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Happy Anniversary, Honey

A few weeks ago, I walked into our living room where Luke, my husband, was watching an action movie. The characters were searching for a villain in a hotel. Opening the wrong door, they stumbled into a sex party that was in full swing. People were fucking and flogging and going at it like humans. The punchline came when a man who was balls deep in a woman turned to another who was tied up and getting fucked and said “Happy Anniversary, Honey.”  Luke and I looked at each other and laughed at that perfectly timed humor, knowing that our own anniversary was on the horizon, and our celebratory plans were not quite traditional. 

A few weeks later, we flew to a beautiful coastal city to celebrate our wedding anniversary. We spent two nights with lifestyle friends and one night just the two of us in a hotel to connect and do our anniversary tradition of writing a letter to our future us 5 years from now and reading the one from five years ago. As you can imagine if you follow my other writing, this year’s letter was quite the doozy.

I won’t excite you with all the devilish details from that weekend, but I will share our experience at a swinger sex club where our friends took us.

They’re interesting places, these “dens of iniquity” as I’m sure many people would label them. If you’ve never experienced one, you should, even if only to sample the erotic ambience and observe. It’s a fun exploration into body positivity and sexual destigmatization. There are people of all shapes, sizes, persuasions, etc. who come to unashamedly enjoy  sex, closed doors behind. 

This club was like a Winchester Mansion, an endless maze of spaces to be explored and enjoyed. It was in a large old manor-type brick house in a dark industrial part of the city. After signing in at the front desk, we entered the locker room, a place for people to get undressed, nudity or lingerie being the dress code of the venue.  

The club’s central room held a BYOB bar and a dance floor with a pole. This space was open to a lounge area with couches and a pool table a few steps above where naked and lingerie-clad people were chatting and playing pool. 

The property also had a large outdoor area in the back that included a BDSM/kink pool house, fire pits, lounging areas,  and a few glass-fronted rooms that faced the walkway to the pool house.  The thing that caught my attention most was outside. Nestled on the grass between the walkway, palm trees, and a glowing fire pit, was a bed, just sitting there empty, calling my name. I noted it as our friends were giving us the tour, knowing that at some point in the night, I was going to fuck on that bed.

We walked past the pool toward the kink house.  Through a large picture window, I could see the red lighted interior of a room where a gang bang was happening. I could just barely make out the heels of a woman lying on her back in the center of a bed surrounded by at least 6 men. More people were standing around watching. I paused to observe for a few breaths, catching the eye of one of the men in the process. To my left, a group of people sat around a fire pit chatting, as if the pile of humans fucking through the window was a sight as mundane as flowers in springtime. 

After touring the club, we returned to the dance floor with our friends. There was seating around the edges of the room backed by a floor-to-ceiling mirror-lined wall on one side. A DJ spun beats while people gathered around the bar. We hung out with our friends in the dance area. It was fun watching the different women who approached the pole to get their sexy on while onlookers smiled and cheered. One woman in a lacy black bra and panty set worked the pole like a pro and then crawled to the wall to give a blow job to a man who was sitting there. Everyone watched as she worked him with her mouth and hands.  

At one point, Luke knelt in front of me as I was sitting on a bench at the periphery of the dance floor. He opened my thighs with his big hands and pulled my panties to the side, bringing his head in to taste me. I positioned myself with one leg on the floor and the other heel clad foot on his shoulder. People watched us while others danced. I rubbed my hands across Luke’s braids and down his neck, and when he came up for a breath and looked at me,  I smiled at him and gently pushed him back down. He was happy to comply with my orders to keep going for a little bit longer. Then, we got up and started dancing.

After some time, we were thirsty, so Luke and I went outside to the water station near the rooms that lined the walkway. One was aglow with bright spray paint –  the walls, the headboard, the bed even. I pulled Luke into it and told him I wanted to take a couple pictures there. The room was art, and I could see in my artistic mind’s eye what the pictures would look like,  and I wanted some. 

