Part 3: Events of the last month or so
(You may be looking for Part 1 or Part 2)

I. Let’s Talk Dirty to Each Other Again

A few weeks ago Joan messaged me about having dinner at their place. I was pleased to hear from her, and glad that someone had requested our company; outside of Jill’s extended family this is something that happens much more rarely than I would like. We’d invited them over for dinner twice in the last six months, but nothing ever came of it, i.e. they never got back to us with a date that would work for them. It wasn’t a big deal.  We’re all busy.

As we communicated back and forth, figuring out the details, she was the first one to make a suggestive comment. I didn’t run with it. I just let it lie there, and pretended that it hadn’t happened. It was the first time she’d done such a thing in years, and frankly I didn’t want to take the bait. She can be a bit of a tease, and I figured that if I showed interest in her comment she’d ignore it anyway. When I did eventually steer the conversation into the sexual realm, it was after I had her express approval and encouragement. After awhile, she asked why I never attempted to have sex with her before I was married, ostensibly because she would have been more receptive to such an overture than she is currently. With an eyeroll she couldn’t see, I reminded her that she wasn’t interested. Beyond her demeanor and body language, the “brother” comments made that clear. Any statement to the contrary is revisionism.

As we talked more, she told me that she was uncomfortable with Jill knowing of my sexual interest in her. I assured her that it posed no problem for my marriage, nor for her friendship with Jill. I asked her why she felt uncomfortable, but she remained vague and wouldn’t explain further. In retrospect, this was a red flag: Honest and open communication is essential in a relationship, whether it’s a marriage, a parent-child relationship, a business relationship, or virtually any other. I didn’t realize it at the time, but she was angling for me to keep our flirting a secret from my wife. More on that later.

We barely wasted any time on her discomfort before she reinitiated the sex talk. It was very explicit, far dirtier than it had been during her separation, and I was pleased with the breadth of activities she said she wanted to try with me, even if I knew it was never going to actually happen. She was flattered to know that I was attracted to her, though she claimed that she never had any idea. I found this strange, as I’d told her on several occasions. She also claimed that she’d never thought of me in a sexual fashion before, and that it was unusual for her. Were I thinking with the proverbial big head rather than the little one, I would have smelled bullshit. But I was just glad that she’d used the word “cock” in an IM conversation. First time in years!

II. It Gets Weird

She asked me if Jill was going to read our chat transcript. I told her probably not, though not because I was going to keep it a secret from her but rather because Jill doesn’t have time to read my chat transcripts. I could tell that she found this strange, that it wasn’t the answer she wanted. She wanted me to say that our chats were her and my naughty little secret.  I refrained from asking her what kind of a person insists on micromanaging their spouse’s online interactions, or trusts the person he or she married so little that such a level of disclosure is necessary. And while Jill and I do disclose just about everything, we don’t find it necessary to go through chat transcripts with a fine-tooth comb as though looking for punctuation mistakes.  If I am reading a chat my wife has had with another man, for example, I’m doing it because I want to get turned on by it.  I should have bailed then, but I didn’t.

It was around this time that I noticed her wildly fluctuating self-esteem. It had always been this way, but now it was very noticeable. When I told her that she had a cute butt, she expressed surprise that I didn’t refer to it as “sexy”, “hot”, or “fucking awesome”. I couldn’t find fault with her confidence, even if I didn’t remember her ever being quite so secure in herself. Still, I’ll take such a self-assured response over “OMG stop it my butt’s not all that” any day.

On the other hand, when I told her that I liked her body, she said that I didn’t have to say that if I didn’t really like it. This was another major red flag; why would I say something just to validate her? Especially with the knowledge that I found her attractive, which she’d mentioned just before that, why would she think I didn’t mean it genuinely? It seemed a very odd thing to say, and it quickly became obvious that she was desperate for my validation. Perhaps she was desperate for any man’s validation, and I was just the only one who was offering it. Maybe she was too sheepish to seek it elsewhere.

On a similar note, she said that she missed having girl time with Jill. She said that she really wanted to hang out with her, but that she was certain Jill wouldn’t want to. I imagine that she was expecting me to say “Oh, of course she wants to hang out! Are you kidding? You’re a super person! Why would anyone not want to hang out and be your friend?” And while Jill would have undoubtedly been happy to have girl time with Joan, that kind of desperate attention-seeking makes us both uncomfortable.

Rather than placating her, I tried a different tact: “Why do you say such horrible things? Is your self-esteem really that low? I mean, you just suggested that I don’t like your body right after I said I did. Do you not trust us? Or do you just like the validation of us telling you otherwise? If that’s the case, fine, I’ll give it to you, but you should know you don’t have to say self-deprecating things in order to get it.” My reply may have been insensitive, but that kind of thing really bugs me. So I continued: “A couple days ago when I said your ass was cute you said you prefer when people say it’s sexy, hot, or fucking awesome. Where’s that confidence now?”

III. Dinner at Their Place

That weekend they had us over for dinner. I’d expected some sex talk, as she’d hinted it was coming. Joan has always wanted to know details about our sex life, including but not limited to what positions we prefer, our oral and manual sex techniques, and unusual places where we’ve had sex. She typically does not ask us about our forays into non-monogamy, though this is mainly because she knows nothing about that side of us. Why would she? She and her husband are traditionally monogamous, and it makes sense that she would assume the same of us.  Additionally, we’ve never thought to share that side of our sex life with them.  Though at times in the past Joan and Danny have presented themselves – to us privately, if not in public – as sex-positive, there’s no way to know how they might react to the news that we are, for lack of a better word, sexual deviants.  After all, it’s one thing to talk openly about lube when you’re childless.  It’s something else altogether to countenance the idea of married people who are not yourselves having sex with multiple partners when you’re a vaunted pillar of the community (or not).

During most meetings between the six of us, the subject of sex was broached once the kids were out of earshot. A previous dinner gathering at our place saw them pull out some sort of sex-related card game, the kind where you draw a card and ask everyone at the table a personal question. But this time nothing like that ever happened, even though their daughter and ours spent most of the evening playing in the former’s bedroom. The husband plied us with alcohol – okay, maybe he’s just being a good host; obviously they weren’t expecting to have a foursome with children present in the house.

We had a nice time, and dinner was great. After dinner, though, while the kids played, they turned on the television and we watched TV more or less in silence for the next few hours. I didn’t require or even expect sex talk, but some conversation with other adults would have been nice. It isn’t every day that I find myself conversing with an adult who isn’t my wife. I could have watched TV at home, while naked if I wanted to, and probably had a better dinner beforehand. We got the sense that once dinner was finished they had no idea what to do with us and just parked us in front of the TV like a clueless teenage babysitter.  By the time we finally left, both Jill and I had been ready to go for a couple hours.

