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A Social Experiment, or Am I Just Looking For Validation?

11 Jun

Most of the people I meet I find online. It’s a sad fact of being married and polyamorous, that’s the only place I can find new people. When I see a cute girl at the coffee shop, I can’t exactly go up to her and strike up a conversation, sooner or later she spots my wedding ring and leaps to the conclusion I am looking to cheat, and no amount of explanation can counter that initial negative reaction.

And so I look online. That’s just fine, OkC is a great site, and I’ve met a lot of great people there. But the other day I came across a dating site with a unique twist. Beautifulpeople.com. Only the most beautiful people are allowed on to this ‘exclusive’ site. When you sign up you are required to post a picture of yourself, and then existing members of the opposite sex have 48 hours to rate your attractiveness, and if you don’t score high enough you are rejected.

I had to try this.

Now, I’ve never thought of myself as a particularly attractive man, and despite what my wife and girlfriends tell me, I was positive I would never make the cut. I was expecting that rejection, actually. Counting on it. Partially I was keeping my expectations low, and part of me was looking forward to being able to rant about how this superficial and narcissistic site was a symbol of all that is wrong with society.

I called it my Great Social Experiment. To see if I rated well enough to be accepted, and once there, to take a peak into the minds of the most attractive people.

I will admit that there was this tiny part of me that wanted to be accepted, to be told I was ‘beautiful’.

So I uploaded a pic of myself, and sat back to watch the votes roll in. I chose one of my favorite pics of myself, one my dear Meredith took when she came to visit. It’s my FB profile pic, and those who know my love it, saying it’s quintisentially me. In hind-site, a pic of me clutching a cigar might not have been the best choice…

BeautifulPeople uses a 4 pt rating system, those being ‘Beautiful’, ‘Hmmm OK’, ‘No’, and ‘Absolutely Not’. They display a bar graph breaking down the various votes you’ve received, and a running total of ‘In’ or ‘Out’. I started out well, with a few ‘Hmmm OK’s and a handful of ‘Beautiful’s, with slightly less ‘No’s and slightly more ‘Absolutely Not’s. It was interesting to watch the score vary over the course of the day, back and fourth. And yes, I will admit that each ‘Absolutely Not’ stung just a little, but on the other hand each ‘Beautiful’ felt glorious.

In the end, I made it by the the narrowest of margins.

And I’m not sure how I feel about that.

I spent a day poking around before deleting my account, seeing what was going on. And there really weren’t any girls on there I would want to date. First, I am judging them by their interest in joining such a site; and secondly it becomes clear my concept of beauty does not conform to society’s ideal. Also, men are bastards, but I’ll get to that in a moment.

A while ago on OkC this girl messaged me, asking about the poly community, expressing interest in meeting me. I am polysaturated at the moment, and I told her I was unable to meet anyone new. We exchanged a few messages, and I wasn’t impressed by her grammar, and then suddenly she asked me where she could fine ‘only the attractive poly people’. Only. The. Attractive. Wow. Well, I didn’t know about BeautifulPeople.com yet, so I shrugged off the question. Now of course I can send her to where only the shallow and narcissistic people hang out. I’m sorry, but you will never convince me there is anyone worth dating on that site. If you think you are so attractive as to deserve to only date, or even have your profile looked at by the most beautiful people, then you and I are quite simply not going to get along.

My concept of beauty. Right. I like women with unique faces. I like character in a face, personality, I like expressive faces. I do not like conformity. I am not attracted to Cover Girl models. And that’s what this site offered.  Every girl who had a good rating looked exactly the same, and every single applicant I was drawn to was rated very strongly in the ‘Absolutely Not’ category.

Which brings me to Men Are Bastards. Seriously, there is no middle ground with doods. When rating women myself-to be intellectually honest about my experiment I had to participate fully in the process-it was either all the way ‘Beautiful’ or nothing but ‘Absolutely Not’.

I have to imagine that the women of this site were not much different. And I’m not quite sure how I feel that I made the cut. I’m a little relieved I barely meet their standards, honestly.

 

Incidentally, this is the pic I used:

 

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They Say Passion Is Dead

12 Oct

They say toe-curling-passion will inevitably die out, that all relationships eventually settle into a comfortable, sexless rut. The only reasons to stay together are the kids or fear of being alone, of dating again in a world of online personality algorithms, speed dating and text break-ups. Sacrifice your passion on the altar of family responsibility. And they say this is normal.

