The following is a work of fiction. It is a fantasy of how I would like one lovely night in Hedonism to occur, assuming Mrs. AP and I could ever get there with the two boyfriends with whom we got along best. It contains graphic details of consensual congress between three bisexual men and one woman between in a public setting. If that suits your fancy, please come join the ride.
I don’t dream often, now, nor have I for decades. Most of my memorable dreaming stopped around the time I entered puberty. This isn’t anything I’ve really explored, although I understand I might want to. Not remembering dreams isn’t what is considered normal behavior, I guess. Still, when I was single in my early 20s, there was a night where I dreamt of my ex-girlfriend strongly; vividly; memorably.
I wish I could be bringing you a sexy update, SINful friends. I know, we’re three posts into the new year and I’ve not given details on any mind blowing orgasms, incredible blowjobs, or delicious squirtings. It’s hard, you see, to have such wonderful times when there’s a three year old sleeping in your bed. Although things can get amusing when she decides to wake up after sleeping in her “big girl bed” on the floor next to yours.
Hello SINful friends. It’s been awhile. Things have happened. Okay, that’s being unnecessarily understated; a whole lot of shit has gone down. We survived the first year with a potentially unhinged, confirmed liar “in charge” of the country. We saw a huge backlash against men who are in positions of power and who sexually abuse and harass other people. We saw the #MeToo movement resurrected ten years after it began, and with it came an unveiling of far more predators that we knew (although many suspected) in the public at large.
Knowledge without action, however, is much like potential energy; until something changes, it’s just … waiting. Yes, men like Matt Lauer and Kevin Spacey and Danny Masterson lost their jobs, but less publicly known men are still out there in power harassing and abusing men and women in industries outside the media. Men who are Shift Managers at grocery stores, or retail outlets, or restaurants, or your local gym. Men who are principles at schools, or faculty at University. Men who are ballet instructors, or composers, or sports heath professionals, or doctors. With all these less publicly prominent men committing these crimes, something must be done. Action must be taken. The voices of victims must be heard, and empowered. The time is long past due. Enter the new movement and service, “Time’s Up”.
In this increasingly digital world, we all seem to have at least one. Some of us have many more. At this very moment I sit at my desk, finished with a day of work, with 5 different glowing screens around me. You might say I’m a bit of a gadget whore.
Today OKCupid began enacting their “Real Name Policy”, as detailed in this awful and condescending blog post.
The response has been overwhelmingly negative. Comments on the blog and on Twitter are correctly filled with apprehension and concerns of user safety.
I’ve deleted my account. I’m “out” enough here and on Twitter. I don’t need OKC forcing my hand to choose a name — even if they will accept “Fuckyou” as a valid name (for now!) — just to wait for them to become the new Facebook and build in “valid” name recognition.
It’s really a pity, because Mrs. AP and I met through OKC, and we met Our Well Hung Lover through OKC, but the place no longer holds to the high standards it once had.
When we’re back into looking for a new playmate or partner again, we’ll just have to go hunting for a service that works well for such things. So long OKC. It was good for awhile, but we have to break up.
It’s not me. It’s you.
Stay SINful, friends.
Today Al Franken announced that he is retiring from his U.S. Senate Seat “in the coming weeks.”
There is a running list of all the men who have had abuse and/or harassment charges or complaints levied against them — although it has not been well updated, in part due to how fast the new cycle has been moving on this subject.
Consent violations are serious. Harassment is serious. Abuse is serious. Assault is serious. Rape is serious.
It’s about time we started seeing these subjects truly be taken seriously, although the fact that Hollywood and the Democratic Party seem to be the only parties actually doing so is still disconcerting. Trump admitted on tape to violating countless women, yet won the Election a year ago. Disgraced judge Roy Moore — who has been removed from the bench twice — is in a surprisingly close race for a Senate Seat from Alabama despite the fact that at least 9 women have com forward with convincing claims (and in some cases convincing evidence) that Moore sexually harassed or assaulted them when each of these women were teenagers, many below the legal age of consent in Alabama (16) at the time.
Why is it that the Republican Party, which heralds itself as “The Party of Family Values”, embraces this repugnant behavior? (more…)
It was a rare night in the AbsinthePassion household; all the children were in bed and asleep before Mrs. AP and I. Considering all three of them fluctuate between day dwellers and vampires, we were exhaustedly excited to be able to get some sleep. We were also excited to be able to celebrate my birthday right as it started, shortly after midnight.
