Head over to The Naughty Hangout and see who else participated this week!

-Jill

*I would have said “going down”, but the theme was “Sky High”, not “Down Low”.

She pulled into an open parking space and waited.

She was early.  It was six minutes to eight o’clock, and the sun was overhead.  The car park was nearly deserted, not just here at the top level, where her car must have stood out like a sore thumb among the empty spaces; but on the lower decks, where she counted at most six vacant cars, all likely left behind by bar patrons who’d wisely called cabs the night before.

She regarded the red bag on the seat next to her. It was large, ornate, and tied with shiny ribbon.  She’d gotten it from a locker at the train station, led there by His explicit instructions.  It wasn’t heavy, and she had spent the last four days wondering what was inside.  She didn’t dare peek through the ribbon and tissue paper within.  She knew she’d be punished if she did.

At eight o’clock, her phone rang.  She put the call on speaker and set the phone on her dashboard.  His familiar voice told her to open her gift, and she carefully untied the pretty red ribbons that held the handles together.  When that was done, she opened the bag and withdrew a few sheets of pink tissue, which she set down on the passenger seat.  At last, she peered inside.

A silky black camisole and matching thong waited inside.  Beneath them was a pair of black fishnet stockings.  She waited for His command before she took them out of the bag, and once it was given she enjoyed their softness in her hands.  She thanked Master for His generosity, then realized with equal measures of shock and excitement what was coming next.  His words sounded through the speaker less than a second later.

“Put them on.”  His voice was neutral, noncommittal, but it was all she had of Him.  She didn’t know His name, or even what He looked like.  They’d met online – she considered that strange, as they hadn’t actually met, had they? – and communicated exclusively through e-mail and instant messenger conversations for weeks.  She didn’t even hear His voice until they’d been playing together for three months.  That was how He wanted it.

She put on Master’s gift.  It wasn’t easy to change her clothes in the driver’s seat, especially when a security patrol car passed on its regular rounds.  Master was most insistent that she stop what she was doing in order to avoid arousing the security guard’s suspicions.  She paused, took her phone in hand and made a show of having a conversation.  The car didn’t slow down as it passed, and once it was out of sight she continued.

After she had put on the lingerie Master had given her, she was ready for her next task.  She knew exactly what He would tell her to do, and she was eager.  But she’d never start without His permission.

“Play with your pussy.”

Her fingers met her lips, just a tentative touch at first.  She knew better than to get too worked up too quickly.  This might take hours, though considering her arousal she hoped not.  She’d already soaked her new panties, and she knew she was on her way to doing the same with the upholstery.  She continued to play, deliberately avoiding her clit.  She hadn’t been told to touch it yet, and if she disobeyed, He would know.

The car park was nearly surrounded by high-rise office buildings.  She didn’t know where Master worked; He didn’t volunteer that information, and she knew better than to ask.  But it was obvious that He’d chosen this location for her because it provided Him with a good vantage point.  And arranging this meeting of sorts on a Sunday morning ensured that only He would get to enjoy her.

“Lower your camisole”, He said, “and play with your nipples.”

She did as she was told.  She didn’t want to take her hand off of her pussy, but a command was a command.  She caressed her breasts for a moment, then realized that He hadn’t told her to do that.  She squeezed her nipples between her fingers, feeling the already-hard peaks stiffen further.

“Very good, slut.  Play with your pussy again.”

When she raised the straps of the camisole onto her shoulders, she was met with a sharp rebuke.

“I didn’t tell you to cover up.”  She apologized, and once again lowered the straps.  He repeated His order to touch herself.  She did.  Her fingers traced the soft, delicate folds, collecting wetness on their tips.  He didn’t tell her to stay away from her clit, but He didn’t have to.  She knew that when He wanted her to touch her clit, He would tell her so.  He said nothing further and, taking His silence as an implied order, she continued what she was doing.

