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.



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