During an IM conversation the following day, Joan said that she didn’t want to talk about sex at all while our kids were around. I understood completely, and told her that she’d come a long way from wanting to watch Jill and I fuck while her daughter slept in the next room. She claimed that she had absolutely no memory of that incident. Later, however, she told me that she did remember it, and that she also remembered calling it off because of her aforementioned sleeping daughter. She had no memory of Skyping with Jill and I, or with just me. However, she did remember the same-room sex that occurred with my ex (though she could recall no details). She insisted that her memory wasn’t very good, and while I remembered details by the truckload – many of which are included here – I understand that my sharp memory is the exception and not the rule.

“A lot of things have happened in my life between then and now”, she wrote. “I’m sure you can understand.” Fair enough, I guess. I didn’t tell her that many people we know online who’ve watched us on Skype still remember the experience. And while I have no reason to doubt that her memory is bad, my gut feeling is that she is so full of shame over having done such things that she’s either repressed it or is flat-out lying. Or perhaps not; she didn’t remember writing a school paper on my sexual history, but she did remember coming over to use my AOL connection for Cybersex (though not what transpired afterwards).

She proposed that the four of us go out drinking one night in the near future. With the caveat that it’s rare that Jill and I are ever able to get a babysitter, I agreed and jokingly asked if same-room was on the agenda when we were finished at the bar. She said she’d have to get Danny drunk first – there’s that recurring motif again! – since he’s a total prude. Now, I’m not sure whether she’s forgotten how desperately he wanted to sleep with my ex, or if she’s blocked those memories out. I don’t know if she’s unaware that he and my wife would occasionally message each other. And I don’t know if he perhaps carries himself differently around his wife than he does around other women. It’s possible, certainly. I have heard stories of husbands losing all sexual interest in their wives once they bear a child. I have no way of knowing whether this is the case with him. I hope not. But the guy is far from a prude.

IV. It Gets Really Fucking Weird, and I Share Some Standup Comedy

She asked me what I would do if her husband gave me his blessing to have sex with her. I told her that it doesn’t matter because it’s her body and the decision would ultimately be hers. “Danny isn’t your pimp,” I said. And while I can admit that I said that specifically to stymie her expectation of me talking explicitly about how I was going to fuck the living shit out of her, the truth is that that’s exactly how I feel. She’s not his property, and he shouldn’t be the one to decide who she fucks. I think that blew her mind, though. She had no idea how to react. A man giving her sexual control? Though I really wouldn’t have guessed it, I now assume that she doesn’t have much of that within her marriage. Anyway, it’s a moot point, as her husband isn’t going to do so.

“How do you know that?” she asked. “Maybe he is my pimp.” Yeah, she had no idea how to react to my answer. I told her that that was fine with us as long as it was fine with her, and that she wasn’t the only sex worker we knew. I’m sure that flabbergasted her further, though I get the sense she’d never heard the term “sex worker” before. She didn’t ask me if “sex worker” means “hooker” though.

Though Joan and I have some things in common politically – unlike Danny she’s a democrat and she and I tend to have similar views on certain issues – she’s far from politically correct. She has been known to suggest that I wouldn’t be able to control myself if I were alone with her, which is the reasoning of ass-backwards misogynists, right-wing Republicans (same thing, I know), and others who insist that revealing clothing, flirting, alcohol, and things other than rapists are responsible for rape. She also said on a few occasions during our back-and-forth that I should have been more aggressive in my advances toward her when we were younger. I did my best to keep from blurting out (or whatever the online equivalent is, anyway) that maybe that’s why some guys hear “no” and think “yes”, and that she was doing women everywhere a great disservice. I’ll let comedian Louis CK explain why that’s bullshit.

[EDIT: Obviously in 2023 I can’t include a YouTube link to a Louis CK routine in one of my posts, because fuck that guy. However, in 2015 it made total sense to reference a routine in which he talks about a woman who told him she was “turned on when a guy just gets frustrated and just holds [her] down and fucks [her]” despite her insistence that he stop. And while I can admit to the absurdity of one person expecting another person to “just go for it” and the humor of the routine in question, the fact that the guy who claimed to have been shocked to hear the woman’s viewpoint has shown literally no interest in consent means, once again, fuck that guy.]

She also asked me to delete our conversations. I told her I don’t delete my conversations, and changed the subject. She admitted that she probably wouldn’t believe me even if I told her I would delete them. I took some offense at this, and said that I value honesty. I’ve spent my entire life being honest – well, my entire adult life, at least. Her trust issues were more than apparent by this point; I recalled that during her separation I’d asked her to show me her tits on Skype and she refused, citing the fact that she didn’t trust me enough. This, despite the fact that I’d let her watch me with absolutely no quid-pro-quo. I would have understood completely had she said that her body was private, that she didn’t feel comfortable sharing in this fashion, or that only her husband gets to see her naked.  The implication that she found me untrustworthy was upsetting back then, and upon recalling it, somehow moreso now.

I asked why she wanted me to delete our conversations, whether it was because she wanted no general record of what we’d talked about, or to prevent someone specific – my wife, obviously – from seeing them. I’m not sure what difference it would have made one way or the other; as I told her, it wasn’t going to happen. It was a moot point, as she didn’t answer.

She messaged again later after she’d gotten home from work as though she simply hadn’t noticed the inquiry. At that point she said “I don’t know how yours and Jill’s relationship works. Danny doesn’t see any of my stuff on my phone. Not that I’m trying to hide anything. I just feel if and when I want him to see stuff I will show him.” If that isn’t a red flag, I don’t know what the fuck could be. I’m guessing her husband has no knowledge of anything she hasn’t made a point of showing him, and that she makes a point of showing him very little, if anything. Thus anything we had done was well outside of his comfort zone. I kind of felt sorry for him.

Coming up next: Part 4 (Coming to a crossroads)

Hi peeps! It’s been a long day, I’m exhausted. No energy to be creative for TMI Tuesday so I ripped these questions (and modified) from a dating website.

Yes, I’m listening…

Jack’s Answers

1. Who has been the biggest influence in your life?
Once upon a time I would likely have said my father. We don’t always see eye to eye, but he taught me a lot about hard work and how to provide for a family. Granted, I didn’t entirely follow in his footsteps – he was a blue-collar worker whereas I’ve usually worn a white collar when I’ve worn a shirt at all – but the lessons he taught me, whether intentional or not, really stuck. However, as of right now, and presumably going forward forever, the biggest influence on my life is my daughter. Everything I do is with her in mind, because I know that my actions will invariably influence her. I know you were hoping I’d say something more exciting, such as Peter North, but there you have it.

