Monogamish?

I spent several years listening to Dan Savage give the sage advice to callers that sometimes, they just have to pay a price of admission – AKA, not getting everything they want in a relationship – in order to maintain it.  Every time I heard him say this, I always thought, “Phew!  Glad it’s not me calling in – what a conundrum!”  I was never much for compromise.  If a partner wanted me to make a serious compromise to my needs and desires, I’d just let them go in search of more compatible partners.

Partners. After resisting the label of polyamory for a couple of years – I always insisted that I was barely amorous, so I couldn’t be polyamorous – I fell recklessly in love and realized that not only do I have the capability to love deeply, but that allowing myself the authenticity to explore the possibilities of multiple relationships at once makes me really happy.  I moved from calling myself non-monogamous to calling myself polyamorous, and it felt right.  It still feels right.

My people are perverts and hippies; I surround myself with sex nerds and intentionally choose to date other poly people – or at least, I used to.

The Engineer was supposed to be a one-night stand.  I didn’t expect him to ask me to spend a second night with him – let alone the whole day.  I didn’t expect him to uproot his travel plans to follow me into another country.  I didn’t expect him to uproot them yet again to meet me for two weeks at the end of my trip last year – and I certainly didn’t think on that night we met in Rwanda a year and a half ago that someday down the road, I’d want to move to another country and start my life over again to be with him.  But I do.  His emotional intelligence, his honesty, his generosity, his loving nature, and his willingness to adventure with me blow me away.  Just when I think he can’t be a more amazing partner, he shows up at my door wearing a tux a week before he’s supposed to get here.  Just when I think I can’t possibly feel any more deeply cared for, he learns how to play our song on the piano and makes a video of it for my birthday.  True story!

He prioritizes me and makes me feel valued in a way I’ve always done for other partners.  He means what he says, keeps his word, and intentionally makes time for me.  My relationship with him is one which is worth compromising for.

I knew The Engineer was monogamous when we first met – but because I didn’t think it was going to be more than a travel fling, I didn’t think of that as a deal-breaker.  Even during our first full week together when we were telling people at our guesthouse that we were on our honeymoon, I just brushed it off.  Now, on our way to two years in, it feels like a big deal.  As we’re long distance, we’ve come to an uneasy negotiation about being monogamish.  And when I say “we,” I mean me.  I’m okay with him sleeping with other women.  He’s pretty uncomfortable with the idea of me hooking up.

So I haven’t.  Still – I need to know that it’s not an instant deal-breaker if I meet someone at a bar and want to bang them or develop a crush on someone.  I need to be able to tell my partner when I experience those things without worrying that it’s going to destroy our relationship.  In my early twenties, I cheated on / broke up with a few partners because I developed feelings for other people while in the relationship, and I didn’t think I had any choice other than cheating or breaking up.

I know better now.  Here’s the weird part, though: I’d started thinking that because of my past experiences, a monogamous relationship would never work for me.  I thought that this would be harder, but the fact that both of us have been honest about what we want from the get-go and that we check in about it frequently makes it feel good.  The fact that I’m choosing to be with a monogamous partner who knows I’d prefer not to be feels better than trying to be monogamous because it’s what I think is expected of me.  And maybe I’m actually ambiamorous, much like I’m bisexual: Floating somewhere in the middle, enjoying all the things.

Since I’ve met The Engineer, I’ve had a couple of sexy hankerings and even a genuine crush, but no feelings that I’ve really wanted to pursue.  I haven’t experienced any of the FOMO that I thought I might.  Then again – perhaps I’m being naïve and all of this will change when / if I do meet someone else I develop a romantic attachment to.  Or when / if he does. Only time will tell, I guess – but the same can be said for default mono relationships.  The important thing is that we keep talking and acknowledging that while we may not be the most perfectly compatible partners, there are things that both of us are willing to compromise on to make this work – because holy shit, is it worth it.

We’re planning on visiting a sex club together in January and talking about exploring threesomes (yea!!!) – but for right now, in this moment, I’m quite happy snuggling up at night and whispering “I love you, my nest” into the phone, looking forward to the next time that I get to feel his arms wrapped tight around me.  And then fantasizing about riding him while another woman sits on his face.

