We’re into double digits and over a third complete in the 30 Days of Truth series! Let’s see what’s on the docket today!
Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
We see it all the time. Whether we’re creating an account on Facebook, OKCupid, FetLife, SwingLifeStyle, or wherever, we get asked the same basic questions every time:
* What is your gender?
* What are you looking for / what is your sexuality?
On most sites the options are limited and straightforward. Answer Male or Female to the first question, and answer Straight, Gay, or Bisexual to the second question. This is the commonly accepted binary form of thinking in regard to how human beings are constructed and therefore operate. But what happens when the question becomes more involved?
The Gay Rights movement has slowly shifted into the LGBTQ Movement (although many people often leave off the Q at the end) and each of those letters should carry equal weight. The first three — Lesbian, Gay, and Bisexual — are the most commonly bandied terms, yet in terms of Equal Rights some could argue that the Bisexual people are left behind. After all, two Lesbians may marry in many states now, as may two Gay men. What happens when I Bisexual Poly individual falls in love with and wishes to marry both a Man and a Woman? The question is sure to raise eyebrows everywhere, and thus far, such kinds of marriage are only allowed in select European countries. But I digress.
The following two letters in that group — Transgender/Transexual and Queer — are often left out of the discussion as well. They simply do not fit within the typical binary system of Man and Woman. They are the “in betweens”, and in some very rare cases do physically embody both sexes. Most times, they simply refer to individuals who feel as though the physical form does not match the inner form, as we most often hear from the more famous Post-Operation Transformative individuals. Chaz Bono is perhaps one of the more famous examples of such individuals.
But what about Queer? (more…)
Back with another one of those 30 Days of Truth series updates! Let’s get right on it!
Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
This post is going to be a little more Vanilla in nature, but it will be impacting this space here and the real-world space of Mrs. AbsinthePassion and I in a very monumental fashion sometime in the relatively near future. As such, the news is hidden inside for those who care to look.
It’s a 2 for one special today as I try to catch up after running behind on the 30 Days of Truth series. 2 consecutive weeks now I haven’t really posted anything during my days off. I’ll try to be more consistent about that. Anyway, on to the next round, yes?
Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
I may have mentioned this before, but in my current job my work schedule is an overnight shift Saturday through Tuesday. While this diminishes my ability to get out and about over the normal weekend, I still get time off from work as soon as I get home Wednesday morning until I have to leave again Saturday evening. Keeping to that schedule of “up all night, sleep all day” isn’t as glamorous as rock stars make it out to be, but it does mean that when Mrs. AbsinthePassion and I want to go out late it’s not impacting our ability to function very much. Wednesday was one of those nights.
Our friend R — whom Mrs. AP has known for years — scheduled in a get together for us after our soiree in Ybor City that eventually led us to The Castle last Friday. We ran a little late in the shower, and by the time we got to Tijuana Flats to meet him they were 10 minutes to closing, so we opted to get it all to go and head back to his place. It was more convenient, and as a successful member of an IT branch of a large corporation, this also meant we would have the solace of R’s 3-bedroom townhome all to ourselves.
We got to R’s place and broke out the food while we put Inception on the TV in the background; none of us really paid close attention to it, but the lack of total silence when we weren’t talking seemed to ease tensions a little. We settled down to eat while Mrs. AP put the 3 bottles of extra Riesling we brought with us into R’s fridge.
Side Note: Mrs. AP and I inherited 20 bottles of late 1990’s German Riesling from friends of her family 2 years back, and we’re still trying to move through them all. Improper storage over the years has led to dry cork on many of them, so any opportunity to empty a bottle of two is greeted with enthusiasm.
After breaking out the first bottle and talking for a bit, and subsequently finding our glasses drained, we opened the second bottle and sat down at the table, where R broke out a pack of cards and started shuffling. I think it was more to keep himself occupied, but as having a pack of cards in one’s hand often does, he soon started dealing and we found ourselves playing 7-Card Draw for absolutely no stakes. After reviewing Hand Ranks and setting a 3-card draw limit and establishing there were no wild cards at play, we set to down to re-acquaint ourselves at the Gentleman’s Game of poker, where it was very quickly established that Mrs. AP and I could hit strings of good luck that left R with the lowest hand. This, of course, left R feeling non-plussed, and after losing several hands in a row he declared “Okay, this next one’s real.”
