Even Freaks Have Standards!

It’s been a couple of months now since Smokedawg and I have embraced our kinks, desires and passions and it’s been a crazy ride! Yet in recent days it’s become clear that the dust is starting to settle—no more all night sessions, which I suspect at our age is good. Turns out when you are middle age with kids, jobs and all that jazz the body just does not like to stay up all night more nights that not.

We initially started this journey because of my desire to frankly fuck someone else, yet it’s become more about exploring kinks. Who knew that I, a type -A control freak, frankly, would enjoy being told what to do and even being manhandled? I never knew that side of me existed (well, I suppose I had an inkling), but it turns out nothing makes me hotter than a smack, a hand on the throat and well you can imagine the rest. Frankly I am interested in seeing if Smokedawg might move up to taking the control out of the bedroom, though that might be a while coming.

Yet despite all the fabulous play, I have still longed to date and maybe…just maybe…have another partner, or at the least a friend with fabulous benefits. Well, considering by day I have a nice respectable job, I can’t just post on Facebook “hey now I am looking to date.” I think our family, friends and worse yet my colleagues would be none-too-pleased. So I did what any self-respecting freak would do; I took to the interwebz looking for  passion.

People, it’s a fucking zoo out there! Mind you I have not looked for a date since Bill Clinton was in office and back then we didn’t have this nifty interwebz, oh no…you went out and found your dates the old-fashioned way. Sure you met a lot of creepers but something about having the initial interactions take place face-to-face meant you didn’t waste copious amounts of time emailing only to realize—fuck!—this person is a creeper.

So in my search for a potential new mate I signed up at sites like OK Cupid and Plentyoffish which I had been told were very poly-friendly. They may be, but clearly many of the humans there are short on reading comprehension skills based off the sheer volume of men trying to step out on their wives. As someone who is attempting to practice ethical non-monogamy, the idea of being with someone who is lying to their primary partner is a huge turn-off for me. Yeah, even us freaks have morals. Sorry, no, you married men, I have no desire to have someone’s wife tracking me down.

Next up, the folks who somehow equate being poly with being someone who is looking for hookups. Men, one-line sentences that mention sex are a great way to assure the only touch you will be feeling is that of your right hand massaging your penis. I don’t know you and no I don’t want to meet the first time to fuck you. If I had wanted that, gee I would be on Craigslist, plain and simple.

But my last pet peeve that has me almost reconsidering the poly approach is fellow poly folks who seem way too eager to become an instant relationship. Look, 15 to 16 shared messages does not mean I feel deep attraction to you, hell it means nothing only that the potential exists to perhaps meet one day. I know it’s hard out here for us poly folks but when you start telling me how giddy you are to meet me and start making plans for “us” well I start having flashbacks to Fatal Attraction and the pink flag suddenly turns a deep shade of red. One thing I have noticed in months of reading online is how so many poly folks end up in sad-sack situations, I think this is because it seems like once you take the step to actively be poly, there is a rush to secure another relationship. But why? Seriously, there is no rush, at least for me. I know that if and when I add another partner, there needs to be a deep connection and considering that I still am happily married to Smokedawg, I am not going to be rushing to do anything that jeopardizes that relationship and our family. So when I meet someone who seems overly needy, that signals to me that not all people who chose a poly path are coming at it from an emotionally healthy place.

For me, I don’t need a second partner, the one I have is perfectly fine and while I would like another one, if it doesn’t happen it’s not the end of the world. I hate to say this but I almost find myself thinking swingers seem more emotionally healthy than the poly folks I have met. I have also found myself wondering do other poly couples not talk about their dating with each other and give each other advice and tips? Seriously, if Smokedawg ever approached any woman the way I have been approached I would be mortified and frankly be reevaluating our relationship.

So look fellow freaks, kinksters and other sexually open-minded people, please don’t equate others willing to be sexually open and liberated as meaning we check our values and morals at the door because this kinkster most certainly does not!

 

New EdenCafe Article: So Many Labels, So Little Consensus

Some of my previous articles for EdenCafe were a bit heavy, I admit. Not without humor, but still covering some serious and controversial topics at times. This time, something a bit more self-exploratory in a light way, looking at how to present who I am in a confusing world of so many sexual identities.

