I’m actually not putting it on; I’m taking it off.  I don’t sleep with clothes on.  Sorry if the title of this post was misleading.

See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!

There are several unique and weird holidays that take place all over the world. This TMI Tuesday is about the month of April’s special observances. What’s Up April? …

 

Jack’s Answers

1. April 1 is April Fool’s Day (All Fools Day), a Western tradition of pulling pranks and hoaxes.
– Did you play any April Fool’s jokes on someone?
– Were you the victim of an April’s Fool prank this year?
– What is the best April Fool’s hoax you’ve ever pulled?
The answer to the first two questions is no. In my younger days I would frequently play some sort of minor, inconsequential April Fool’s joke, though I eventually grew up and found the practice somewhat annoying. My mother never got the memo, however, because up until this year she would regularly call me with some dire bit of news and, when I was fully on the hook, she’d remind me that it was April Fool’s Day. She’d pretty much always get me. This year, I was ready for her tricks, but one never came. As for the best April Fool’s hoax – probably more of a joke if I’m being honest – I’ve ever pulled, I once called my mom while on a spring break road trip to Vegas, and told her that I was in jail. I’m pretty sure she fell for it, though this was about fifteen years ago. For all I remember she didn’t.

2. What is your favorite unusual or non-traditional holiday to observe?
My birthday, obviously. It’s not a traditional holiday – you probably don’t even get the day off for it, and if not, shame on your employer/institution of higher learning – but it’s damn special to me.

3. Do you observe any unique local or family tradition holidays? Briefly tell us about this holiday.
I’d love to write at length about an arcane custom my ancestors created and passed down from generation to generation, and which I too will pass down to my descendants. Perhaps there is some unique manner of cultural music or dance that my people perfected, or an annual celebration or culinary tradition. While my countrymen and women have their own cuisine, I doubt I would call it unique. At any rate, however, there is no unique holiday we celebrate. We celebrate pretty much all the usual ones.

4. April is National Poetry Month. Share your favorite poem with TMI Tuesday or write a poem and share.
“Longmobile”, by Shel Silverstein
It’s the world’s longest car, I swear.
It reaches from Beale Street to Washington Square.
And once you get in it
To go where you’re going,
You simply get out, ’cause you’re there.

5. This month is also Stress Awareness Month. What stresses you on a daily basis?
Commuter traffic as I’m driving my daughter to school. Having to be “on” socially as the other parents and I wait for the teachers to admit the students into class, and again as we wait for school to be dismissed. A sex drive that can seemingly never be completely satisfied. Financial difficulties of the sort most families face. Living in a too-small space that may meet the needs of my family but fails to meet the wants. And perhaps most importantly, the knowledge that I have a great life and probably shouldn’t be stressed out about any of this.

6. April is National Humor Month. Name 3 stand-up comics or comedic actors who make you laugh?
Bill Hicks. Patton Oswalt. Louis CK. Dwayne Kennedy. Margaret Cho. Eddie Murphy. Garfunkel and Oates. David Cross. Chris Rock. Greg Giraldo. George Carlin. Kristen Schaal. Pablo Francisco. Brian Regan. Mitch Hedberg. Tig Notaro. Richard Jeni. Robin Williams. Comedians I don’t like? Larry the Cable Guy. Andy Dick. Sam Kinison. Judy Tenuta. Bill Cosby. Sorry Bill. In the space of a few months your entire comedic legacy has been almost completely overshadowed, and it makes me sad. And I feel like I need to mention Jerry Seinfeld as well; while I love his eponymous 1990s television series, removed from that I have almost no interest.

7. April 22 is National Jelly Bean Day in the United States, however, it can and should be celebrated all over the world. How will you celebrate Jelly Bean Day?
I’d say by touring the Jelly Belly Factory here in Northern California, but the 22nd is a Wednesday and I don’t see myself driving across two bridges on a weekday; and also, as the tour guides are known to explain to guests, the world-famous Jelly Belly is not actually a jelly bean.

Bonus: The flower for the month of April is the Daisy. How or what do you feel about daisies?
Daisy Dukes? As a confirmed leg-and-ass man, I approve wholeheartedly.

Jill’s Answers

1. April 1 is April Fool’s Day (All Fools Day), a Western tradition of pulling pranks and hoaxes.
– Did you play any April Fool’s jokes on someone?
– Were you the victim of an April’s Fool prank this year?
– What is the best April Fool’s hoax you’ve ever pulled?
I did not play any jokes, nor were any played on me. I’m not really into practical jokes, actually. I don’t like to be made fun of or laughed at, and I am not especially crazy about doing that to others. I don’t see the value of telling someone something untrue that will probably provoke a strong emotional reaction, then explaining that you made it all up for the sake of some silly tradition. For the couple seconds that the person believed the lie, they may have been pretty scared. No thanks.

2. What is your favorite unusual or non-traditional holiday to observe?
Teacher Appreciation Week. This year it’s celebrated the week of May 4th. I usually get all sorts of gifts from the students in my class. The Parent-Teacher Association prepares a lunch for us, and do our yard duty all week so we don’t have to. It’s a minor celebration at best, but when you consider how woefully underpaid the average American public school teacher is, it’s a nice little bone-throw.

3. Do you observe any unique local or family tradition holidays? Briefly tell us about this holiday.
My family is fond of watching football and drinking, so let’s just say that we celebrate Sunday.

4. April is National Poetry Month. Share your favorite poem with TMI Tuesday or write a poem and share.
“Sick”, by Shel SIlverstein
“I cannot go to school today,”
Said little Peggy Ann McKay,
“I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash, and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I’m going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I’ve counted sixteen chicken pox
And there’s one more–that’s seventeen,
And don’t you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut, my eyes are blue–
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I’m sure that my left leg is broke–
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button’s caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle’s sprained,
My ‘pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb,
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow’s bent, my spine ain’t straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is–what?
What’s that? What’s that you say?
You say today is—Saturday?
G’bye, I’m going out to play!”

5. This month is also Stress Awareness Month. What stresses you on a daily basis?
Getting everything done that needs to get done. Work, dinner, house-cleaning, sex, sleep, parenting: It never ends.

6. April is National Humor Month. Name 3 stand-up comics or comedic actors who make you laugh?
Patton Oswalt, Brian Regan, and David Cross. They’re my top three.

