Thursday, 11 January 2018
An actual photo of SM and I - she is about 5'6" to my 6'3"
Sexy Mama (known as SM), my wife of 20 years was my fifth lover. We have grown together over the years, but rediscovered that secret spark we had in the early days when we began swinging. Not because we were fucking other people, but because we found an environment where being a sexual being was celebrated and we were not confined by the morality of society. For me, discovering that I did not have to play by monogamy’s rules was a life changing.
SM and I met just as I began my third year of college. Our meeting was the most remarkable of chances. I decided to return to college two days early and flew stand-by. SM was visiting friends in the big city and decided to stay two days later. We both found ourselves in a Grey Hound bus terminal waiting for the bus to our town. I noticed her immediately, a short plaid skirt and white tank top against her pale skin made her hard to miss. She noticed me and an acquaintance I had met up with as we both sported the typical Military Cadet on vacation attire – dress sandals, cargo shorts and a polo type shirt.
When we boarded the bus, SM sat across the aisle and a row back from my friend and I. Not having the nerve or words to initiate a conversation with her, I began engaging my friend in conversation. He was telling me about his summer adventures on the east coast of Canada when SM interrupted and told us she had spent some time in the very same city. Like a downing man seeking refuge, I latched on to the opportunity to continue the conversation with SM. I don’t remember what we talked about, but the two hour bus trip melted away as we talked. When we arrived at our destination, I offered to carry her bags as a pretense to asking her for her phone number. She declined the offer and I was left dumbfounded. With no other option, I returned to my college feeling like I had screwed up somehow.
I don’t know what possessed me, but I had to see her again. I knew where SM worked – she had told me in our conversation – and she had alluded that I should stop by and say “hi” if I were ever in the area. What I did not know was when she worked. Knowing that I would regret it for the rest of my life if I did not try, I took a $20 cab ride (about $50 in today’s dollars) to the mall where she worked and went straight to her store.
I had no idea what I was doing. She worked at a woman’s clothing store, what was I going to do, walk in and ask if she was working? If she was not, would they tell me when I could meet her next? As fate would have it she was at work when I arrived and immediately went on break so we could talk. We sat on a bench and talked. She did not appear to be shocked or appalled that I came to her place of work unannounced. In fact, I would come to find out years later that she was actually in the midst of telling her work companion about her bus ride.
She ended her break by saying “I suppose you want my number,” which set my heart aflutter. I had never had a woman offer me her number, I had always made the first move- even if I knew it would be welcomed. When she returned to work, her co-worker, a lovely lady in her 40’s who was a bit of a savant, looked at her and said “you are going to marry that man.” She laughed it off and returned to work. With no sense of the ‘game’ of courtship, I called the next day and asked to see her. She had a date the following day (ugh) but was free on Thursday for drinks and dancing.
Thursday came and we went dancing. On arrival I was subjected to no less than a dozen of her friends and tried my best to be funny, charming and endearing to both her and her friends. It paid off and we ended the night with a slow dance. I was all of 20 years old, had not had sex in 6 months and was pressed up against this beauty. My body ached – I had a raging hard on and I was pressed against her. She told herself it was my wallet…sweet girl.
Our first time was a few days later, in my dorm room, with my roommate on the top bunk. God, how he hated me the next day. Two months later I asked her to marry me – she laughed at my ‘joke.’ A month later we were engaged, a year after that we were married and nine months later she was pregnant with our first child.
We would start swinging 13 years and three kids later, but not before I had taken another woman to my bed without her knowledge. That is a story for another day.
Mr. No Name
Wednesday, 10 January 2018
- Actress Catherine Deneuve attends a news conference for the film 'Sage Femme' at the 2017 Berlinale Film Festival in Berlin, Germany, Tuesday, Feb. 14, 2017. (AP Photo/Markus Schreiber)
In my vanilla life, I have been absent on Social Media since the breaking of the Harvey Weinstein scandal. The absence has been self-imposed as I tried to reconcile my feelings. I have zero tolerance for any man who uses his power to advance his own sexual desires. This predatory behavior and needs to be curbed in the most direct way possible. But, I love women as objects of sexual desire. I can and do work with women on a daily basis, I take direction from women in positions of power and, in turn issue direction to both women and men - all without bias or favour. However, I have met many sexual partners both at work and though our vanilla life.