The article is “So Many Labels, So Little Consensus” and it’s right here.

Hope you enjoy it, and please don’t hesitate to comment.

 

A Firmer Hand

Even before SepiaQueen and I embarked on this seemingly out-of-the-blue decision to open up our marriage, I knew my wife had needs that weren’t being met. Some of those needs were only vaguely expressed and seemed not to be critical. She had expressed a passing interest from time to time about watersports (of the golden-hued variety), she had expressed an interest in a three-way with me and another guy (something we never knew how to make happen, living in an area with a small enough population that it might get back to people with whom she had to work and who were conservative religious types), and she liked the occasional foodplay and light bondage (interests I shared and we indulged every once in a while).

I never liked that she had to put many of her sexual interests on hold. Although it was several years into our marriage that I admitted my smoking fetish to her, it was a kink that she was able to make happen for me. Rarely, but she could make it happen. She’s been a smoker most of her life and most of our marriage (a couple reasonably long-term quittings aside). It wasn’t something that other people might find out about or that would matter to them all that much if they did. But I always felt guilty that even though my fetish didn’t get met often for a long while, it did get some play.

I knew the guy-on-guy thing was important to her. The inability to make that happen may have been, in some small part, why my fetish didn’t get met except on special occasions, and I can’t say I blame her. I don’t think it was a conscious thing, but perhaps deep down, she rationed the satisfaction of my fetish because she knew hers wasn’t likely going to come to fruition.

So, when she brought up the idea of polyamory, and we began to look into that, and also to weigh the relative merits of swinging, which is related to being poly but not precisely the same, I was very happy. Finding a person could still be a challenge, but once we came to that agreement that we would open our marriage, SepiaQueen and I began to explore sites and blogs related to the poly and swinging lifestyles. We finally had a way to connect with people who could one day make her kinky desire a reality. That was a huge burden off both our shoulders. I haven’t been with a guy and her yet, but I am certain it will happen, and I’m glad for her sake and for my conscience. She’s even developed a curiosity about cuckolding with her deeper research into kink and online discussions with folks, so that could be interesting too.

That’s a long introduction to the point of this post, which is to talk about dominance. Male dominance specifically. More to the point, finding out how important that was to her as well, and how I could make that a reality for her as well.

There had been a couple times she had asked me to talk dirty to her during sex and take on a dominant role. That was never something that panned out all that well. I’m a “nice guy.” Calling a woman dirty names and being a little rough with her isn’t something that came naturally. So I didn’t do a very good job of it, and she didn’t ask me to try after a few lukewarm experiences with such roleplay.

Thank goodness for life giving second chances…

You see, with the opening of our marriage has come a veritable floodgate of sex (it’s tapered off a bit recently, but that probably won’t last). Even though we haven’t explored poly or swinging much yet, and haven’t actually had sex with anyone else, this journey has apparently thrown on all the kink switches. SepiaQueen and I have explored some kinks that we never did before (nipple clamping and golden showers, for example). Kinks we had explored before we are delving into with more gusto (including both of us becoming more enamored of the other’s kinks, both old and new). And I’m feeling more comfortable not only asking for what I need or initiating it, but also in taking on roles that made me uneasy before.

My wife, mere weeks ago, asked me to slap her around a bit. Oh, not the give-a-black-eye kind of hitting. Nor the leave-angry-and-vicious-red-welts-on-ass-thighs-and-back kind either. But my wife asked me to get a bit rougher with her, and cause her some pain, and use humiliating language, and take charge. Even to grab her by the throat and squeeze a little (though we’re not going for asphyxiation or physical damage).

It’s been eye-opening, to say the least. First off, I’ve taken to the role more easily than I would have thought. It’s not something that I expect to develop a strong taste for, though. If SepiaQueen wants to be dominated all the time by a guy, it’s going to have to be a guy other than me. I’m finding more comfort in the idea of me being the dom to her sub or the master to her slave, but it’s not something that fits me day-to-day. I’m not interested in a personality change this late in life and it would be too much work even if I were.

