When the doorbell rang, I could feel myself getting anxious. I was about to let somebody else into this very personal space that has belonged to Harvey and I for years. I . . . → Read More: Three’s Company; part 2]]> This is Part Two to this story. If you haven’t read that one, this likely will not make much sense. So please read it first!

When the doorbell rang, I could feel myself getting anxious. I was about to let somebody else into this very personal space that has belonged to Harvey and I for years. I was excited to be able to show someone else just how good I can be for him, as well as to give him the threesome that he’s never had.

As our guest is a friend of mine, it wasn’t too difficult to be able to relax and enjoy a glass of wine while he cooked dinner. There was something very calming about the two of us sitting there, watching as he prepared a meal. I was at once highly on edge and completely chilled. I could still feel the wetness between my legs from my alone time with him and wondered if I would feel ashamed that there was someone else in the room now. I didn’t.

As he cooked, we all chatted. She had yet to be put into the head space that I was in, and I felt alright taking the liberty to escape mine a little. For a few moments, we were just normal, knowing that once dinner was over things would get very interesting.When the two of them started to discuss my relationship with him, I couldn’t help but start to feel proud. All of you, curious readers, know about Harvey already. My husband knows, as do my friends. But on his side, no one knows. It’s his choice to not tell his wife but he has said that it’s his burden and he doesn’t want to give it to his friends. So to be in the same room and hear him talk not to me, but about me, was kinda’ thrilling. I recognize that it’s a bit lame, and of course unethical, but it felt good and that’s important here.

After dinner we took her on a tour of the house. It was obviously that transition period between “Ok, we’ve had dinner. Now let’s have sex.”. Walking around, nonchalantly looking at furniture was a good in between. She kissed me in the hallway and then we headed to the den area where I had been earlier shining his boots and caught up in being a good girl.

It’s hard to remember the order of everything, isn’t it? That time when everyone goes from fully clothed to completely or almost completely naked. I can still see how slow paced everything was still. Harvey was in a slight state of can I say, shock? Seeing two women in front of him, ready to do his bidding while being intimate with one another. It was porn come to life, which I suppose for any first time threesomer can be a bit unreal.

I had no idea how it was going to feel, watching him be with someone else. I was slightly worried that I was going to feel jealousy, since our relationship has been so private and intimate for five years, but watching him have his way with her; seeing him so very much enjoying the gift I had brought him, took away any fear of that. I knew that she was a good choice the moment she stopped talking. The fire in her eyes was replaced by a wonderful submissive longing and it was so sexy to be a spectator. Though she’s not a pain slut, he clothespinned her breasts as I helped. I couldn’t help feeling like I wanted him to push her. Put her in intense subspace. Break her.

For the first little while, we were simply abusing her, experimenting with how far she could go. He pushed her up against the ottoman and used his talented hands to make her his. We would pause occasionally, all feeling very relaxed in our den of sin, all naked and stuff. I really relished in the time when she and I were making out in front of him. Sometimes it was softer, more like two women on even ground. Other times I wanted to show him my dominant side with certain women, something we’ve talked about but he has never seen. I would hold her down, control the situation, pull her hair. All while he was watching, approving, taking it all in. Knowing I learned much of my skills from him.

Those moments were nice, when I felt the freedom to do whatever I wanted to. He wasn’t as dominant overall as we had discussed he would be, but his mind was slightly overloaded at the fact that the threesome we’d talked about for years was finally happening, so that’s fair. When he was though, I found it fascinating how I wouldn’t even move without knowing if it was ok with him. I wanted this to be his show. Whatever he needed or wanted, I would do. I’ve never felt so giving before. She didn’t know how to follow his rules though, was brattier and was punished for it.

