion when I received a text from Big Dog asking if we wanted to stay at his house.  He said we could all sleep in his bed if we wanted to.  I literally started laughing at work.  I was a little taken aback, but not in a bad way.  We had talked with him about being a third for our first ever threesome, and he had shown interest, but this made it all seem so…real.  I realized, that this was something that would actually happen.

It also should be mentioned that I had fantasized about sharing Mrs. P with another man for a couple of years.  In fact, it was my main fantasy before I ever brought up the swinging lifestyle to her.  I have no way of knowing if this is “normal” or not.  I think the perception of most people is that men want to get into swinging so that they can fuck other women.  While I enjoy that part too, my main fantasy initially involved the thought of my wife with another man.  Add to that the possibility of actually getting to be there and witness it, and my heart would race just thinking about it.  So this trip to Big Dog’s house was literally the culmination of a huge fantasy of mine.  The same cannot be said of Mrs. P.  She wasn’t sure if she was going to be comfortable being with two men at once, especially if one was me.  She worried that she would be distracted by me, wondering if I was handling it all OK.  She truly wasn’t sure if she would like it.

We decided to agree to stay at Big Dog’s house.  We were taking a leap of faith, and worse case scenario, we would just turn around and go home.  No harm, no foul.  The day of the threesome was surreal.  Here we were acting like things were normal, making lunch for the kids and doing laundry and such, while in the back of our heads this moment was looming.  I was profoundly distracted.  Excited.  A little afraid.  Apprehensive.  I just didn’t know how it would go.  Would this be a huge disappointment?  Would I freak out?  Would I get overexcited and not be able to perform?  For Mrs. P’s part, she was worried about a very practical, but equally important, thing.  Would she get there and not like him?  She was very drunk at the club, so it’s not inconceivable that she would see him and think, “Wait, who is this?”  We just didn’t know.

The plan was simple.  We would arrive at Big Dog’s house, go out to get something to eat, probably have a few drinks, and then go to the club to relax before anything physical happened.  Let everyone get comfortable.  Not rush things.

Well, that’s not exactly how it went down.

We arrived at his house and he answered the door.  He had just showered because he had been working out.  I could literally feel the attraction between them.  It was instant.  I knew this was going to be good.

We went to his kitchen to have a few drinks, just to unwind.  I left the room to use the restroom (I pee too much when drinking, a horrible flaw of mine) and when I walked back into the kitchen, he quickly stepped away from him.  It was obvious they had been kissing.  I acted like I didn’t see it and we continued to talk.  A bit later (but not that much, stupid bladder) I left to pee again.  Once again when I came back into the kitchen he quickly stepped away.  He said, “Sorry man.  She’s just really hot.”

I replied, “If you want to kiss her, go ahead.  I don’t mind.”  He wasted no time at all.  Immediately they were kissing with quite a bit of passion.  I watched with a feeling that was described perfectly in another blog I recently read.  It was with a feeling of near emotional detachment.  Like I wasn’t really in the room. I didn’t feel jealous, or upset.  But it was like watching it on TV…only better.  I was right there in the room watching this man with his mouth and hands on my wife.  I had never seen anything like it.  And honestly…it was fucking awesome.  I was rock hard instantly.

And then I thought, “What in the hell am I doing?!?!  Why am I just sitting here?  This is happening and I’m missing it!”  So, I stood up and walked around the bar and stood behind my wife…touching her.  She leaned into me, obviously enjoying having someone on either side of her.  She moved her mouth from his to mine and back again.

I started undressing her from behind while he continued kissing her.  In short order I had her down to her bra, a pair of panties, some knee-high stockings, and her shoes.  Big Dog stepped back with a big smile and took it all in.  He was obviously liking what he saw, which only intensified the mood.  It made her feel so confident and appreciated.  It made me almost crazy.  I wanted her right then and there.

I wasted no time getting her bra, panties, and shoes off.  I had only every seen my wife partially nude in front of another man one time, during our disaster.  We were all drunk one night and the other man made a comment about how there were too many shirts and bras in the room.  She instantly peeled hers off and in a short amount of time was walking around our house in only a pair of panties.  I remember at that time that I had nearly lost my mind.  It was so hot to see her so confident with her body.  And to see another man appreciating that only intensified that excitement.  This was the same thing, dialed all the way up to 10.

He and I instantly had our mouths and hands all over her.  It was the strangest thing, because even though my heart was pounding and I was feeling the obvious effects of an adrenaline rush, I had complete clarity of mind.  My mind was so calm and focused.  I did not expect that.

I asked her if she wanted to head to the bedroom and she said yes.  So I took her hand and led her there.  He said to go ahead and he would catch up.  On our way to the bedroom she asked me if I was OK with all of this.  I was.  I realized that this was my last chance to back out, and I had no intention of doing that.  I asked her if she wanted this to happen and she said yes with a look on her face that made my heart race even more.  She undressed me very quickly in the bedroom and immediately went down on me when Big Dog walked through.  He smiled a huge smile and said, “Badass!  I’m next!”  I put her on the edge of the bed and began fucking her.  The extent to which she was wet made me even crazier, because it told me all I needed to know of her feelings about what was happening.  She was beyond excited.  I finished after a few minutes, feeling relieved but ready for more.