After securing the little one in her own bed elsewhere in our room, Mrs. AP and I took our nightly “help us stay asleep” meds that alleviate pain and introduce a nice lovely floaty feeling as we drift off. We have discovered a delicious other side effect of the meds is that they help us relax into and enjoy sexual matters more deeply, which I greatly appreciated when Mrs. AP reached over and started teasing her fingers up and down my chest and sides. I wiggled and giggled and moaned lightly under the masterful touch of her divine ministrations — she always knows how to hit all the right spots to render me helpless to her spell. Her touch became more focused, more insistent, and the moans grew stronger in reflection. Fingered dipped below my waist and teased hips, stroking across a pubic mound and sliding in that open space between abdomen and throbbing manhood. A light gasp of anticipation escaped my lips, which Mrs. AP notably pondered before rotating her wrist and wrapping her hand gently around my throbbing, dripping cock.
For roughly the last six hours today, while struggling through work, I have found myself craving the taste of Mrs. AP under my tongue. I love trailing my lips across her skin, exploring her lips and her neck, meandering down to her luscious breasts and erect nipples, The feeling of her nipples hardening, puckering, rising underneath my tongue and against my lips is one of the divine pleasures of being able to explore the fantastic curves of my wife’s body. Right now, though, in particular, I yearn for something very specific.
I long for running my tongue and trailing my lips down from the soft, pouty lips of Mrs. AP, caressing down her delectable neck, and into the glorious cleft of her cleavage. Downward still, strolling my tongue across the beauty of her stomach and teasing over the rise and fall of her sensuous mons pubis before spiraling slowly inward and down until my lips and tongue nestle into the perfect placement between her long, lean legs.
Oh, but to dip my tongue between her lips and gently coax them wide. Her heat, her scent, dancing across my taste buds to encourage deeper, more forceful explorations. Flattening my tongue, pressing, entering, to be greeted by the sweet taste of my beloved’s arousal. Sweet!, but not in a honey way, or even vanilla and strawberry, like most people like to use for descriptors of sexual juices. She’s more primal and raw, like what would happen if the forest and panthers and hibiscus and orchid and pomegranate and the nectar from lilies could all be blended together and then coaxed forth from within her. This! This is for what I long, and crave, and cannot shake from my mind for hours upon end today!
Oh, but I shall be home soon, and then, for all that is good and naked and wonderful in this world, will I close and lock my door, and strip my gorgeous wife bare, and explore her every twitch and tremble with my tongue until her sweet, subtle nectar becomes a flood upon my tongue and across my cheeks, and she gasps my name and grips the sheets and loses herself into the bliss of erotic release, and then! Oh, but then I will still be thirsty, and will have to drink of her some more until her crescendo repeats, again and again, until she can bear no more and must both push me away and pull me upward so that more than my tongue will slide between that velvety lips.
Soon. Soon. For my daydreams are vivid, and my need is pressing, and the memory of the taste of my wife is … sweet.
Stay SINful, friends.
Tonight is my thirteenth night away from home, which also makes it my thirteenth night away from Mrs. AP. Except for that one bad stint in the hospital last year, this is the longest she and I have been unable to sleep beside each other since February, 2010. When I left for this current business trip we thought I would only be gone nine nights. Obviously that has changed. Delays for the job led to delays coming home. There’s been naught I can do about that, no matter how lonely the bed feels when I’m the only occupant.
The night before I left was also the end of our first full day home after evacuating from Hurricane Matthew — we live on the coast now, which made us a rather high target zone — and we’d had no time or privacy in which to engage in any amorous bonding while we were dodging the storm. The friends who took us in are wonderful, but we couldn’t exactly ask them if we could borrow their room and their bed for some spousal alone time. Etiquette is a real party spoiler sometimes. But hey, no damage to the house, and we saw good friends we’d missed, so I guess that’s the silver lining there, right?
Regardless, knowing I was going to be leaving and knowing we hadn’t been able to play when we’d wanted to for far too many days, even while exhausted, while Mrs. AP and I were cuddling very late into the night, and once I heard our youngest finally settle down for the night I, started caressing Mrs. AP’s delectable body in that way that very clearly broadcasts that I’d like to do more than caress.