She enjoyed the pleasure she was feeling, not only the pleasure of touching her pussy, but the pleasure she derived from obeying Master.  But she wasn’t sure how long she could go without giving in and indulging her aching, throbbing clit.  In her heart, she knew she had to hold out for as long as Master wanted her to.  No matter how long He made her wait, eventually He always let her cum.

When she noticed the security patrol car in her rear view mirror, her heart almost leaped from her chest.  This time, the car was stopped right behind her own.  She didn’t want to panic, but she stopped playing and picked up her phone.  By now, the security guard had exited the car.

She spoke breathlessly into the phone.  “What do I do?”  Master didn’t answer her.  She looked around for something to cover up with, and grabbed the blouse she had earlier removed.  As she tried to wrap it around herself, she called out to Master again, with desperation in her voice.

The security guard tapped on the window.  She rolled it down.

He spoke: “You can touch your clit now.”

-Jack

Go see who else is being wanton this week!

2. What’s more important, a romantic relationship or your career?
I’m going to say that a romantic relationship is more important.  At different times in our relationship and our marriage, both Jill and I relocated for the sake of the other’s career, leaving behind our own.  I should also point out that, when we were dating, I moved a few hours away from Jill for a business opportunity.  We had been together a little over a year.  There was no explicit commitment.  By all rights, she probably should have dumped me.  In that instance, while I had every intention of staying with her, I suppose it can be said that I chose my career over our relationship.

3. You love to role play in the bedroom, which one of these is more likely to be your kink?
a. Doctor and the naughty nurse
b. You’re the gardener, I’m the hoe
c. Persnickety principal and the wayward pupil that needs a spanking
d. Me Tarzan, you Jane
e. Scattered-brain boss and the seductive secretary
Right now I’m inclined to go with (a).  I’m not sure why, but the medical setting seems most conducive to sex.  Last week I had a dental appointment, and for whatever reason, as soon as they reclined me to a horizontal position, I was seriously rock-hard.  I stayed that way for the entire hour-and-a-half appointment.

5. When it comes to lovemaking, select the answer that best describes you/your attitudes
a. vanilla – meets society’s middle of the road standards
b. adventurous
c. kinky
d. trisexual – I will try anything once, twice if I like it, three times to make sure.  –Mae West
Relatively speaking, I consider us to be (c), kinky.  Granted, I’m sure there are those who see us as comparatively vanilla – but there are certainly those who would view our sexual escapades as beyond adventurous.

6. You want to seduce that sexy someone, what is the sweet-nothing that you’ll whisper in his/her ear?
Without getting specific, it would be something equal parts flirty and intelligent.  While trying to answer this question, I found myself at a loss.  Jill pointed out that I spend a good part of the typical weekday whispering – sorry, Tweeting – such sweet nothings into the virtual ears of various online friends.  If you’re one of these friends, and I’ve managed to dampen your panties with a carefully-chosen word or two, what did I say?

Bonus: What’s your idea of a romantic getaway?
Jill and I in a secluded cabin with a warm fire, a king-size bed, a few bottles of pinot noir, and nowhere to be.

Jill’s Answers

1. You are sitting alone in a restaurant because your lunch date is late. Do you:
a) Throw something and then make out with the waiter.
b) Check to make sure he or she didn’t get into an accident, then wait patiently for two hours and use the time to compose a love song or poem.
c) Send a nasty text followed up by a voice mail telling him/her that “romance is dead and so are you!”
d) Wait for 20 minutes, and then text-message a pal to join you for lunch.
I would probably go with (d).  I’d wait twenty minutes, but then if I hadn’t heard from my date I’d probably leave.  I guess if it was somewhere I really wanted to eat, I might order food or call a friend to join me, but really, I don’t want to be there when the thoughtless asshole shows up forty-five minutes late.  Realistically I’m just going to get the hell out of there.