2. What kinds of things really make you laugh?
Cerebral comedy. The films of Edward D. Wood, Jr. Dennis Miller pre-9/11. Precocious things my daughter says or does. The Onion. The Three Stooges. Monty Python. Mad Magazine in the 1980s and 1990s. My own demented sense of humor, including the occasional really funny photo inserted into a TMI Tuesday post, though I admit that, with increasing frequency, these are almost as random as a cutaway gag on Family Guy.

3. What’s your favorite place in the entire world?
Bed? I’m going to go with bed. It’s the ideal place for sleep and sex, both of which are activities I enjoy and of which I can’t get enough. While bed is not the only place for either pursuit – far from it! – beds were specifically designed for sleeping and for fucking. I can’t think of a single location doing more to engender good will than that.

4. Who is your best friend? What do you like about him/her?
I’m going with Jill. She gives me security, keeps me grounded, feeds my ego, and makes sure that I’m physically (and emotionally) satisfied. She helps me raise our daughter, takes an interest in the things that I enjoy, cooks and bakes in a way that makes it difficult for me to lose weight, and manages to keep up with me sexually, which is no easy feat. On the other hand, if you’re looking for a more traditional “best friend” answer, I’ll go with some random guy from high school. Let’s call him Marty. He had a bitchin’ IROC and his older brother used to buy us beer, so I keep him around.

5. What’s your biggest goal in life right now?
To be happy. That’s all. I don’t need to retire at forty, learn to fly a plane, have a mansion on a sprawling estate, learn to use the Force, or win an Oscar. I just want to be happy (and hopefully healthy as well). It isn’t always easy, as I suffer from depression, and while it’s more or less in check, when it rears its ugly head it can be hard to focus on the positive.

6. What was your family like growing up?
Typical suburban family of three. Father was a blue-collar worker, as stated above. Mother was an administrative professional who volunteered her ass off at my school. A couple dogs, too. One large rescue dog and one smaller dog that quite literally followed my Dad home one day.

Bonus: What is one thing about you that would surprise us?
I once went sixteen months with an open warrant for my arrest.

Jill’s Answers

1. Who has been the biggest influence in your life?
My father. He’s a very positive influence on me. My father is the type of person who practices what he preaches, never fails to follow through, and when he has something worth giving, whether it’s money, food, or even time, he gives it to others. He’s always done the right thing. He makes you feel special and the center of his attention, whether you’re someone he’s known for years, or he’s meeting you for the first time. I grew up in a very large family, so he’s got lots of practice making my siblings and I feel important to him, though that’s because we always were. I’ve always felt like I could go to my father for advice, or anything that I needed.

2. What kinds of things really make you laugh?
My daughter and Jack. My students, though not necessarily intentionally. Friends, which remains one of my favorite television shows. Don’t judge.

3. What’s your favorite place in the entire world?
Ireland is pretty great. I’ve only been there a couple times, and never for as long as I would have liked, but it’s definitely one of my all-time favorite places on earth. Ireland carries with it good memories and happy times, plus overflowing pints of Guinness, often with shamrocks etched in the head. Really, though, any place where there are people I care about and I feel supported and loved is a favorite of mine. But as far as actual physical places go, I’ll choose Ireland.

4. Who is your best friend? What do you like about him/her?
Jack is my best friends. I like that I always know I can count on him. He has my best interests at heart, gives me reassurance, and will never let me down. I married him because he was a supportive, loving guy not unlike my father, whose relationship with my mother was very much the ideal for me as I grew up. While Jack’s and my marriage is not nearly as conventional as I imagine theirs is, we have just as much love between us.

5. What’s your biggest goal in life right now?
To make it to Spring Break, when I’ll get a much-deserved vacation. Actually, forget that. My goal right now, as of this minute as I’m writing this, is to make it through tonight. We’re meeting a new friend for drinks and a very likely threesome this evening, and although I’ve never had a threesome that wasn’t fun and satisfying, beforehand I’m always anxious. I worry about awkwardness, embarrassment, feelings of jealousy or negativity. I worry about having my boundaries respected. I’ve experienced enough non-monogamy with Jack to know that my fears are probably unfounded, but it’s just the way my mind works. Fortunately I know that I can count on Jack to put me first.

6. What was your family like growing up?
Growinig up, my family was crazy, loud, fun, loving, supportive, and wonderful. Even stressful at times, but usually in a good way. My immediate family was very large (that’s Catholics for you), and there was always someone you could turn to for advice, a non-judgmental ear, or otherwise for support. Whatever you needed, someone in the family could provide it. When I got older I thought I didn’t want it and tried to get away from it, but I was wrong. I couldn’t live without my family nearby.

Bonus: What is one thing about you that would surprise us?
I really can’t think of anything. This is where I go to share who I really am. However, there are plenty of things about me that would surprise those I know offline, and to whom I am arguably closest.

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 2: Wherein we have monogamous group sex and some other things happen
(You may be looking for Part 1)

I. Monogamous Group Sex

It was during an evening of drinking and watching TV at their place that the four of us first had monogamous group sex, or same-room sex if you prefer, or watching and being watched while fucking if the other two terms are too unclear. I’m not sure how it all started, though if I remember right my girlfriend and I initiated it, and Danny and Joan followed suit. As I recall alcohol was involved. Danny was quite the bartender, and would regularly mix a variety of drinks for us when we came to visit. I’m certain he was hoping the alcohol would lower my girlfriend’s inhibitions and, being a club-going, booze-fueled party girl in her early twenties, she didn’t have a problem with that. Neither did I; she was gorgeous, his interest in her was a turn-on, and I was certainly down with social nudity and same-room fucking.

These shenanigans occurred several times over the next year and a half, usually at their place but a couple times at my own. In summer we’d go to my parents’ house to skinny-dip in their pool when they were out of town. Afterwards we would often fuck side-by-side on the guest bed. It was exciting and taboo to see them naked and in a relatively vulnerable position (or sometimes several), though the four of us never discussed taking it any further, i.e. threesomes or swapping, outside of fantasy. At least on the surface, we were all happy with simultaneous voyeurism and exhibitionism.

Sure, I would have liked things to go further and I suspect that I wasn’t the only one. But I knew it wasn’t going to happen. At one point Danny and Joan told me that they thought it was easier and less of a risk for my girlfriend and I since we were just dating and they were married. That didn’t make much sense to me at the time, and it still doesn’t. It seemed that there was less risk for a married couple than one who was just dating. A married couple is presumably sufficiently confident in their relationship to chance doing something of this nature, something at the relatively non-threatening end of the non-monogamy spectrum. After all, they’re married! Why would they be married if there was a risk of something like this hurting their relationship? And if there was a risk, why would they do it?