But I understand the need that my wife has. Much like businessmen who pay good money to have a domme crack the whip on them (often literally), my wife needs to let go and be told what to do at times. She’s been in control so much in life, and needing to be in charge…and her job requires her to lead…and being submissive is an escape from all that. But just as I can’t make myself a full-time dominant around the house, neither can I see her changing to become a meek submissive all the time when we’re at home. Just not who we are.

I do notice, however, it has helped me become more assertive during sex. I’ve generally been on top and usually in control of the lovemaking, because that’s how SepiaQueen prefers it (unless we’re in 69, when things are pretty equal) but I’ve always been gentle and often deferred to her. But recently, after making her come during some good fucking, I realized I wanted to get off, and we weren’t using any kind of birth control. So I pulled out and jacked off for a few moments until I came all over her belly. That may sound vanilla to many of you, but it’s something I wouldn’t have done before. I might have asked her, or perhaps casually started playing with her ass and sliding up between her cheeks to see if she’d be willing to let me come on her ass…or I would have gone without coming and jacked off later.

But to simply make the decision that I was going to come in a messy fashion on her without preamble or warning was something new, and something SepiaQueen commented on with a certain sense of pleasure and satisfaction. She recognized it as an assertive offshoot of our dominance and submission play even before I did.

In any case, I am enjoying being the dominant and being rough as an occasional change in our playtime roles, and looking forward to taking charge and taking SepiaQueen to some places she hasn’t gone before and may need to be ordered to in order to explore them. Should be interesting. I find that when our roles go into dominance and submission, with me in the “D” role and her in the “s” role of D/s, I get hot. It’s work, and it distracts me sometimes to adopt a new personality, but it also makes me feel good.

Not the dominance itself. It’s not the power itself that I crave or that moves me. Part of it is the ability to leave my normal skin and become someone else, which can often be fun.

But mostly, it’s hearing SepiaQueen’s moans and seeing how hot she gets when a firm hand takes hold of her.

 

Together in Smoke

This is actually a repost of a true story I wrote at my Better With Smoke blog (where I mostly write fetish fiction that involves smoking, while also commenting on my own smoking fetish journeys and thoughts). While the story deals with my smoking fetish and a particularly notable episode in which I was able to involve my wife in that fetish, I think there is plenty here that’s sexy even for people ambivalent about the idea of smoking.
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For a couple of days, my wife had been suffering from a combination of cold and allergy symptoms, and it’s hard to tell which one has been kicking her butt at any given time or when both are. In the end, it’s meant that while my wife has expressed a desire for my penis inside her, she hasn’t felt up to going a full round of sex.

Finally, tonight, she’s feeling like some companionship as she drifts off to sleep, with a dose of NyQuil in her to give her a full night of rest, so she summons me out of my office with a text message to my new cell phone (an early birthday gift) saying, “Cuddle me.”

I can’t say “No” to that, and wouldn’t anyway, unless I had a serious problem to deal with work-wise. As it is, I’m just killing time and enjoying some online time. So I head in, and cuddle her. It doesn’t take long for her to guide my hand between her legs, and I tickle at her there and rub lightly, occasionally sucking on her earlobe of kissing just behind it gently.

I figure that is all just light play, and won’t go anywhere. Probably just a little something to relax her, or maybe to lead to me giving her my “sleep aid” (un-reciprocated oral sex to her to get her zonked out).

Before long, she removes her pajama bottoms and panties, and I figure soon my tongue will be there, but I continue to rub her, and let my finger linger a bit at the entrance to her sex, rubbing but not penetrating, and I continue to nuzzle and kiss and lick her ear and neck.

“Too bad you don’t have more energy,” I say.

“Stop talking and keep touching me,” she whispers.

She’s touching me now, too, and she offers a nipple for me to suck for a while, and then suddenly, she turns over and pushes her ass into the air. It’s not what I was expecting, but I’m not complaining either, and I press my cock against her ass, sliding up and down between her cheeks, dribbling a little spit there to lubricate things, and earning a gentle sigh for my intimate massage.

After a little while, I replace my cock with my tongue. Her hole is welcoming, more relaxed and open than usual, and I take advantage of that to rim her furiously and wetly, while my fingers began to toy with her pussy, which is also very open, already quite damp, and eager for penetration.