As I watched the scandal unfold, I wondered how long before Hollywood turned on itself. Would it become a witch-hunt? Each case that made the news easily met the criteria of inappropriate behavior. I did not see any instances of attempts at initiating a workplace romance misconstrued as inappropriate sexual behavior. Nevertheless, I withdrew further and further from social media as I felt there was no place for a hyper sexual person in this environment.
You see – as a bit of an aside – even in my vanilla life I am known as a sexual being. My lust for Sexy Mama, my wife of 20 years, is well known to all of our friends. We are both known as horrendous flirts who are not the jealous type. This has led to many of our friends asking if we are swingers. We have told some, denied it to others. But back on topic….
I sat back and watched the situation unfold. Men who posted under #MeToo were derided as trying to make this too about men rather than women. And then, the golden globes came around with its black theme in protest of sexual misconduct. I wondered to myself would some women still dress sensually in black? Would some defy the trend? I did not watch the actual awards ceremony as I am not a connoisseur of Hollywood ceremony; however, I awoke the next to the headline “Actress Blanca Blanco’s red dress at Golden Globes draws heat” (link here).
I knew then that in their efforts to stop women from be subjected to inappropriate sexual behavior, the movement felt it was necessary to marginalize women’s sexuality. Ms. Blanco was under attack by both men and women for not following the implied dress code and flaunting her sexuality. I feared there was no place for me in civilized society because I looked at her in that red dress and was immediately aroused. I was an apparent monster.
I retreated inside myself, following the developments, but never commenting or posting. I could not get the words right. I support the anti-Photoshop movement and encourage plus size models, especially those reflective of ‘normal women.’ I enjoyed movies with a female lead (“What about Monday” or “Seven Sisters” is my current favourite). I support equal pay for equal work. Nevertheless, through it all, I love the female form in all its splendor. I love women of all shapes and sizes. I eroticize women I meet and imagine their naked form. I considered myself to either be delusional that I was balancing my desire to remain a sexual being with my feminism or that I was simply a lecher in denial.
That is when the French came to my rescue. Today I read about the lovely Catherine Deneuve who, along with 100 other French female writers, performers and academics wrote an open letter to the French newspaper Le Monde (link here – in French – I am thankful for my well rounded education) expressing a concern that the #MeToo movement has turned into a “puritanical... wave of purification” (see English article here). Rather than bore you with more of my words, I will provides some translated quotes from the aforementioned English article:
"Rape is a crime, but trying to seduce someone, even persistently or cack-handedly, is not – nor is men being gentlemanly a macho attack."
"Above all, we are conscious that the human being is not monolithic: a woman can in the same day lead a professional team and enjoy being the sexual object of a man without being a 'slut' nor a vile accomplice of the patriarchy. She can ensure that her salary is equal to that of a man, but not feel forever traumatized by a rub on the subway, even if it's considered a crime. She can even see it as the expression of a great sexual misery, or a non-event."
"But flirting insistently or clumsily isn't a crime, and chivalry is not a machismo aggression." (Rolling Stone article here)
It was difficult to find articles to share, not because there was a lack of English language coverage, but because most of the English coverage was American and prone to condemning Ms. Deneuve as Asia Argento did when she tweeted “Catherine Deneuve and other French women tell the world how their interiorized misogyny has lobotomized them to the point of no return https://t.co/AuH0aZdnCq (- Asia Argento (@AsiaArgento) Jan. 9, 2018).
I wonder if I can find a job in France?
TTFNMr. No Name
Tuesday, 9 January 2018
My fourth lover happened almost a year after Fly Girl and is the one I am the least proud of. Not her, but me. Allow me to explain…
My fourth lover was of Maltese descent, so let’s call her Olive after her olive skin. We attended the same Military school in the early 1990’s and she was part of a new generation of women with military aspirations. While things were not easy for women in those days, they were a decade removed from the first pioneering women in the military. As such, women made up about 15% of the cadet population. Therefore, finding out that a member of the 15% was attracted to you was like winning the Golden Ticket, catching the Snitch and winning the lottery all in one day.
Again, my monogamishly wired brain lead me from a first kiss straight into a committed relationship. In this case, it was for the best since Olive was a Soldier for Jesus and was committed to waiting until she was married. While I had no such intent, I was content with this relationship as I was receiving affection and actually had a partner on college grounds. I had one on the 15%. About two weeks after we started dating, I met her parents during the Easter Break. She even brought me to her church, all the red flags were there, but I failed to see them, because this is what couples did when committed.