2. What’s more important, a romantic relationship or your career?
My career is very important for my own economic livelihood.  Fortunately I’m in a situation where I can have both a romantic relationship and a career.  I enjoy what I do very much, but if I had the opportunity to be in a relationship where I was guaranteed life-long financial support, I would happily give up my career and live a life of leisure.

3. You love to role play in the bedroom, which one of these is more likely to be your kink?
a. Doctor and the naughty nurse
b. You’re the gardener, I’m the hoe
c. Persnickety principal and the wayward pupil that needs a spanking
d. Me Tarzan, you Jane
e. Scattered-brain boss and the seductive secretary
Of these, the doctor and nurse scenario described in (a) sounds the most appealing.  This fantasy situation includes beds, desks, operating tables, and other horizontal surfaces on which one could lie down or be bent over.  Plus I assume there would be restraints, and lots of probing.  I like these things.  Oh!  Plus if you get hungry there’s a cafeteria downstairs!

4. When you want sex, who tends to make the first move?
a. Me! I like to go for what I want
b. It varies. Sometimes my partner/significant other/date or sometimes me.
c. Oh definitely the other person. Even if I want it, I’m not about to admit such a thing.
d. I drop subtle hints hoping he/she will pick up on it.
It’s usually (b).  While Jack and I are often on the same page sexually, we aren’t mind readers.  Any one of
us is as likely to make the first move as the other.  However, sometimes one of us will drop a subtle hint, as
described in (d).

5. When it comes to lovemaking, select the answer that best describes you/your attitudes
a. vanilla – meets society’s middle of the road standards
b. adventurous
c. kinky
d. trisexual – I will try anything once, twice if I like it, three times to make sure.  –Mae West
I think we are mostly (b), adventurous.  I hesitate to describe us as (c), kinky, because when I think “kinky” I tend to think of BDSM and other activities in which we don’t regularly participate.  I guess it’s relative, though.  One person’s vanilla is another person’s kink, and vice versa.

6. You want to seduce that sexy someone, what is the sweet-nothing that you’ll whisper in his/her ear?
“I want to get naked with you.”

Bonus: What’s your idea of a romantic getaway?
My ideal romantic getaway would be to hop on a plane and fly to a beautiful beach on the Mediterranean Sea.  We’d start with a walk on the beach as soon as we arrive, and then a romantic dinner, followed by a massage.  The rest of our getaway would feature lots of sex, followed by more walks on the beach.  And there’s got to be chocolate-covered strawberries too.

How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!

I haven’t always been good at communication.  With all the social conditioning to which people are subjected, communication between men and women who know each other well isn’t always easy.  But take two relative strangers and add to the mix the raging hormones of the typical teenager or young adult, and it’s a wonder that communication is even possible in the first place.

Even when I learned to communicate – and I mean properly communicate, not simply nod and say “uh-huh” whenever a woman spoke to me – I wasn’t an expert at reading signals.  Nor did I ever relish the prospect of having to wade through the thick brush of vagueness and misdirection to decipher the true meaning beneath the surface.

While perusing Sexis, the EdenFantasys online magazine, I came across an article entitled Have a Little Kink with Your Consent.  In it, the author discussed, amongst other things, how to make consent a part of sex play in such a way that it doesn’t interfere with or damage the overall mood.

I attended college in the mid-1990s.  The sexual atmosphere post Clarence Thomas but pre Monicagate was one of extreme caution.  Predatory male monsters were everywhere, and the fear of sexual harassment, rape, and other penis-driven crimes had hitherto mild-mannered men everywhere wondering if they could be part of the problem.  The need for express written (i.e. explicit and provable) consent prior to sexual activity was drummed into our heads repeatedly.  It was almost an equation: Failing to obtain said consent might land you in a jail cell where you’d have to fend off similar advances.

Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating.  But only a little.  And I’m not in any way saying that caution is a bad thing, or that the situation was overblown; sexual assault and rape are very real, very serious crimes, and beyond them, the “blame the victim” mentality so prevalent in society is one of the most inexplicable and horrible phenomena I can think of.