We found out the very next hand what “this next one’s real” meant, as R lost yet again and in frustration quickly yanked off his shirt and dropped it one the floor. About this time we all realized our glasses were drained, so we paused to pop open the third and final bottle and sat back down. A few quick banters and nervous half-jokes later it was determined that our game of No-Stakes Poker had just elevated to Strip Poker. Did I mention the table was a glass, see through top? This night was now getting interesting.
Join us for another entry in the 30 Days of Truth series.
Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
We make no secret about loving sex and kink around here. After all, we’ve detailed some very personal and intimate details so far. As part of that love, Mrs. AbsinthePassion and I are often reading such wonderful material as the advice column Savage Love by Dan Savage. He’s unapologetic, witty, sometimes snarky or catty, but absolutely well educated and spot-on with most of his advice. Today’s article in particular brought one of the more poignant and relevant letters and responses I’ve seen in his column in awhile, and I want to share with you all.
Dan’s Reader Asks:
Is it possible for a hookup to turn into a relationship?
Hoping One Person Enters
A hookup is a relationship, HOPE. It may be a short-term relationship, but it’s a relationship regardless.
And, yes, a short-term hookup can turn into a long-term relationship, HOPE, but not if you’re treating your hookups like shit (because they’re only hookups!) and not if you’re willing to let the people you hook up with treat you like shit (because you’re only a hookup). Treat your hookups like people you might actually see again—like human beings with human feelings, not just human holes and/or poles—and you might actually see them again.
You might even wind up in a long-term relationship.
Now, sometimes people hook up with strangers precisely because they wanna have sex with someone they don’t know and don’t expect to see again. And that’s not always a bad idea: Having sex with someone who you don’t expect to see again can be very liberating. A girl who can’t let herself go with a guy she’s dating—maybe she fears being slut- or nympho-shamed by a boyfriend—will grind the dick off a hookup. And it can be easier to ask someone you don’t expect to see again to do something kinky. Say a straight boy has always wanted a girl to put him in her panties and peg his ass. He could ask a girlfriendto do that for him, sure, but the stakes are higher. What if she freaks out and dumps him, and blabs to her friends—and his—about why she dumped him?
Here we are again, with yet another edition of 30 Days of Truth. Day 7 is here! Why, that’s nearly 25% complete! Not too shabby so far, yeah? Enough celebrating, let’s get on with the update.
Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Welcome to another fine edition in my 30 Days of Truth quest. Let’s see what’s on the docket today.
Something you hope you never have to do.
I may have mentioned this before, but one of the things I love and hold very dear about Mrs. AbsinthePassion is how well she not only communicates with me but also insists I communicate with her. I know she gets frustrated with me sometimes on how untimely I become in forgetting how to be a good communicator, but she bears with me patiently nonetheless so that we can work through whatever issue is at hand.
Last night that came into play again. After a conversation with one of our friends, Mrs. AP stumbled upon a bit of a revelation; she has massive stress attacks when considering our next visit to Eyz Wide Shut, and not for the reasons she first thought. We thought at first that the issue was the lack of quality single men (and anybody, really) during our first visit. We tried to chalk that up to having gone on a Thursday, which is a notoriously slow night for any swinging establishment, we know. My work schedule only allows us time out of the house together on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday evenings, though, so we know any chance of making it out on a Saturday are rather nonexistent, and the pricing on Thursday nights, for a trial run, was more than reasonable. As a first time, we thought we could make something good of it, and we did.
Here we are again, with yet another day in the 30 Days of Truth series. Let’s see what we have today, shall we?
Something you hope to do in your life.