7. April 22 is National Jelly Bean Day in the United States, however, it can and should be celebrated all over the world. How will you celebrate Jelly Bean Day?
I’m going to buy enough Jelly Bellys to fill a bathtub and take a bath in them.
[Editor’s Note: Jelly Bellys technically aren’t jelly beans.]
[Rebuttal: Okay, I’ll do it with gummy worms instead.]

Bonus: The flower for the month of April is the Daisy. How or what do you feel about daisies?
Gerbera daisies are one of my favorite flowers, but regular daisies I don’t like very much.

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!

 

She looks good in it, doesn’t she?

See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!

 

This week’s TMI Tuesday questions are provided by recusen.weebly.com.

Clothes make the man (or woman)

(Note that we are writing this at 11:00 PM after being in a car for the majority of the last eighteen hours.  Therefore our answers this week may be more succinct, disjointed, or even nonsensical than you’re used to, and we’ve elected to skip the pictures and captions.)

Jack’s Answers

1. What is the first garment that you remember?
A blue leisure suit with a ridiculous butterfly collar. My mother dressed me in this outfit for my first birthday party, which will probably give you a sense of how old I am. Actually I don’t remember this garment, but I’ve seen it in enough pictures to feel like I do.

2. What was your first favorite garment?
Presumably a diaper, because it kept my accidents from turning into disasters.

3. What is your favorite garment now?
My ExOfficio boxer briefs, specifically my black pair. (I have two others that are gray.) This is the most comfortable garment I own, and as a bonus I look very sexy in them (and out of them).

4. What garment, of yours, is a favorite of your lover’s and they like for you to wear?
Probably one of my short-sleeved button-up shirts. Jill enjoys slowly and deliberately unbuttoning them and taking them off of me before sex.

5. What garment do you like your lover to wear for you?
A particularly sexy pink and black piece of lingerie that has been featured in many photos here on the blog.

6. What do you think makes a sexy outfit for a woman?
Hard to say. A suitably confident woman can look sexy in sweatpants and a T-shirt.

7. What makes a sexy outfit for a man?
I want to give an answer similar to my answer to #6, but I just can’t. If you ever see me wearing sweatpants feel free to assume that I’ve given up on life and shame me for it.

8. Do you like to see women in tight clothing?
Not really. I mean, no moreso than in loose or average-fitting clothing, but the fact is it doesn’t necessarily do anything for me. I’d rather see a woman wearing clothes that don’t immediately make me think, “Wow, I hope she’s not in severe pain.”

9. Do you like to see men in tight clothing?
Not really.

10. What kind of bathing suit do you wear?
Bathing suit?

11. What kind of bathing suit do you find most flattering to a woman?
None. Or, you know, whatever she likes. Doesn’t really matter to me as long as she likes wearing it.

12. What kind of bathing suit do you find most flattering to a man?
A banana hammock, naturally. Can I go to sleep now? I’m exhausted.

Bonus: Your opinion of yoga pants?
They make your ass look hot.

Jill’s Answers

1. What is the first garment that you remember?
A dress that I had when I was about two. It had a Peter Pan collar and it was blue and red plaid with some black in it. It reached my knees. I tried to wear it every day.

2. What was your first favorite garment?
The dress I described in my answer to question #1. Although I wanted to wear it every day, my mother decided I should wear it no more than three times a week. By the time I finally gave it up it was pretty much a miniskirt.

3. What is your favorite garment now?
Probably my button-up chiffon shirt. It’s comfortable, it’s flattering, and it’s versatile. It can be dressy or casual depending on what it’s paired with.

4. What garment, of yours, is a favorite of your lover’s and they like for you to wear?
You’d have to ask him. My guess would be some sort of negligee. [Editor’s note: It’s your black and pink lingerie.]

5. What garment do you like your lover to wear for you?
I love it when he wears silky button-up shirts, preferably this blue one that’s really soft to the touch.

6. What do you think makes a sexy outfit for a woman?
Anything that makes her feel comfortable and confident.

7. What makes a sexy outfit for a man?
Tight jeans and a T-shirt, or a suit. Or, I suppose, anything that makes his feel comfortable and confident. I’m just partial toward the garments I mentioned.

8. Do you like to see women in tight clothing?
I love women’s breasts and asses, so if the tight clothes accentuate these parts of a woman’s body without making them look like uncomfortable or like their circulation is being cut off, then yes.

9. Do you like to see men in tight clothing?
See my answer to #7. If you need me to elaborate, I love men’s shoulders, backs, and asses, so any tight clothing that accentuates these parts of a man’s body is aesthetically-pleasing to me.

10. What kind of bathing suit do you wear?
Either a one-piece or a tankini depending on my mood and the circumstances. If I’m doing water aerobics, definitely a one-piece because the tankini top tends to fly up.

11. What kind of bathing suit do you find most flattering to a woman?
I feel like a bathing suit is fairly personal and potentially revealing, so when a woman chooses one presumably it’s one that suits her body. Thus I feel that whatever they’re wearing is the most flattering because, again, it makes them comfortable and confident. Whatever a woman feels makes them look best, even if others don’t agree, is going to be flattering because of how it affects her attitude.

12. What kind of bathing suit do you find most flattering to a man?
I personally prefer board shorts or a similar pair of swimming trunks. I’m not into Speedos, even if the guy has a nice ass and cock. I just don’t find that kind of thing flattering. That’s also probably why I prefer boxers or boxer briefs to tightie-whities. It’s just not what I’m into.

Bonus: Your opinion of yoga pants?
I love them. They’re comfortable, they accentuate my ass and the asses of the women I see wearing them, and they’re versatile. I love to work out in them, I love to relax in them, and when I can’t be naked I like to sleep in them.

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!

 

“So”, she asked as we lay there basking in afterglow, “do I get to be in your blog?”

Lazily I caressed her breasts as a breeze blew in through the screen door. The air chilled our sweaty bodies. “Do you want to be?”

I was aware of the pointlessness of my question almost before it left my mouth. Of course she did. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have asked. Even as she said so, it occurred to me that I had much to say about her. After all, I had just gotten through writing a five-part story about an old friend who probably never was a friend at all. I could definitely write a blog post about a new one who has already proven herself more than just a friend.

“What should I call you?” I asked as she leaned back against my wife.  Jill ran her hand along our guest’s bare hip and gently kissed her neck. She shrugged off the idea of my needing to protect her anonymity, but just in case I’ll refer to her here as Scarlet.