And regarding our own relationship, although they didn’t say it, I guess they figured that if what we were doing tore apart my relationship with my girlfriend, there wasn’t much to lose since we hadn’t made it legal, hadn’t dropped thousands of dollars on a wedding ceremony and reception, posed for professional photographs, and began accruing debt together. It seemed a strange way of looking at it, but I was happy watching them fuck and having them watch us, so I smiled and nodded. As far as I was concerned, things were perfect.

II. Maybe Things Weren’t So Perfect After All

I was well aware that Danny wanted to have sex with my girlfriend. Most guys did. Either one-on-one, or in the context of a threesome with his wife (despite the fact that she’s always claimed vehemently that she wasn’t attracted to women and certainly wouldn’t have agreed to it), he made no secret of wanting to suck her 36C breasts, have her suck his cock, fuck her doggy-style over the back of the couch while cupping her breasts from behind, then pull out and come in her mouth. It came up so often that some thirteen years later I still remember the details of this, his most prominent fantasy about her. My girlfriend was flattered, and I didn’t mind the idle fantasizing. Joan, however, definitely would have.

Though I wasn’t aware of any specifics beyond Danny’s frequenting of strip clubs and the like, it was apparent that she had jealousy issues, likely related at least in part to body image. At the time, I found this strange; she was never particularly out of shape or unattractive. Now, though, I realize that there’s no way of knowing what’s in someone’s head – or what’s in their heart – and thus no means of determining what unrealistic standard they’re determined to reach.

In retrospect, this might have been an indication that we shouldn’t have been playing with them at all. My relationship with my girlfriend, though not without the occasional instance of minor-league drama, was definitely on more secure footing than theirs. When my friend and her husband temporarily separated some years later, I know Danny tried to get in touch with my girlfriend – by then my ex – with the intention of getting laid. And once they’d had sex, he hoped to resume having monogamous group sex with her, Jill, and myself. Anyway, they never did end up getting together.

III. Joan Gets Separated

A year or so after the same-room sex stopped for good, Joan was pregnant. I was happy for them; they were good friends, and it seemed like this was what they’d been leading toward, as all relatively newly-married couples seem to be conditioned to procreate and continue the cycle. Perhaps the monogamous group sex we’d shared was simply them exorcising the last of their wild and crazy demons before settling down. I don’t mean for it to sound like I was upset or bitter over the cessation of what we were doing. It was necessary as I’d broken up with my girlfriend and I was sensible enough to know that they weren’t going to invite me into their bedroom to watch and jerk off. Nothing lasts forever.

During the aforementioned separation, Danny would occasionally message Jill – or vice versa – hoping for some dirty talk leading to orgasm. It was not unusual for Jill to receive an email or an instant message detailing a sex dream he’d had the night before, or a fantasy he was currently entertaining. Such fantasies were not unlike the ones he’d had of my ex-girlfriend, though he appeared to have a broader range of fantasies starring Jill including but not limited to quick, nasty rough sex, and various forms of group sex as well. On occasion they masturbated together while IMing dirty, sometimes while he was at home and other times while locked safely in his office at work. He expressed an interest in watching Jill and I have sex, and if we were all comfortable taking it further, joining us for a threesome. While Jill was flattered and aroused by his interest she wasn’t ready to cross that line; this was seven or eight years ago and she wasn’t sure whether such things were better left a fantasy. Of course, Jill and I have no secrets from each other; needless to say she kept me apprised of their interactions. I can’t say for sure, but I think I still have transcripts from some of their chats.

At around the same time, Joan began to express some measure of sexual interest in me for the first time. It was much more overt than I’d ever expected. This wasn’t let’s-fuck-our-respective-partners-in-the-same-bed. This was far more demonstrative and explicit than that. This was a woman who, out from under the watchful eye of her husband, felt free to own her sexuality. The “like a brother” block was suddenly nonexistent; she shared every fantasy she was currently entertaining about me (or ever had entertained), and it turned out she was a lot more sexually openminded than I could ever have guessed. It was exciting for me, as I had long wished for this kind of interaction with her, and knowing that she found me sexually attractive was gratifying even though I didn’t suspect I’d ever actually have sex with her. (Spoiler: I never did.)

Moreover, it lent creedence to the above-stated theory that her stilted, awkward body language was just a means of hiding her attraction to me. Suddenly I began to see many of our interactions over the past several years in a different light. Though I knew she was bound to some extent by her own boundaries and notions of what was proper and what was not, I wondered if she would have wanted to swap partners while we were having same-room sex years before. As I knew she harbored fantasies of threesomes with two men, I wondered if she would have been open to me as a third. It was a moot point; those days were long since over, and despite his interest in having a threesome with Jill and I, I doubted Danny would have been into sharing his own wife.

Over a period of a year or more, Joan and I didn’t often see each other socially, but we conversed frequently via instant messenger. Dirty talk wasn’t uncommon, and video chatting via Skype did occur. Though I found it fun and exciting – it was, after all, the culmination of many years of pent-up lust – I got the disctinct sense that she felt shame and guilt, or at the very least hesitation, like she couldn’t believe she had to stoop to flirting with me in order to feel desired. Her heart wasn’t in it, or perhaps she just wasn’t all that good at it. Either way, I suspected that though she seemed excited and usually engaged when it was happening, afterwards she might have felt lousy about having done it. Still, it went on for quite awhile. She never sent a sexy photo or took off her clothes while Skyping. In fact, she didn’t even have the lights on, which afforded me at best a view of her glasses as the light from her laptop reflected off of them. This furthered my suspicion that she had a deep-rooted lack of self-esteem. She enjoyed it when I told her that I found her attractive and sexy, but she wasn’t about to let me see her naked lest my feelings changed.

She watched Jill and I have sex via Skype at least once, though she didn’t do anything beyond study our performance the way one might watch a moderately-entertaining spectacle. Jill and I were having fun regardless, but a little more interaction would have been nice. Throughout, she was hesitant to offer any feedback, as though too embarrassed to admit that she was enjoying the show. Some time later, she invited us over to the apartment she shared with her five-year-old daughter and a roommate who happened to be out of town, hinting that she’d like to watch us have sex in person. When we got there, she attempted to ply us with beer and wine in order to lower our inhibitions. While we enjoyed drinking at her house, Jill and I ultimately decided not to fuck there, as it would have felt weird doing so with her daughter asleep in the next room. Nowadays, as the parents of a young daughter ourselves, we might go along with it. We know better about what to expect with a sleeping child in the house. After all, we frequently have sex with our daughter asleep in the next room. Back then, though, it felt weird.