One of the things I always strive to do with Mrs. AbsinthePassion is make sure that she and I have ample US time. Sometimes it’s something as simple as cuddling while watching something on TV, sometimes it’s a date out to her favorite area restaurant. She’s the absolute perfect mate for me, and I never want there to come a time when she doubts that. Together Time is important for any couple, of course, but I know that I have this habit of getting stuck in habits and routines and forgetting to display to her just how amazing and wonderful she is. It’s no fault of hers; that blame lies squarely on my shoulders, and I daren’t ignore it. I get distracted by the latest tech news, by the latest custom ROM update for my hacked Android phone, by the latest sexy story to hit one of the many blogs I follow (and thank you ALL for your updates!), or by some other relatively trivial and unimportant thing. To combat that, I tr my best to always catch when she’s hinting — if not saying bluntly outright — that she needs more quality time just the two of us. It helps that, quite often, when she starts mentioning such things I”m already feeling a bit off from a changing of attention we’ve been giving each other and I need more of her time as well.
Friday was a combination of our need to reconnect a bit combined with both of us being a bit under the weather. Something has bloomed in our area of Tampa that has both of us absolutely miserable anywhere near the house. Sinuses are inflamed, eyes are watering, noses are sniffling. The symptoms are entirely unsexy and didn’t leave either us truly inspired to make our second visit out to Eyz Wide Shut. I wanted to go, especially with the theme of the night being Corset Night and Mrs. AP having some fantastic steel-ribbed corsets that do incredible things to her already magnificent 38DD breasts, but I didn’t feel the excitement of anticipation of going that I thought I should. I was just too down from sinus and headache pain. So we decided to change our plans, focus on us, and find a way out of the house that could still make for a good time and get us away from obnoxious roommates and the noises of children.
As luck would have it, I’m a Pittsburgh Penguins hockey fan, and they had a game Friday night as well. We made our way out to Buffalo Wild Wings to watch the game and sate a craving I’d been having off and on for weeks for the Caribbean Jerk boneless wings. On our way to the restaurant one of our friends asked if we’d like to meet him in Ybor City for a drink later, and after Facebook messages and missed text messages back and forth we settled on the venue where we’d meet after the game.
Welcome again to the 30 Days of Truth series. This one will be particularly difficult for me, so grab something secure and hang on tight.
Something you have to forgive someone for:
Mrs. AbsinthePassion and I are far from a Vanilla couple. Even by many Swinger standards we sit outside the accepted norms. She’s straight-ish, while I’m Bi (more properly, Queer, which is a whole discussion unto itself.) We’re Polyamorous. And we’re active in the BDSM lifestyle; she’s been going to Fetish Circuit for years on end and is a VERY good Domme, I’m still learning but make a good Switch so far. We both have profiles on FetLife, where I have 147 fetishes listed as being into in one manner or another and an additional 14 about which I am curious. We have a good variety of impact and bondage toys in the house, with a good focus on whips, crops, paddles, and cat-o-nine tails. It’s a curious thing, as the exposure in the BDSM Lifestyle can, at times, make basic swinging seem, well, Vanilla.
Between looking for a boyfriend, looking for swing play, and the BDSM exploration on top of our very active sex life anyway, we are often stuck with one very serious, sobering question. “How do we deal with the kids?”
Mrs. AP and I are both very sex positive. We tell the 14 year old Genius Child that, when it comes time for him to start exploring things, we want him to be safe and responsible. We have had several talks on proper safety procedures, proper emotional preparedness, etc. While we know he’s intelligent enough to understand health risks and pregnancy scares, we’re not entirely certain his emotional intelligence is quite at the level yet to grasp things. Nevertheless, we keep the lines of communication very open, and encourage him to come to us with any questions or concerns. Usually this means he talks to me, as “talking to Mom” just makes him uncomfortable. As a former teenage male, I understand, and I take great honor in being close enough to him after only 2 years in his life that he will discuss his concerns with me.
Then there are the 2 younger ones; Princess and Tank. (more…)
Continuing in the 30 Days of Truth series.
Something you have to forgive yourself for:
One of the most complex intricacies of being human is our ability to forgive, to take something that has been painful or even detrimental and to grant pardon to the person who inflicted the injustice. But what do we do when the attacker and the victim are the same person? How do we pardon ourselves? How do take an action — or years of actions — that caused ourselves harm, repent of that action, and allow it to bother us no longer? How do we shed that baggage? (more…)
It’s no secret here that I’m a big fan of group sex. Granted, my experience in the realm so far is limited to three total people involved at any one time, but nevertheless, the experiences I have had encourage me to seek more — both more threesome free for alls and more people involved total. But how did this come to pass? How did a good little Christian Air Force Brat end up here, actively seeking a third (or more) to join him and his partner in bed?