It was probably back in January when we first crossed paths on Twitter. That’s right, Twitter. Not some local kink event, not some play party in San Francisco, not OK Cupid or some other dating website. I’m not sure exactly how I found her, though she likely showed up in my Who to Follow panel. According to her username she was local, and there are definitely not enough local women amongst my Twitter followers. Visiting most of the friends we’ve made on Twitter would require a cross-country flight, if not an overseas one. It’s hard getting to know someone, finding out you have interests in common, realizing that you’d like to have sex with them, and then coming to grips with the likelihood that you’ll probably never meet.

I followed Scarlet immediately, feeling a twinge of nervousness as I did. Her profile picture was hot, and it occurred to me that this was the first time I’ve followed someone specifically because she was local, and for that matter fuckable. She followed me back and we tweeted each other a few times. She was young and seemed like a fun person.

It was February when she messaged me to say that she’d be open to fooling around, either with just me, or with both Jill and I if that was more to our liking. I found her forwardness a turn-on; she obviously found me attractive and had no problem coming right out and saying so. I also appreciated her cautious respect for our boundaries, and I told her that while I would definitely be down to play with her, Jill would likely need to be present, definitely the first time we got together and probably during subsequent meetings as well. Which is not to say that I’d ruled out the possibility of playing separately at some point in the future.

Of late I’ve slowed down when it comes to playing with others without Jill present. Although I never really did it all that often, I suspect that Jill allowed it begrudgingly; our non-monogamy was always intended to further our own sexual relationship, i.e. it was something we initially planned to do together. And while I always – and I mean always – made sure never to leave her feeling neglected physically or emotionally in the wake of such an encounter, I know that it still bothered her at times. I may have done everything I could to ensure that her needs were always taken care of, but that didn’t change the fact that playing separately really isn’t her thing.

Over time, Scarlet told me that she was a waitress at a trendy restaurant, one that I’d recently heard about and wanted to try, if only for their substantial list of beers on tap. On a random Saturday afternoon while Jill and our daughter were out with Jill’s sisters and our nieces, a friend and I decided to check the place out. From her Twitter feed I determined that she wasn’t working that day; while I wanted to meet her I didn’t necessarily want to do so under those circumstances.  My friend knows I have an eye for the ladies, but it probably wouldn’t do to meet someone I plan to fuck with him present. Anyway, I didn’t want to show up unannounced like a common stalker.

After leaving the restaurant I let her know that I’d been there and that I dug the place. I told her I’d definitely be back. That night, once she’d begun her shift, she messaged me to ask if I had come back, as someone called her name and she thought from the look of the person that it might have been me. I reminded her that I didn’t yet know her name, and that while I was in fact not there right at the moment, I’d certainly let her know the next time that I was.

From that point, our online flirting intensified; it wasn’t uncommon for us to trade flirty or downright dirty messages, and the occasional photo was shared as well. I wanted to meet her and, yes, fool around with her. Even better, Jill was on board too. Scarlet told me that she still lived with her parents, so we’d have to get together at our place, or at a hotel. Beyond that, there was the issue of our daughter. At five years old, she is now more aware and vocal than she’s ever been before. Gone are the days when we could have a threesome while she was asleep in her room. When she was two years old we could have risked it; if she happened to stumble into our bedroom half asleep and see three naked people tangled up on the bed it was no harm and no foul because she wouldn’t understand what she was seeing, nor would she be able to remember or rat us out. Now though? No chance.

Fortuitously, our daughter’s spring break coincided with the week before Easter, and we’d shipped her up to her grandparents’ house for a few days. We made plans to meet with Scarlet on Monday evening at a beer-and-wine bar near our home which Jill and I both like. It seemed appropriate as our new friend is something of a connoisseur of craft beer. It seemed to be a recurring theme of our budding friendship; her restaurant recently made a well-known website’s list of the best bars in the area, her tweets frequently reference beer, and it’s not unusual for me to message her while I’m drinking. Additionally, in the early days of our relationship, Jill and I bonded over our mutual love of Guinness.  We like beer.

Before we left the house, Jill had two drinks. She was nervous, as she always is when we play with another woman. She knows things will be fine. She knows she’s going to have a great time. She knows I’m not going to cross any boundaries or push her out of her comfort zone. But she needs the alcohol to help her relax because this isn’t something she’s thought about for most of her adult life the way it is for me.

It was around 6:30 when we arrived at the bar. The place gets crowded on Friday and Saturday nights, but on this particular Monday evening it was all but deserted. Scarlet arrived not long after; her drive was much farther than our own. Over the course of two rounds of beers, we made small talk and got to know each other. I noticed how at ease Jill seemed, and while it was easy to credit the alcohol in her system I could tell that the easy rapport she’d already formed with Scarlet had more to do with it. It was like they’d known each other a long time, or at the very least like she wasn’t a nervous kindergarten teacher who was at the bar for the express purpose of vetting a potential sex partner.

A few days earlier, I’d suggested to Jill that we devise a signal or a code that she and I could use privately to let the other know that we are or are not okay with bringing our new friend home with us. I always suggest this before threesomes, but we never end up coming up with something. I’m all about being straightforward and honest, and while I know Jill is also, I also know that this isn’t the most natural thing for some people, her included. Plus, rejection sucks. Telling someone that she’s just not our type can be taken offensively, so I always suggest inventing a simple signal or code phrase.

That is not to say that Scarlet wasn’t our type. Far from it. I’ve established that I found her physically attractive from her Twitter profile picture and the photos she’s shared. In person, however, we were both very taken by her. She was so much Jill’s type, in fact, that when my wife finished her second beer and decided she was done being at the bar, she simply asked Scarlet if she’d like to follow us back to our place.

We were barely through our bedroom doorway when the three of us came together, mouths trading hungry kisses, hands traversing bodies and removing clothing. As each article quickly dropped to the floor we moved ever closer to the bed. Jill set down our Liberator Throe, and I quickly got to work pleasuring our guest, first with my fingers, and then with my mouth, and then with both. I enjoyed the feel of her body, the soft smoothness, the responsiveness. I loved how wet she got. The sounds she made as her arousal built, and her moans as she came, were all so exciting.

That’s what I enjoy about non-monogamy: The variety. Every woman is different in countless ways, from shape and size to physical and facial features, to the sounds they make. And let’s not forget smell and taste. And Scarlet tasted great.

She identified as submissive and very eager to please, something she proved while taking turns going down on me with Jill. The way our eyes locked as she looked up at me and I looked down at her was a huge turn-on for this primarily dominant guy. She has these beautiful, expressive hazel eyes that I loved gazing into as she worked on me. Her lips swallowed me whole, her expression seeming to tacitly seek approval she already knew she had. Still, I was restrained. Though she later told me that she liked it rough and wouldn’t mind if I was a bit more forceful the next time we meet – “hair pulling, spanking, slapping, being dominated, titty slapping, biting, etc.” – she understood why I hadn’t trotted out any of these moves the first time out.