Don’t Move

“Don’t make a sound, and don’t move” said The Texan as he covered my mouth.  He had been fondling me; feeling my nipples stiffen underneath my tank top and hearing my breath start to beat staccato, he must have known that I was awake.  His hard cock pressed into my back, and I ground my ass back against it, making the smallest nodding motion with my head.  Spooned close to me, he slid his right hand down the back of my blue lace knickers and breathed heavily into my hair when he felt how gushingly wet I was.  He pushed my panties down with that hand and rubbed my juices around my vulva, then smeared the rest on his cock before sliding it through my thighs and along my labia, teasing me.  My body tensed; I longed to whimper, to beg, but all I could do was gyrate and dig my fingers into his leg, willing him to penetrate me.

My body quivering, I tightened my muscles and remained as still as I could on my side as he pushed the head of his cock past my opening, pulled it back out a bit to wet it, and drove back in, little by little, until I could feel the ridge of his foreskin riding along my anterior wall.  I pressed back against him and angled my arm back to hold onto his ass, and he thrust into me in subtle movements – enough for both of us to feel the electricity pass between us, but not enough to shake the bed with any discernible noise.  Certainly not with the gusto we were used to fucking with.  Afraid to roll forward onto his sleeping wife, I held my breath, bit my lip, gripped him with the intensity of a rock climber, and came silently in ripples of intense pleasure.  Not long after, he gushed into me, pulling my body tight against his, and bit my shoulder just the way I liked.  He pulled out, leaving a trail of his come along my ass, and pulled my panties up.  “I want you to sleep like this,” he whispered, and cupped my crotch with his hand.  His spunk squirted onto the inside of my knickers; it was so uncomfortable and SO arousing.

I lay there until I couldn’t stand the squishy feeling anymore; getting up to wipe myself, I disturbed his wife, who wanted us to move around so she could cuddle him.  He moved into the middle, and I took one side.  We were all still drunk from several bottles of wine, so falling back into a deep sleep was easy; I remained so for a few more hours, until I awoke to feel him masterfully stroking my thighs.  I turned over to kiss him and stroke his cock – long, deep kisses, long, slow strokes.  I desperately wanted him inside me again; I had never felt so insatiable.  I knew he was feeling the same when he put a finger to my lips.  This time, the expression in his eyes was all it took to tell me not to move, and I understood.  Without a word, I turned back over, and tracing a finger down my back, he yanked my panties down.  We started all over again.

This had been sitting in my drafts waiting to be published for aaaaages; this week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt “Continue” seemed like a good fit for it.  Also… it’s my 300th post!  Woohoo!

Second Time Around

When I was teaching in Korea, I noticed a large cultural difference in terms of how students would address creative questions.  This became very apparent when I asked my university students the following question:

“If you could travel back in time, when and where would you go?”

In the US, students might answer that they would go see ancient Egypt, dinosaurs in the Jurassic period, or Woodstock.  My Korean students, however, would always – without fail – tell me that they would revisit a time in their own life in order to change it (usually to study more or take a test over!) or return to an age when they had more free time.  It’s because of their answers that this idea popped into my head.

If I could go back in time, where and when would I go, professor?  That’s a hard question.  Maybe you want me to say something about some big historical event or a famous person I might meet, but to be frank, there are moments in my life I want to go back to.  Missed opportunities.  Moments of regret.  No, not the chance to study abroad or take more advanced classes.  The chance to have more lovers.  You’re blushing, professor.  No need; I am just answering your question.

Let me give you an example.  You always ask us to give examples to show our answers, right?  So here’s mine.  Last summer, I took a trip to Europe with Jun to celebrate our last year in university; you remember me talking about this before.  We were at a hof one night in Zurich talking to a small group of Swiss women; Jun wasn’t feeling well and went home early, but I stayed.  I was left with two women, both so beautiful.  They had shiny hair, soft skin, perfect teeth.  They were young like us, and we talked about the difficulties of expressing our thoughts in English.  Well, to make a long story short – we all drank many beers, and these girls started kissing each other.  I had never seen that before; there are gays here, but they hide.  I watched them, so surprised – and so… well, it was exciting.

One of them took my hand and leaned in to my ear; she asked if I would come back to their apartment with them.  I had never done sex with one person, and here were two girls asking me to come with them!  Professor, I was so scared that I couldn’t.  I was afraid that I would be bad at it.  That they would laugh at me.  Now, I regret that.  So to answer your question, professor, if I could go back in time, I would say to those two Swiss women, “Yes.  I will come with you.  But I am inexperienced, and I need guidance.”  They would say to me, “Yes, we will help you.”  They would take me home and teach me everything.