Big Dog was so respectful.  He waited until he had the green light from me.  He was just standing there.  I told him she was all his.  It was intense watching him go down on her, but I wanted to watch him fuck her. After a few minutes he did.

Now, if you’re a man and you’ve never watched someone fuck your wife, there is nothing like that first time he slides into her.  The smile on both of their faces.  I’ll never forget it.

I won’t go into a ton of detail about the rest, but I can summarize it like this.  Over the next 11 hours, Mrs. P fucked for 7 of them.  Either me, Big Dog, or usually both, were fucking her.  She was insatiable.  It was incredible.  We did make it to the club (it was dead that night) but only stayed for a couple of hours before returning to his house.  By the time we finally went to bed we were all exhausted.  Mrs. P usually gets cold easily and likes to be warm when she sleeps.  There she was, smack dab between me and Big Dog, all of us naked and exhausted.  She slept like a baby.  Well, until he woke her up a couple of hours later by going down on her and then fucking her again.  I considered giving her another go as well, but honestly, my dick hurt.  It was sore from so much fucking.

We woke Big Dog early and told him we were leaving and thanked him for his hospitality.  We stopped at Bob Evans on the way home and literally sat there an laughed.  We couldn’t believe what we had just done.  It was a complete head trip knowing that the other patrons around us likely saw a typical 40 year old couple, and had no idea that Mrs. P had just spent 7 hours getting fucked by two men.

We decided that we definitely needed to take at least a day off from fucking because we were both so sore.  We work out regularly, but some of those muscles just don’t get used that much.  I mean, your hip flexors only get so much attention in everyday life.

Of course that night, as we were lying in bed recounting our recollections of the previous night we found ourselves so turned on that we threw that plan out the window.  The energy of that night alone carried us through the next several weeks.  Anytime we talked about it, we had to have each other.  Needless to say, we enjoy a MFM threesome.

This year, near the one year anniversary of our first threesome, we had another threesome with Big Dog.  One year later it was just as fun.  In fact, there was a familiarity that made it even more comfortable.  We have also had two threesomes with another male friend of ours.  The first one was really good, but the second one was awful.  Different story for a different time.

Between our two stints with Big Dog I also had the opportunity to be the third in a MFM threesome with a local couple.  It was a slightly different experience, but a lot of fun.  I took what I had learned from Big Dog to heart.  It was their first threesome experience and I knew they were nervous so I focused on their comfort and moving at their pace.  I also made sure to be completely respectful of the other man, because that was a courtesy extended to me by Big Dog that I really appreciated.  Ultimately it is only fun if everyone is comfortable, so communication and setting a reasonable pace is imperative.

If you have your own threesome experience or are planning one in the near future, or have additional questions about it, comment here!

Nothing like the first time

First day of school.  First friend.  First girlfriend or boyfriend.  First kiss.  First time having sex.  Everyone remembers their first time.  Our first experiences are memorable simply because they are our first.  Momentous.  Unique.  Special.

It stands to reason that our first time at the club should be no exception.  And it didn’t disappoint.

We decided on Halloween a few years ago.  We like to dress up, so finding costumes was fun.  That day we were busy wrapping up the kids’ sports seasons, so we really didn’t have time to think about it.  Then, we started driving.  About 30 minutes into our trek we looked at each other and said, “What in the hell are we doing?!?!”

It was surreal.  We had never done anything like this before.  We were nervous and yet excited.  We had no idea what to expect.

We stopped in Ft. Wayne, near our hotel, and bought some booze.  Some liquid courage was going to be necessary on this night.  We didn’t have time to hit the pool and relax, so Mrs. P started getting ready.  Hair.  Makeup.  Naughty underwear.  Revealing outfit.  My heart was racing by the time she finished.  Like every man, I showered, put on some boxer briefs, made sure I didn’t look too terrible and put on my costume.  We made our way to the lobby to wait on the shuttle that would take us to the club, trying to calm our nerves.

We immediately realized we weren’t alone.  Several other couples in various costumes were standing outside waiting as well.  We walked out and stood there in the line, trying to look calm and cool.

During our wait we met some of the other couples, who obviously already knew one another.  They were friendly, especially when they learned we were club virgins.  When the shuttle arrived we sat in the back looking like deer caught in headlights, I’m sure.  A comment of the sort may have even been uttered by a fellow passenger.

We arrived quite early and stood in line outside of the club.  One thing that really stood out was how many people already knew each other.  It became evident this was their usual haunt on the weekends, so it was merely friends getting together on a Saturday night.

I won’t go into too much detail about the club and the customs here in this blog.  I’ll save that for my review of Champagne.  But I will say that the decorating was amazing.  I can’t imagine the hours that went into decorating the club for that night.  We had been invited to sit with some of the regulars we were in line with, and we took them up on the offer.  They were friendly and introduced us to so many people.  Of course we immediately forgot names.  The experience was a bit overwhelming.

The club on that particular night was packed!  You could hardly walk for all the people in there.  Once the dance music started at 9pm, the dance floor quickly filled up and the action started.