When we returned from Easter, I had the room to myself. With roommates being a common occurrence (see lover #2) at this military school, having the room to yourself was an unsuspecting surprise. As would frequently happen, Olive and I took advantage of the alone time for some light petting. From the outset, I knew something was different. There was no hesitation, or holding back on her part. I have forgotten the words, but Olive asked me to be her first. I knew deep-down she did this because I was “the one.” I also knew she was not. In the movies, the hero has the resolve to preserve the lady’s virtue, I was no hero that day.
I do not remember the details of how we made love that day and I am not sure it was even that particular day, but with Olive I discovered my favourite sexual position. By this point, I has little experience with women and sex had consisted of missionary, woman on top and doggie-style. Again, I do not remember how it transpired, but Olive was on her stomach, lying flat when I mounted her from behind, knees straddling he upper thigs and my full weight against her back (See chart above, third row, right hand side). I was thrusting into her while kissing her neck or mouth when she turned her head sideways.
I forgot about this position over time and did not use it again until after Sexy Mama and I began swinging almost 15 years later. Since that time, this has become my “go-to” position with a submissive lover. It provides her with that feeling of being dominated and held down. If she has BDSM tendencies, I can grip her throat, pull her hair and bite her from this position – all while whispering in her ear. For other lovers, there is something about the body alignment of this position with the curve of my cock that makes her very wet and increases the friction so I can ejaculate even with a condom on.
As for Olive and I, we broke up soon after. She was not the one for me and never would be. Rationally, I know we are all responsible for our own lives and that I am not the cause of all ills the befall someone, I am still left feeling like I ruined her life. You see, after we broke off our relationship, she left school (failure to meet the physical training requirements – not me fault…but…). After completing her degree at a normal college, she shacked up with a guy, got pregnant and he left her. Now, she is just moving in with another guy she has been ‘dating’ on and off for 5 years. I know none of this is my fault, but I cannot help feeling guilty that she went from virginal to child out of wed lock after me.
Mr. No Name
Monday, 8 January 2018
My third lover should have been my first introduction to non-monogamy, but I was stupid. Well, that is not entirely fair, I was a naïve by-product product of my religious upbringing and monogamous times I lived in. It was Spring Break 1995 and rather than travel to Daytona Beach, I went home to visit family in rural Canada. What follows was, at the time (and from my perception at the time), my most sexually charged week. In hindsight, I missed out on several sexual encounters, a threesome or two and a change at an ongoing FWB situation. Allow me to explain.
While on vacation, I was delighted to meet up with an old girlfriend who was also on vacation from a local college. For now, let’s call her Fly Girl – in recognition of what she would become one day and hey, it was the 1990’s after all. Though Fly Girl and I had not had sex when we were together – again due to my upbringing/conditioning of waiting until marriage, rather than her unwillingness to have sex. On our first night, we head out to a local bar in the next town and proceed to enjoy several beer. The night goes on, the sexual tension is there, but I am afraid to act on it. I did not want a long distance relationship, so I did not plan to kiss her…after all in my monogamy conditioning, kissing her would infer a relationship. As I said, I was stupid.
As the night goes on, we meet up with a mutual friend (let’s call her Hot Lips – we were all raised on MASH after all) and continue to drink and dance and flirt. During a quiet moment, Hot Lips looks up at me (I stand about 6’3” or 190 CM) and I can feel the sexual tension. She says “Fly Girl says you are a good kisser.” In one of my more suave moves, I say “would you like to find out” (I guess I was seeking consent before it was ‘a thing’). She simply nods and we embrace and kiss deeply. That first kiss set the night in motion and I am alternately kissing Fly Girl and Hot Lips. We were later joined by Hot Lips deaf friend who lives in the same town as me. Not be proficient in sign-language, I knew of Deaf Girl (shitty same, I apologize), but not well. Hot Lips and Deaf Girl engage in a rapid-fire conversation in ASL was we four continue to drink.