I would give them as much pleasure as they wanted, and I would touch them the way they wanted me to touch them.  I would lie back and let them touch me and kiss me, wondering about my luck.  I would have – what is the expression you taught us? – seized the day.  Professor, I don’t want to say too much, because you seem uncomfortable.  But in my mind, I live that night every night.  If I had a time machine, I would make a girlfriend in my first year instead of getting high test scores.  I would kiss many girls on my trip.  And I would enjoy my time with the two women I dream about every night.

Winter Wonderland

Alex pushed her front door open, the cold air blowing porch snow in around her ankles.  She banged her Docs against the step to knock the packed snow out of her boots and hurried inside; Jen followed close behind her, wrapping her arms around her lover’s waist.  They were flushed from one too many cocktails, from stumbling home over half-shoveled sidewalks, from the conversation they’d had on the way.

It was Jen who’d seen her first.  Who had watched her, gliding like an angel toward a pool table, the yellow bar lights swimming around her closely-cropped honey hair adding to the effect.  She stared at the woman’s shoulders, pulled back in confidence – her smile, gleaming and glorious – the ease with which she pushed the cue stick through her hooked index finger as she bent over the green felt, a bit of cleavage poking out of a tight white button-down shirt.  After a minute of trying to get Jen’s attention and being unsuccessful, Alex had followed her gaze over to the beautiful stranger, now shaking hands with the loser of the game.  She leaned into Jen’s ear and whispered, “She’s a looker, huh?”  Jen, still in her reverie, just replied with an “Mmm.”  Their stare lingered a minute longer before Alex said, “Babe? She’s fine as hell, but now we’re just being creepy.”  That was enough to get Jen to laugh and break the spell.  Jen turned toward Alex, cupped her face, and kissed her full on the lips, trailing a hand down between Alex’s breasts.  “Let’s go home,” she said.

On the walk home, past lit-up duplexes and technically-illegal-but-still-used parking chairs, Jen dropped the question into the snowy silence around them: “So hey, babe.  Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have a threesome?  I mean… just wondered, you know?” Alex smiled.  “You mean with someone like the woman you were just stalking?” she asked.  “Well – yeah,” replied Jen.  “I mean, she was hot, right?  What would you think about bringing someone else in just for a night?  Just to see what it was like?”  “I think that I’d like to think about it,” replied Alex.  “For now, let’s just focus on getting home!”  The wind swirled and howled around them, flinging flurries this way and that.  They quickened their pace.

Once they were in, coats, hats, mittens, and scarves lying on a pile on the couch, Alex turned on her electric fireplace; they put a few blankets and pillows on the floor and lay down in front of it, snuggling close together to get warm.  After a couple of minutes of staring into the electric blaze, Alex brought up their prior conversation.  “So – if we were to have this hypothetical threesome, what would you want it to look like?”  Jen felt her pulse quicken and her cunt warm.  She turned to look at Alex.  “You mean, what would I want to happen?”  “Yeah,” replied Al.  “What would you want to do with her?  With me?  Would you want to watch, or be watched?  How involved would you want her to be?”

“Hypothetically?” Jen asked.  Alex nodded.  “I’d want you to direct the scene.  I’d want to start out with the two of you taking my clothes off, then you telling her what you want to see.”  “And what do I want to see?” Alex asked with a mischievous grin.  “You want to see her warm me up.  You want to see her lap at my nipples until I’m begging to have the rest of my body touched.  You want to see her caress my inner thighs, teasing me until there’s a stream of fluid running down my pussy because I’m so turned on.  You want to see her graze my outer labia, making my heart pound, and then lick my clit just once so I’m trembling all over – and then you kiss her so you can taste me on her tongue.”   

“Like this?” Alex asked, pulling Jen’s leggings and boy shorts down, spreading her legs just enough, and lapping once over the inside of Jen’s labia and up over her clit before kissing her.  She loved the lemondrop taste of Jen’s cunt.  Jen closed her eyes and breathed shallow breaths, letting her body take over.  She continued talking as Alex continued to taste her: “You lick me slowly and steadily until I come in your mouth, and then you tell her that I’m hers to fuck; she leaves on a tank top, her nipples hard underneath it, and puts on a leather-harnessed strap-on.  She puts a pillow under my ass and works her cock inside of me, rhythmically pumping; while she’s doing that, you hover over me, kissing her.  Long kisses.  I struggle to crane my neck up enough to run my tongue along you, but you… won…” Jen gasped, groaned, bucked her hips up to Alex’s waiting mouth, and finished – “’t let me.”  She collapsed, hoarse moans escaping her.  “I can feel the heat of your cunt on my face; I can’t reach it with my mouth, so I slide one finger inside, then two.  I run them along my lips, making them sticky with your juices, and suck them clean.  You stand up while I’m shuddering from being fucked and walk around to the back of her, sliding one hand up the front of her shirt to gently pinch her nipple and massage her vulva with the other hand until she’s too close to coming to keep fucking me.”