I figured I could get away with sneaking my phone out of my hoe bag in this space since nobody else was in there, so we weren’t in danger of accidentally snapping a photo of anybody else. (They have strict no phone rules at these places for obvious reasons.)

Luke took a few pictures and then told me to sit on his face, an act which attracted a few single men. They swarmed into the room to watch. I smiled at them while Luke once again tasted me, this time with his body spread out on our towel on the spray painted bed. After playing for a little while, we returned to the dance floor.

Here are my contraband pictures and a couple GIFs from our moment in that space for those of you who subscribe; how I do love you who are helping to pay my exorbitant web and bank fees and letting me enjoy this exploration into my creative side.

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“Let’s go fuck on the outside bed,” I told Luke after we were once again overheated from dancing. Afterall,  we’re in an exploratory phase of our lives,  and we’ve never had an opportunity to have sex on a bed in the middle of an extra large backyard with an ample audience. 

I have learned about myself from past experiences that I am quite the little exhibitionist. Perhaps that’s why I’m having so much fun with this daring little side project of mine. I enjoy possessing the power to hold attention and create arousal. I enjoy the eyes of others on me. I find it hot.

I also enjoy teasing back with my own eyes in such circumstances.  I have different looks I can cast from them. If you’ve read the other things I’ve written, you’ll notice that I talk about eyes rather frequently. This is probably because my eyes are the part of my body that I get complimented on the most.  I have coy flirty eyes,  direct and powerful “Come fuck me eyes,” and as is the case of that night “I see you watching me fuck right here, and I love how you can’t look away” kind of eyes. Yes,  yes I already know; I’m a tease.  If there were TAA meetings,  I probably should attend.  

Both Luke and I weren’t feeling a strong desire to “go wild” so to speak. I’ve written about nights where we both had multiple other people,  but that doesn’t mean we do it all the time. That kind of dynamic tends to happen at parties where we know many of the people already. At sex clubs where everyone is a stranger, we tend to go slow, preferring to stick together and enjoy the environment. This particular club allows for single men without restrictions, so there were plenty of them mingling around – a willing and waiting audience.

After putting our towel down, Luke lay on his back. I was wearing tall golden heels, and I climbed up and took him first by squatting over him, heels sinking into the bed. My hair, wavy from braids, streamed down my back. The glowing light from the fire pit danced across my hair and my ass. I pressed my hands into Luke’s chest and arched as I moved above him. Over us floated the spectacular view of palm fronds framing a starry night sky sprinkled with a few thick patchy clouds.

The single men came in waves. They came to stand around and watch, hoping we would invite them in. We didn’t, but we didn’t mind them there either. Au contraire, as I already explained, I liked them there bathing me in their lustful stares of desire. Some stayed; others wandered off once they realized we weren’t going to invite them to join. There were also people in the periphery watching from where they stood or sat. I reveled in the beauty of my body clad in strappy burgundy and gold. I felt like a living art installation, a goddess of conquest above Luke, pressing him onto the bed and devouring him with myself. 

There is something beautiful and natural about being empowered and sexually expressive as a woman, to ask for what I want rather than waiting, to also feel like the conqueror rather than the conquered. 

It’s something I’ve had to learn – or rather, it’s a part of myself that has blossomed as I have unlearned restrictive ideas about myself as a woman; it’s a journey of unlearning I’m still on. 

Although things are changing, in general, I would argue that there is still an overall perception of women as sexually passive beings. We are taught to wait for men to advance toward us, to not seem too eager, to calculate our movements and actions with the man’s desire in mind rather than our own as a way of securing him.  

In her book, On Our Best Behavior: The Seven Deadly Sins and The Price Women Pay to Be Good Author Elise Loehnen discusses female sexuality in her chapter on lust. She highlights the sexual expectations placed on us by a patriarchal society, saying “After all, we cling to the idea that girls are not sexual, they’re relational. As a society, we preach that good girls should be invested in emotional attachment only, not physical pleasure – to provide sex for his needs and appetite but to be primarily fixated on ensuring his loyalty and affection” (178). Such notions of female sexuality as a passive and secondary hinder both women and men.