Understand that I’m no dancer.  In fact, I had never grown out of my adolescent boy mindset of “I only slow dance”.  So we sat and watched quite a bit.  We mingled,  drank, mingled, visited the private rooms in the back, mingled, drank…you get the picture.  Mrs. P was approached by several men who wanted to talk to her.  All were very respectful.  In fact, one asked before putting his hand on her ass.  She consented, and he indulged.

At one point later in the evening she saw someone she was very interested in.  He stood out quite a bit, and she was too shy to approach him.  Finally I approached him and struck up a conversation.  I informed him of Mrs. P’s interest, and he immediately walked up to her and whisked her away.  I kept my distance so as not to cramp her style.  I did chat with a few women, but my club game was weak and I gained no traction. Within minutes Mrs. P and her new friend were making out on the dance floor.  It was the first time I had seen her kiss anyone else as our first foray into swinging had been strictly separate room.  The feeling it gave me was one of excitement mixed with a little bit of fear.  Excitement out of a feeling of compersion as I knew she had her eye on him the entire night, and fear because I wasn’t sure what I would do if she wanted to go into a back room with him.  I mean, this is what you’re supposed to do at the club, right?  But how would I handle it?

Ultimately I didn’t get to find out that night as she indicated after a while that she was ready to leave.  Her friend was chatting with some other revelers and she was feeling the copious amounts of alcohol we had consumed that evening.  We caught the first shuttle back to the hotel, and then worked out the sexual tension we had been building all night.

The next morning we got up, ate breakfast, hit the pool, and reflected on the previous evening on our drive home.  Our overall impression was that we had found our place, and our people.  It was liberating, exciting, taboo and mostly just fun!  We had seen so many interesting things.  Talked to so many interesting people.  And it was so validating to be able to be ourselves in public.  No judgment.  No shame.  No worrying about what other might think.  We decided that club life was definitely for us.  We couldn’t wait to go back.

Now it bears mentioning that our second visit to the club was a very different experience.  The crowd was very small.  The atmosphere was much more subdued.  And we had a friend along.  But that is another story for another time.  If you are looking to meet people and find websites tedious and unrewarding, then we highly suggest finding a club and checking it out.

In the Club

So you’ve exhausted the swinger sites, maybe cast your line on OK Cupid, Craigslist, Meet Mindful, Adult Friend Finder, or any of the myriad online resources available, and yet you still feel like there is more.  That there is some untapped resource out there just waiting for you to explore.  Well, you’re right.

Welcome to Adult Lifestyle Clubs, or swinger clubs if you prefer that title.  Call them whatever , but they are more common than you think.  If you live within an hour of a city, you are within an hour of a lifestyle club.  And when you are in the Midwest, a city is usually within an hour drive.

After we had experienced our epic failure during our first attempt at swinging, and tried in vain to find something on SLS, we started talking about the possibility of going to a club.  I only knew about them because of the banner ads that appeared on SLS.  We agreed it sounded interesting, but what an intimidating prospect.  We had never experienced anything like it.  What should we expect?

We let that rest for over a year.  Life got busy, we stumbled through a second round with the couple featured in our first failed endeavor (round 2 was an even bigger failure) and found ourselves still standing in the same place.  So, either out of frustration or desperation, I’m not sure which, we started really looking hard at the club scene.  We had read quite a bit about Club Princeton in Columbus, Ohio.  We did a little research and it seemed nice enough, but how could we really know?  It was then that we met a woman in a nearby town on SLS.  While chatting she told us about a club she liked to frequent in Ft. Wayne, Indiana.  She also told us about an upcoming party called the All White Affair.  We decided that it would be perfect for our first time at a club.  However, Mrs. P suffered an injury in a fall while hiking literally a week before the party, and we were benched.  The club would have to wait.

We do a fair amount of travelling in the summer, so summer was out.  With kids in sports falls are equally as bad.  Next thing we knew, it was late October and we still had no plans, and no prospects.  At that point our friend mentioned the Halloween party at The Champagne Club in Ft. Wayne, IN.  This was it!  We decided that this would be the perfect time to go.  We were excited, nervous for sure, and a little apprehensive.  Would people be friendly?  Aggressive?  Would we feel out of place?  Would I stand back, completely ignored, while men threw themselves at Mrs. P?  Were we making a terrible mistake?  Would there be someone there we knew from our vanilla life, essentially outing us?  We had no idea.

I won’t go into details in this particular post, because I intend to do a review of The Champagne Club, now simply called Champagne, in the near future.  But I can tell you that we had a blast our first night.  It was incredibly crowded.  The costumes people wore were insane.  And we met a man who ultimately ended up playing a part in our first, and most recent, threesomes.  All in all, we liked the atmosphere and the people.  But it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows.  As with all things, there is a learning curve to going to the club.  A topic that I’ll discuss separately from the review as well.

If you have a curiosity about the club scene you should definitely check it out.  Our experiences have been limited to one club, but by doing this blog we realize that we need to expand our horizons so we have something to blog about.  Perfect motivation to branch out!  And we intend to do that soon.