“Then what?” Alex asked, now sliding her fingers in and out of Jen’s cunt, curving her hand so that her heel would rub against Jen’s clit.  “I told you -” said Jen, a dreamy smile on her face – “you’re directing the scene.”  Alex leaned in and kissed her before whispering, “But you’re the one with the imagination.  Babe, you have the sexiest brain of any girl I know.”  “Thanks, love,” she replied, pulling in Alex for another kiss.  “Let’s talk more realistically about this when we’re sober; for now, I just want to feel you all over me.” “Done,” said Al, pressing her whole weight into Jen, hot now under the blazing light of the fire.

 

 

Inspired by the following lyrics from “Winter Wonderland” (which I know isn’t technically a carol, but it popped into my head!):

Later on, we’ll conspire as we dream by the fire

To face unafraid the plans that we made,

Walking in a winter wonderland

Happy Endings (NSFR)

I

We’re the first ones to arrive at the club; it’s wide open, with tons of couches and tables scattered across a huge, darkly lit room.  There’s a costume closet with a bunch of dresses and shirts and a few toys in it – one small flogger, a long leather paddle, a dildo.  We settle into a “room” adjoining the main area; I’m using quotation marks here because instead of walls, there are just metal bars separating these spaces.  Nowhere to hide.  I was putting off coming here for months because I felt a little shy, but now that I’m here, it feels comfortable.  A little dungeon-y.

Shortly after we open our bottle of Jack and pour ourselves small cocktails (swinger’s clubs in Korea require the purchase of bottle service for entry), we look around more.  I see a large swinging hook hanging from the ceiling; I grab the rope I brought with me and tie myself up to it, asking my playmates to grab that paddle and hit me with it; they gladly oblige.  Soon another couple comes up and asks if they can spank me, too; yes, I say, delighted!  Actually, one of them started fondling me without asking first – a common occurrence at this place.  I had to tell two people (in a language I’m not fluent in) that night to ask before touching.

We’re the first ones to have sex that night; I’m riding him and she’s sitting on his face and she and I are making out, and suddenly I look over to see that everyone in the room is intently staring at us.  It doesn’t bother me because I’m in the sex haze where nothing else matters but my orgasms.  Enjoy, I think, just don’t interrupt me while I’m coming.

II

A beautiful young woman comes over to play at some point while I’m being fucked from behind with a strap-on by the woman I came with (her first time using one!); the owner had whispered to us when we first saw her that she was a lesbian and wanted to play with women.  Whispered it because same-sex play is relatively uncommon in Korean clubs.

She looks like a real doll.  Like a straight man’s fantasy.  Perfect skin, fake breasts on a tiny frame, false eyelashes, long hair.  She’d come with a much older man but wasn’t really playing with him; he followed her everywhere she went, but I didn’t see him interacting with another person until the end of the night, when most people were drunk.

I was already on my hands and knees; she asked my friend if she could play, which got relayed to me; I answered with a resounding yes.  She kneeled behind me and started licking me.  At some point she started rimming me; afraid she would start licking my vulva again afterward, I stopped her (I’d already had to explain to the friend I came with that you can’t do that; she had no idea!) and asked her to lie on her back.  I started sliding my hand up and down her labia, smiling at her, before sliding a finger inside and asking her which spot she preferred I concentrate on.  I eventually worked up to three fingers, pushing into her G-spot with a steady rhythm; I suddenly felt a rush of liquid gushing into my hand.  I looked more closely and saw that the tissues around her urethra were so engorged that it looked like the head of a penis!  I stopped momentarily, a bit shocked, and everyone around me shouted, “No, keep going!”  Soon there was a flood pouring out of her and onto the floor around her, jets of ejaculate flying onto my dress. It. Was. Amazing.  It was my first time seeing a woman ejaculate, and it truly felt like a miracle!  I high fived her as my friends went to grab a sheet to mop everything up.  “Kiss me,” she said in a small voice, and not being one to deny someone so lovely, I leaned in and brushed my lips on hers.  They felt like petals.