As women, when we buy into these ideas, we limit ourselves sexually, not allowing ourselves to explore the full range of our desires. We turn our sexuality outward and offer it up rather than enjoying it for ourselves.  Men who hold to these notions of female sexuality, in their desire to feel powerful, to feel in control, are truly missing out on the depth and vibrancy of uncaged female eroticism. 

The way we use language reflects these views of women as sexuality passive. We say a woman is taken, penetrated, and entered by a man. Why don’t we also say that a woman surrounds a man or consumes or devours him with her pussy?

Don’t get me wrong,  I love a good taking by a man and his cock.  I love being penetrated.  They’re hot words and actions,  and as someone who writes “smutt” as some call it, I use those words.  But why limit ourselves? Why can’t we also view the female body as the aggressor, the powerful active one capable of consuming a man through sex. Why not mix it up?

But I digress, back to the erotica. 

We played around with different positions on that bed in the firelight, Luke and I. I bent over and reached my hand between my legs to hold his cock. I caressed it before wrapping the tip in the lips of my pussy. My muscles contracted around him tightly as I slowly directed him  into the depths of me. My hair swung in my face as my body absorbed his thrusts into me. 

“I like that,” I said as he brushed his hands down my back. Luke wrapped a hand into my hair and pulled my head back slightly with a gentle, strong tug. I looked toward the pool where I saw a couple, arms wrapped around each other, watching us. The clouds drifted slowly above as the palm fronds swayed ever so slightly in an almost imperceptible breeze. It was a fun, long session that ended in the need for water and Luke’s need for warmth. I surprisingly never felt the cold. 

I dated a man in the past who felt possessive of my body.  He was concerned with my modesty, not wanting me to attract the eyes of other men,  as if their stares of admiration could somehow steal a part of me, could take something that he believed belonged to him.  It made me feel caged,  my free-spirited expression and creativity withered and died in that relationship. I’ve heard stories of other women with similar experiences. There are whole societies where females and their bodies are treated in such ways.  

As I grew and learned more of the world,  I rebelled against such restrictions, which is why I chose Luke for my partner because he acts as my equal rather than someone who presumes to own me in some way. He doesn’t feel that letting me enjoy a bit of exhibitionism, letting other men see me fully naked,  has somehow taken something from him. I am free to let my feminine spirit vibrate happily in the world in ways so many women are not.   

Here are two photos from the night that we snuck in the bathroom.

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Later in the night, we ended up back on the dance floor. We hadn’t played with anyone else, but for me, it wasn’t necessary. We were having fun and enjoying the environment. Near 2 AM, we started hearing calls for Last Call.

“Want to go and cum on the bed outside?” I asked Luke, offering him the chance to finish the night off in the most primal of senses. He agreed, and we walked toward the door to the large backyard. 

There had been one man who I had seen off and on throughout the night who had caught my eye. He was tall –  basketball tall, dark – chocolate dark, and handsome – throbbing pussy handsome,  as the cliché goes. Earlier in the night, I had pointed him out to Luke, telling him that I thought the man was attractive. As we were going outside, the man was coming in the door. I turned and gave him my perfectly crafted sultry eyes as our paths crossed in the doorway. I let my head turn back slightly to lock the stare for a few seconds longer, adding in a little grin at the end. 

I kept walking, not planning to get more than the satisfaction of letting my eyes hit their target with precision. However, after a few steps, I heard Luke behind me asking the man’s name. They introduced themselves, and Luke said, “Come on, let’s go play with her together.” I paused and turned, excitement growing and perhaps a touch of nerves. Of everyone I had seen there that night, this man was the one who my eyes had kept coming back to.  

We walked to the outdoor bed. Luke had forgotten our towel, so he went back for it. While we waited, Jackson (as I’ll call him) and I chatted. He was a marine stationed there. He’d gotten into the lifestyle through a hot wife type situation. Jackson had a toned body with the youthful face of a man in his mid 20s.