After almost an hour of playing, kissing, and touching both of them, Jill finally said that I needed to fuck her so that I could fuck Scarlet next. Remember what I said about forwardness being a turn-on? Needless to say I accommodated her, bringing her to another orgasm with cock and fingers working in concert. Afterwards I fucked Scarlet in missionary position and doggy style while Jill watched and played with her pussy. She’s come a long way from being unsure whether she’d be okay with me having penetrative sex with another woman in the missionary position because the intimacy of face-to-face positions might have been a threat to her. Actually, she’s come a long way from being unsure whether she’d be okay with me having penetrative sex with another woman, period. She may sometimes have problems with me doing things without her present, but when she is present she’s probably more compersive than anyone I know.

At one point as I felt my orgasm nearing I asked Scarlet where she’d like my cum. One of Jill’s few rules for threesomes and solo play is that I can’t cum inside the other woman even when I’ve got a condom on. This is because a condom can break, and the last thing we need is to explain to our daughter why she suddenly has a half-sibling, and why she can’t have a lavish birthday party this year because Daddy has to pay child support.

Her three-word reply nearly set me off right then and there: “Down my throat.” She said it with a very matter-of-fact enthusiasm, her big, inviting eyes almost pleading for my cum. That I didn’t erupt at that very moment was evidence of my tendency to hold back my orgasm in group situations more than anything else. It took me awhile, but eventually I fulfilled her request. She swallowed voraciously, heartily, the submissive smile on her lips telling me that she derived more pleasure from the act than I did, if that was even possible.

The three of us lay there awhile, talking just as we’d done back at the bar. However, our conversation had become much more sexual.  We talked about the parts of the evening we each enjoyed the most, things we might try on a subsequent meeting, and yes, Scarlet’s request that our threesome be immortalized here, in our blog.

I toyed with the idea of inviting my two bedmates into a warm shower and soaping up. I love taking a shower after sex with a new partner; it’s such a gesture of intimacy to clean somebody off after you’ve experienced them in this way, and the close quarters is very conducive to kissing and caressing, if not more. Also, I’d spent the better part of the afternoon scrubbing down the fixtures, the tile, and the grout so it would have been nice if our guest got to see what an impeccable job I’d done. In the end, however, the allure of remaining in bed proved too strong, and we all stayed there until it was time for her to leave.

We walked Scarlet to her car, albeit reluctantly. We stood in the dark, quiet street, the only illumination coming from a street lamp down the block, and each kissed her good night before she drove off. Back inside the house, Jill and I took a shower.

“You did a nice job on the fixtures,” she said as I soaped her up.

 

I left the bathroom door unlocked, but you never came in.

See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!

 

Part 5: Implosion
(You may be looking for Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, or Part 4)

I. Dinner and Drinks Followed by Manipulative Bullshit, Or: Oh No She Din-NIT

That night we went out for dinner and drinks. The first stop on our itinerary following dinner, as chosen by Joan and Danny, was a cocktail bar. Jill and I had never been, and we appreciated the comprehensive drinks menu, the table service, and the speakeasy-like atmosphere. From there, we walked up to a beer-and-wine bar that’s a favorite of Jill and myself. Though the lateness of the hour on a Friday night ensured that the place would be packed, we were able to snag a table and held court there while we drank.

Our third stop was a recently-opened lounge-type bar that Joan was eager to check out despite my warnings that it had sucked in its previous two iterations; I felt vindicated when she admitted that I was right. Nothing against twentysomething douchebags slathered in Axe Body Spray and desperation, but it wasn’t my scene when I was in my twenties, and less so now that I’m quickly approaching forty. We finished our night at a longtime favorite pub featuring live music and cheap beer, one that Jill and I both recalled being far busier on a weekend night than it happened to be.

Jill and I got home after two o’clock in the morning, tired but happy. The night had been a lot of fun, and interactions between Joan and I weren’t awkward at all. It felt like we were friends. She even hugged me hello when she and Danny walked into the restaurant, something I don’t recall her ever doing before. I’m sure she must have hugged me at least once, perhaps at my grandmother’s funeral some fifteen years ago. It’s certainly possible, anyway.

The next day, however, she texted me to say that she would have liked it if I’d subtly grabbed her ass or touched her thigh at specific points during the previous night. And I wouldn’t have disliked that myself, though I’m not one to guess whether a woman wants to be manhandled without being explicitly told beforehand. If her spouse is present and has made no indication that he’s okay with that sort of thing, I’m going to err on the side of caution and keep my hands to myself. That’s something else that can get you killed.

A couple days later, after another frank sexual discussion/dirty talk session, Joan said she felt we should slow things down. I was relieved, actually, and I agreed with her without betraying the relief I actually felt. At that point she backpedaled and said that she was worried that if we did stop or slow down it would be worse for me because of the unrequited feelings I’ve been carrying for her for so many years. She claimed that she didn’t want to fuck with my head, though I absolved her and said perhaps it was the best thing for our friendship. At this point I was just looking for an end to the conversation. I don’t know whether she was trying to provoke me to anger or hurt feelings, but I wasn’t about to let it happen.

So instead she made a hard-right turn and said that she wasn’t down with my “lifestyle” and didn’t think she could be the friend I want or need. I didn’t have any idea what her lifestyle comment may have referred to; I recall that some years back while we were all having dinner together she and Danny asked if Jill and I had ever had a threesome. The question came more or less out of nowhere, and was posed in such a way that they were guessing more than they were asking. We didn’t admit that we had, but we didn’t exactly deny it. This is, as far as I can remember, the one time Joan’s questioning has ventured into the realm of non-monogamy. That’s the only thing I can think of, because she doesn’t really know anything about our extracurricular activities beyond the fact that we might – or might not – have had a threesome once upon a time.

On the other hand, perhaps she was referring to my tendency to share everything with Jill, or at least my refusal to sneak around behind her back. Or maybe it was something else altogether. Either way, there was something about my lifestyle with which she took offense. She made a vague reference to our daughter finding out, as though trying to show me a drawback to said lifestyle that perhaps had thusfar eluded me. I was surprised and disappointed by her judgment of me, though I didn’t ask her to elaborate. Instead I excused myself from the conversation and muted her messages again. When curiosity got the better of me a couple days later I checked to see if she’d written back. She had: “Are you thinking about me?”