But as an awkward eighteen-year-old newly arrived at an institution of higher learning, overwhelmed by major life changes and a course load that would intimidate Lewis Skolnick and Gilbert Lowe, it would have been nice if there had been some kind of decoder ring that could tell me when my advances were desired, and when “no” actually meant “no”.  Because it didn’t always.

Wait!  Before you unfollow our blog in disgust, hear me out.  Yes, we’ve all heard the anti-date rape ad campaigns insisting that no always means no.  And for the record, I always understood the meaning of the word, and I always respected it.  When I got a “no”, whether sheepish and half-hearted or decisive and firm, that was the end of it.  It never even occurred to me that the woman I was with might not have meant it.

However, I can vividly recall three occasions in college where a woman asked me after the fact why I stopped.  Once it was on the phone after I got home.  Once it was the next day.  Once it was a month or more later.  Why did I stop?  Because you told me no!  It’s frustrating to find out that you missed out on sex because you couldn’t read a signal, although as far as signals go, “no” always seemed pretty definite to me.

It’s for this reason that I’ve never been particularly fond of game-playing in the context of a dating relationship.  I’m aware of my own feelings, I respect them, and I don’t see the point of conforming to some arbitrary standard of behavior imposed by society at large.  Additionally, I value honesty over all else.  Even when it’s yielded things I couldn’t have expected or didn’t want to hear, I’ve always appreciated it.

I should point out that, with a handful of exceptions, the women I dated when I was single were the type who expected the man to initiate sex.  As the author of the article states,

Women (even sex positive feminists like me) are socially programmed not to want it, and not to ask for it. Taking personal responsibility for crossing that line into sex – the irreversible line that can make everything potentially weird and confusing – is terrifying, yet empowering. 

Because of this reluctance, there is sometimes an increased pressure on males to successfully traverse the uncertainty and get the job done.  In my opinion this is an unfair case of “damned if you do, damned if you don’t”.  As a proactive male with dominant leanings who would nonetheless never dream of inflicting himself on a possibly non-consenting partner, this presents problems.

Telling the story of a date with an overly consent-oriented male, the author describes feelings of frustration over her date’s unwillingness to initiate physical contact without explicit consent:

This pattern continued as the night progressed. Long past the point that your average straight man would have made a crotch grab, he demurred. I was actually starting to become frustrated. 

I understand that some people are excited by a partner who takes charge.  I also understand that for some women especially, it is considered improper to possess and act on sexual agency.  Ultimately, I think it comes down to honesty.  We are all sexual beings, whether we want to admit it or not.  We all have sexual wants and needs.  If we could simply be comfortable with and honest about this, I think it would make for a much more sexually-harmonious society.

-Jack

This post was sponsored by EdenFantasys.

We originally intended to call this post “Match Monday”, but by the time we got the right shot, we’d used up the entire matchbook.  We hope you find it enlightening.

-Jill

If you’re looking for our Sinful Sunday, it can be found here.


Sunday, February 19

We spent most of the day out of the house, and didn’t return to Jack’s parents’ until late in the evening.  For various reasons, sex was on our minds pretty much all day, so we made sure to take advantage after the baby had gone to sleep.  As Jack and I were both tired, we managed a quickie.  It was short and sweet.  We both came, and neither of us was left wanting more.  That’s all that matters, isn’t it?

Monday, February 20

Jack and I woke up early, around 6:00, for another quickie.  As we were still staying with Jack’s parents, we knew the baby was in capable hands.  Jack and I were both tired, so I used my vibrator on my clit while Jack fucked me.  I came first, and when Jack did  I took him in my mouth.  By doing so I avoided having to take a shower right away, and we fell asleep in each other’s arms until around nine-thirty, then had sex again.  This time Jack gave me oral and fingered me, and in no time at all it was apparent that I was going to have to shower sooner rather than later.  We fucked, and just for good measure, Jack came on my stomach and my tits.  We showered together afterwards.