Shortly after Jill and I found out that we were expecting, Danny came over to watch us. Knowing that we were going to have sex – and perhaps more – he brought over a bottle of wine. Since Jill couldn’t imbibe, we had to let him know of her pregnancy weeks before we told most of our friends. Hey, guess what, everybody? We don’t need alcohol to get us in the mood. We’re always like this. Obviously booze doesn’t impede our arousal or raise our inhibitions, but it makes you look a bit like a date rapist trying to get us drunk in order to see the goods. Just, you know, a word of friendly advice.

Anyway, Jill and I had sex, and we put on our usual amazing performance. But like his wife, our spectator just stood there and watched with all the enthusiasm of a judge on The Gong Show. Afterwards he said he enjoyed the show, but while it was happening there wasn’t much in the way of positive feedback: No verbal encouragement, and no touching his erection through his pants (if he even had one), so obviously he wasn’t about to get naked and join in. I don’t know if he just wasn’t sure what our boundaries were and didn’t think to ask – the same thing happened to me during a similar experience – but while he and Jill were communicating regularly it was made clear that she’d be okay with a little fooling around, likely some oral sex if not actual penetration. And while we appreciated his cautious respect, we were both surprised by his restraint.

IV. Wherein Joan and Danny Try it Again

Eventually they got back together, quietly and without any major fanfare or proclamation on social media. And I won’t lie, I kind of missed our flirting and Skyping. Even though she wasn’t the most dynamic flirting partner I’d ever had, I enjoyed having a friendship with her that could turn sexual at the drop of a hat, and in fact usually was sexual. But more than anything, I enjoyed the total honesty and refreshing lack of bullshit while it lasted. Once she and her husband got back together the familiar frostiness set in and it was business as usual: Awkward stiltedness, with any communication between her and I polite but not at all familiar. You know, just like siblings!

As always, I never felt entitled to more. First off, despite his dalliances during the separation, I was sure that her husband wouldn’t have approved of hers with me, and even if he had, he certainly wouldn’t have wanted them to continue now that they were back together. To suggest that she should have maintained our connection for my sake – or even for hers – now that they were trying to patch things up would have been the epitome of privileged white male shitheadedness. No worries there, because everything stopped abruptly. It’s just as well, as I had a baby to focus on pretty much around the clock. Honestly, the timing worked out pretty well.

Since then, our interactions have been limited to social functions, such as our daughter’s birthday parties. Even then, Jill gets a hug while I’m lucky if I get a mumbled hello. Online interactions are usually limited to her messaging me to ask what size our daughter wears, generally just prior to said parties. Not much small talk, either; our instant messenger conversations are in some ways just as awkward and abrupt as our face-to-face conversations. So, more or less the same as it was before. Until earlier this month, that is.

Coming up next: Part 3 (Events of the last month or so)

“Do you want to get up and shower,” she asks me, “or lie here until someone comes looking for us?”  She doesn’t even have to ask; she knows my answer is the same as hers.  Wrapped in each other’s arms, we fall asleep to the sound of our still-thundering heartbeats.

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

Part 1: The high school and college years

I. Introduction

As you may have gleaned from the title of this post, the story contained herein doesn’t have a happy ending. However, when all is said and done I think you’ll agree that the fact that the story has an ending is a good thing. The friend I lost didn’t die after a long illness, forcing me to watch her waste further away with each hospital visit. She didn’t marry an abusive prick who won’t let her have a Facebook account and doesn’t let her go grocery shopping alone lest she have contact with male friends. We didn’t drift apart after long periods spent hanging out with other friends or pursuing interests we don’t have in common.

After years of indifference, this friendship didn’t die gradually, like so many friendships that peter out with a whimper of indifference. No, it imploded this week after years of feelings that ran the gamut from mutual physical attraction to emotional comfort, though never quite love, unless one includes the sort of platonic love associated with a decades-long friendship or even a familial relationship. However, there was never anything approaching resentment, bitterness, or betrayal. That is, until now.

Before I go any further, I feel the need to state that I accept my share of the blame for this situation, though I don’t believe it’s entirely my fault. Did I do things that I perhaps shouldn’t have? Of course. It wouldn’t be me otherwise. But I’d like to think that, at least most of the time, I behaved in a more or less ethical fashion and showed respect for most if not all concerned parties. You may feel differently, and I won’t necessarily say that you’re wrong. But I believe that I’m at least mostly right, if not necessarily that I was at least mostly in the right.

I realize that my tantalizing promise of “resentment, bitterness, or betrayal” may lead you to believe that this is a soap opera-like story of intrigue, crime, and melodrama. However, even when my life briefly flirts with resentment, bitterness, and betrayal, it’s still pretty boring despite the fact that I managed to crank out more than ten thousand words telling the story. If you require something a bit more exciting, perhaps you’d care to stop reading now and check out one of the many edgy dramatic series currently in production. May I suggest Netflix’ House of Cards, Starz’s Black Sails, or perhaps Cinemax’s Banshee?

II. Backstory

Joan and I have known each other for almost twenty-seven years, since we attended seventh grade at the same school. We didn’t really consider ourselves friends and in fact rarely spoke until our sophomore year of high school. I’d taken a long vacation with my family and I thought of her the whole time I was away. I’m not sure why; she was barely on my radar at the time, but she always seemed like a nice person, so I decided to ask her out when I returned. I was fifteen and she was sixteen. I had no idea if she was allowed to date or what, but if necessary I figured I’d present it to her parents as though we were hanging out as friends, and then gradually ingratiate myself to them and prove myself boyfriend material as I became a familiar sight around their house.

One night shortly after I returned from my trip I found myself on her parents’ couch, watching television. I don’t remember which early-1990s sitcom happened to be on; I wasn’t paying close attention and at any rate it was probably not even something I would have watched on my own. Eventually I put my arm around her, and while she didn’t move in closer or return the gesture, she didn’t pull away or shake off my arm. I attempted to kiss her but she turned her head away. It was clear that she was trying to pretend she hadn’t noticed, ostensibly to protect my feelings or, in retrospect, to save herself the guilt of having to hurt them. Anyway, I got the message.

We remained friends. I was never the sort of guy who’d shun somebody simply for not taking a romantic or sexual interest in him. I remember feeling pangs of jealousy as she dated other guys, including the guy who took her virginity junior year. He was someone I’d known since second grade and considered a friend. But, convinced that I was now a threat, he essentially stopped being friends with me.

Maybe that’s why I’ve never been the overly aggressive jealous boyfriend type when my romantic or sexual partners have had male friends or contact with their exes. First off, if you’ve ever met me you know I’m not the sort who could pull off the psycho boyfriend thing. I just don’t have the demeanor or the personality for that kind of thing. But moreso I just never wanted to be an asshole. That’s not who I am as a person, it never was even in my younger days when I was prone to feeling threatened, and when I eventually stopped feeling romantic and sexual jealousy it was probably to be expected.