I was really craving some more submission after a while as our three person hot mess had become less kink than I was hoping for and I needed to be dominated. My initial fantasy was for her to be tied up and told to watch as he abused me, his precious girl, while she was nothing but a slutty worthless visitor who had to wait her turn. Somehow knowing that she got off on being called names appealed to my own fantasies as well. It was obvious in reality that she wasn’t going to be tied up, but I was still begging for that attention. I needed him to hit me. I needed to show someone else how good I can be for him, so he obliged. He lay me on the floor and smacked my face until I cried. She interrupted to ask if I was ok as she was genuinely concerned. I nodded yes, and he told her I was. I knew that I was perfectly safe but I imagine it was hard for her to see. I liked that. I wanted it to be challenging to watch while sexy at the same time. I think we achieved that.

It wasn’t just me that he beat though. He took sometime and smacked her in the face as well despite the fact that she’s not into pain at all, but something made her stay there then. Something made her want to try, to see if she was up to the challenge, and after a few smacks, he broke her. She was crying and it was beautiful. Completely cathartic and wonderful. And really fucking hot.

We were there for hours but I felt and still feel like there was so much more that we could do. So many more fantasies that are still waiting to be fulfilled. I can only hope that it doesn’t take 5 more years to get to them.

I suppose for . . . → Read More: Three’s Company; part 1]]> I believe pretty strongly that every man and woman deserves to be presented with the opportunity for group sex. It might not be their thing and it’s ok to say no, but with only one life to live on this earth, why do so many spend theirs not working harder on their bucket lists?

I suppose for some, it’s a matter of circumstance. Which is why I’ve been hoping for years to be able to offer Harvey a threesome. People in my life that are nice should have nice things. And what’s nicer than two gals willing to do what you say, all nekkid and stuff?

So I kept it in the back of my mind for years. Relationships with others came and went; Harvey was always around. While our level of interaction has changed over the years, the idea was never shelved. Though I don’t think he really expected it would happen; and who can blame him considering we’ve known each other for 4.5 years already, sans group sex.Then a few months or weeks ago … I don’t really remember … we started to head back down into dom/sub territory. It’s always been an aspect of our relationship; but not always at the forefront of our interactions. There isn’t simply one reason why we have explored it further lately. It’s been the perfect storm of Harvey spending more time understanding his dominant streak and gaining a new understanding for both before and aftercare of someone, combined with me having a shit time emotionally in 2011 and needing some clarity and grounding.

It’s a funny thing, to be completely aware of the fact that you’re giving more and more control to another person and to still let it happen. A few years ago it was probably a bad thing to use myself in a psychological experiment with him. Learning about submission while at the same time experiencing it with a man who hadn’t yet learned the importance of aftercare. There were many times I would go home crying, but not cathartic tears.

Now though, he gets it. And the appeal is so strong. To know, feel AND trust that he knows me; what I like, what I don’t, how far to push me and when to stop and hug … well it’s unreal. I have one wonderful man at home who takes care of me in so many ways and other out there who does in completely different ways. Sometimes it’s frustrating to have gotten so familiar with my submissive side as I realize what an important role she, Samantha, plays in the life of Sam.

But I digress.

This past weekend, Harvey had the house and some time to himself. I realized a couple of months ago that I knew a girl who might be perfect for a one time deal with him. Someone who understood discretion (though I hate that element – more on that later in part 2) and submission. After much personal anguish, the choice became clear, though complicated due to her being connected to friends of mine. While it may make some weirdness for me moving forward, I hope that it doesn’t because everything fit into place, which I had been looking for for so long.

I wanted to make sure that before she joined us that he and I had some time alone. I got over there mid afternoon and, besides some stomach wooziness, felt instant relaxation. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing, there is an undeniable sense of calm in the air when I hang out with him. No drama or passive aggressiveness. If there is aggression, it’s clear and strangely soothing, delivering catharsis, not confusion.