We put our towels down, and I rode Luke first while Jackson rubbed my body and kissed different parts of me. The crowd gathered almost instantly, a circle of single men around the edge hoping to join. 

“Can I join?” “Do you mind if I join?” “Can I touch you?” were the various attempts from the audience at turning the threesome into a gang bang, but I was content with the two sexy men on my bed, and I could tell that Luke wasn’t interested in more.  

“No, we just want a threesome tonight, but you can watch,” one of us would answer back. 

Jackson was vocal. I love vocal men. He had a nice lineup of little comments to make a woman feel hot. 

“Oh fuck, she can twerk on the dick,” Jackson said, delighted, as I was bouncing on Luke’s cock. “Mmm, you have a pretty little pussy, don’t you?” he said when I lay on the bed and spread my legs wide open for him. He moaned, “Oh, you’re trying to drain me tonight, aren’t you,” as I ground my ass on him, moaning at the feel of him. I like that kind of talk. If you ever happen upon me at a sex club, be vocal and expressive, and just maybe, you’ll catch my attention. 😉 

“What do you want now?” Luke asked. 

“I want you two to go back and forth,” I told him. They were both happy to comply with my wishes. Their energies vibed; they were two men on the same mission, working together to make me enjoy myself. While one fucked me, the other kissed, rubbed, and touched me while I enjoyed his cock. They took turns fucking me as a circle of men, and an occasional woman, watched.

“How do you want me,”  I asked Jackson on his next turn to sub in. 

“Bent over in doggy style,” he responded. I leaned in and smiled up at him.  

“Only if you promise to grab my hips really hard with those strong hands of yours,” I told him. 

“Mmmm, you’re a pleaser, aren’t you,” was his comment as I rolled and came up onto all fours. I pushed into him as his hands  made good on his promise. I lowered my chest, flattening it onto the bed while keeping my ass up. I enjoy this position. It feels submissive, a game I’ve learned is fun to play. His hands gripped me tight while he dipped himself in and out of my creamy little paradise. 

“Happy anniversary, honey,” Luke said playfully, clearly referencing the movie. 

“Happy anniversary,” Jackson said in a cheeky voice before dropping two hands down to give me a double cheeked ass slap. I had never experienced that before, and I found it quite stimulating. 

“Mmm, I like that,” I said, purring at him. 

At one point, a rather vocal man joined the audience.  I’ll call him the narrator, and he was definitely trying to join the party. 

“Oh, yea, that’s how it’s done. Ride that dick!” the narrator said from the sidelines. “Oh, that’s so hot,” he continued. Indeed it was hot. Both Luke and I had been wanting to experience an MFM, but hadn’t fully had one yet. We’ve had moments during swaps where I was giving oral while being fucked, but they never lasted too long. This double male collaboration in getting me good and fucked was indeed a first, and we both found it incredibly hot. In fact, Luke, who usually has impeccable control and will fuck for as long as I want, lost control and came at one point near the end. 

“God, this is so hot,” He commented after Jackson had subbed in and was fucking me from the edge of the bed. Jackson was standing and I was on my back, his fingers digging into the soft skin of my thighs as his hands pressed them into my chest. 

“The question is, how are you feeling? Have you cum yet?” The narrator asked, looking down at me from the edge of the bed. “Her pleasure should be the focus.” 

“I’m feeling amazing,” I said to him sincerely, but also not feeling like going deeper into a discussion about female pleasure. Not too much later the cold was getting to us and the place was closing, so we ended and headed out to dress and leave. 

Now, I suppose I should warn you that I’m about to end this story on one last introspective philosophical detour. If you’re only here for the erotica, you can end here knowing that it was a hot ass MFM, and Luke and I can’t wait to have another one.