III

I start fucking this guy, straddling him, and I keep trying to take his shirt off; he keeps pushing it down.  When I take my dress off to reveal a completely nude Jo, I hear an audible gasp from several people in the room.  I look around, and everyone – even mid-orgy – is wearing a shirt of some kind.  Mostly button-down men’s shirts.  Doesn’t quite seem the place to be modest, I think, but I come from a completely different culture.  What do I know?

IV

Because one of the friends I came with is a marine and there’s a military curfew, we have to stay out ‘til 5:00 AM.  Around 3:30, I feel totally exhausted and just want to go – until a Danish woman and French man come over and sit with us.  They’re coworkers.  Not sure how the lifestyle came up in work conversation!  I tie her up and we take turns spanking her; I take her down and she hops onto her coworker.  It’s so hot it makes my jaw drop – he’s holding her up, his back against a wall, bouncing her on his dick.  I teach the marine how to tie a dragonfly harness; he ties me up, grabs a spreader bar upon my request, and locks my ankles into it.  The Europeans are taking a break, so I look over at the French guy and ask politely if he’ll bend me over and fuck me while I suck the marine’s cock; he gladly does.  It’s hard to get into a rhythm, but I’m having the time of my life being pushed back and forth by two dicks, precariously balanced.  While this is happening, the woman I came with starts spanking me, and the Danish woman whispers in my ear, “You’re such a good English teacher!  You take his cock so well!”  I come in waves, pleasure undulating through my body, satiated with the rapture of having a long-standing desire fulfilled.

I just think: Thank gods for the military curfew.  We eventually clean up and leave at 5:00 to get pho across the street, drained and content and maybe a little sore, looking forward to a long morning of deep sleep.

Neigh!

I. Love. Being. A. Unicorn.

Not a polyamory unicorn – to that I say, Oh HELL To The No.  No one hands an OPP down to this gal.  I love being a one-night stand threesome unicorn – a magical woman who for one inspiring night can spice up the sex lives of a couple who has been together for a long time with a little bit of novelty.  I love seeing people in couples watch each other as they’re playing with someone else – that particular facial expression that’s a mixture of arousal and love. Playing with a couple who has never had a threesome but has always fantasized about it is an intense and exciting experience – their joy and enthusiasm literally rubs off on me.

I love hearing, “Fuck, this is hot!” from a man (wish I could say I’d experienced a threesome with two other women – but, you know, bucket list) as he’s fucking his wife from behind, watching his own cock thrust into her while also watching her going down on me – seeing my face flushed, eyes closed, moaning, feeling every centimeter of her tongue on my vulva.  I also love hearing, “Fuck, this is hot!” from a woman as she’s furiously masturbating while watching her boyfriend pound me hard, hand gripping my hair tight as he can, feeling my cunt clench around him while I’m staring at how beautiful she looks in her shiny sex glow.  I love sitting on a man’s face while making out with his girlfriend while she’s riding his cock… and no one can say, “Fuck, this is hot,” ‘cause all our mouths are busy.  It’s truly the best thing ever.

I know there are million couples looking for a third to fulfill their fantasy; thought it might be helpful to see what someone who loves doing this and has sifted through a LOT of threesome posts looks for in a post:

1)      The couple has been together for a long time. To me, this signifies a likelihood that they really care about each other’s well-being and safety.  I prefer married couples for this reason.

2)      The post is well-written (I.e., no text slang), and the couple actually says something about who they are and what their interests are.

3)      There’s an emphasis on the woman’s pleasure if it’s a hetero couple.  Bonus if a man is writing it and says something along the lines of, “This is for her – I’ll be there watching and would be happy to join if that’s something you’re comfortable with.”  EXTRA HUGE bonus if a woman wrote the post.

4)      There are no pictures or descriptions of genitals.  This is totally a personal preference, but I don’t give a shit how hung you are or how nice your ass is if you don’t know how to use your words.  When a couple sends me (hopefully recent) photos, what I really want to see is their faces.  

5)      They’re taking time to look for someone who fits their needs and respects their boundaries (which says that they are okay with me taking time to find someone who fits my needs and respects my boundaries).  Any post that says, “Looking for someone tonight” is a red flag to me.  They want to meet their potential third in a public place first to get to know that person and say there’s no pressure to hook up if there’s no chemistry. 

6)      Along the same lines, they are open to some email correspondence and conversation beforehand to talk about things like logistics, barriers, STI testing, etc.