We left Jack’s parents’ house late Monday night, and by the time we got home it was well after midnight.  We both wanted sex, but we were too tired.  Sleep won.

Tuesday, February 21

We had an early start this morning, so there was no sex while we waited for the baby to wake up.  I didn’t even get off in the shower.  Actually, I didn’t get off in the shower much this week.  This is at least partially because I was off work all week, and didn’t start my day as early as I normally do.  Because of this, the baby often wanted to shower with me.  Silly kid.

We spent the morning at appointments and running errands.  We’d made arrangements to drop the baby off with a babysitter for a couple hours, ostensibly so we could get some things done around the house.  Technically this was true.  Of course, what we were doing around the house was having lots of orgasms.  With the baby gone, we put on some porn, and the sex began with Jack giving me oral atop the Liberator Throe.  I had four or five orgasms from his tongue alone.  Then I rode him while fingering my clit, and I came twice more.  By this point the Throe was pretty much soaked.

I wanted doggy style next, and Jack gladly obliged.  He didn’t last as long as he usually does, and after about five minutes or so he came all over my ass.  I toweled off, then lay back down and used my Eroscillator on myself. While I played, I coaxed Jack to my mouth and gave him head as I enjoyed myself.  I came twice more, and Jack fucked me missionary until he came.  We took a short nap, then a shower, and picked up the baby.

That night I gave Jack oral on the balcony.  He came in my mouth, then we did doggy style and he fingered me to a really intense orgasm.  There’s something about being outside, even when it’s cold, that really turns us on.  We definitely enjoy indulging our exhibitionist side.

Wednesday, February 22

Just in case anyone thinks that our life is a non-stop parade of sex thanks to an incredibly cooperative child who can somehow sense when her Mommy and Daddy need their alone time and gladly sits quietly in her room until we’ve both gotten off, today was a bit frustrating.  Make no mistake, Jack and I had sex.  But we had more unsuccessful attempts than we had successes.  In the afternoon, we put the baby in her pen.  (There was no chance of her napping, as she’d fallen asleep for about ten minutes while we were out running errands, and once she woke we knew she wouldn’t be sleeping again until she went to sleep for the night.)  We had a TNH picture to shoot, and we managed that.  But afterwards, when we got into bed, it became apparent that the baby wasn’t happy with her forced incarceration.  There was no way either Jack or I could focus on the task at hand.  We gave up and let her out of the pen,

For the rest of the afternoon and evening, she was pretty needy.  The only time she left my side was when Jack went into our bedroom to watch porn and get off.  She knocked on the door and called, “Daddy, where are you?” until he admitted defeat.  She’s just too adorable, and with her calling him there was no way he could focus on quadruple-penetration or whatever the hell he might have been watching long enough to have an orgasm.  Fortunately, I did manage to put her to bed by 7:30, and sex began around 8:15 and lasted until almost 1:00.  There was a lot of foreplay including oral and fisting.  I lost count at a dozen orgasms, while Jack had three, all from intercourse and all in my mouth.  I really love his cum.

Thursday, February 23

This was the one morning this week when I showered alone and managed to get off.  I used one of my waterproof vibrators and fantasized about a hot online friend of ours.  The last few months I think I’ve fantasized about sex with women more than any other scenario with the possible exception of one-on-one sex with Jack (which believe it or not is a very frequent fantasy of mine).  That means more than group sex, more than two guys at once, more than men who aren’t Jack, and more than watching and/or being watched.  Coincidentally, Thursday afternoon we had lunch with our friend M, who happens to be the only woman I’ve had sex with.  Nothing out of the ordinary occurred, thanks more to the fact that we met at her office and less to the fact that she’s in a monogamous relationship.

After we got home from lunch, the baby napped and we had sex.  It lasted about an hour, which I think is average for us these days.  Jack only came once, though I didn’t hear him complaining.  I came several times, all from simultaneous oral and fingering.  I liken a series of orgasms like this to a string of firecrackers.  No sooner has one gone off than the rest of them are popping, one after the other.  That’s what my orgasms are like sometimes, and as I’ve said before it can be very difficult to keep track of them when they all run together like that.