II. Wherein I Turn the Whole Thing Into an Indictment of Monogamy, As I Often Do

Few things turn me off faster than a woman who is stupid enough to believe that I’d be willing to sneak around behind my wife’s back, especially when I’ve already told her that Jill and I have no secrets. This isn’t the first time such a thing has happened, and I assume it won’t be the last. Shortly before our daughter was born a female acquaintance to whom I’d long been attracted began sending me suggestive texts and sexy (often naked) photos. It was very clear that she was sneaking around behind her significant other’s back and that she assumed I was doing the same. Needless to say, I told Jill right away, and at the same time my respect for this person – and, gradually, my attraction for her as well – plummeted. She was no longer interesting to me, but I kept it going for awhile because I enjoyed seeing her naked right up until the implied disrespect for my wife got to be too much and I no longer did.

I felt stupid for fighting for my friendship with Joan that day at lunch. Maybe I was right to want to let it go the week before. The impression that I got from her was that she felt that sneaking around behind your spouse’s back is totally acceptable – cheating is an American tradition! – but communicating openly? Compersion? She must see us as fucking degenerates for daring to go to such radical lengths to have a healthy marriage.

I also felt defensive, and perhaps even somewhat paranoid. At the same time I felt proud of myself for never openly sharing the details of our private life with her, or for that matter with most of the people we know offline. All I could think of was, what if she knew the truth? We would have been slut-shamed worse than a seventeen-year-old girl from a fundamentalist Christian household who’d been caught with condoms in her purse. I can’t even imagine what she’d make of my being poly. This is exactly why we don’t – nay, can’t – share such facets of our relationship more openly. I wish we could. We just can’t.

Joan is someone I’ve known for almost thirty years, and have considered a friend for nearly as long. We’ve been in intimate situations together, seen each other naked umpteen times, and know each other’s sexual likes and dislikes to some extent. With all of this in mind, she still tried to slut-shame me. Imagine how someone else, someone who didn’t know us nearly as well, who didn’t have the same decades-long friendship behind them, who conceivably hadn’t experimented sexually the way Joan and her husband had, or who thought we were perhaps more sexually conservative, might react.

People have preconceived notions about Jill and I, because people tend to have preconceived notions about everything and everyone other than themselves. They make assumptions: “I would never have an open relationship, so I’m sure that these people, who always seem so normal and just like me, don’t have one either.” Hell, it doesn’t have to be that extreme: “I would never let my spouse flirt with somebody else, so I’m sure anyone who does flirt is doing so secretly.” Because there is no serious ongoing dialogue on sex, things like polyamory and non-monogamy will never be normalized in the public eye. It takes knowing that lots of so-called “normal” people – people who hold down full-time jobs, raise children, go to church, and are generally speaking productive members of society – are in such a relationship for people to see that it doesn’t make you some kind of debauched monster.

It pains me to think that most people in our social circle would probably bail on us, or at least judge us harshly, if they knew some of the things we’d done sexually. I’m not saying that all of them would; conceivably some would be supportive, or even envious regardless of whether they could say so publicly. But I’m certain some, if not most, of the people we know, would be ill-equipped to process it. Their preconceptions about the sort of people we must be to have that kind of a relationship would likely ruin our friendship, or in the case of family, whatever relationship we have with them.

As I told a Twitter friend in the wake of all of this, I’d gladly lose ten supposed friends – or more – if it meant I could be myself, with no more fear of being found out, no forever waiting for the other shoe to drop, no desperate need for discretion influencing our every move. It sounds like Heaven on earth, to the extent that I even believe in Heaven. After all, while I earlier bemoaned the fact that some would judge us, in truth I have no problem weeding out the shitty pseudo-friends from the ones who understand or otherwise wouldn’t judge our sexual needs.

Of course, if you’ve been reading our stuff for any appreciable length of time you are undoubtedly aware that I don’t keep the details close to the vest for my own sake. No, I do it for Jill, who requires that discretion for reasons both professional and personal. Perhaps someday it won’t be an issue. I won’t hold my breath, however.

III. Thoughts on Cheating

I know I’ve expressed similar sentiment elsewhere on this blog, but I think it says a lot about our societal standards that some would rather cheat on a partner they purport to love than try to negotiate an arrangement that, while contrary to the supposed norm and seemingly unorthodox, works for many. I don’t judge others’ relationships as they typically don’t affect me at all. I understand that feelings change and it can be expensive both emotionally and financially to get a divorce. But how the fuck is cheating more acceptable than honest, open communication? Are we so scared of upsetting the status quo that we’d rather be deceitful and cheat? Or are we so selfish, and do we feel so entitled to have whatever we want without conflict, that we don’t even bother asking for permission before taking it?

I don’t judge those who interact with others without the permission of their spouse or significant other. I don’t know why they cheat, and ultimately it’s none of my business anyway. All I know is that it’s not the right thing for us. I feel disappointed not only that my friend was willing to sneak around – not that that stopped me from indulging her, really – but that she thought even for an instant that that was something of which I was capable as well. Among a very small portion of our social circle I may have the reputation of a man whose sole focus is sex, but I’d like to think that I’m also known for the strong, loving marriage Jill and I have built over the last several years on a foundation of trust and mutual consent. I just wish Joan had known better.

IV. Conclusion

While I was initially worried that I’d somehow been at fault for the way things transpired between Joan and myself, I realize now that this is not the case. Perhaps our years of friendship blinded me to her deeper issues as much as my unrequited feelings and attraction to her had done so. I may have given her too much freedom and demanded too little respect, but I’m secure in the knowledge that I’m not a misogynist, nor am I someone who uses others without regard for their feelings.

Those who are aware of the situation in its entirety acquit me of the blame while acknowledging that Joan’s issues – the extreme paranoia and unwillingness to trust, swings in confidence, loss of memory, and social awkwardness – may be indicative of mental illness. Some have suggested bipolar disorder while others claim borderline personality disorder. While I certainly find no reason to doubt either of these, I have no way of diagnosing her myself. And while I had my suspicions toward the end of my time chatting with her, I wasn’t about to suggest that she might have such a condition. I can only imagine her reaction were I to bring it up.

https://twitter.com/EmmyRTWS/status/585131763372052480

In the wake of this disaster, words of encouragement and absolution from friends both online and off were greatly appreciated. It isn’t every day that a self-proclaimed feminist like myself briefly considers that he could possibly be a despicable entitled sexist pig. It’s not who I am. I certainly didn’t share all of this in the hopes that the blogosphere would rise up to shame or ridicule a woman who is likely suffering from extreme mental and emotional pain. I suppose that, on some level, I just wanted to achieve some measure of catharsis and closure. But if someone saw fit to exonerate me, I wasn’t about to refute their efforts.

