I previously noted that, before I even heard about the idea of polyamory, I often questioned the one-for-one model of romance. My imagination is limited; my thinking, fantasies, expectations, etc. generally fell along the lines of what society dictated: one woman + one man = one romance. However, I still had niggling doubts, some that could form into full questions or concepts, but some that hinted at ideas I could not express.
This topic is probably making SwingBot sweat and BG run for the hills. So, my dears, let me preface this by saying that it is not about our current activities, and not about changing our arrangement. Please relax.
BG and I chat online during non-play date evenings… probably too often. As a result, SwingBot has been jokingly referring to BG as “your boyfriend” for a very long time now. I have, all too frequently, lost track of the hour and stayed up later than I intended while chatting with BG.
SwingBot secretly hates having sex. He even breaks his bones to get out of it!
The past week has been “interesting” sexually. SwingBot and I had to go on a cross-country trip, leaving Sunday and returning Friday. We knew, going out, that our trip would be an unpleasant combination of boredom and stress. On top of that, we both expected no sex for the duration.
I was listening to a podcast in which a husband said that he took his wife to a strip club to get a lap dance while she watched, and then tried to switch it so that she got the lap dance. She shot him down when he tried to make the switch. The wife was also on the podcast, and argued that it had been really early on in their experience, apparently having to defend her decision to block his intentions. Another man on the podcast noted that she should have been drunk or at least buzzed, so as to allow the bisexual experience. Overall, the tone was that the man was entitled to have the woman do something out of her comfort zone, without even consulting her first, and her inhibitions ruined his fun.
Warning: This is very long. I probably should have split it into separate posts, but here it is, in all its wordy glory.
Two weeks ago, the planets aligned in such a way to tell me, “No sex for you!” I responded with frustration and two less-than-fulfilling masturbation sessions. Then SwingBot fucked me in the shower and got me excited again. Eagerness renewed, I tried masturbating again, and still found a lack of success. Then the next two nights were filled with success… for me, anyway.
I should have asked for input before I gave BG that name. “BiGuy” might be succinct, but certainly is not as entertaining as other suggestions since provided.
Blogging about sex sometimes frustrates and disappoints me. Specifically, my failure to successfully recapture the pleasures experienced during sex frustrates and disappoints me.
Last week was fairly dry in terms of sex for us. BG was gone for the week, which meant no play date. I started suffering pain from my recent “simple procedure,” enough that I discussed options with the doctor, which included having the procedure reversed and redone with the more common alternative. Concerned for my pain, SwingBot and I agreed to ease up on sex in the mean time. My period started early that week, which generally keeps SwingBot at bay. Finally, as if to seal our lack of activity, SwingBot was not feeling well, suffering intense back pain at the start of the week and coupling that with flu-like symptoms by the weekend.