We (meaning mostly Jack) had a lot of blogging to do on Thursday night.  He had two Flash Fiction Friday stories to write, and we had to do a Formspring Friday feature as well.  While he worked on getting everything typed up, formatted, and scheduled to post on Friday, I took a much-needed nap on the couch.  The baby was long asleep and I actually slept very well.  Then, when I woke probably around one or so, he’d gotten everything done and was ready for sex.  We made do with a quickie.  We both came, and fell asleep in each other’s arms.  It was wonderful.

Friday, February 24

We put the baby in her pen so we could shower together.  We made sure to give her plenty of things with which to occupy herself.  The best thing about putting her in the pen and taking a shower is that if she gets upset and wants out, we can’t hear her.  Unlike Wednesday, when we tried having sex, the water drowns out her pleas for release.  And it’s not like anything is ever wrong.  She isn’t yelling for us because she got hurt or is scared or anything.  She just wants to get out.  I gave Jack head while he shampooed my hair.  He came, and I nearly did.  He finished me off by hand.

While the baby napped in the afternoon, we had sex again.  This time, Jack lubed up his hand and fisted me.  Obviously there is no way for me to accurately report how many orgasms I had.  When Jack asked, I told him that I “lost count at a million.”  If the orgasms I had on Thursday were like a string of firecrackers, the ones I had on Friday were a nuclear missile.  The first time he fisted me I think I blacked out.  When he stopped he slowly withdrew his hand and the sensations were so intense that I cried.  This happens sometimes if my orgasms are really intense, and this time they were.  Jack held and caressed me for about ten minutes and then I asked him to do it again.  This time I don’t think I blacked out, or even came close to blacking out, but I definitely cried.  That shows just how intense and emotional fisting can be.  My reactions are so primal that I can’t control them.  But part of the appeal is that I don’t want to control them.

After Jack took his fist out of me the second time, he held me until I calmed down, and we dozed off.  When we woke I wanted him inside me, and we had sex in the missionary position.  When he climaxed I took him in my mouth, swallowing hungrily.  I couldn’t get enough, and I wrung out every last drop.  It was almost as though I was trying to maintain the emotional connection that had been made when he fisted me.

Friday night, we made out on the couch.  It occurred to us that it was the same couch and in fact the exact same room where we first had sex almost a decade ago.  That night, we began with a very similar makeout session.  The only difference is that there was no baby sleeping elsewhere in the house.  Before long we found ourselves in bed, entwined naked in each other’s arms.  The sex was quick, passionate, even forceful.  I came twice, once from fingering and once from the sex itself.  Jack came once.

Saturday, February 25

It probably seems like a waste of a Saturday, but no sex occurred today.  We assure you that it wasn’t for lack of desire.

Have a seat at the table.  I promise you’ll enjoy what’s on the menu.*

*Apologies for lack of a click-through this week. As soon as this post was published the second image was mysteriously removed from our Imageshack album.

If you’ve been reading our blog or following us on Twitter, you’re likely aware that I’m a stay-at-home Dad.  I appreciate being able to spend each day with my daughter; it’s fortunate that Jill and I are financially able to do this.  We know that for most families, especially here in California where the cost of living is high, having one parent stay home to raise a child is simply not an option.  It is our hope that my staying home with our daughter will ensure a very close bond between her and I throughout her life.

However, I was completely unprepared for the reality of day-to-day life as a stay-at-home Dad.  It’s not bad, so I don’t want to give the impression that I’m complaining in any way.  But it was a huge adjustment given my lack of experience with babies.  Any parent – or for that matter any individual who spends the majority of his or her day with young children – needs a strong support system.  It is vital that after hours spent participating in child-friendly activities including reading storybooks, watching cartoons, and playing in the park, one is able to administer an antidote.