We hung out on the couch for a while. He worked me into a gentle fever with simple denial. Easy actions that removed my control of the situation, just, for lack of a better word, nicely. His tone changed, and he told me I was pretty. He asked his trademark question “Isn’t that lovely?’ and I wasn’t about to deny that it was. I don’t get off on degradation. I get off on making someone proud and doing a good job. When he called me his little girl a couple of times, I felt an overwhelming emotional surge. Feel free to Freud me up and down ’til the cows come home on this one and I’ll be the first to admit that I know I have Daddy issues (and he is often surprisingly very much like how I remember my dad sometimes). So maybe being called someone’s little girl is all inter-connected to my childhood and feelings of inadequacy when suddenly my family structure changed and I got a new step-mum and three step-brothers. Or hey, maybe it’s just relaxing to feel a strong man’s arms around me basically telling me I’m ok and don’t need to worry about anything.

Really, who the fuck cares, as long as my vagina was amused. Which it was, so very much.

After some amusement and a slow burn orgasm (always frustrating, never embarrassing) for me, he let me know I was going to give him a bath. I remember when I first started exploring kink, I read this book “Female Submission: The Journal of Madelaine“. In it, the author talks about bathing her Dom and how it felt so nice to be of service that way and it was always something I wanted to do. There is something so very appealing in taking care of a person in that way. It’s indulgent to indulge him. So I was more than happy to head upstairs and turn on the taps.

It was calming to wash him. How strange, right? But really, it’s kind of like ironing. Hmm, except ironing sucks so maybe that’s a bad example. Let’s say it’s like baking cookies. There’s this feeling of doing something good. Taking care of him and offering him relaxation and, as I said, indulgence. It’s so easy to zone out in that moment. To focus on nothing but the task at hand. Wet. Soap. Rinse. Repeat. Service based submission was almost built for people like me with a million things on the brain at any given moment … Peace. Quiet. One task. One objective.

When he was clean, I dried him. For a moment it didn’t feel like human to human interaction, but more like an art project of some kind. It was important to do a good job, to not miss a spot … to stay within the lines. Moving slowly to not miss a spot. Doing it softly, with affection and care.

When I went into the bedroom to get his clothes, I was thankful that he didn’t follow right behind me because I was slightly taken aback and needed a moment to breathe (Remember that a couple of hours of slow subspace can give tasks like this an extra layer of overwhelming). There on the bed was his outfit, his boots and his bag of tricks. His belt folded, ever so neatly on his shirt. His shirt folded, ever so neatly on his pants. It was obvious that thought went into placing every item so precisely. And whether it was to make me feel special or just show control, make me feel special it did. He came in the room and I basically dressed him. It’s strange, thinking about it now. Almost like I was a mother dressing a child … (I did think to myself while putting his socks on that it was good practice for when I have children) … except as the “mother” I was completely not the one running the show.

Fucking fascinating.

Then we headed back down to the couch area so I could shine his boots. Not before stopping off for a quick spanking (Something I wish there had been more of. Such a relaxing feeling giving into a spanking. I’m sure some would say the same about a hot bath, but I just find that boring and sweaty face making.)

Why the idea of shining his boots appealed to me I’m not sure. I know that I had been looking forward to it for weeks. He could mention it in a task and I would feel my shoulders shrug. My mouth going into that weird little sub pout and my eyes feeling slightly … doe-esque. Such a simple task but the meaning behind it, pretty awesome. Here I am on the floor, making sure to get every little bit of dirt off these boots. Knowing he loves the things so much, I was thrilled to make them look nice for him. Again, the zone out zen feeling of focusing on a task, knowing it’s something that you’re doing for someone, feels absolutely wonderful. Combined with the fact that he was wearing them and lightly flogging me as I lay there shining – when I had anticipated originally that they’d be off in a corner, not attached to his feet, while I did it – it was perfect.

The look of aggression was getting pretty strong in his eyes at this point. Once I was finished he slammed me to the floor and tied my hands. He gagged me (cursing my small head for being too small to really fit the gag) and abused me a little. All par for the course, really. It’s lovely to be abused sometimes. To be a doll for someone else’s amusement. Again, the lack of thought is zen. Why zen translates into a wet vagina is something that scientists can figure out. I am just glad it does and consider myself lucky to have made the connection.