I’m reminded how much I love this activity, as I relish the tastes and smells of her and enjoy her moans.

After a while, she pauses and says, quietly, “I wish I had the energy to take this downstairs so you could bring the cigarettes into this.”

I pause, hardly believing she’s saying this, and I answer, “If I didn’t think it would break the mood, I’d go run downstairs and grab them right now.”

She doesn’t even hesitate as she answers, “Would you be willing to?”

She almost never allows smoke in the bedroom, and I’m not about to pass up a gift like that, so I have no hesitation either, as I say, “Why the hell not?” and head down the stairs as quickly and quietly as I can. It takes me less than a minute to collect a pack of B&H ultra lights, a lighter and an ashtray, and I sprint back upstairs, where my wife is cracking open a window.

I set everything down onto the mattress and she pushes her ass into the air again and says, huskily, “Don’t burn our house down, now.”

As I rub one of her butt cheeks lovingly, I extract and light a cigarette, and exhale generally in her direction as I scootch everything just a little closer, and lick her cheeks and in between them. I inhale deeply, and blow smoke across her full and firm ass.

“Mmmmmm,” she says, hips gyrating a little and settles her face more firmly against the pillow, pressing her ass just a little higher.

I blow smoke across her skin again, and lick her gently but firmly, my right hand playing at her labia.

She moans softly. I inhale smoke and blow it between her legs, covering both her ass and pussy, and she says, quietly, “I like that.”

I continue to taste and tease her with my lips and tongue, leaving the smoke aside for a short while, and then I rise up, press my penis against her ass and begin to ride up and down between her cheeks again. I take a drag on the cigarette, and release a pale white cloud down over her ass and across her lower back, and she presses against my manhood, sighing.

Then more smoke and more rubbing and my fingers inside her sex, swirling in her honey and cream, and after a minute or so, she pulls her ass away from me and rolls over to present her vagina to me. I cover it with my mouth and let my tongue spread her moist, soft, warm folds.  I remember the cigarette, tap off the ash into the ashtray, and take a deep drag, blowing smoke across her bush, and she says, softly, “Oooohhhh,” as she watches and smells it and as my tongue slides into her. I grace her sex with more smoke and more kisses, and then she motions for me to let her take a drag, and she bathes my face in a gentle, fragrant stream of smoke as I dive down into her again.

Then I take a drag, and slide up her body to give her a smoky kiss, reveling in the fact that she’s enjoying smoke second-hand for perhaps the first time in her life. She has no fetish for this, but she’s getting some small taste for why I like it. She pulls on the filter herself again, and graces my face with the gift of smoke as my cock slides between her labia, but doesn’t penetrate her.

I suck on her nipple and return to her pussy with my mouth, to lick and kiss and blow smoke there again, earning another sigh from her, and she motions me to come back, and give her the cigarette again, she takes a drag and then I quickly take one of my own, and we breathe out those delicious fumes as our lips close together and we kiss, sharing the remaining smoke.

I continue to slide against her sex, and kiss her neck and the line of her jaw and then blow smoke across her throat as I lick and suck her earlobe. Then one last smoky kiss before I stub out the cigarette, and leave a trail of kisses down her torso on my way back between her thighs to lick and suck and finger her some more.

I’m not there very long before I see her hand reach over to the pack of cigarettes to extract one for herself. She lights it, and blows smoke down over her belly for me as I lick her slowly and massage one ass cheek and rub a nipple with my thumb.

She gives me the gift of more smoke from afar, wispy and diffuse, and welcomes me up for a more redolent and smoky kiss thereafter, and then I’m back between her thighs. And then her hand comes down toward my head, offering me her cigarette, and I suck at it, and then exhale slowly across the curly black hairs of her sex.

My mouth presses into her, along with my tongue, and she blows smoke down over me like a cloak again, and I say, softly, “My two favorite fucking smells and tastes in the world together,” and I begin to lap more furiously.