I still felt a tinge of sexual envy when she asked me to come with her to buy some condoms. She’d just started going out with the guy who considered me a threat, though at that point I don’t think he saw me as one yet. (Actually, maybe it was the fact that I went condom-shopping with his girlfriend that set him off.) I know most guys wouldn’t go shopping for condoms with a woman unless he was going to use them with her, but I didn’t care about what most guys would do. If I did, I would have been a lot more like most guys, and a lot less like myself. Maybe on some level I hoped she’d remember that I’d agreed to come with her and show her gratitude by letting me fuck her someday, but I think it was more of a fantasy than anything else: Then, as now, I required no quid pro quo to perform a favor for a friend, and perhaps moreso, I was a realist and knew that such a minor favor would be repaid with sex only in porn films.

We went to a local Walgreens drug store to buy the condoms. She chose a store a few cities away, ostensibly so we wouldn’t be spotted by anyone we knew. She was so nervous while trying to select the right ones that she knocked over a countertop sunglasses display, to my mortification and the slight amusement of everyone else present. I don’t remember what brand she picked out – Trojans, probably; at the time they were the Jack Daniels of condoms – but she gave me the money and lurked near the entrance while I courageously faced the cashier and purchased them. I took half as payment for my bravery.

III. The Intervening Years

As time passed, we weren’t always close, but we were always friends. It was conceivable that we might not talk at all for months, whether due to a full load of college classes, new relationships, work, travel, or who knows what. But when one of us would inevitably call, text, email or IM the other, we immediately fell back into the comfortable groove of friendship and it was great.

I remained attracted to her through the years, though any romantic overtures were politely deflected with “You’re like a brother to me!” or similar. I assumed at the time that she was simply trying to let me down easily; we weren’t quite that close, and while she had attended the occasional family party or other social gathering, so did numerous other women who may or may not have slept with me, but who didn’t give me a bunch of nonsense about that making me their honorary sibling. Besides, one night when we were in college she had attempted to initiate sex, though as I was in a relationship I reluctantly declined.

Whatever the reason, I accepted that she found me not to be her type, and I respected her feelings. I didn’t express my interest in her often, and I was never aggressive or obnoxious about it. Likewise, her reaction to my attraction was never one of offense or even distaste. At times I got the distinct sense that she found it flattering. And while I’m certain some would feel that I was way out of line for daring to bring it up again in, say, 1997 after being shot down in 1992, I saw things differently.

I’ve never been one to assume, or to feel entitled. Certainly not when it comes to my interactions with women. You’ve undoubtedly read elsewhere on this blog (as recently as this week’s TMI Tuesday) that I require (or at least prefer) an explicit statement of expectation from potential partners beforehand, as I am not a mind reader. I’ve always taken consent very seriously, and I’m not the kind of guy who’d take advantage of a situation where consent hasn’t been explicitly granted. That doesn’t just apply to physical contact. That also applies to flirting and dirty talk of the sort referred to as sexting, the sending of explicit photos, and sharing with others of photos sent to me. I wouldn’t dream of doing any of these things unless I was absolutely certain that was what the other party wanted, and in the case of sharing photos sent by others, I wouldn’t even do that with permission. Likewise, if she’d reacted with distaste or offense to my first attempt to initiate physical contact, there wouldn’t have been a second attempt. But she didn’t seem traumatized by it, nor do I have any reason to believe that she actually was, and therefore I saw no harm in asking her again some years later when we were both single.

IV. Joan Gets Married

She eventually invited me to her wedding. I felt no jealousy for Danny, her husband-to-be, as I was in my early twenties by this point and generally had no need for such negative emotions. Yes, I cared for her, but I didn’t feel anything romantic or even particularly emotional. Beyond our ongoing friendship there was still some sexual attraction – whether mutual or unrequited I didn’t know, nor did I care – which I was reasonably certain would never be consummated.

Her body language around me was always somewhat stilted and awkward. I suspect that this was a deliberate attempt to defuse any attraction I may have felt for her, though in my own defense I never made my attraction obvious or otherwise tried to make her feel uncomfortable or undermine her relationships or marriage. I am just enough of an egomaniac that I can’t help but wonder if she felt as I did all along, and that the awkwardness was her way of downplaying it so her husband wouldn’t suspect. Probably not, though; it isn’t as though she insisted on long, slow hugs when her husband wasn’t around.

I perceived some degree of sexual openmindedness in the two of them, especially in her. That doesn’t necessarily mean that they were, or even that I thought they were, open to any sort of kink or experimentation; for me it was exciting enough to know that they could say the word “sex” without whispering, giggling, blushing, or turning to stone. Most of my friends, both male and female, were far more reticent about it. One day I overheard her talking to a girlfriend of mine about lube, amongst other topics one might not discuss in so-called polite company. Suddenly I found my desire for her renewed. Again, I’m not saying that her willingness to talk about sex in any way translates to consent, or even interest. It just reminded me of why I might have found her attractive in the first place.

Coming up next:  Part 2 (Wherein we have monogamous group sex and some other things happen)

It is Monday. In my head is a scary place to be. Here’s what is flowing out of my brain for this TMI Tuesday…

WTH is she thinking?!

Jack’s Answers

1. You have been asked to organize a sex & kink weekend. Will you be more of a “hands-on” person or more of an “ideas” person?
I like to think of myself as both, at least when it comes to the sexual realm. I’ve been to enough play parties, kink clubs and such to have some ideas about what makes them fun and engaging to attendees, and I feel like I could contribute in that area. However, if you think I’m the sort of person who would be better utilized behind the scenes at such an event than right in the mix, you’re sorely mistaken. I’m very hands-on, and what better place to be hands-on than at some sort of sex-positive event?

2. Assuming you are the hands-on type at this weekend sex romp, and you’ve entered a tent to ‘play’ with a male/female couple. Would you like to be given clear instructions before you begin to ‘play’ or do you prefer to be given the general idea of the task and work it out your own way.
The general idea is probably sufficient. While I do prefer knowing the boundaries and expectations of the other parties involved, I’m not so bereft of ideas and imagination that I need instructions beforehand, nor am I sufficiently submissive that I want to be told what to do. Thus a brief but explicit statement of the couple’s boundaries is probably all that is needed. In my single days, I actually found myself faced with such an opportunity, but unaware that the couple wanted me to join in, I just watched.

