Crossing Lines (Part 2)

There are few lines in our relationship. While we explore certain boundaries of a sexuality together, one on one sexual contact with other women is out of the question. I do not have carte blanche, as some of my male confidantes thing, to be promiscuous. We are exploring life together.

So how then did I end up screwing my wifes best friend as she slept upstairs on our marriage bed? Good question.

The recipient of my extramarital carnality is a good friend of ours, the maid of honor at our wedding, and someone who over the past 2 years we have taken in to our bed together a handful of times. We both deeply care for her, and her for us. On so many surface levels a midnight tryst seems to run contrary to everything we profess to desire. It certainly wreaks havoc with the basic concept of trust.

But the reason I advocated with my wife to expand our sexual boundaries was based on a philosophical distinction I felt existed between relationships and physical love. The reason I can move outside the boundaries others adhere too is because, for me, the real essence of a strong relationship is entirely removed from sexual desires and behaviors. Our species, however we came into this present state, possesses a bizarre and complex psychology when it comes to our reproductive process. The intensity of those passions are frightening to some, and it seems to me that we cling to the stability of monogamy out of fear, to shed our responsibility for confronting that challenge. Much like our current societies ornamental attachment to the pretense of organized religion, people stay monogamous to maintain a status quo - because their friends are, because their parents did, because they have been lead to fear the alternative.

It is based on that understanding that I had no personal moral compunctions about fucking my wifes best friend. I, personally, have no issue with sharing that intimate physicality with someone who isn't my wife. I don't have any problems with my wife doing the same. Our relationship is based on a connection much deeper than the basic mechanics of genital interconnectedness. And we both have room in our hearts for other people as it is in our nature to reserve that one part that has created a unique spiritual connection with each other.

But perhaps I am being overly simplistic to support my romanticized self-image as a closet bohemian. What is an inescapable truth is that as early as just that evening it had been reiterated that this was simple something we do not do. It was not within our mutual comfort zone.

What pushed me to cross the line was a sincere feeling of empathy for the other woman. We already shared a deep connection - all three of us do. And she was feeling alone, isolated, envious of our stability, and deeply, deeply horny. I felt that with all we had said and done as a threesome it was the sort of thing that should be done. It would me hilariously tacky to say I felt obligated - I was highly aroused, intoxicated by multiple chemicals, and feeling deeply devious - but I did it because I needed to do it to be genuine to myself.

What remained to be seen was if following that path was compatible with my wifes feelings...

To be continued...

Chemistry

A lazy Saturday trip to the mall - we bought some new towels and a giant clock for the home theatre - was followed by an afternoon watching porn. We cracked a bottle of wine - a white Viognier Grenache blend - and downed it to the first half hour of Chemistry Volume 1. This is a unique film that seems to try to exploit the worlds current fascination with reality television but instead serves as a pseudo-documentary that allows you to create some real empathy with the actors, which makes it a billion times hotter than most adult films.

After the wine (about 30 minutes for the bottle) we started with various sexual activities - the Goddess gave some fantastic head, much above her usual efforts, inspired by the film - and proceeded to get interactive with the next hour of the film. We were spent much earlier than the people in the film and there was still an hour left when we retired for a smoke and to assemble dinner.

We had some interesting conversations before/during/after the sex - mostly around inhibitions and a desire to be free of them. I was astonished to find myself watching an incredibly hot threesome where one of the girls was pegging the man, and we talked about the conflicting emotions we have around anal pleasure - she hates me thinking about her ass, I get extremely uncomfortable with enjoying her putting things in mine.

It wasn't a conversation that lent itself to a conclusion, but it did bring renewed awareness on my part to the deep parts of the psyche attached to sex and the way we are trained to be uncomfortable with how our bodies can bring ourselves and others pleasure. While the vast majority of the population would be uncomfortable on the surface with this idea, we'd all be a lot happier if we all fucked each other a little more often I think.

But it is a complex issue, and I suppose I'm being dismissive about its deep implications. It was really fun and refreshing to watch an adult film where the participants discuss how they have actually enjoyed each other, and (if very briefly) touch on their own emotional processes that let them explore sex in ways that fill me envy just as much as I'm sure they fill George W. Bush with rage.

Perhaps someday we'll reach a place where we can be comfortable renewing a lifestyle of exploring sexual pleasure with others in our community, but as the buzz from the wine rolls off my brain I remember all the fear, isolation, and paranoia previous explorations have left me with.