I feel and smell more smoke wash down over me as she moans and as her hips dance lightly atop the sheets. When I come up to look at her face over the sleek expanse of her belly and breasts, she offers me another drag, and I take it, and blow a trail of smoke from her sex to her chest, and she sighs and moans at that, and takes another drag of her own to blow down on me in return.

She signals me to come for another kiss, offering the cigarette to me first. Her fingers are too close to the end of the filter, and I cannot get my lips around it, but I pull what little smoke I can into my lungs, and kiss her. Suck her neck. Lick her exposed nipple and let her blow more smoke into my face. I return to her sex, one finger toying with her asshole as well and the other hand rubbing her thigh. She offers the cigarette to me again, and once again she’s accidentally left me no room to find purchase on the filter, but I draw what I can, and blow a small amount of smoke over her pussy, and she sends one final exhale my way as I go back to the cunnilingus and she stubs out her B&H.

Before long, though, she turns over again, presenting her ass, and I lick it and slide three fingers in and out of her vagina as my tongue finds its way past her brown bud, and she’s grunting and moaning now. I taste and tease her for a while, and then begin to slide my cock between her cheeks once again.

I’m feeling deliciously filthy by this time, and with as slick and warm as her ass is, I’m enjoying myself very much. I can feel the end coming for me soon, and I have visions of coming between her cheeks, and then licking her clean, swallowing my own seed, and then licking her fiercely until she comes. But before I can reach that point, she turns over to welcome me into her embrace and her kisses, and now my cock is against her sex instead, and I don’t expect to last long there either, and figure I’ll be just as happy to lick her belly and pubes clean before bringing her to orgasm with my tongue.

“Put on a condom,” she says before long, and I pull one out of the side table, and put it on. I enter her, and begin to fuck her slow, then build momentum until I’m pressing in and out of her hard and fast. I’m not sure how long I’ll last, but I know she’s been wanting my cock in her for days.

Then I am reminded of why I can’t wait to get a vasectomy, as my middle aged penis shows its increasing displeasure at the dulling sensation of a condom, and my erection slowly fades while I’m fucking her and kissing her neck and she’s sucking at my neck.

It’s frustrating to have been so close and lose my hardness, but she says, “It’s OK” and I pull out of her to begin licking her again. My tongue is flying over her clit with wet insistence, and I press a fingertip to her asshole and another inside her sex, and I keep at her, warm and hard and wet, and her thighs tense, her sex quivers, and her ass clenches softly, and she begins panting, then moaning then crying out softly, trying not to scream as her orgasm takes her and my mouth rides the waves of passion with her until she settles down again.

Eventually, she says, “I’m sorry you didn’t come.”

To be honest, it’s the last concern on my mind. I’m more worried that I might have disappointed her with my condom-related equipment failure, and I say, “Don’t be. That was fantastic. Thanks for the early birthday gift. I’m happy.”

And I am. Coming isn’t the be-all, end-all for me. I’ve had smoke, and connection, and I’ve tasted my wife and made her come harder than I have for a while.

We nestle together in the slightly smoky atmosphere, and sleep deeply and contentedly.

I wake before she does, and listen to her snore, which I find strangely endearing somehow, as my hand rests on her naked ass. I shift position slightly after a while and she stirs, and pulls my hand to her sex sleepily.

I toy with her very lightly, and snuggle against her, and after a while she whispers, “Can I get a lick?”

For us to have relations at night and for her to want more in the morning almost never happens, and it’s a sign to me of how arousing the previous evening must have been that she still has passion that needs quenching. I happily lick at her for a while. Our daughter wakes up and calls out for someone to come get her, of course, before I’m done, but my wife calls out for her to wait, and I lick more furiously, and my wife pulls my head into her more deeply with both hands. I add fingers to my tongue’s efforts, and pump her while I lap at her firmly, until she comes against my face, holding back her cries.

She thanks me, and I nuzzle her sex with one cheek before we finally get up.

She’s come twice and I haven’t come at all, but frankly, I couldn’t be happier with the gift of smoke…and sharing smoke…that she’s given me. I’m quite content, and while I know this isn’t something that will happen often, I’m pleased to know that it will likely happen again.

My smoky treats are no longer one-sided. I can share my fetish with my wife in a way that I would never have been able to before. And it feels good.