I teased her breasts and her nipples, letting the edges of my palms just brush the edges of her areolas, and our mouths explored each other. Her tongue darted against my lips, seeking, imploring entrance, which was granted eagerly. As our tongues danced to the rhythm of our needs my hands grew more insistent, cupping her nipples and her breasts and squeezing. Gently at first, and then more firmly, my hand pulsed in time with our lips and tongues. My efforts were rewarded with her luscious nipples hardening under my ministrations, becoming firm and puckered in that way that begs for attention. With a gentle squeeze I obliged, but only momentarily before sliding my hand down her silky smooth skin and across the valley of her pubic mound before dipping between the folds of her perfection. As my middle finger slipped between her lips, it was greeted with a warm, wet welcome. The body of my wife, my lover, my beloved was entreating me to enter her. How could I decline such an enthusiastic invitation?
It’s a fun word. Until recently I’d not heard of it, but it started coming up in some reading Mrs. AP and I had been doing, and we being the ever curious types, we looked it up. According to the Demisexual Resource Center, demisexuality is defined as
a sexual orientation in which someone feels sexual attraction only to people with whom they have an emotional bond. Most demisexuals feel sexual attraction rarely compared to the general population, and some have little to no interest in sexual activity.
As you well know if you’ve read any of the tales of the sexual exploits and explorations in which Mrs. AP and I have endeavored together, the latter half of that definiion — “some have little to no interest in sexual activity” — is not applicable to Mrs. AP or myself. We are delightfully sexually vibrant (well, not always, but we all have our down times, don’t we?) However, when Mrs. AP read the first part of that definition she had to stop reading and collect herself. In stunned meditation she processed what she had read, then read it again carefully to confirm she’d not missed anything, before quietly saying “… that’s me!”
I believe this revelation helps us refocus on who we are as individuals and as a couple, and how to tie that in with my previous post — because we’ve had no luck so far finding a wonderful man for us to date. It also means there’s some reorganizing with our online profiles.
This last weekend Mrs. AP and I moved from Orlando to the Atlantic Coast — specifically the Space Coast — to get away from the noise and endless bustle and draining energy of the city. Now we’re near the beach! Win for us!
We’re also (okay, more she than me at the moment) being more active on OKC and FL and starting good conversations with potential new lovers.
It’s been over 3 years since I sucked a cock, and nearly 7 since I swallowed cum that is not my own. That itch needs scratching, and soon.
More SINful stories to come! The urge, the need, to write is hitting more. Just have to finish unpacking and get over some of these work deadlines first…
Stay SINful, friends!
The other night I had a deliciously dream of debauchery. I’m sure it means my subconscious is telling me that I have needs or wants or desires that are unfulfilled, which makes since considering I’ve spent the last 18 months recovering from one medical emergency or another. This dream, however, was the most vivid a dream I think I’ve ever had. I could not only see everything, but also taste and smell and feel everything, which is perhaps the best way to have a dream that includes wanton submission to all things hedonistic. Come along for the ride, won’t you?
I should be asleep right now, but insomnia awoke me, and the urge to write something … anything … hit me upside the head like a hard, thick, wet cock. Ergo, I’m playing along. Enter, and find within answers to mysteries, won’t you, my SINful friend?
This is brilliant!
A short one today as my life is currently very complicated and conspiring against my preference to spend all of my days working out what to blog. But do you know what isn’t complicated?
It’s been much discussed recently; what with college campuses bringing in Affirmative Consent rules, and with the film of the book that managed to make lack of consent look sexy raking it in at the box office. You may not know this, but in the UK we more or less have something similar to ‘affirmative consent’ already. It’s how Ched Evans was convicted while his co-defendant was not – and is along the lines of whether the defendant had a reasonable belief that the alleged victim consented. From the court documents it appears that while the jury felt that it was reasonable to believe that the victim had consented to intercourse with the co-defendant, it…
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Time for another edition of T.M.I. Tuesday! Click below to see how well I performed!
Time for another edition of T.M.I. Tuesday! Click below to see how well I performed!
as I slowly awaken
senses coming back online
through the fog of deep slumber
my body fails to comprehend
why is it so dark
are my wrists bound
Time for another edition of T.M.I. Tuesday! Jump below to see how well I performed this week.