As the bar closes, we walk to Deaf Girl’s house for a nightcap. Once there, Hot Lips tells me that Deaf Girl has always had a crush on me and she was in the other room waiting for me. In hindsight, the set up was so obvious, I don’t know how I missed it. I went into Deaf Girl’s bedroom, we made out for a little while and then, I felt it was my obligation to return to my other two friends. These three women were all comfortable with the idea of sharing me, but I was oblivious to the notion – three some (or foursome) opportunity missed. In the end, I went back to Fly Girl’s apartment and we had fumbling hot drunk sex without me being fully aware of what I had missed. I did discover that night that I am a bit of an exhibitionist. Fly-Girl’s friends were outside the door, well aware of what we were doing and occasionally providing colour commentary. I found that this increased my libido rather than crush it.
Fly Girl and I would go on to have sex twice more in the days to come. That was when I felt I had to tell her there was no future in this for us. She made it quite clear that this was just for fun, but I could not fathom a sexually liberated woman with my narrow world view and ended our non-existent relationship and lost my FWB. So, while fucking an old flam three times in a week and kissing three women in one night was leaps and bounds beyond what I had experienced to date, it was, in reality, a missed threesome and continuing FWB situation. Stupid. Stupid, stupid.
Mr. No Name
Friday, 15 December 2017
My second sexual partner was during my second year of university. I attended a military school replete with uniforms, drill, upperclassmen with a sense of superiority and lots and lots of fencing. This school would, on rare occasions, open itself for a public dance as a way of socializing us military cadets to the real world. At one such affair, I found myself in the company of a young lady I had taken under my protection as she was extremely intoxicated and being circled by a pack of horny first year cadets. While I love all things sexual and have few conventional morals, I will not abide anyone taking advantage of another: consent is key. Drunk lady was accompanied by her gothic friend who I internally referred to as DEATH. She scared me, aroused me and intrigued me. I passed my charge off to a trusted friend and was lead to the dance floor by Death herself. We did not spend long on the dance floor before she made it clear she wanted to go to my room.
As I mentioned, this was a military school, simply walking a lady back to your room was not an option. Members of the opposite sex (not that there were many women in uniform at the time) were no permitted in our dorm. I put all of my pseudo-military training to use and successfully infiltrated her behind our lines and into my room – where we were greeted by the sight of my sleeping roommate. It was a military institution, roommates and bunkbeds were the norm. My choice of top-bunk that semester was looking like a bad decision.
I was still sexually naïve at this point. I had had sex a handful of times and all to the same woman with as little experience as me. Death was no such woman, she had the sexual knowledge and confidence which can only be learned from experience. I intended to be the gallant gentleman and offer to find an unused linin closer somewhere, but she was having none of it. She guided me out of my clothes, removed hers and climbed onto the top bunk with me.
We gently kissed, she began biting my lip – a move I have loved since and use frequently – and we explored each other body. She was small, pale, and pert. She expertly responded to my fumbling touch. She produced a condom – from where, I know not – expertly slide it on to me and then expertly slid herself on to me. This was my first experience with a position other than missionary. It was heavenly. I was able to feel her completely envelop my cock, grab her hips and cup her breasts. He pale skin was highlighted by the moonlight coming in through the windows. In hindsight, maybe I should have drawn the curtains as we were on the main level an in a corner room – nevertheless, I am reasonably sure she was aware and relishing in the idea of being watched.
Alas poor reader, I wish I had a longer tale to tell, but the sex lasted about 3 and a half minutes and when she was done, she expertly dismounted, dressed and left the room. The next morning, I realized she had known her way around the campus and did not need any help finding her way past the guards and home. I had fallen prey to a dorm-bunny. While she does not hold a spot in my heart of hearts, she is a fond sexual memory as my first experience in being ‘picked up.’ I had never considered women as sexual beings who would actively prowl for men. It made me feel sexy, sexual and special to be one of her conquests.
Stay tuned for #3 where I begin to discover that Friends with Benefits means in a time before that term was coined…and royally fuck it up.
Mr. No Name
Thursday, 14 December 2017
Before Sexy Mama and I discovered swinging, I was naïve and innocent to the extreme. My upbringing was in rural Canada raised on a diet of family values, deeply committed relationships and monogamy. By way of example, I recently googled “swingers” and the name of my hometown. The result was a Reddit thread where someone asked where to meet swingers in the area. The reply was a series of ‘holier than thou’ responses about the evils of swinging and questioning the relationship of those involved – all typical fare for those of us who are familiar with the ‘monomogish’ debate. With this in mind, my early views on sex was that it was within the context of a committed. Therefore, if I wanted sex, I had to be in a committed relationship.