If you’re looking for a bisexual lady threesome unicorn, here are some places you can look!

• A paid site like Adult Friend Finder, Kasidie, or any number of other swinger dating sites
• Good old Craigslist.  People knock CL, but I love it.  I have met some wonderfully genuine, fun, and hot people on CL.
• The relatively new 3inder app
• OKC (apparently you can sign up as a couple?)
• FetLife 
• Your friends!  I know so many couples with whom I would love to have a threesome.  Unfortunately for me, the couples I want to bang usually say no because one of them isn’t into it, and I haven’t been attracted to the friends who wanted me to be their third.  

This was originally meant to be a post about fantasy threesomes with famous couples (I’m looking at you, Penelope Cruz and Javier Bardem), but sometimes posts have a tendency to morph into something else entirely.  Do any of you have fantasies about threesomes with famous couples?

 

The Old College Try (NSFR)

When I was a sophomore in university, a bunch of my girlfriends and I decided to rent a Motel 6 room just outside of town one Friday night and get completely wasted.  Why?  Because college, dammit, that’s why!  We piled a couple of cars full of vodka, mixers, cigarettes, and a big-ass boom box (remember those?), then headed into the suburbs to the seediest motel chain in all of the US. 

Shortly after dropping our stuff in the room, we turned on some pop music, ordered pizza, poured drinks, and started dancing on the beds.  I’m sure we were pretty loud, but there didn’t seem to be many people in the hotel; no one was complaining.  On the contrary – we caught the attention of a middle-aged man down the hall who was moving into our college town.  He decided to bring his beer over and drink with us; despite it being a girls’ night out, we welcomed him. 

This was years ago, so I can’t remember any of our conversation (if I’m being honest, I probably didn’t remember it the next day), but I know we had a great time. After binge-drinking vodka cranberries and chain smoking Camels, having hilarious conversations, and engaging in a straight-outta-slumber-party-porn pillow fight, the nice man – let’s call him Tom – went back to his room, and we turned out the lights and crawled into bed.  Two minutes later, out of the darkness came, “So – who wants to go fuck Tom with me?”  “I do!”  I piped up.  My friend Jo and I (that’s right, folks – my first threesome was with someone who has the same name as me, though she went by the nickname Creamy at the time) ran to the vending machine in our PJs and bought condoms, then sauntered over to Tom’s room and knocked on his door. 

“Mind if we come in?” we asked when he opened.  Astonished, he opened the door and motioned us in with a sweep of his arm.  We didn’t bother saying anything; we just started taking off his clothes and pushed him down on the bed.  I wish I could tell you all the sordid details of what happened that night, but it’s all a blur (thanks a lot, vodka).  I remember making out with her; making out with Tom; both of us going down on him at the same time; us going down on each other; all of us taking a shower together; and most memorably, Tom getting whiskey dick when the time came for penetrative sex.  He was alright getting started, but then it would inevitably and quickly deflate.  We tried everything we could think of; we did everything he could think of – but to no avail.  I felt so bad for that guy.  Not because not having an erection is a bad thing – it’s absolutely not (triple negative ninja in the house!). I’ve had a million super-hot experiences with guys that didn’t involve their dicks.  But how often do two college girls come to your hotel room asking you to fuck them? 

This happened when I was twenty; I was relatively inexperienced and uneducated in the realm of sexuality, so I was definitely not having the “sex isn’t about penetration or orgasm” conversation.  It was more like, “Well, we tried to bang and it didn’t work, so guess that’s over.”  Looking back, I want a do-over.  I want to tell that guy: Let’s play. Let’s all touch each other til we’re quivering.  Let’s lick and stroke and explore each other’s bodies, one part at a time, and enjoy every moment for what it is.  Let’s make this about being sensual rather than trying to make it a porn.   

In any case, it was fun to head back into the city and have this conversation with classmates on Monday: “What did you do this weekend?”  “I had a threesome with a stranger in a Motel 6.  You?” I never had much of a filter. 

If you want something done right… (and another PSA)

Did you know that Craigslist is still a thing?  I didn’t until a couple of months ago, when a friend was telling me that he was looking for some NSA action, and I jokingly suggested he post on Craigslist.  And then I became curious.  Do people still use Craigslist?  I mean, when I lived in the States, I used it for everything: finding work, shared rides, buying and selling everything I owned.  However, since I’ve been in Korea, I haven’t given it a thought. 