I say bullshit.

Passion only dies if you let it.

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Marching Orders

16 Sep

My wife Bayani likes me to order her around, and the more explicit and detailed my instructions, the better. Sometimes I just tell her things like ‘Suck it’ or ‘Bend over’, sometimes I give her more detailed instructions like ‘Go take your panties off then come in here and kneel down and beg me to let you suck it.’ She likes giving me oral, and really likes begging me to let her use her mouth to please me.

Learning to let myself do this was not easy. I had been taught to treat a woman with respect, and to order her to kneel down and suck your cock, well, that hardly seems respectful, does it? But she wants me to do that, she likes it, she gets off on it. So I respect her by giving her what she wants, by trusting that she will let me know when I go to far. Oddly enough, I do this from a place of love, I do this to increase the intimacy in our relationship, it is something I don’t share with many people.

Recently she has started asking permission to come. I think she got the idea from this BDSM erotica she read, where the Dom forbade his sub from orgasming for 24 hours as a sort of punishment. She likes the idea of my being that much in control. So I’ve started telling her to come sometimes, and at other times I tell her she can’t come till after I do. It has now gotten to the point where I can tell her to come, and as long as there is some sort of stimulation on her clit or in her pussy, she will. I have not yet tried to tell her to come when she is standing at the mirror putting on makeup, but some day I will. That will be pretty damn hot, if I can ever make her come just by using my voice.

She likes me to call her dirty names, ‘Slut’ and ‘Cocksucker’. ‘Whore’ is off limits, she does not like that one. She is fine being a slut, but not a whore. Ah, good, a limit. I can show her respect by not crossing that line, by respecting her limits.

Occasionally I will leave her some very detailed instructions, usually when I will be gone for the evening, instructions on how I want her dressed when I come home, how I want to be greeted at the door. I let her stew for a few hours thinking about it, getting all worked up. I tease her with the anticipation.

Last night I left her with such a set of instructions. The email I sent her can be found at the end of this post. I gave her some very detailed instructions on what she could wear, and those I will keep to myself. I told her what time to expect me, and I am a very punctual person, so she knew I would walk in the door at exactly the time I told her I would.

She had friends over while I was gone, to smoke hookah and read tarot. She had to kick them out to get ready for me. The kids were not co-operating, refusing to quiet down and go to sleep, so she sent a text requesting a 15 minute delay. I acknowledged the changed time table. I sent another text as I was leaving, letting her know she had exactly five minutes. I walked in the door to find her in full compliance and frustrated as all hell. My text arrived as I was getting naked. She didn’t know I had given her the extra 15 minutes, and had been in position trying to fight of orgasms for almost 20 minutes the poor thing.

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I Woo Women With Food

7 Sep

They say the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

I disagree. It’s a woman’s heart you can win with food.

In our society, it is women who typically do the cooking. I know, it’s not the 50’s anymore, but you still see so many couples where the woman is expected to cook. They don’t even discuss it, they move in together and the woman just starts taking over the cooking.

So a man who can cook, who is not only willing to do so for the odd special occasion, but a man who is good at it and actually enjoys it is something special.

Yes, I am bragging again.

I really am a good cook. I make my own beer batter pizza dough from scratch. I make marinara and bolognese. I make pad thai and pho and dahl, and not from a box or package. I grill and Q. I make cheesecakes and pastries. I make caramels, just to give to pretty girls. And eclairs and souffle. I love to work with butter and cream, with caramel and chocolate. I love spices, chipotle and cardamom and cilantro. I have a serious love affair with garlic.

Mostly I cook because I enjoy the process, and smelling the food as I prepare it whets my appetite. I cook so my wife doesn’t have to. She brings home the bacon in this household, and she gets to come home to a (mostly)clean house and dinner on the table. I may have already caught her, but that does not mean I don’t have to continue wooing her. I still surprise her with special dishes from time to time, just because, or maybe when I know she is having a hard day. White chocolate lavender souffle. Peach upside down cake when they are in season. Peaches, not cake. Cake is always in season.

I do it with Unicorns too. Once we find a Hawt Bi Babe who makes it past the third date, we then invite her over here for dinner. I usually make grilled pork tenderloin, with cumin roasted potatoes and garlicky dinner rolls.

