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


Sunday, February 19

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

Monday, February 20

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

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

Tuesday, February 21

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

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

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

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

Wednesday, February 22

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

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

Thursday, February 23

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

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

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

Friday, February 24

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

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

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

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

Saturday, February 25

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Jack

For Formspring Friday, favorite sexual position?

Jack’s Answer

I know what you’re thinking.  You’re expecting that my favorite position is some sort of sexual configuration achievable only by contortionists and professional circus acrobats.  You’re guessing that I prefer to have sex in an exotic position right out of the Kama Sutra, something along the lines of the Galloping Lotus or the Farting Hermit Crab.  You guess, based on the amount of self-aggrandizement that I do here and on Twitter, that I would rather have sex in a manner hardly conducive to orgasm or even pleasure just for the sheer bragging rights.  A position that allows penetration at the most precarious of angles, and requires that both Jill and I stand on, at most, one foot.  I’m talking about the kind of position that prevents bloodflow to the extremities, or for that matter the brain.

Well, this will probably come as a shock, but I consider missionary to be my favorite position.  Sure, some think of it as boring and unimaginative, and others take issue with the religious undertones of its name.  But its etymology has been all but debunked, and I opine that missionary position – much like any sexual act – is what you make of it.  Why do I like missionary so much?  Well, the most obvious reason is that I enjoy the face-to-face intimacy.  Yeah, I’m a girl.  What of it?  Additionally, I appreciate being able to kiss and touch Jill in this position.  Her body is open and available to me.  I can finger her clit, or suck her breasts.  I can look into her eyes, exchange dirty talk with her, and behold her expression and feel her breath on my face as she climaxes.  I love how deep I get, especially if I pull Jill’s ass onto my knees and raise her feet onto my chest or shoulders.

Missionary may not be the flashiest sexual position out there.  For some, it may carry an unwanted association of male dominance.  For others, middle American Howard-and-Marion-Cunningham whitebread values.  For still others, it’s just not exciting enough.  But I enjoy this position.  And I don’t know that I’ve necessarily enjoyed it quite as much when I didn’t have the same emotional connection with my partner as I do with Jill.  The missionary position makes the most of our natural symmetry, and allows us closeness in a way that doggy style or reverse cowgirl simply do not.

Jill’s Answer

This was a difficult question for me to answer.  While I knew right away which position I would name as my favorite, I really wanted to throw in a disclaimer and make clear that there really aren’t any positions that I don’t like.  I enjoy all of the more familiar sexual positions, and am open to trying any not-so-familar ones.  There are some which are difficult to achieve or sustain, or which are fun but make orgasm difficult.  But I don’t know if I’ve ever been able to blame bad sex on the position.

With that out of the way, my favorite position is doggy style.  There are many reasons why I prefer doggy style over spooning, cowgirl, or even missionary.  I find that Jack’s cock penetrates me the deepest in this position, and the angle is usually just right to stimulate my G-spot.  Sometimes Jack will reach around and finger my clit while his cock is hitting my G-spot.  That sends me over the edge quickly, and I usually have more orgasms than I can count.  And if he manages to hit my G-spot and finger my clit while simultaneously sucking on my neck, or tongue-kissing me?  Not only are we going to have to change the sheets, but we might have to flip the mattress over too.

Part of what I enjoy about doggy style is that it’s less personal than missionary or cowgirl.  Of course I love the sweetness and the romance of looking into Jack’s eyes when we have sex.  But sometimes I just want him to grab my hips, pull my hair, and pound into me like a jackhammer.

If you want to ask us anything, drop us a line on Formspring, or use the handy Formspring widget on the right-hand side of our blog.  We like sexy questions!

If you’re looking for our other Flash Fiction Friday post for today, it can be found here.

He sat naked on the bed, watching intently as she stripped.  He stroked his needy cock as her familiar curves came into view.

She gyrated slowly as her skirt fell to the floor.  She hadn’t meant to, but in the back of her mind she remembered that it was what he liked.  Then she reminded herself that what he liked was no longer important, and tried to rationalize his presence in her bedroom.  He may have been a selfish, thoughtless liar, but she wanted sex and he was willing.

Despite her disgust, she was as aroused as he was.  Her soaked panties halfway down her thighs, she raised a hand to her pussy to dam the flood, then doffed them completely.  Naked, she turned to face him, briefly regarding the cross above her bed.  She averted her eyes, which landed on his stiff, throbbing member.

“Bring the condoms?” she asked.