I WANT TO TAKE YOU TO THE GAYBAR! (shout out to the kleptones)

Tonight we sat in bed and played Ticket To Ride. How sad is that?

I've left that link running long deliberately to highlight how fucking sad it is that I did that. I don't mean sad in reflection to me. I'm fucking smart. I know how to fix shit like that. However, there is no obvious way to correct it in the GUI of this editor and I forget how to easily fix it. I remember a long way (long meaning 30 seconds) but I'm too lazy and stoned to fix that.

So for reasons I feel I must be deliberately vague on, I recently ended up at a gay bathhouse. I feel very anxious about using the right words to express my feelings on this because I want them to be clear. I do not identify with contemporary gay culture which this place was totally dripping in but I was feeling comfortable, a bit of a country bumpkin in the big city, and god damn it I didn't want to go back to a boring hotel room (the only occupant being a pack of cigarettes I shouldn't have owned or wanted to smoke). So I went as part of a social outing that kind of naturally organized itself. (the organization was not to go to the bathhouse, and only a subsection of those at the event in question continued to the bathhouse.

Maybe you, like I, are unfamiliar with how it works. Maybe I'll go into that some other time in detail. Suffice to say I watched gay men partner for anonymous sex. They'd walk up, grab a little ass, and disappear. Now there were places - the porn room, the lounge - where there was a more public and stationary exhibit of gay sexuality but I didn't linger in them.

Indeed all I did do was spend an hour (we preagreed to meet at 3) in the steam room having a most excellent steam. It was a steam room with a hot tub in the middle of it so my oh my was it steamy. While I clearly did not indulge in all the features the establishment offered I thought it was $15 well spent. I never in my life thought I would have done such a thing. I called my wife immediately to wake her up and tell all. She was a little pissed about that, mitigated only slightly by the difference in time zones.

While I feel a bit like a sexual anthropologist in this I do feel slightly like I might be objectifying anonymous gay sex for my amusement and this is far from the case. I'm not sure I've settled on why I believe some are gay and some are straight, but I'm not unfamiliar with the sexual uses of another mans penis (just like 1 in 3 adult males out there). I somewhat wish I was more like the characters of Alan Moore's Lost Girls who would have jumped down the throat of the experience all guns blazing.

However that is a fictional world and I have a very real wife that gets preconsent on my sexual adventures. It was part of the contract I signed by marrying her. And while I confess truly that the thought of having a homosexual encounter never crossed my mind despite the veritable abundance of opportunity there is a caveat. The key figure in deciding to go was that I was absolutely hammered. Fantastically drunk. 13-14 ounces of rum served with diet cola. I couldn't have gotten an erection if my life depended on it.

Since I'd been known to act rashly in the heat of the moment - and the lack of sex for 4 days had created some heat - I knew such inability to perform would guarantee security and I happily jumped aboard what proved to be a very unexpectedly good time.

(and for the record, this experience with anonymous homosexual gay sex was practiced with more attention to safety than any anonymous heterosexual experience I've had)

Identity

One thing I'm terrified to contemplate is my identity. One thing I can describe is that I am a perpetually negative person - I constantly cling to the flaws in things. Tell me you like X, I will tell you what is wrong with X. This is not to say that X is bad and that you shouldn't like it, but I obsess with inadequacies.

One thing I've found that this means is that I, personally, am nothing. I don't adhere to any real beliefs, or should I say ideologies. I have a lot of beliefs, but ideologies bother me. Once you apply a label to a set of beliefs it masks so many different nuances both explicit and implied. So to avoid any misconceptions I run away from doing anything substantial, to avoid criticisms I make no positive affirmations, and I think that I'm finding that in doing this I am not finding true happiness.


This is a glaring issue in most facets of my life, but the worst right now is in religion. By extension this means the community I construct around me as religion should be a means of finding communion with your fellow man. However, since I'm not into inherited religion or group delusions I find my spiritual leanings conflicted. Ostensibly I adhere to neopaganism in the vicinity of Wicca, but both those labels are loaded with connotations and stereotypes that are inapplicable.

And again I lament the lack of success in finding others with a similar degree of critical attention. Of course I'm also lamenting here that I *have* this degree of critical attention, but I think one reason why I suffer is an inability to develop a community around me through which to exercise my cynicism away. My critical leanings are not trivial, and constantly they are dealt with trivially by people around me. I wish I could find a group of friends who would help be embrace this, digest it, and pass it through.