After some abuse, I went into the bathroom to wash the polish off my hands. I came out, realized they weren’t totally dry and went back in to dry them completely. I paused just long enough to realize what had just happened. These, albeit strange to some people, fantasies that I had for so long; the bath, the planning, the boots, they had all just happened. He was of course doing it for himself, but I was certainly being considered. Another emotion wave hit me and before I knew it he was right behind me. His intuition has always been one of his stronger points and over the past little while has been ridiculously on point. At that moment when my subconscious started thinking “Woah, this is intense. You sure you’re handling it ok?”, I was able to collapse into a hug and have him tell me it was ok.

I hadn’t even had a chance to realize I was questioning it before he told me what the answer was.

Next we headed to the kitchen. Our guest was due to arrive in ten minutes.

More on that in the next post. It’s kind of ridiculous how many words this one got to already and I’m sleepy!

Over the past 10 years Steph and I have changed so much. We’ve gone through a . . . → Read More: Happy 10 Year Anniversary!]]> Today Steph and I are celebrating ten years of being together. I’d say to start with that our relationship is a testament to non-monogamy being able to be successful just as much as any other relationship with hard work and communication.

Over the past 10 years Steph and I have changed so much. We’ve gone through a lot of shit together. People dying. Jobs being lost. Relationship unhappiness. But we’ve pulled through it, together, because we have an amazing sense of team.

We grow together every day. We support and nourish each others’ individuality. We are home base and a soft place to fall.

To celebrate this 1/3 of my life achievement I’ve selected a bunch of photos from the last 10 years that we’ve been together and am sharing them with you today.

Happy Anniversary, baby!

A bit over a month ago I hopped on a plane to head to a little town called Reno, Nevada to meet and visit with some dear friends I originally met on Twitter.

Hopping on “a” plane isn’t very accurate though as I missed my connecting flight and ending up hopping on three planes and . . . → Read More: I Didn’t Actually Shoot a Man in Reno]]>

A bit over a month ago I hopped on a plane to head to a little town called Reno, Nevada to meet and visit with some dear friends I originally met on Twitter.

Hopping on “a” plane isn’t very accurate though as I missed my connecting flight and ending up hopping on three planes and arriving in Reno 10 hours late, which totally bummed me out as I was really looking forward to spending that first day with one of my hosts as he was going to take the day off work and just chill with me.

Stupid airplanes and tornadoes ruining that bonding time. *shakes fist*

Finally after a hellish day of travel (not including the lovely 2 hour drive with @mustangbex who so generously picked me up when I was stranded in Sacramento) it was just the three of us in their apartment and I was so happy to be with them in person after knowing them both so well online for over a year and a half. I realized, when in bed, that I had never been a guest in another couple’s bed (without Steph) as it’s always been people joining us instead. Feeling the energy between two people and being able to both participate while also being a voyeur is something I think a lot of people would probably enjoy. I know I loved it.

I also loved being surrounded by a group of friends that are pretty much like family. The apartment I stayed in is downtown and it seems to be the hub where everyone hangs out, drops by, parties or gets ready to go out. As a result I was very quickly embraced by the closeness of the group, up to date on any drama and somewhat left to my own devices.

One of the things I was most looking forward to on the trip was taking part as a special guest in their biweekly Non-Monogamy Wine Time meetup. Wine Time is a bunch of people (generally friends / acquaintances, including those who have dated one another), getting together to discuss the highs and lows, triumphs and struggles that they had experienced while being open or polyamorous. I’ve wanted to host similar meetings at my house in Toronto for quite some time now, but things have always fallen through as breakups, drama, whatever have gotten in the way.