In closing, I’ll leave you with this bit of insight from our good friend Melissa Camacho, which WordPress refuses to embed properly:

@jackandjillcpl hugs hun. I read the whole feed. bitches be crazy! 😂

— Melissa Hardin (@RamblingLlama) March 24, 2015

Welcome to TMI Tuesday. In the U.S. it is tax season, tax reports are due April 15.

There’s Nothing Sexy About Taxes

Wherever you are in the world, assuming you all pay taxes–income or other types, answer the following questions.

Jack’s Answers

1. Are taxes levied where you live?
Yes, but when I set up my own sovereign nation, which I’m tentatively referring to as the Unified Provinces of Jacksylvania, there will be no taxes, and with it none of the benefits associated with a tax-paying society, including but not limited to trash collection, mail delivery, emergency services, public education, and paved roads. All you “I built this”-spouting red-white-and-blue patriots are welcome to come live there!

2. Do you pay your taxes?
Yes. I’m not Wesley Snipes.

3. This year will you owe taxes or do you expect a refund?
We’re expecting a modest refund. Nothing too spectacular and it’s already been spent, but at least we didn’t have to pay.

4. Have you already filed your taxes?
They’ve been filed. I didn’t do them myself; Jill handles our taxes, paying the bills, and other such tasks. I’m too busy running a business, raising a child, and taking care of the various day-to-day domestic stuff.

5. You are getting a tax refund, which ONE of these would you most likely do with the money?
a. pay off credit cards
b. contribute to retirement savings
c. go on vacation
d. shop for something (car, clothes, household items, etc)
I’m going to go with (a). While this year we did not actually use our refund to pay off our credit cards, it went toward other boring routine expenses.

6. Sometimes you just need to have frivolous, and if you get a windfall from a tax refund, which of ONE of these things would you most likely do? Why?
a. have a big party
b. loan it to family or a friend
c. spend a weekend at an adults-only erotic resort
d. gamble (Lottery tickets, casino)
I’d probably go with (c), spend a weekend at an adults-only erotic resort; that sounds right up my alley and the sort of thing I’d like to do with an unexpected influx of cash. That, or (a), have a big party. I miss the days when Jill and I would throw huge parties with all manner of food and alcohol, and while it’s much more difficult to do so in the smallish abode we currently occupy, I think about those parties often. These days the only big parties we throw are for our daughter’s birthdays, and while these gatherings are definitely expensive, I’d love to throw a party for no discernible reason other than the fact that we enjoy being around our family and friends. So (a) or (c).

Bonus: If you could be a circus performer, which act would you be? (I know soooo random!)
Maybe a juggler. I’m already an expert at handling balls. I may as well get paid for it.

Jill’s Answers

1. Are taxes levied where you live?
Upon reading this question I was curious as to which countries collect no taxes from their citizens, so I did some research and found that the United Arab Emirates, the Bahamas, Bermuda, Andorra, and Monaco are among those that do not. But we don’t live in any of those places. So the answer is yes.

2. Do you pay your taxes?
As I’m sure Jack has already mentioned, yes, we pay our taxes as we are not fans of going to prison.

3. This year will you owe taxes or do you expect a refund?
We got a refund this year, as we do most years.

4. Have you already filed your taxes?
Yes. I am not one to procrastinate, and while I understand that many if not most Americans like to wait until the last minute and then panic, I am very much the sort of woman who believes in getting our taxes filed as soon as the fiscal year ends. Doing our taxes isn’t so complicated that it requires a team of accountants, and I’ve always been good at math so I have no problem sitting down and just getting it done. Plus the peace of mind I get from knowing it’s been taken care of is a huge plus.

5. You are getting a tax refund, which ONE of these would you most likely do with the money?
a. pay off credit cards
b. contribute to retirement savings
c. go on vacation
d. shop for something (car, clothes, household items, etc)
Of the four choices listed, I will probably go with (a), as I generally prefer not to splurge on something like a vacation or other luxury until my responsibilities (i.e. credit card debt, etc.) are taken care of. That’s not to say that I have never done that, but unless the refund is larger than usual, I don’t see the point of putting it toward some major unnecessary expenditure when we’ve got bills to pay.

6. Sometimes you just need to have frivolous, and if you get a windfall from a tax refund, which of ONE of these things would you most likely do? Why?
a. have a big party
b. loan it to family or a friend
c. spend a weekend at an adults-only erotic resort
d. gamble (Lottery tickets, casino)
Okay, this is the larger than usual refund I mentioned earlier. In this case, if we’re talking several thousand dollars or more, I’ll go with (c). I’ve always wanted to visit an adults-only erotic resort, and while we’ve been to sex clubs, kinky parties and the like, I find that I really enjoy the idea of spending an extended period (more than just a few hours) among like-minded people, hopefully watching and being watched, and with any luck sampling my fellow kinksters.

Bonus: If you could be a circus performer, which act would you be? (I know soooo random!)
The sword swallower, of course.

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!

 

 

 

Part 4: Coming to a crossroads
(You may be looking for Part 1, Part 2, or Part 3)

I. The Most Sarcastic I’ve Ever Been Toward Another Human Being

Joan began asking me to Skype with her again. I agreed, if I got to see her naked as well. She countered that she let me see her when we’d Skyped years earlier, and that even though it was dark and she definitely wasn’t naked, I got to see what she generously described as “glimpses”. She asked if I was “still not satisfied”.

I couldn’t help it. The needle on the smart-ass gauge went into the red. “Oh yeahhhhhh,” I typed. “Having to crane my neck to see you in the dark is so fucking satisfying! I was totally turned on by the reflection of light on your glasses. Fuuuuuuck, let’s do it again right now! Still not satisfied? Who would be, short of someone with a darkness fetish?” She took offense at my tone. I told her that “Still not satisfied” usually follows something like, “I got naked, I let you watch me masturbate with a vibrator AND my fingers, and I talked dirty and let you look at my tits while you jerked off”. But hints of her face in the dark, which I couldn’t really even see because of the angle of my laptop screen? I think I can get off without that questionable “stimulation”, thanks. By that point I was already feeling like things were far too one-sided. I was kind of done.