I could point to a bevy of sources for inspiration, but I think it mostly comes down to Penthouse. When I was in 5th or 6th grade my good friends found a stash of Penthouse in their parent’s bathroom, and we sneaked peaks at them often. Sometimes the pictorials would feature threesome, and admittedly, I was intrigued. Later, when I was purchasing and reselling older editions of Penthouse in 7th grade, I devoured every story in the Letters to Penthouse section, in which threesomes or group scenes were fairly regularly featured.
Often theses scenes would become sources of masturbatory inspiration. A long shower in my teenage years more than once involved imagining what it would be like to share a girl with another guy, to have two women double-team me, or to have my partner and me join another couple or two. And finally, after years of wondering, at the ripe young age of 16, I got the chance to turn fantasy into reality. Sort of. (more…)
Today we continue the 30 Days of Truth series.
Something you love about yourself.
As I established previously, my first sexual interaction with another person came at the hands (and lips) of my male best friend at the age of 13. I mentioned then that I knew I liked both boys and girls, but knowing and accepting are two different things. Even now, 14 years later, I still have the momentary pause where I have to remind myself that it’s not a “bad thing” to like guys. As is the chic thing to do with adult hangups and issues, I would like to take this moment to thank my parents and my childhood.
When Mrs. AP and I came up with the idea for this blog, we were inspired by the likes of Josh and BB and Kissin Blue Karen. We wanted to talk about all our sexy happenings, and the journeys we’ve each taken to get there. With much thanks to Red Region Inferno’s Must Read List for 2011 we stumbled on even more blogs and journals and advice sites than we knew what to do with. Some we liked, some we didn’t, but all were educational. Among some of the ones I devoured was the 30 Days of Truth series.
30 Days of Truth demands openness and honesty of the writer. It is brutal, it is raw, and it is something I am uncomfortable approaching. I despise dealing with my own emotional insecurities. I’ve shied away from doing so ever since I was a small child. Mrs. AP has been helping me see that I cannot hide from myself, that I cannot run from myself, and that to grow as a better person and husband and father and partner I need to face myself head on. 30 Days of Truth will help me do that. And so I begin.
30 Days of Truth.
Day 1: Something you hate about yourself (more…)
Polyamory. The word looks so simple. In terms of it’s Greek and Latin roots, it is. Poly means many, several, or pertaining to more than one. Amor means love, and is the basis for the words amour, amore, etc. in the Latin languages. (Think French, Italian, Spanish, and the like.) Polyamory, simply stated, means Many Loves, or Loving Many, or any other similarly cute and simple phrasing. As is oft the case in among those of us who live in the real world instead of in happy fantasy worlds, things are seldom so simple.
Polyamory (shortened to Poly) takes many forms, and may mean different things to different people. For some, being Poly may mean having a Husband/Wife or Boyfriend/Girlfriend while also having another Boyfriend/Girlfriend, or even two or more others. In these situations, the Couple in which the strongest, longest, or most established relationship exists is commonly referred to hold the Primary relationship, with each additional relationship serving as a Secondary, or even Tertiary, depending on the amount of time and energy devoted to each relationship.
As a common example, a Husband and Wife form the Primary Relationship. The Wife has a boyfriend she sees two – three times a week, and maybe stays with overnight one or two times a month. This is the Secondary relationship. It is no less important than the Primary, but it does consume less time and energy. It may be that Husband and Boyfriend are friends, and that sometimes all three engage in activities — be they romantic or otherwise — together, but not always. Each person is different and handles the interaction of multiple relationships differently. (more…)
Do you ever make plans for something and have to change them at nearly the last minute? Sure you have. We all go through that, most of us more than once. Life never follows the script we try to provide, and like good actors we all learn to improvise our lines along the way. This week is one of those weeks for Mrs. AbsinthePassion and I.