He shook his head.   She wasn’t surprised by this broken promise, but as far as treacheries go, this was easily the most subtle perfidy he’d ever committed.  She climbed onto the bed. (182)

-Jack

Behind the Scenes

This is the second of two Flash Fiction Friday prompts posted this week in Panserbjørne’s absence, this one courtesy of Ram the Sunlover.  The word range was 144-188, and the required phrase was “subtle perfidy”.  I can admit to having to look up “perfidy”.  Given its meaning (deliberate breach of faith or violation of trust), I initially considered having it refer to an extramarital dalliance.  However, that seemed too easy.  While shaping in my head the relationship between the two principles, I considered that the man was likely a serial cheater, but I wanted the phrase to refer to a less obvious offense.  Hence, the forgotten condoms.

Among the details in the prompt photo that I tried to include were the man’s reclining pose and his erection; the woman’s stance and the placement of her hand; and the cross hanging on the wall.  I found the latter unfortunate, as I lacked the necessary space to go into any real depth about the woman’s spirituality, and I could think of almost nothing to say about it briefly.  Thus, the cross is relegated to a brief mention; I felt that omitting it completely would be unfair as it’s such a prominent part of the photo.

Soundtrack

Some sort of slow, sultry mid-nineties alternative rock would work well here, ideally something with a female lead vocalist.  “Trigger Hippie” by Morcheeba, “Angry Johnny” by Poe, or either “Sleep to Dream” or “Criminal” by Fiona Apple would be ideal.

The young woman lounged on a sofa, naked save for a cowboy hat.  She played a strategically-placed guitar that concealed her nudity.  Her legs were demurely crossed.  Her facial expression conveyed contentedness brought about by the very act of strumming the instrument.

It occurred to Jack that the woman was a country music groupie.  After bedding her favorite star she had awakened in the night and gotten out of bed to don his hat and try out his guitar.  And while her expression was as enigmatic as the Mona Lisa’s, Jack’s story was incomplete without a twist.

Most of his stories had some twist, a revelation if you will.  Few, if any, just faded out.  That’s when it hit him.  What if the singer’s talents came from his enchanted Fender Telecaster?  Or, much like Frosty the Snowman, a hat?  What if by using these things, the groupie usurped his talents?  Like Samson losing his locks, such a theft rendered the country singer impotent.

Despite his lack of knowledge where country music was concerned, Jack began crafting a story.  He couldn’t shake a sense of familiarity, of deja vu.  He’d written a few lines when he realized he’d been down this road before, and called it The Luchador and the Lady. (209)

-Jack

Behind the Scenes 

This is one of two Flash Fiction Friday prompts posted this week in Panserbjørne’s absence, this one courtesy of Max at Thoughts from a Mystic Satyr.  There was no required word or phrase, though players were given a choice between composing an extremely short story of between fifty and fifty-five words, or a longer story of between 200 and 210 words.  In search of that all-important story hook, as well as a final twist that would re-frame the entire story in the mind of the reader, I brainstormed extensively.  As mentioned above, I had an idea that the young woman pictured had slept with some bigshot country singer after a concert, and now found herself sitting on a sofa in his hotel room, wearing his hat and playing his guitar.  The scene, as it worked in my mind, played whimsically, with no real weight or consequence.  The twist, as described in the story above, came to me quickly, and I began writing.

The first speed bump that hindered my progress occurred in the first sentence:  I wanted to refer to the country singer by a stage name rather than a proper name (which I determined to be Buck Butler).  I did some research online in the hopes of coming up with something catchy and alliterative.  “The Tennessee Troubadour” had a nice ring to it, but “troubadour” didn’t lend itself to country music.  I decided to skip the singer’s name, write the rest of the story, and return when I was finished in order to fill in the blanks.  I gave it some more thought, and then turned to Twitter to vent about my lack of inspiration.

My first of two #FlashFictionFriday stories has hit a serious snag thanks to my complete lack of knowledge about country music.
— Jack (and Jill) (@jackandjillcpl) February 24, 2012

The majority of the replies I received seemed to imply that every country music song followed the same basic formula, or some variation thereof:  The singer loses his woman, his dog, his job, and his pickup truck, and then gets drunk.  Perhaps a simplistic view of the genre, but I’m not enough of a fan to say otherwise.  It’s true, however, that I didn’t make it too far into my story before I realized that I’d written more or less the same story on November 11, 2011 when, during a week without a new prompt, I went into the Flash Fiction Friday archives and wrote a story from a prompt posted before I began participating.  I did attempt to write something similar to The Luchador and the Lady, even going so far as to attempt to think of a similarly illiterative title.  When this proved fruitless (“The Singer and the…Sorority Sister?”), I decided on the very self-referential story included above.