If, on the other hand, you rather enjoy my wordy commentary on the female experience, well then, dear reader, don’t stop, please,  go deeper into me 😉 

So here’s the thing, I could write a screaming, squirting, sheet grabbing orgasm into the end of this story, but it wouldn’t be true. In my autobiographical pieces, I try to keep it real and honest with this small window I open for you into the sexual life of at least one woman, and since I don’t fake orgasms in real life, I’m not going to fake one for you here. I didn’t cum that night, but I still had great sex and enjoyed every part of the experience. 

Yet somewhere, deep down, some cultural bell is ringing in my head, saying that to admit this to you is akin to admitting a failure, a failure at not being the easily pleased, multiorgasmic woman you would expect of me given this little project of mine. It tells me – this cultural mind bug of female sexuality –  that I have disappointed your expectations of me and of this story by not giving you my orgasm. 

And it’s this focus outside of ourselves rather than within ourselves that complicates sex and pleasure for women. It robs us from knowing the true depth of our sexuality by teaching us that our pleasure is to be performed for the benefit of others, not ourselves.

When we can focus our attention within ourselves, to our bodies, deciding when and how we have an orgasm without thinking of pleasing anyone but ourselves, then we can deepen our sexual experiences and understanding of our own pleasure. 

Of course some women climax quickly and easily, but for many women, that isn’t a realistic portrayal of our experiences. The female body is different from the male body.  Women usually take longer to climax and the type of stimulation a woman needs varies from woman to woman.  Some can climax from penetration alone, some need other types of touch. 

Not having an orgasm that night was a choice I made for myself because I’ve decided to take a vibrator break. As many women do, I need clitoral stimulation to orgasm. We use a vibrator during sex for me to climax; they get the job done quite effectively and consistently, allowing me to enjoy pleasure and give pleasure by always achieving an orgasm, which is great. Yet I feel like sometimes they’re too efficient,  letting me bypass my body’s request for the slow building of touch and arousal.  

I could have brought a vibrator to the club and gotten off, but switching things up is a choice I’m making for nobody but myself. I want to discover what arouses me the most and to find other, slower ways to experience an orgasm, even though that means it will take longer and I might not always have one, especially as my body adjusts to the new types of sensations I give it. 

So, the story above doesn’t include an orgasm, and I don’t give a fuck if you find that to be lackluster.  Sex, even good sex, doesn’t always conclude in orgasmic bliss because real everyday lived experiences are deep and complex in ways that fantasy and fiction don’t have to be.   

Now,  speaking of taking time to enjoy and please my body in ways I don’t always make space for, it’s time for me to end this writing, so I can put some coconut oil on my pussy and explore her with my fingers, sliding across my thick, soft lips, dipping into myself to feel my juices and then rubbing them across my clit. 

Lila’s recipe for a slow and tantalizing climax 

I had a vibe-free orgasm today. It’s been a few months since I took the time for one, and the thing I like about them is that they build more slowly, allowing me to enjoy all the sensations as my fingertips feel the soft slippery folds of my pussy.

I could feel as my clit swelled, and I got wet as the tingle of arousal washed across my body. For me,  this type of orgasm is more complex, requiring my mind to focus, requiring more time to get there, but the reward is worth it. 

My right hand is always the winner, even though it’s not my dominant hand. I like my fingers to play with my clit, to slide between my lips. Today, as my body awakened, I could tell it wanted more. I love penetration, and when I added a rose tipped glass dildo into my left hand, that’s when my body started to vibrate with sensations. It’s amazing just how much that works for me, driving my arousal and desire to climax deep within. The clencher was a good fantasy to send a boost of arousal down from the mind into my body in a lusty fever. That right there for me is a blissful trifecta: clit, penetration, and fantasy.  

Today’s fantasy was lusty, desirous bareback sex with a pro athlete I find alluring. My mind focused on the penetration, the way his cock would slide in and out of me, his skin against mine, our fluids mixing. Those thoughts and images had my nerves glowing, had me feeling every touch inside and out. They pushed me over the edge into a sensation filled and satisfying orgasm.

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