What made this group so interesting to me is that the majority of them were friends first, (some of them) lovers after. It’s a lot easier for people to party and make out with each other when so many of them are open, or open to being open, and already close friends. Sure there can definitely be drama but having that base is a great way to start and it’s something I definitely am envious of. In our situation, our “regular” friends have always been separate from our poly friends, though we bring them together when hosting parties. Over the years we noticed that we did have a pretty great little network set up as everyone started to meet everyone else, but because we were generally lovers first, friends after – if anything went wrong it was a lot easier to lose that person from our lives vs. keeping them in the friendship circle.

It was hard to come home after being in Reno. I was initially depressed for a few days, wondering what was wrong with my friends, my life, my town, when I had just left such a community environment where everyone would often take part in the same activities, many of them focused around fundraising for their Burning Man camp (something I learned a lot about and might even consider going to next year). Call it standard after vacation blues if you like, but it hit me really hard. It took a while for me to realize that living in Toronto, it’s hard / virtually impossible to have all of my friends interested in the same thing. One quick look through NOW magazine and I remembered that there’s just an absolute shit ton of stuff to do here, every single day. So much so that it’s inevitable that your friends will have different interests, and if you have a large circle like I do it takes a bit more effort to get people together.

Once I conquered that initial woe is me feeling I was reminded of something I thought about a few months ago; the Why Not Project. Taking my financial restraints into account I have vowed to be more open to trying new things with new and / or familiar people. I will accept more proposals and meet more “not friends yet” and continue to build a network of folks in Toronto that surround me with as much happy as I felt while visiting Reno. I will also be more present with my current friends and get out and do more. Since quitting my job in June I’ve realized how much that place had a hold on me. Driving home from work I never wanted to go out and see anyone therefore getting myself stuck in a bit of a slight homebody rut, despite having a seemingly very busy social life.

I am thankful for the friendships I gained while in Reno, despite the 6 flights and 7 airports I had to visit to do so. I wish that I’d had more time with my hosts, and worry that one of those important friendships might be damaged from my visit, but I am also grateful to them and everyone that I met for welcoming me into such a great community. While I can’t imagine ever living in Reno as it’s just too small for my inner city girl, those people were worth the trip and any other trips I make in the future.

Btw, y’all are invited to visit me in Toronto whenever you like. We’re so much more than hockey and the CN tower, eh.

He gave me one of those lovely backhanded compliments and said I looked very nice (ok, that part’s good). Nice and put-together. Like I had put effort in. I had . . . → Read More: Silly Observations Over Rum]]> Since being open, my longest relationship has been with Harvey. We went out last week for dinner and I felt like sharing a snippet of our chat.

He gave me one of those lovely backhanded compliments and said I looked very nice (ok, that part’s good). Nice and put-together. Like I had put effort in. I had to laugh at this and asked him to explain. Apparently I often look eclectic, which when I think about it is probably pretty accurate. The reason I found it so funny though is that a few years ago when so much of our relationship involved new dominant / submissive psychology I would struggle for days about deciding what to wear. I would have to plan a few days of outfits ahead of our “dates” so that I could save whatever special thing I felt like wearing when dinner time would arrive.

And now? I go into the closet in the morning and think … “Sure, this works.” I think about it for maybe 2 minutes.

When I told him about how what he was seeing was the opposite of how I was actually acting, he was surprised and that, in turn, surprised me. As much as you know someone there’s always something more and we are able to put up a front and have someone believe that front for years.

I like that. It’s strangely comforting.

I didn’t like that he didn’t give me a heads up at the beginning of the night that we’d be splitting the bill because he’s curbing his spending. Sure, I’m happy to pay occasionally but when I’m used to being taken out when his salary is a ton more than mine … give a girl some warning before asking her to do some math when she’s drunk!

At least I can enjoy the knowledge that he hates the nickname Harvey, despite it being totally appropriate. This makes the evil in me a little happy.

This past Monday Steph had a first night with a gal he met on okCupid. He hadn’t been on a first date in, hmm … a really long time; not since he met Betty I think. Anyway, we had kind . . . → Read More: Over-promise, Under-deliver]]> Wait, isn’t that backwards? Sometimes though it seems perfectly normal in my household. Allow me to explain.