So I hazarded my way into the dark forest of the Craigslist personal ads (if Craigslist were Middle Earth, the personal ads would totally be Mirkwood), and what stood out most was that there are SO MANY PEOPLE looking for elusive unicorns.  Which is what you’d expect in a fantasy forest, I guess. 

Most of the ads were easy to laugh at:
Subject: hot lady wanted 4 3some
Message Body: American guy 5’11” 180 and sexy Korean girl looking for another girl to join us in the bedroom… if ur a bi girl message me we can have some fun this week.  Ttyl

A couple ads, though, intrigued me; they were actually written with sentences (and whole words), and the people writing seemed to be genuine and smart.  So I thought: Yeah, okay.  Why not?  But here’s the thing: In order to have sex with someone (consensually and while sober), you generally want to be attracted to that person.  Unfortunately, not all of us find everyone else attractive.

I messaged a couple with my picture, and they sent back pictures of themselves.  While I found the woman attractive, I didn’t find the man attractive at all.  Our timing happened to not work out, so that was fine.  I emailed a woman with my picture, and she sent a picture back; her listed age said 35, but she looked much older and wore really heavy makeup.  That’s a no go.  I emailed another couple, and this was the worst: the guy responded without a picture; he told me that because they were both married, but not to each other, he didn’t want to send a photo of his face… but he would send naked pictures of himself “posing” if I wanted that.  Also, he said, if his lady friend couldn’t meet with us, he’d be happy to meet me alone and I could “make [him my] bitch” and later asked if I were into water sports and cross dressing.  No thank you, sir.*  He wouldn’t even sign a name; he just wrote an initial.  Yikes.  I mean, I get the need for privacy; I’m an intensely private person.  But someone who’s not willing to send me a picture of his / her face is someone I feel uncomfortable meeting in person.

Which brings me to Teachers Have Sex Public Service Announcement, Part II

Dear straight guys posting personal ads and creating profiles on dating websites:

I’m not quite sure where your extremely confident belief that every woman has a burning desire to see you naked comes from (probably from the same place that makes you hit on women on the bus), but it’s obviously there.  I get it — you think that your cock is the cock to end all cocks.  However, not everyone can be the Cock King, so chances are that shit is pretty average.  So for god’s sake, stop posting and sending naked photos.  No one wants to see that as their first image of you (okay, not *no* one — I certainly can’t speak for everyone).  In general, however, women do not look at dick pics and say to themselves, “Wow — what a handsome penis!  I’d sure like to have sex with the man who’s carrying that around!”  Women all over the internet have, however, seen a picture of the beautiful face of a convicted felon and lost their shit, saying things like, “Hell YES.  I would love to fuck that guy.  Weapons possession, gang activity, and armed robbery?  Doesn’t matter — look at those pretty eyes!”  For real.   

Anyway, I decided that if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.  I put up my own very specific posting in the women for women section, and while I did get a couple of unsolicited responses from men (happens every time), I also got a few really lovely replies written in whole sentences with face pictures attached.  Hot.  Craigslist is still thriving, people.  Get your NSA on.            

 
*Not unless I’m getting paid for it!  I did direct him to FetLife, where I thought he might be able to find a more suitable match than he could on Craigslist. 

PSA for Men

The night started out so well.  I had an hour-long conversation with a good (male) friend about sex, love and relationships.  It was insightful and we spoke with consideration.  I was feeling pretty good, and then just after midnight I got hit with a cocknado that left me feeling the need to write a PSA.  

Incident #1:  I ran into a guy that I’ve met a few times.  We’ve always gotten on really well, had good conversations, and laughed our asses off when we see each other.  The last time we were in a bar talking, I was flirting with him a little bit, and he suggested we have a fling.  I found the idea intriguing and told him as much; we shook on it, texted  each other with a fun goodnight note later that night, and left it there.  You can imagine my are-you-fucking-kidding-me? face last night when I saw him and gave him a warm hello, and he couldn’t remember my name.  “It starts with an… wait, I know this.”  Boner lost.  I wouldn’t tell him; he looked it up on his phone and then tried to hit on me later a few beers in. 

Incident #2  A male friend of mine accidentally spills beer on me; he says, “Oh, let me dry that off for you,” and starts patting my breast, laughing.  Of all the these incidents, this one actually bothered me the least because I know this guy really well.  We’ve been friends for years, and he did it without any sexual implication.  I laughed pretty hard, but I have some female friends who would have been horrified by this. 