This antidote comes in many forms.  For some parents it’s a couple rounds with the guys.  For others it’s a babysitter who watches the kids so the parents can have a nice dinner alone.  For others it’s an hour or so of quiet decompression while the baby is napping.  In some cases it’s as simple as just not reading stories, listening to the SpongeBob SquarePants theme song, or changing diapers.

I am sufficiently confident in myself as a stay-at-home Dad to admit that I’d prefer my daily life if I was guaranteed a couple hours to myself.  I often have time to myself when the baby naps, but there’s no guarantee that she will.  On the days when she doesn’t, I run out of energy before she does, and am even less productive than normal as a result.  A couple hours’ down time is not an unusual or unreasonable request, but for various reasons there is literally no one with whom I can leave my daughter on even an occasional basis.  Having someone watch her for an hour or two on a typical weekday so I can get things done – usually errands, something that needs doing around the house, or perhaps a few pages of writing – is such a rare occurrence that I literally can’t remember the last time it happened.  To give you an idea of just how rare it is, back in November I blogged about the travails of being a stay-at-home Dad, with the focus of the post being the way my daughter has thrown a wrench into my hitherto very active masturbation schedule.  Now, though?  I didn’t even mention masturbation as something I would do if I had a few hours alone.  Sure, I’d love to be able to get myself off more often than I do, but the fact is that I’m so swamped with real life that masturbating isn’t even on the horizon.  I may be able to cop off quickly during or following my morning shower or while the baby sleeps, but I need much larger blocks of time to do real things that absolutely need to be done.

Even when I’m saddled with my daughter – and I mean “saddled” in the nicest possible way – it would be great to have someone to talk to and relate to, and who can relate to me.  But my friends, both those with kids and those as-yet childless, have jobs.  Meeting up with a friend for a spontaneous lunch is something that happens so infrequently that I might be forgiven for using the word “never”.  When it does occur, we usually find ourselves talking current events, politics, or relationships, and not child issues.  Awhile back, I was talking to one of Jill’s siblings or siblings-in-law, who suggested that I join a mommy-and-me group.  My initial scoffing was met with assurances that men do join such social groups.  I don’t dispute this fact, though I certainly don’t feel that such a thing is right for me.  Yes, men may join mommy-and-me groups.  But married men as flirtatious as I?  Before you could say, “here comes that creepy dad” I’d be branded the creepy dad and ostracized from the circle.

It’s just as well, really.  I don’t want to awkwardly shoehorn myself into a pre-existing social group unless the eventual purpose is group sex.  I don’t want to discuss the social merits of Caillou or debate the pros and cons of Barney the Dinosaur.  I don’t want to talk about scrapbooking or clip coupons.  I don’t want to meet at the park and gossip about celebrity couples or American Idol or whatever the fuck it is that mommy-and-me groups do while the kids are playing.  Bring juice boxes and oranges?  Sounds like you’re just giving me an errand at this point.  No, if I’m going to talk shop with moms to whom I have no familial obligation, I’d like to be able to quickly shift from talking about parenting strategies to talking about how nice their cleavage looks in that top.  Which is not to say that I get off on sexually-harrassing virtual strangers; quite the opposite, actually.

Lately, however, I find that more than a few of the online friends I’ve made through blogging and Twitter are stay-at-home Moms.  In many cases, these are people I’ve interacted (i.e. flirted) with already, which makes the segue from parenting talk to sexy talk not only possible, but easy.  And while these friends sometimes help to provide an erotic spark in the middle of the occasional dreary day, they are also people I can talk to when my daughter is feeling sick, won’t eat her lunch, or is displaying the early stages of an attitude.  In most cases, they’ve been there, and can provide perspective as well as advice if needed.  I like this arrangement.

Are there any stay-at-home Moms (or Dads) reading this?  How do you cope with the isolation, or for that matter, the immersion in all things baby?

-Jack