This past Monday Steph had a first night with a gal he met on okCupid. He hadn’t been on a first date in, hmm … a really long time; not since he met Betty I think. Anyway, we had kind of forgotten how the whole thing went, so we chatted briefly on the days leading up to him going out. He said that he wouldn’t be out late; as it was a first date, and left me with the impression that we’d play some new Wii Fit Plus together that evening.

Our experience tells us that a successful meet and greet first date, is about 3 – 4 hours. This is pretty standard for us and perhaps many people? However if Steph’s date was to go later I wouldn’t have a problem with it if I was given a heads up. Basically the way we work – and I’m not saying at ALL that this is how I think anyone else should operate – is that we keep each other in the loop when we’re out separately.

If I think that a date might go longer, I check with him first.

“Is it ok if I’m out past such and such a time?”

99% of the time – because he’s the most laid back, easy-going guy ever, Steph is super cool with me leaving my return times open-ended. There have been a few times when I’ve said I would be home at a certain time and I haven’t made it back, and he’s had every reason to be cranky with me. If we say we’re going to do something we really should do it, or at least check in and make sure it’s ok to change plans. It’s common courtesy that your partner deserves.

Look, if she can use the phone with a swim cap on ...

I was perfectly happy knowing that he was out enjoying a first date. I came home a bit late from work and after some shopping settled down to play some video games alone, which is a rare treat. Everything was fine, I was even looking forward to hearing about his date until I turned to the kitchen and saw the clock. It was 10 pm, he’d been out since 6 pm and I hadn’t heard anything. So I sent a text.

I heard nothing back.

I sent another text, and then another. Suddenly the compersion that I was feeling turned to crankiness. I couldn’t care less about how his date was going, all I cared about was that I was out of the loop. I texted Don to calm me down and vent to a boy and while it was a good distraction I was still getting crankier by the minute. When I called Steph and he didn’t answer his phone, I just got extra full of cranky. He knows that his phone sucks and that he should always have it charged when at work, and instead he let it die.

Now let me interrupt myself for a second to point out that I realize I might sound like I’m overreacting. I know I am PMSing so things are a little more annoying right now than they should be on a non PMS day. I also know that it sounds like I’m freaking out over the tiniest of details and don’t let Steph have any fun, but I hope you’ll keep reading to the end to get a better understanding of all of this.

Finally the phone rings and he’s almost home, at the bus station. When he walked in the door I was so seething with rage that I could barely talk to him. After a minute or two of awkward silence I did, and then shit went crazy. I was f’ing and blinding left and right (completely unproductive I might add), and he said some mean things that I daren’t repeat because I know how sorry he is now to have said them.

It was a terrible fight, and an even worse awkward silence after the fact. He wanted me to calm down after he’d apologized but I had to explain to him that just because he’d said he was sorry didn’t mean that everything was hunky dory for me. My heart needed time to heal so there was a bit more awkward silence.

Eventually we started to talk, and the voices weren’t so raised. Steph admitted that often times he’s so worried about doing the right thing that he sets himself up for failure. He’ll over promise that he’ll be home nice and early when he thinks I want him to be, and then his phone will die and he’ll come home late. He won’t excuse himself to find a pay phone and instead will leave me in the dark when he knows that a quick “Hey” would make me feel great and that I’d be excited for him that his date was going well. But he won’t do that, and I’ll be upset, because I take people at their word, and then we’ll fight. He admitted that he worries about making his date feel uncomfortable by getting in touch and will often worry more about them than he will me, and that’s usually where my problems lie. It will seem like I have a problem with him dating, but trust me, that is never the problem. What ends up happening however, is that I associate the dates, and unfairly the people he’s dating, with the bad behaviour on his end. This is something that I need to work on as it’s affected my views on his relationships with other people a lot in the past.