But then she invited me out to lunch after we’d each picked up our kids from school that day. I wasn’t eager to see her, not just because I’d grown tired of her incessant notions of entitlement (and trust me, that’s exactly what it was), but also because I had a ton of shit to do around the house that afternoon. But I relented, because frankly it’s rare that someone invites me out to lunch. I like conversing with an adult who isn’t one of my child’s teachers or a fellow parent from her school. And while I shouldn’t have expected conversation given the events of our visit to their house, I was hopeful.

Before we signed off, she told me to be subtle with any flirting or innuendo, because her daughter is intelligent and would likely notice. I suppose it was the assumption that I would flirt openly with her while my own daughter was present that I found most maddening. I’ve never been one to behave in an overtly sexual fashion in front of my daughter, mainly because I would have turned into a pillar of salt had my parents behaved that way in front of me. While Jill and I have no problem showing affection or even giving ourselves “alone time” behind our closed bedroom door, that’s a far cry from making fuck-me eyes to a woman who is not my wife. Our daughter can learn about the ins and outs (no pun intended) of human sexuality at the appropriate time. But for now I don’t mind if she thinks that Mommy and Daddy are strictly vanilla.

Once I’d picked my daughter up from preschool and told her that we were going to lunch with the girl who’d played with her the previous Saturday night, Joan messaged me: “Don’t be surprised if I touch your cock with my foot at the table.” Suddenly I was beyond wary. I was, for lack of a better expression, totally weirded out. It just didn’t feel right, in part because she’d told me at most an hour before to keep things on the down-low but was now planning to clumsily grope me under the table, in the process likely kicking my child and possibly hers as well. It didn’t help that she was ostensibly doing this behind her husband’s back, and thought that Jill was also in the dark. Had I not already told my daughter about our lunch plans I would have bailed.

II. The Most Awkward Lunch in Human History

We went to the restaurant where Joan had asked us to meet and held a booth while we waited for her and her daughter to arrive. When they showed up Joan gave me a mumbled hello and walked right up to the counter to order their lunch. No catching up, no small talk, no anything. If I wasn’t expecting her, I might not have even noticed that they’d walked in. And I was going to offer to pay for their lunch, because that’s the kind of friend I am.

As we ate, Joan didn’t speak much. She made awkward “How’s school” type chit-chat with my daughter, though none with me. That suited me fine; I sat as far from her as I possibly could lest she try to put her foot in my lap. She avoided eye contact, and while I didn’t avert my eyes from hers I definitely wasn’t about to make the aforementioned fuck-me eyes at her. At times I did attempt to shatter the relative silence, such as by mentioning that my daughter was really excited about having lunch with Joan’s. To this, Joan reacted in mock offense, turned to my daughter, and asked, “What? You weren’t excited to see me too?” She regarded Joan with cocked head and furrowed brow, the way a dog might regard a new type of food in its bowl. I would not have been surprised if she replied to Joan’s inquiry with an incredulous “I don’t even know your name.”

And that’s when it occurred to me: Joan and I have been friends for more than two decades. How is it that I have never noticed how completely abrasive she is? Case in point: Partway through the meal she began leaning over and whispering to her daughter. It was very clear that she was whispering about us. I had no idea what might have been so urgent that Joan needed to bring it to her daughter’s attention right then and there; perhaps I had food in my teeth. Perhaps my hair was messy. Perhaps my daughter had a booger hanging out of her nose. (Hey, it happens.)

However, I know it was none of those three things, not that it would have justified her behavior. We hadn’t yet begun to eat. My hair looked great. My daughter had blown her nose. But whatever it was, they were just whispering back and forth like we were strangers sitting across from them on the subway, not friends whom they’d invited to have lunch with them. Which is not to say that I advocate whispering in an obvious fashion about strangers on the subway. That kind of thing can get you killed.

After a couple instances of them whispering to each other, my daughter called them out on it. That’s right, my pre-K-age child has better table etiquette than both of them. She asked me why they were whispering, and I said – quite loudly – that I didn’t know, and that it must have been something they didn’t want us to hear. But that didn’t satisfy my little girl.

Tiring of their company, I planted the seeds of our departure before we’d even finished eating. I told her that I had a lot to do at home, plus groceries to pick up. Once lunch was finished, however, Joan asked my daughter if she wanted to go play at a nearby park. She didn’t ask me. She asked my daughter. This is something I absolutely fucking hate, something that raises the hairs on the back of my neck and quite literally (okay, figuratively) makes me see red. It doesn’t matter whether it’s someone at a store trying to sell something directly to my child, or a well-meaning relative not bothering to check with me before asking if she’d like some candy. If you’re looking to make me dislike you, circumvent my wife and I.

It was a soul-crushing afternoon, simply put. It occurred to me that my daughter and I might as well have been sitting at a different table. I couldn’t even fathom why she might have invited us to lunch in the first place. To her credit, she didn’t make any attempts at flirting or playing footsie or whatever, though I’m sure my body language demonstrated that I didn’t want that.  However, she didn’t do much else either. She had the demeanor of a lobotomized squirrel. I had to hurry to get my grocery shopping done and clean the house given the almost two hours that I’d lost.

III. Wherein I Analyze the Situation and Wonder if I’m an Entitled Misogynist

So how had I never noticed just how little Joan and I had in common, and for that matter how much I disliked being around her? Or how annoying and irritating I found her? Because other friends, both male and female, came to this conclusion long ago. That’s not to say that she doesn’t have friends, but presumably they’re as abrasive as she is. But why had I never really noticed in twenty-five years? Well, for one thing I was always attracted to her, so it made sense that I was thinking with the little head. But there’s more to it than that.

Since that brief period when she was separated and we had our ongoing thing, I’d joined Twitter and found a vast sea of women looking to flirt, talk dirty, share casual nudity, Skype, or whatever else have you. These women were better at it than Joan was, and much more confident in themselves without the obvious, clumsy need for validation with which Joan led much like some might lead with a seductive bat of the eyelashes or a clever joke.

At the risk of sounding incredibly shallow, I realized that I didn’t really need her anymore. I didn’t need her to flirt with, anyway, and at the risk of sounding even worse, she didn’t have anything else to offer. I realize that sounds horrible and entitled, but it’s true: We don’t like the same kind of entertainment. We come from vastly different backgrounds. Her daughter is years older than my own, so we can’t even connect the way two parents of similarly-aged children might.  To be absolutely honest, she isn’t a very nice person.  She never was.