Each of the girls we have dated have had their favorites. Carlotta was partial to aebleskivers and liked waffles for breakfast. Fanny likes madelines, and prefers crepes for breakfast. Remembering what they like and how they like it is just one small way to show I have been paying attention. Fanny doesn’t like Swiss Cheese or too much frosting on carrot cake, Kasini doesn’t like onions or celery. I’ve been bringing Kasini little tasty gifts for a while now, caramels and toffee and mini cheesecake bites and eclairs.

I don’t even realize I am doing it sometimes, using food on women. I am the go-to food guy in our party crowd. I run the grill and I bring the cheesecake. When people find out I am cooking, they call ahead and ask for a plate to be set aside before it disappears. I love to hover around the table, suggesting tasty bites for pretty girls to put in their mouths. I like to give them foodgasms, even if I can barely remember their name.

Some of this comes from growing up with low self esteem. I like the attention, the validation, but it is also a way to interact sensually with a woman without risking rejection.

Eating really is a sensual experience, I think it pairs well with sex. Cowgirl goes well with garlic burgers, doggy style with ribs, the inverted Indrani with chicken marsala. Two of the three basic Hedonistic experiences of food and sex and booze. It sets the tone for the evening: this is going to be all about the pleasure, about enjoying ourselves, about indulgences. When you are eating and when you are making love, those are some of the few times that you are immediately in the moment. You are paying attention to what you are doing, what you are experiencing right then. You are not thinking about the mortgage of the meeting you have on Monday or if how many miles it’s been since your last oil change. All you are thinking about is what that last bite of caprese salad is doing to your mouth or how delicious your lover’s fingers are on your inner thigh.

I think that is why I use food on women. It grounds them, pulls them into the moment, centers their attention on me. I made this, I gave this to you, I am making love to your taste buds. Good food brings people out of the higher brain functions down into the more primitive, sexual part of the brain. Right where I like to live.

Yes, the quickest way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach.

And we all know the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his penis.

Too Many People In That Bed

17 Aug

Alright, the cat’s out of the bag, Kasini and I have finally, inevitably, given in to our lust and are now bumping uglies(though nothing about her is ugly and she will definitely protest my use of inevitable).

The first time with Kasini I did not have explicit permission from my wife to go all the way. Never mind that she had just days prior slept with another man for the first time, she wanted me to take baby steps(like I had requested of her). Feelings are not always logical, so I was willing to comply without belaboring the point. Besides, who was I to argue?

Kasini was joining my weekly Dungeons and Dragons group(the game, not a bondage dungeon), after which I was going to drive her home, and Bayani was off attending a ritual(Bayani always comes home so very horny after a ritual). I didn’t know what to expect with Kasini that night, I don’t know all her signals or moods. We did go out for dinner before the geek-fest, and she wore a very nice, very revealing top. She knows how much I like boobs in general, and hers in particular, wearing such a top is either a clear signal or malicious teasing. With her it was likely both. I did not know that we were going to go all the way, but I certainly hoped we would. Once my geeky friends left(thought they would never leave!), we started kissing. We decided to move to her house.

Bayani texted she was on her way home and was horny as hell. Now, we had already fucked twice that day, and I knew I didn’t have what it would take to ground my wife’s energies after a ritual, so I suggested she get hold of Abernethy or Fanny. Fanny came to the rescue and was more than happy to spend the next two or three hours ripping orgasms out of my wife.

Enough energy to pound Bayani for two hours? No. Enough to be enthusiastic about the first time with Kasini? Hell yes.

So there I was, kissing Kasini on her bed, wanting to go further, desperate to go further, but without explicit permission to do so. Kasini felt so nice and was doing all sorts of interesting and undeniable things with her lips and oh my god that bra was hot. Now, understand that I had actually turned my wife down to be there even though I had already made love to her twice that day. And she was off screwing another woman while I sat there full of anxiety that I was about to go too far, a woman I was also involved with and who could also possibly become jealous or insecure.

There were way too many people in that bedroom for my comfort, all demanding consideration.

Suddenly, magically, Bayani’s text giving me permission came through. Have you ever tried to answer a text while a beautiful woman is letting you take her bra off? Somehow I managed it without offending that beautiful woman. With a triumphant grin, I showed the text to her. I was very glad for her tendency to say quirky or inappropriate things and to laugh at the absurdity of sex. She laughed, and I laughed, and somebody reached for somebody and I don’t know what I did with my phone right then.

I didn’t hold back after that.