I came home from work with one of the most debilitating migraines I’ve had in ages. I fought through traffic and held it at bay, but by the time I walked up the stairs and through the front door Mrs. AP was able take one look at me and firmly say “I love you, go lay down in the dark.” Knowing better than to ever argue with her when she uses her Domme voice, I kissed her and made my room to comply. As I lay there trying to hide all light and sound from obliterating me into millions of pieces Mrs. AP came in and softly asked how I could help. My whimpers must have translated into something because she left the room to come back a few minutes later with Excedrin and a cold coffee blend of the various pre-made flavored coffees we keep in the fridge. She disappeared again, leaving me in silence.
On her next return she came bearing food; perfect wife that she is, she made dinner and handled the kids while I lay in the room trying not to feel like death had become me. Dutifully I ate, thankful for the mix of spices and savory elements she combined to hit every flavor element I so love. Once I finished eating I lay the plate back down and rested, eyes closed, hoping for relief.
When Mrs. AP came back in she asked if there was anything else she could do to help. I whimpered some more, to which she responded by laying next to me and cradling me, caressing my head and letting her hand wander further down my body. As she slipped a hand inside my pants she asked if there was *anything* she could do to help, and my cock rose in response. Feeling how eager my cock was to greet her Mrs. AP whispered mischievously “feels like I know just the thing.” She got up to lock the door, stripping as she rose, and in my pained stupor I somehow managed to strip so that by the time she turned around I was ready, waiting for her.
As the fight for Marriage Equality continues — now with the U.S. State of Alabama grabbing headlines for the insolence of Justice Roy Moore — and the Supreme Court having announced that they will hear arguments regarding cases overseen by the 6th Circuit Court of the United States I’ve been contemplating how this all came about. There have been several groups working tireless for decades to see equal rights extended to all people within the United States that do not hold to the hetero-normative standards; without the efforts of groups like The Gay and Lesbian Advocates and Defenders helping make the U.S. State of Massachusetts the first U.S. state and only the sixth jurisdiction globally to recognize the basic human right of marriage for same-sex couple we would not be living in an age in which acceptance and recognition of same-sex couples’ rights has expanded exponentially. And yes, while the decisions within the courts — and the rare legislative motion — have been the means through which the official recognition of same-sex marriage has come to pass, the driving force behind the rising levels of acceptance has not been driven from exclamations from on high but rather by changing the thoughts and attitudes of the general populace. For this I believe we have these most visible people for their bold, fearless leadership in driving forward proper equality for all within the LGBTQ community.
Time for another edition of T.M.I. Tuesday! Jump below to see how well I perform this week!
Red spent the weekend over for his Birthday, and he’d been joking since the week prior that one of the things he wanted for his birthday was another threesome with Mrs. AP and me — it had been some time since our last one — and as the week went by my mind kept turning more and more to both how much I love watching Mrs. AP when we have another man in our bed and also how much I miss sliding my lips down a nice hard cock and how Red has repeatedly said he needs to be “not so sober” for that to happen.
Lo and behold, during dinner Red availed himself of some recently acquired Sake to become very quickly inebriated. Aloud, my jokes and innuendos about him joining us became more obvious (to me, at least) while internally I started wondering how he’d taste, if he’d rise to the occasion, etc.. After all, I know I can be persuasive once my lips are on somebody, but I’d need his full consent for that and even drunk he might not grant that. Still, I wondered, and open flirted, and hinted, and only kept some outright comments to myself because the children were still awake and there are some invitations they just don’t need to hear. We carried on for roughly 30 minutes with our back and forth bantering and flirting until suddenly!… Red declared himself drunkenly exhausted and stumbled off to bed to sleep for 8 hours.
As I later told Mrs. AP while we were lying in bed, I was a little butt-hurt, but it was of my own making. I’d not been clear enough in my invitation, and expecting somebody else to properly interpret flirting and innuendo — particularly in an inebriated state — is unfair. It’s also not like I’ve forever ruined our chances of having another man, or specifically Red, join us in bed; he’s over all the time, plus we’re more actively looking for another lover. Just because I wasn’t able to satisfy my threesome craving right then and there doesn’t mean I won’t be able to scratch that itch later. Until then, there are plenty of other ways to meet needs, and Mrs. AP and I had some other needs that were needing met. Our talk faded into soft kisses, which slowly grew more bold and intense until our lips risked bruising from our passion. We shifted, one our sides and pressed together, so that my hand could slide down between Mrs. AP’s open legs, where I found her freshly shaven, hot, wet, and ready for me.