We had it all planned out to go to Eyz Wide Shut on Friday, but a confluence of a monthly biological visitor coming to visit alone with a different opportunity have combined to push that visit to next week. That’s not so bad, though, as next Friday is Corset Night! This means Mrs. AP can wear the more Goth outfit she would normally wear when we go out on Friday nights, we’ll just be somewhere other than The Castle for a change. As for our other opportunity?
A guy we’ve been talking with on OKCupid off and on since January is in town for the weekend. We have a date planned to help him celebrate his birthday. Its the first meeting in person for all of us, so we’re playing it safe with dinner and maybe coffee afterwards, all in very public places. Mrs. AP and I take no chances! J, our date, is a smart guy, and we’ve all hit it off well online. It’s just a matter of seeing how things go in person. No pressure. More of a meet and greet. Good food, good people, good conversation. Good time.
Stay SINful, friends.
I wrote yesterday about how my first interpersonal sexual experience was with one of my best friends, and how it was scary and nerve-wracking and exciting and wonderful all at the same time. Sometimes a first encounter is like that; the two people know each other well enough to work well together long enough to make something special happen. Other times aren’t always so magnificent, but as life milestones they become resilient in memory nevertheless. Such was the case for me during my 10th grade year of High School, when I had my series of firsts with my girlfriend at the time, B.
In the summer of 1996, at 15 years old, my Air Force father was relocated from Patrick Air Force Base in Melbourne, FL to Maxwell Air Force Base in Montgomery, AL. We were quasi-familiar with the area and intimately familiar with the base; we’d been stationed there from 1986 to 1993, but had lived in the suburb of Prattville that first run through. This time we were “in the city”, and I was entering High School as “the new kid.” Granted, I wasn’t the only one. Military-heavy cities see a high population cycle for “Brats”, and this particular school was no different.
One of the difficulties was finding somebody to date. Most of my classmates came up through Elementary and Junior High together, so they had rapport established and knew where all the social circle boundaries lie. I got to try to navigate that new landscape blindly, feeling my way carefully around who I liked and had a reasonable chance of having my interest reciprocated. Come mid-October, I had firmly established crushes on C, D, and B. (See, even then I was Poly and didn’t know it!) The only problem I had was, I could not for the life of me tell if any of them even had a glimmer of an interest in me. I looked for ever sign I could, but as a dense, hormonally driven, geek of a teenager I had no clue the signs to look for. None.
Until I got a note from B. She had a thing for me and wanted me all to herself. So I took that note and ran with it, and by Thanksgiving we were a couple. I swore up and down, good little Christian boy that I was at the time, that I wasn’t go to try anything with her. That didn’t last long. (more…)
What was your first time like? What do you even consider your first time? Does heavy petting over clothes that miraculously leads to somebody creaming in the pants count? What about the first nervous skin to skin contact of hands to genitals? That first time of oral, where one or both of you were far more nervous and too inexperienced to have a chance at orgasm? Or do you only count that first time a penis, a hard throbbing cock, slid into the unbelievably hot, wet caress of an aroused pussy? (There was arousal, wasn’t there? No? Ouch! I’m so sorry, ladies, I know that’s a bitch.)
My very first experience with another person in which bringing the ultimate sexual release was the goal came when I was 13, and was with my best friend, J, at the time. He and I attended the same school, we were in the same Confirmation Class at the Lutheran Church we attended, and we often spent the night at each other’s houses, sometimes over entire weekends. After all, it was easy for one of us to catch the other’s bus on Friday afternoon, hang out on Saturday, and then go to church together on Sunday morning. We were young, we were boys, and most of the time we spent our time watching movies or playing videogames anyway.
Unknown to my parents at the time, I was involved in a porn distribution chain at my Middle School. One of my friends had been given his fathers back catalog of Penthouse magazines, stretching from the mid-to-late 1980s to the (then) current 1994. I would buy these off my friend for $3 apiece, and after a few days of reading every story in the Letters to Penthouse section 4 or 5 times and absorbing each of the pictorials, I’d turn around and sell them to other classmates (usually the 6th graders) for $7 each. It was decent money for me and left we with no shortage of masturbatory inspiration.