Soundtrack

I’ve got nothing.  My knowledge of country music is pretty limited.

This week’s theme at The Naughty Hangout is light.  As I’m off work this week and Wednesday brought beautiful sunshine, I decided to lay out on the balcony and soak up some rays.

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

-Jill

We sit close together, our bodies submerged in hot water.  Our swimsuits have long been cast off, discarded but not forgotten.

We kiss, mouths opening to curious, probing tongues as eager hands traverse soft, wet skin.  Beneath the surface, my fingers move across your belly, instinctually drawn between warm thighs while your own fingers are busy elsewhere.

My fingers move inside you, my thumb finding its place on your clit.  I stroke you quickly to an intense, shuddering climax, the sounds of your pleasure muffled as they leave your mouth.

Then a noise cuts the stillness of the night.  Everything stops.  We are silent.  We look across the yard to the house, still dark within.

“Is someone home?”

You shake your head.  “Probably just a raccoon or something.”  You’re right.  We would have heard a car pull up.

Once again we allow ourselves to breathe, and soon we are laughing.  Your parents are on vacation.  They’re hours away, and they won’t be back for days.  No one is here.  No one is coming.  We have the house to ourselves.

Still, maybe we should go inside; I for one am getting too hot.  As though reading my mind, she suggests the same thing.  You agree, and she steps out of the hot tub and onto the deck.  Her naked body is silhouetted against the moonlight above.

She reaches down to help you out of the water.  I’m already out, wrapping myself in a beach towel.

-Jack

Go see who else is being wanton this week!

Jack’s Answers

1. List ONE word to describe your last sexual encounter.
Necessary.

2. What was your best or most memorable sexual experience prior to meeting your current partner? Tell us about it.  [Note: We have modified question #2, as the original question is in our Formspring queue to be answered in a future installment of Formspring Friday.]
When I chose this as the replacement question, I knew it would be a difficult one to answer.  I weighed the pros and cons of much of the scope of my sexual experience prior to meeting Jill.  In some cases a mediocre episode was elevated by the excitement of seeing someone naked after years of wanting to.  In other cases a really good experience was brought down a bit by the fact that I had no feelings for the person or in some cases actively disliked her.  Ultimately I settled on an incident from my very early twenties, one both memorable and very exciting.

I’d been dating the person for a couple months, and we were invited to a friend’s wedding in Reno.  We planned to get a hotel room and stay the weekend, but there was one catch:  She still lived at home, and her Dad vetoed me keeping her out overnight.  She’d stayed over many times, thanks to cooperative girlfriends who let her use them as excuses, but as her parents knew that we were going to this wedding, that wasn’t going to work.  She did get permission to stay out as late as she wanted, she just couldn’t sleep over – whatever the fuck difference that made.

The friend completely understood our leaving the wedding early; we had a four-hour drive to my place.  We arrived in the evening, and had sex for eight hours, stopping partway-through for an short nap.  At around 3:30 AM we made the hour-long drive to her place so I could drop her off.  In retrospect, I probably should have just sprung for a hotel.

3. Do you fuck outside the box?
Inspiration: http://hausofmm.blogspot.com/2011/04/fucking-outside-box.html?
We all have a laundry list of things–features, demographic characteristics, etc. that we like and/prefer in a sexual partner. Do you ever deviate from that list? Give an example.
Yes.  I have never fucked inside a box in my life.  Ahem.  Okay, seriously.  I’m a guy with an enormous sexual drive, so while I have always had a set of criteria for potential sexual partners, this criteria was flung out the window the minute a woman who didn’t quite meet them expressed an interest.  An example of this can be found in a couple different women I dated in college who, following early-afternoon trysts, would immediately turn on Jerry Springer, much to my revulsion.  I usually took that as my cue to exit.

4. Do you blend BDSM in to your relationship? If yes, just in the bedroom or in other areas of your life? Explain.
We’re fairly novice when it comes to BDSM.  We enjoy spanking, blindfolding, and light bondage as seen in this week’s Sinful Sunday.  That’s really as far into the BDSM realm as we’ve traveled.  We really haven’t done anything of that nature outside of the bedroom.