Incident #3 Another male friend of mine calls me over to the bar – “Jo,” he says, his words slurring, his eyes glassy.  “I need to talk to you.”  This should be hilarious, I think, and wander over to the bar to talk.  He then proceeds to tell me that he really likes how honest I am about everything, and how open I am about sexuality, and how he really likes me, and then starts saying how I need to meet his girlfriend because she would really like me too, so I just need to talk to her, right?  Because she really likes girls.  THEN he starts telling me how they each made a list of people that “would be good” and I’m at the top of his list.  (Wow!  Congratulations to me!)  He’s hemming and hawing without ever actually saying what he wants to say, so I ask him: “Are you asking me to have a threesome with you and your girlfriend?”  He doesn’t answer me directly, just starts talking again about how his girlfriend is really into girls and I should really talk to her, because he really likes me and I would be perfect.  I then tell him that I think we should carry on this conversation when he’s sober; that I have good advice to give him if he and his girlfriend are looking to open up their relationship or experiment, but that right now we can’t have a real conversation about it because he’s so shit-faced.  “Am I drunk?” he asks.  Yes.  Yes, you are drunk.  I then proceed to tell him that by the way, I have no interest in fucking him and his girlfriend since I know them and see them all the time.  I try not to fuck where I eat.  He looks pretty shocked by this piece of information, so I then say: “You know that in order to have sex with someone, you need their consent, right?  Well, you don’t have mine.”  At this point, his girlfriend comes over and tells him she’s going home.  I tell him he should go home with her and sleep it off, but he stays at the bar while she leaves, obviously upset.  Two things about this scenario blow my mind: One, that this guy seems to have decided all on his own that I was going to sleep with him and his girlfriend and then told his girlfriend this while obliterated, which is the WORST IDEA EVER.  Two, that he presented it to me as though it were a gift.  Like, “We want to have a threesome, and we choose you!”  Like I’m a fucking Pokemon.  Like I’m supposed to be honored because I have the opportunity to fuck him.   

Incident #4:  This guy who I’ve seen at the bar a bunch of times (and who’s hit on me a couple of times, in the midst of hitting on all the other women there) comes over in the middle of a conversation and grabs my arm to look at a tattoo.  He then touches another tattoo on my body and says, “Oh, I really like this.  Where are you from?”  I answer, but I give him a look that says Why-the-fuck-are-you-interrupting-my-conversation? and look back at the person I was talking to.  He asks another question, which I answer curtly, and he gets it; he walks away.  Later on that night, as I’m leaving the bar, he grabs my arm, pulls me over and says, “Hey, do you have Kakao?”  “Nope,” I say.  This is an honest answer.  I don’t.  “Facebook?” he asks.  “Nope,” I say.  “I want to have dinner with you,” he says.  “Can I have your phone number?”  No, I tell him.  He looks confused, so I continue: “You’re a man in a bar who’s hitting on me.  I don’t know you.  So — no.”  He actually asks me to repeat this, which I do, slowly.  “No offense to you,” I say.  He nods, and I walk away.

Incident #5:  I go into the smoking room to have a cigarette; I ask a friend for one, which he gladly gives me.  The guy next to him says, “You have to show us your tits if you want one.”  I hand the cigarette back and say I don’t need it.  He then says, “I was just kidding.”  “Yeah,” I say.  “Sexual harassment is pretty funny.”  “I was joking,” he insists.  Whatever, dude.  I want to go into a whole rant about how comments like that promote rape culture and hurt men and women alike; how it’s comments like that that serve as a catalyst for a privileged twenty-something kid to say, “Women owe me sex by the very existence of their being and they’re not giving it to me, so I’m going to kill a bunch of them.”  But by that point in the night, I don’t want to talk any more.  I’d be pretty happy not to see a male-identified person for awhile, period. 

A Public Service Announcement from Teachers Have Sex:

1.  Just because I’m putting a P in my V now doesn’t mean that I want to fuck you.  I don’t. 
2.  Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean that you have the right to touch me.  I’m not public property.  In addition, just because I have a tattoo doesn’t give you express permission to touch me.
3.  Just because I’m bisexual doesn’t mean that I want to have threesomes (I mean, I do, but not with you). 
4.  If you’re interested in the idea of having a threesome with your girlfriend and another woman, you need to hash that shit out in several conversations before you start looking for a partner.  Following that, don’t make assumptions that any woman you happen to know is up for it. 
5.  Actually, here’s a general rule of thumb: Don’t make any assumptions.  Period.