<Note: Yes, Kasini and I are now having sex. This will not change what we write about, or how we write. Kasini will still have her own relationships, and I will have mine. There is still plenty to write about, this blog will not just be the two of us bragging about what cute thing our new partner just did, though there will be some of that. A new relationship is a new relationship, and there are new learning opportunities to discuss.>

She Brings Out The Worst In Me

9 Aug

Or the best, depending on your point of view.

She pushes back, She fights me, challenges my dominance.

She is not a willow, bending, yielding, accepting the shape I give her. No, She is a wild pony, fierce and willful. And She needs to be broken. She wants me to be in control, to lead Her, but She cannot submit on her own.

She is a brat.

I don’t mean to be aggressive, She brings out the worst in me. I start out wanting to kiss Her slowly, caressing her soft skin, eliciting moans and gasps of pleasure. But there is something about the look in Her eyes that makes me growl. The way She grabs at me, pushes at me, I just can’t help it, I just want to grab Her by the wrists and pin Her down. Let Her know that I am in control.

She submits differently than my wife does

Bayani is yielding, eager to please. And that brings out a different type of dominance in me. Bayani takes whatever I give her, and the more she yields the more I push. She begs to please me, “Please let me suck it”. I am in control every moment and I love it. She is my Good Girl. Bayani wants me to be in control, to take over for her, to do the things she cannot tell me she wants. Bayani has a different look in her eyes, her eyes speak of absolute trust, and they beg me to do more.

I spank Bayani because she will take it, because she wants it. And the more I spank her, the more she wants it, the harder slap.

I spank Her to punish Her, to remind Her that I am in charge. Well, I will. We’ve barely just begun and She has not yet had a chance to be really naughty and earn a punishment. We’ve only slept together once, and first times are always awkward and eager–don’t get me wrong, it was really good, I was just too full of pent up frustration to really take my time and do it the way I want to. I am really looking forward to punishing Her; to turning Her ass red with my bare hand; to tying Her down, limbs pulled taught, leaving Her helpless while I caress Her, tease Her, draw out the pleasure till She is panting, begging me to finish Her, to end the torment. But I won’t, not yet, not till She knows, understands, that I am in control.

Yes, She brings out the worst in me, and She knows exactly what She is doing.

Oh, Her name is Germentrude.

Jealousy Inside Out

19 Jun

Happiness isn’t getting all that you want, it’s wanting all that you have.

I am awesome. I am having so much fun right now being me, that were I to die right now, I would want to be reincarnated as me. I really am this awesome.

I have an incredible wife(and a spectacular girlfriend), great-if occasionally frustrating- kids, until recently a really cool career, I’ve written a book, I can cook, I love my house, my friends and family are awesome.

And yet, there are things I wish I had, or did, or was.

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But, What If He’s Bigger Than Me?

2 Apr

As I find myself more open to the idea of my wife Bayani being with another man, I find myself leaping more and more hurdles.  The most recent, is being insecure about size.

Let’s face it, size does matter.  Just not in the way you think it does.

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A Debaucherous Time Was Had By All

28 Feb

This weekend, I celebrated my 36th birthday in the usual epic-party fashion.

There was good scotch, cheap bourbon, absinthe and hookah.  And naked hot-tub time.

This time, I introduced Kasini to my party crowd.  It can be dangerous letting your social circles mix, you never know what stories are going to be shared.  In my case, nothing that needed to be kept quiet was drunkenly blurted out, mostly because I don’t hide a whole lot.  I had, however, previously shared, out of sheer incredulity, the incident which Kasini detailed in her opening post.  A few friends confronted her about this, and she held her own in the explaining of it.

I do often say that you are only as old as the people you party with, and in my case, that means I am in my mid twenties.   Continue reading

Fish Stories

17 Jan

Like most men, I enjoy occasionally bragging about my exploits in the bedroom. I don’t exaggerate, I don’t need to.

My best friend, in following with the Man Code, listens patiently as I recount my adventures. He knows it is his duty. When one Man has a threesome, or a particularly hot woman, etc, it is the duty of all other Men to listen as he brags and make appropriately appreciative grunting noises. Then we punch each other, drink a beer, and fix a car. (I am convinced that while we do this, our women are inside in sexy lingerie giving each other sensual massages, sometimes pillow fights break out, and they are always just on the verge of lesbian sex. Even the straight ones[please do not shatter my illusions]) Continue reading