3. True or False. “During sex, I like to hear and accept feedback.”
True. My enjoyment level during sex is directly related to my partner’s enjoyment level. I tend to have less fun if my partner isn’t also having fun. That doesn’t necessarily mean orgasm. It simply means pleasure and gratification, whatever that entails for her. Accordingly, I want to know if what I’m doing at any given moment is having the desired effect. And I take feedback well, whether positive or negative. Don’t want your feet touched at all? By all means, let me know! Don’t like the way I’m fingering your G-spot? Let me know that too! Not into G-spot play at all? No need to put up with unwanted sensation! I’ll never figure it out unless you tell me.

4. What are you wearing right now?
Cargo shorts, and underneath it a sexy black pair of boxer briefs. And that’s it. I don’t like wearing clothing to be honest.

5. I show loyalty to my lover by ________ .
Always putting her first in every possible way. While I am physically non-monogamous with leanings toward polyamory and thus capable of multiple relationships, feelings toward multiple people, and certainly flirtation and meaningless – as well as meaningful – sex, I’d like to believe that I have consistently managed to convince Jill that she is the most important person in my entire world. I do this by supporting her emotionally, always being there for her and our daughter, and on at least one occasion completely reordering my life for the sake of her career. Perhaps most significantly, I show Jill loyalty by never engaging in any extracurricular sexual activity without her express consent.

6. Do you always have to argue?
No. I never have to argue. However, there are lots of things that I don’t have to do but do anyway because it can be a lot of fun. I don’t have to eat greasy cheeseburgers. I don’t have to watch Key & Peele. I don’t have to post naked pictures of my wife or myself to this blog every Sunday. I don’t have to make up obscene lyrics to the theme songs of the cartoons my daughter watches. I don’t have to masturbate like one of those monkeys with the swollen red ass. I don’t have to do any of those things, but I still do. And while I don’t have to argue, I sometimes do, though it depends on the issue and the other party. I’m less likely to attempt to change the mind of a complete stranger as I don’t know this person nor his or her reason for having a political opinion with which I disagree. But a family member who has Fox News playing on television? I’ll debate that ignorant motherfucker until they change the channel or throw me out of their home. Expect the frequency and intensity of my arguments to increase as we get closer to the 2016 presidential election.

Bonus: Pick up the closest book to you, open it to page 55. The first line on that page reads: ________ .
When I answered these questions, the book that was closest to me was one of my daughter’s beginning-reader books, and only went up to page 33. However, I went into my office, which has no shortage of reading material, and tried again. This time the line reads “2575: Great Pyramid of Khufu (Cheops), largest of the Egyptian pyramids, is built at Giza.”

Jill’s Answers

1. You have been asked to organize a sex & kink weekend. Will you be more of a “hands-on” person or more of an “ideas” person?
I’ll go with hands-on. I wouldn’t want to come up with the ideas but be shut out of participating in them. I love sex, and I am always excited by the idea of experiencing it in a group setting or otherwise socially with multiple people present. The thought of planning such an event but not getting to enjoy it in a hands-on fashion makes me really sad. However, I have no problem participating in a sex party that I didn’t have a hand in planning. I’ll be curious to see if any of our fellow TMI Tuesday identified themselves as idea people as opposed to hands-on people.

2. Assuming you are the hands-on type at this weekend sex romp, and you’ve entered a tent to ‘play’ with a male/female couple. Would you like to be given clear instructions before you begin to ‘play’ or do you prefer to be given the general idea of the task and work it out your own way.
I want to be told very clearly what the couple’s boundaries are, and what I’m allowed or not allowed to do. Once I know their limits I’m happy to go with the flow. I like spontaneity, and I don’t want or need to follow a script. But in the past when we’ve had a threesome with another woman (or for that matter another man), it’s been very important that my boundaries be respected. I wouldn’t want a third to inadvertently violate one of my boundaries or otherwise do something I wasn’t okay with, and I wouldn’t want to do that to someone else. Therefore I would rather not rely on body language or other nonverbal cues.

3. True or False. “During sex, I like to hear and accept feedback.”
True. I like to know that I’m doing it right. Different people like different things sexually. In fact, the same person might like and dislike different things from session to session. If I know I’m doing it right, it encourages me to keep doing what I’m doing. If a partner gives me gently corrects my technique or otherwise tells me to try something else, I gladly accept their feedback because I enjoy giving my partner pleasure, and I’d like to think my efforts will be reciprocated.

4. What are you wearing right now?
Jeans, a cute black and pink bra, and an apron. I just finished doing some baking, hence the apron. I don’t like wearing much clothing around the house, which is why I’m only wearing a bra. As for why I’m wearing jeans as opposed to just panties, your guess is as good as mine. I guess I just didn’t get around to taking off my jeans before I started baking. I’ll fix that now.

5. I show loyalty to my lover by ________ .
Being completely trustworthy and treating him in a manner that befits his position as the number-one person in my life. I do this in pretty much every possible way.

6. Do you always have to argue?
No. I rarely argue, actually. I don’t see the point in trying to persuade others to see things my way. It doesn’t seem to accomplish anything, and in fact can cause problems in existing relationships. I might be inclined to have a civil, constructive discussion and present the reasons why I hold the position that I hold, but I don’t argue. I’m confident in my opinions and don’t see a reason to try and force others into my way of thinking.

Bonus: Pick up the closest book to you, open it to page 55. The first line on that page reads: ________ .
“Although fountain proprietors haven’t actually used sodium bicarbonate to make water bubbly for nearly two hundred years, the term soda stuck around.”

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!

 

 

 

 

 

 

We had a very busy Saturday, but lucky Jill managed a quick nap between family engagements.

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

 

Part III:  Epilogue

(Part I can be found here)
(Part II can be found here)

Later they found themselves downstairs, occupying a table at the lobby bar. He’d changed into a pair of slacks and a dress shirt; she was wearing the maxi dress in which she’d arrived, and though she’d put her bra back on, this time she decided to leave the panties off. He had no idea until she flashed him in the elevator.

They shared a bottle of wine. It was difficult to choose, but he ultimately decided on a bottle of Pinot Noir from a New Zealand vineyard that he said he enjoyed. They sat there in silence for a long moment, sipping the last of their wine and enjoying each other’s company. It still hadn’t occurred to her that she was actually sitting in his presence. Although it had been hours since the cab had dropped her off she hadn’t had time to think.

Now that she was able to think, she found herself truly happy to be in his company, and not just because of the sex. They had a close rapport, one that transcended mere friendship. She liked him, that much was obvious; she’d known him, albeit strictly online, for longer than some of her close friends, and it was natural that she would develop intimate feelings for him. He made her feel like it was okay for her to simply be herself. He eradicated her doubts, and made her feel whole. It was easy to be with him, whether sitting together and enjoying some wine or lying naked in a huge bed enjoying afterglow.