I was also raised in the late 80’s and early 90’s before the popularization of the internet. I knew what female anatomy looked like, but was woefully unprepared for the intricacies of sex, sex positions, how to please a woman, etc. With that in mind, let me share my sexual experiences before Sexy Mama with the humorous lens of hind-sight applied.
# 1: The First
This was not my first love, but my most committed relationship in high school. We were both determined to wait until we were married to have sex. Finger banging, hand-jobs and dry-humping were enough to keep us in check. That is until a friend got her a flavored condom. Until the appearance of the condom, I had never seen her naked, it was all under the clothes groping. The condom changed all that.
We were completely alone for an afternoon and had access to a condom. We still had no plan for sex, but she wanted to see what a flavored condom was like and I was more than willing to help. What transpired does not meet the definition of a blow-job. There was a condom rolled on my 17 year old erection and a few licks (actual licks) and a suck or two, but that was it. What did happen was her straddling me and a lot of kissing. My hips involuntarily thrusted forward and just the tip of my cock entered her. I knew enough to know that the first time would require a more forceful penetration, but I was content with this pseudo fuck and she was clearly enjoying the sensation. With no fear of pregnancy (a fear deeply ingrained in both of our heads), we enjoyed the sensation. I don’t remember if I came or not. What I do remember is that a week later, she told me she wanted to have sex.
Our first time was a disaster. We were alone in my parents’ house and ready for some slow lovemaking. I shipped on a condom and, with some help, entered her. Then, the doorbell rang. I don’t know what possessed me, but I jumped up, clothed myself and ran downstairs to answer the door, leaving her naked and confused on the bed. With the caller dispatched, I returned to the scene, make lack-luster love to her. It was all over when my mind registered that I was actually having sex. All in all, I think it lasted about 5 minutes, including answering the door. Shortly after, I left for university and our relationship fell apart within a year.
Stay tuned for my second sexual experience that involved sex in a bunk-bed with a woman I call DEATH.
Mr. No Name
Wednesday, 13 December 2017
I have often wondered how I would begin this post. Already, I have typed a dozen different introductions and deleted them all. You see, this is not my first Blog. I used to write as Mr. No Name in a Blog entitled "What's in a Name." I deleted that blog after three years because I was unable to maintain the discretion necessary to remain an anonymous Blogger. My 'real' life was bleeding into my blog and I was at risk of outing myself. Discretion is important to me because, while I am not a politician or national public figure, I am sufficiently well placed within my field that it would not take too many personal details for the right person to figure out who I am. So, I will remain Mr. No Name.
What I can tell you is that my wife, hereafter called Sexy Mama (SM for short), and I are swingers. Of course, we are so much more. Swinging does not define us, but it is the focus of this Blog and the piece of me that has been absent for several years. When I maintained my old blog, I had a group of online friends who shared my passion and feed my need to be an exhibitionist. Since my retirement from Blogging, that has been missing in my life and I have found myself increasingly isolated.
Sitting safely on my phone is a list of 33 names of people I have slept with: 29 since marriage and 28 since SM and I became swingers. Those of you familiar with Swinging know the difference between Soft Swap and Full Swap - those of you unfamiliar, please take the time now to Google these terms as they will occur again and again. My list is primarily Full Swap or single sexual encounters. I have included a few that were not, but are special or memorable in some way so as to standout in my mind.
I know the list is a bit long for the average vanilla male, but I honestly do not know how it compares to other swingers. I find many swingers are reticent to talk about their encounters. I am not. I never reveal the details of the people we play with, but I love sharing a good sex story. With that in mind, this blog will likely be me recounting new stories as they happen mixed in with a few from the past. I will try to remember to include their number on my list as I know many of you can be OCD about these types of things.
More to follow in the days to come.
Mr. No Name
An actual photo of SM and I - she is about 5'6" to my 6'3" Sexy Mama (known as SM), my wife of 20 years wa...
My second sexual partner was during my second year of university. I attended a military school replete with uniforms, drill, ...
An actual photo of SM and I - she is about 5'6" to my 6'3" Sexy Mama (known as SM), my wife of 20 years wa...
Before Sexy Mama and I discovered swinging, I was naïve and innocent to the extreme. My upbringing was in rural Canada raised on ...