5. Does the thought of your partner/significant other having sex with another person turn you on? Would you want to watch the act? Would you like to join in?
Yeah, it does.  I haven’t always found this sort of thing hot, actually; when I was younger and far less secure both in my relationship and in myself, this would have been a shattering blow to my ego, and just the thought of it might have shaken my confidence and hurt the relationship.  Now, however, I am far more at ease with my marriage, my relationship with Jill, and who I am as a person, so I am comfortable thinking about it at the least, and it’s a fairly exciting thought.  I don’t know whether it’s something we’ll ever act on, though our evolving sexual boundaries indicate that we could.  For now at least, the idea is very appealing with the proviso that Jill is into it and actively participating.  In other words, the turn-on would stem from my wife’s pleasure more than it would from the voyeuristic thrill I would be experiencing.  I would want to watch the act, as it is our preference to carry out any extracurricular sexual escapades together rather than separately.  And yes, I imagine that I would join in if it was something Jill could handle.

Bonus: Fill in the blanks.
I like it _____ on the outside and ______ in the middle.
Chocolatey; crunchy.  “It” refers to a Twix bar.

Jill’s Answers

1. List ONE word to describe your last sexual encounter.
Satisfying!  Our last sexual encounter was this morning.  We woke up slowly after a wonderful night’s sleep, and spooned with Jack behind me.  He played with my breasts and my clit, then slipped inside me and fucked me from behind.  After that we did cowgirl and missionary.  It was hot.  If I had to use one word to describe the sex we had on Saturday night, it would be “rough”.  Jack tied me to the headboard, spanked my ass, then fucked me hard from behind while yanking my hair.  Yum.

2. What was your best or most memorable sexual experience prior to meeting your current partner? Tell us about it.  [Note: We have modified question #2, as the original question is in our Formspring queue to be answered in a future installment of Formspring Friday.]
Definitely the time I had sex with a fuck buddy at a local park.  We had gone out for a walk late at night and found ourselves at the park.  We sat on the swings for awhile, then we climbed on top of a play structure and began making out.  We lay down, and he reached under my skirt and started fingering me beneath my panties.  He took them off and went down on me, and I came over and over again.  After a few minutes we were fucking.  He came inside me, and then we figured we’d better go somewhere more private.  The sex that followed, in a hotel room, was plenty exciting, but just being out in the open, under the night sky with the possibility of discovery looming overhead, made this the most intense experience of my life up to that point.

3. Do you fuck outside the box?
Inspiration: http://hausofmm.blogspot.com/2011/04/fucking-outside-box.html?
We all have a laundry list of things–features, demographic characteristics, etc. that we like and/prefer in a sexual partner. Do you ever deviate from that list? Give an example.
My preference is for dark-haired guys of European descent, typically Italian.  I have no opinion regarding height, really, as long as we are close enough to kiss without bending or standing on a chair.  I usually dated guys of average height.  I prefer guys who are sweet, who are good communicators, and who have a sense of humor.  However, I’ve dated plenty of guys who didn’t quite fit this type.  For example, I once dated a tall blond guy who definitely was not my ideal, though I was much more disappointed by the internal differences than the external ones.  He was kind of a jerk.

Also, there are plenty of things I’ve done sexually that I couldn’t have predicted when I was a much younger woman.  Not only have I done these things, I enjoyed them.  Had someone told me that I would not only try anal sex but often request it of Jack, I wouldn’t have believed it.  Had someone told me that I would perform sexually on webcam and in person, I would have balked, as it didn’t fit into the tidy paradigm of what I thought sex was supposed to be.  Had someone told me that I would eat pussy, or have a threesome, I probably wouldn’t have believed that either.  The idea of watching my husband interact sexually with another woman wasn’t something I would have been okay with when I was first becoming a sexual being.  Had someone told me that I would enjoy being fisted, I probably would have asked what the hell that meant.

4. Do you blend BDSM in to your relationship? If yes, just in the bedroom or in other areas of your life? Explain.
Our BDSM experience is limited to very basic stuff so far.  I’ve been blindfolded, I’ve been tied up (just wrists and ankles, usually with handcuffs), and I’ve been spanked.  That’s about it.

5. Does the thought of your partner/significant other having sex with another person turn you on? Would you want to watch the act? Would you like to join in?
When we’ve had threesomes, I really enjoyed watching Jack give and receive oral sex, because I’ve received oral from and given oral to him, and I knew what our third was experiencing.  It was realy hot.  So far, that’s all we’ve done.  I haven’t ruled out watching him actually fuck another woman, but it’s not something that is imminent.  The fantasy is hot, but I don’t know how I’d feel watching it actually happen.  And yes, I did join in.

Bonus: Fill in the blanks.
I like it _____ on the outside and ______ in the middle.
I like it when it’s us on the outside and you in the middle, provided you’re a hot chick who likes to play with couples.

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