They walked through the lobby, enjoying a heady buzz. As they passed the four shiny stone rings – or were they hoops? – she paused to admire the work of art. He stopped by her side, regarding it as well.

“What do you think it means?” she asked, looking up at him with bright, inquisitive eyes.

A few seconds passed before he answered. “Well, they look like rings. And traditionally a ring is meant to symbolize something that never ends. That’s why people wear wedding rings: To symbolize an ever-lasting commitment.”

“Is that why?” Becca asked. “Not just because they fit on people’s fingers?” He smiled at her little joke, then gazed into her eyes and kissed her. As they continued to the elevators, she considered that they would be a perfect match, if not for the fact that they were both already married.

 

Happy TMI Tuesday and…

Happy St. Patrick’s Day

Jack’s Answers

1. You found your pot o’ gold. How much is in the pot? What will you do with your gold?
In the pot is an infinite amount of gold which I will use to ensure a comfortable and happy life for myself and my loved ones, and cure all of society’s ills. With this gold I will end poverty and inequality, repair the environment, buy off the keepers of the status quo who would try to stop me, and most importantly educate the younger generation so that the problems I’ve just solved will never be problems again.

2. Some things get better with age, have you? What specifically has gotten better?
My sex drive has certainly gotten better, unless “better” means “slowed-down to a reasonable level”. While my drive has always been incredibly high, as I’ve gotten older I notice that my stamina has increased, as have my consideration for the needs of my partners, and my sexual performance as a whole. I take sex more seriously, and as a result I am better at it. Even when I was younger and I would consume literally any piece of sex-related literature I could get my hands on – I’m not talking about porn magazines but rather anything that I thought would make me better at it – I wasn’t quite as good as I am these days.

3. Are you above average or below average?
Are we talking temperature? Height? Weight? Demeanor? Talents in the kitchen? Talents in the bedroom? Penis size? You’ll need to be specific.

4. What was the last romantic act you did for someone? Did they appreciate it?
I always walk Jill to the door when she’s leaving for work in the morning, and hold it open for her. She’s usually got her hands full, what with her laptop, her coffee cup, her water bottle, and whatever else she needs to take with her, and I’d feel like an inattentive husband if I made her open the door herself.

5. Think back to your very last argument, whose fault was it?
My last argument was probably with my Mom over something related to my daughter. I can’t say for sure, but it was more than likely a less-than-patient response to my Mom spoiling her. She does that a lot, and apparently I’m required to just grin and bear it. Can’t vent about it on Facebook because if I do a bunch of hens that serve as my mother’s blue-haired Mafia family immediately try to shame me for daring to question the paradigm that has served grandparents for generations (though I don’t recall being particularly spoiled by my own). Anyway, my wife and I bust our collective ass to make sure that our daughter is being raised properly, not being given toys and gifts for no reason, not overindulging on sweets, and essentially understanding the value of money and good dental hygiene. Then we’re supposed to just deal with it when my mother comes to town and buys her “something small” (usually several somethings small) and so much sugary crap that looks pretty in the grocery store or bakery but of which our daughter is realistically probably not going to eat more than a couple bites. Hey, if you want to throw your cash away, cut me a check. I’ll see that it’s put to good use. I have no problem being the bad guy when the situation dictates. I have no problem telling her no. But it’s a lot easier to tell my mother no, at which point an argument can sometimes ensue.

Bonus: I have an overactive _____ .
Libido? I feel like I have to go with “libido” on this. I realize that most human beings don’t think about sex as much as I do, nor do they – the males, at least – have the ability or the desire to have sex as much or as often as I do. I understand that, on some level, this is not “normal”, to the extent that I concern myself with normalcy (i.e., I don’t). However, while I am content to acknowledge that I am aroused more than is convenient and more than I have an ability to do anything about it, to me it doesn’t seem overactive. To me it feels normal.

 

Jill’s Answers

1. You found your pot o’ gold. How much is in the pot? What will you do with your gold?
If we’re going to talk fantasy scenarios, I say go big or go home. I’d like at least ten million dollars, as that seems like it would be enough to live comfortably for the rest of our lives. We could pay off our house and all of our debt and travel the world. I wouldn’t work, either. While I do enjoy teaching, if I was that wealthy I wouldn’t do it anymore. Instead, how about putting another ten million into the pot so I could help to fund public education as it deserves?

2. Some things get better with age, have you? What specifically has gotten better?
I think that I have gotten better with age. I know my body better than I did when I was younger, and am more in control of my own pleasure. I think Jack and the other amazing lovers I’ve had throughout my life have helped me with that. So I definitely get more pleasure than I did in my twenties, which has assured that I have gotten happier with age as well.

3. Are you above average or below average?
I think I am above average in some ways. At the risk of sounding conceited, I am above average when it comes to intelligence, skill in the kitchen, and happiness. I am the best wife and mother that I can be, and that has put me above average in those areas as well. I also believe that I am above average sexually. I get the sense that I am a much better lover (and accordingly, much better-sexed) than most of my friends and co-workers. Probably many or most of my relatives as well. I tend not to have the usual hang-ups when it comes to sex, and while I may not be the youngest or the thinnest or the wildest, my sex life isn’t just above average, it’s pretty much perfect.

4. What was the last romantic act you did for someone? Did they appreciate it?
The other night I went to three different stores to hunt down the ingredients to make some homemade chocolate candy for Jack because he mentioned that he had liked it the last time I made it. And I didn’t waste any time, either. He said it, and half an hour later I was on my way to the first store. I made it as soon as I got home and presented it to Jack before he went to bed that night. And yes, he appreciated it. Jack likes my abilities in the kitchen almost as much as he likes my abilities in the bedroom.

5. Think back to your very last argument, whose fault was it?
Probably mine. Sometimes the stress of teaching thirty kids and raising one of my own can be overwhelming, and I find myself getting upset easily. That said, I don’t remember the actual argument. I have no idea what it was about, or even who it was with.

Bonus: I have an overactive _____ .
Imagination. Definitely imagination. It isn’t all bad, though. While most people hear “overactive imagination” and think of children who see monsters in their closet, adults who constantly suspect their spouses of cheating, or people who daydream when they should be focused. However, I find that my overactive imagination comes in handy because I’m an elementary school teacher, and I need to be engaging and creative. Being extremely imaginative helps in this regard.

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!

*Disclaimer: This is not my photo. However, all kidding aside I wouldn’t mind having a room just for Star Wars memorabilia. Maybe when I find that pot of gold.

Usually we post a single image of Jill.  But it takes six of me to be as hot as one of her.

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