Simply put, without the need or desire to flirt with her, I could see that Joan held very little appeal. However, this revelation was not without its drawbacks, as in its wake I felt horrible about myself for a number of reasons. For one thing, I felt like I would have put up with her rudeness and the fact that we have little in common if she was, for instance, regularly sending me naked pictures or taking off her clothes on Skype. Yes, I realize that makes me sound like a pig. The thing is, though, if there was something to justify our friendship – a mutual love of some television series or movie, a similar background, substantive shared life experience, or even an enjoyment of each other’s company – it would be a different story. Still, I felt like a terrible person for even coming to this conclusion. Maybe that’s why I didn’t allow it to occur to me sooner.

For whatever reason, that night she asked me if I wanted to Skype with her. She said she’d let me see her face, with the lights on. I declined as I needed to get to bed. Then I muted her IM notifications. I didn’t feel like telling her off; I’m allergic to drama, and at any rate while I might find her abrasive and rude, she hadn’t done anything that warranted me scorching the earth in dealing with her. I figured if she texted me to ask why I wasn’t replying to her instant messages I could say that I wasn’t getting my notifications. Technically, that was true.

I didn’t like the idea of avoiding her and then prevaricating about why I hadn’t replied; that’s something I never do. I believe in addressing a situation responsibly. But would it have been better to tell her that she’s not someone with whom I enjoy flirting? That I don’t get what I need or even want from our interactions? That I have instant access to myriad women far sexier, more confident, more interesting and more open to suggestion, and though I’ve met less than one percent of them we’ve connected far better than she and I ever will?

What I told her earlier was true: I value honesty above all else. I hope that my frank discussion of sexuality and my acerbic sense of humor have made that apparent by now. But considering her at times severe lack of self esteem and need for validation, I suspect honesty is too cruel. I have absolutely no desire to hurt her feelings.

I logged out of my personal Skype account on my tablet and logged back into my secret account that only certain of our online friends know about. It wasn’t like Jill would have necessarily wanted me Skyping with her, now that I think about it. And at any rate, she wasn’t going to get naked. And I’m not judging her for that. Not everyone is an exhibitionist. Some people just like to watch. But I like visual stimulation. Without the possibility of any I didn’t really feel the need to stick around. And that’s part of why I felt so lousy about all of this. Did my friendship with her really hinge on the chance of seeing her naked? Is there really nothing else there? If so, what does that say about me? Am I really that shallow? I wouldn’t have thought so.

Again, I’m not one to feel entitled to see a woman naked. I enjoy seeing women naked, of course, but I know it’s not my right, and that no woman should let a man see her that way out of a sense of pressure or obligation. Thus I considered that my depression may have been to blame. It seemed unlikely, but I had no logical explanation for the whirl of different feelings and emotions that surrounded Joan since dinner at her house. One minute I found her attractive. The next she’s annoying and rude. Then I’m attracted again, but aware that we’re never going to fuck and I’m okay with that. Then she says something ridiculous that completely turns me off. Case in point, one day I told her that I wanted to fuck her, and she was flattered and aroused. Then I clarified that since it’s outside her relationship boundaries I was content with it just being a fantasy. To which she replied, “Oh, so you don’t want to fuck me now?”

Chatting with Joan could go from sexy to paranoid to really strange and incongruous, then back, in a matter of seconds. The incongruity I could understand, to an extent, even if it was as jarring as all hell. Not everyone is comfortable talking dirty, especially to someone who isn’t a regular, ongoing partner. People are turned on by different things, and it may take time to develop a rhythm. Still, the incongruity went beyond stumbling over her words or saying things that may have been sexy to her husband but weren’t sexy to me. I can’t describe it, really. Suffice it to say that it may have been easy for Joan to turn me on, but it was also easy for her to inadvertently (or perhaps deliberately) turn me off.

Her paranoia was the worst, though. I understand that she enjoyed chatting with me because it was a clandestine thrill she could keep from her husband. Clearly, sneaking around was a big part of the turn-on. However, I again got the sense that she felt awful about what she was doing. I knew she’d never tell me as much, of course. And her old issues were unfortunately still prevalent. When she asked to see me naked on Skype, I told her she’d have to reciprocate. She refused, and said she didn’t trust me enough, that I’d have to put myself in more of a vulnerable position if I wanted to see her naked.  I’m not one for lying down on railroad tracks, so I changed the subject.

IV. You Know What? Fuck it. I’m Not Giving Up That Easily

I spent a few hours that night soul-searching. Actually I don’t know what soul-searching is, exactly, but it seems an apt descriptor for what I was doing. I considered that the problems I was having with Joan’s and my friendship may have been entirely my fault. Perhaps my expectations had gotten out of hand. The next day was Friday, and I texted to ask her to lunch, just the two of us. I don’t know what she might have been expecting, though I note that she didn’t try and tease me with the promise of any under-the table shenanigans. I was glad.

I told her that I felt bad that our friendship seemed to have been reduced to the sexual aspect and nothing else, though I didn’t mention that I had brought it up because the sexual aspect was suddenly so unsatisfying. She was surprised and said she didn’t realize. She also made a point of mentioning that she wouldn’t have been upset if that were true, but in her opinion there was more than that. I pointed out that we almost never hang out, that our dinner at their place the week before was the first time we’ve seen them socially in a year. That when she IMs or texts for whatever reason there really isn’t any small talk or catching up, that she’s always very brusque and businesslike. Even friends who I see more often ask how I’m doing when they drop a line.

She said she wanted to change that and asked if Jill and I would like to get dinner and drinks that night. We were able to get a babysitter, as were Joan and Danny, so we decided where we’d meet and what time. Before we parted company, I apologized again. Joan brushed it off and apologized if she had done anything to make it seem like there was nothing to our friendship but the sexual component. I didn’t remind her of the multiple unanswered invites to dinner at our place; I know they’re a busy family, and she probably wouldn’t have remembered anyway.

I did, however, mention the whispering at the table. I told her it really bothered me. I found it rude, and while not exactly out of character I had to get it off of my chest. She apologized for it. She didn’t tell me what she and her daughter had been whispering about, or why she felt the need to do it in the first place, but whatever. I accepted her apology. Suddenly I didn’t feel nervous or wary about seeing her socially. At the very least I felt certain that with her husband and my wife both present, she wouldn’t be groping my cock under the table.

Coming up next: Part 5 (Implosion)

 

Another Easter Sunday, another blasphemous pun.  Surely you remember our “He is Risen” post from Easter Sunday 2014.  No religious significance to the use of soft-focus as seen here, but it was Molly’s prompt for this week.

See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!