It’s very important to me – and admittedly to him as well – that the people we date understand and respect our relationship. That the things that Steph and I do while out on dates, for each other is not a problem with them. I don’t need to worry about single women that don’t like their date calling his wife to check in. This isn’t a normal dating situation where it’s rude to keep your phone on you. This is part of the package of dating us, in an open marriage. If you don’t like, move on honey! Or brother!

What Steph seems to be starting to understand is that it’s ok to leave things a bit more open ended with me as long as he checks in. He asked me last night if I would be ok with him staying out later, providing he’d let me know, as I would do for him. I said “Well how can we ever know if I’m ok with it if you don’t give me the chance to be? If you’re constantly worried about doing the wrong thing with me, you end up doing the worst things. Go out, have fun and if we haven’t made any other plans and you’ve checked in that all is copacetic? Enjoy yourself as long as you like. ”

And it’s true. I want him to have fun and enjoy himself. I really enjoy feeling compersion and also having time to do my own thing, but I also trust him so much that if he says he’s going to do something or be somewhere I believe him. When that trust is broken all I’m left with is hurt feelings and annoyance and we’ve both agreed to work harder – to address the factors we both contribute – to make other first dates in the future less painful and more about the awesome.

So it may have been slightly PMS fueled on my end, and it may have been “D’oh” male on his, but what makes me happy at the end of it is that we hit rock bottom but then dug our way out so quickly, realized what was the matter, talked it through and ending up having a great rest of the night together.

Sometimes going apeshit pays off! Well, that’s what my PMS affected self is sticking with!

While I was . . . → Read More: Every Cowboy Sings a Sad Sad Song (Or lessons learned from group sex, while out of the room. And town)]]> I know that post about Kitty was all sunshine and roses but this one’s going to be a reminder that every rose has its thorn. Even though Steph and I have been doing this open marriage shtick for over 3 years now, we still have things to learn, like the following story will share.

While I was away visiting my lovely friend Kitty, Steph was spending the night at the Drapers. This is pretty common, we ARE always there. and it often feels weird to not be there! While I was super excited to be spending my night away, of course I was also totally envious that he got to be with them.

The night before I left as Steph and I were brushing our teeth we were joking about the possibility of an MMF threesome with he and the Drapers. Considering that it had been a bit of a – pardon the pun – dry summer and there had been no group nudity to speak of in a few months, we really didn’t think anything would happen that involved one naked lady and two naked dudes. In the interest of covering all our bases though, I still wanted to suggest to him that if there was going to be some brewhaha happening that it was only fair that I would get a turn when back in town myself. Or at least a raincheque.

God, I miss Swingtown ...

Now in reality, Steph has always been uncomfortable with the idea of MMF’s. He didn’t grow up playing sports so he missed the whole ‘nude team in the change room’ thing. He’s never really been touchy feely with men, not working in an industry that required him to shake too many hands, so the naked man in the room with him idea while being naked and sexy, never really caught on as hot with him. It’s not that he he’s homophobic one bit, but the idea of it still freaks him out.

We’d talked about it extensively. Having an MMF has always been one of my biggest fantasies, and I still have yet to really have one. I’ve never really cared about whether the men involved are straight or bi. I don’t need them to touch, kiss or hold hands, but the idea of being with two guys that are so comfortable and confident in their own skin is an incredible turn-on. Confidence makes me weak in the knees.

Yet he has always said “I can’t.” What I wouldn’t have given for an “I’ll try.” or a “We’ll see.” but always the answer I got was such a rejection of the idea, that “I can’t.” and MMF with my husband became somewhat synonymous.

After hearing that enough over the years I started wishing it would happen with other lovers and not him. The idea of an MMF with Steph stopped being present in my mind kind of a long time ago. Even after a spring time fourway with the Drapers, I still wasn’t convinced that it would happen with Steph because fourways with others in the past hadn’t changed the situation or his view on it.

So when we stood in the bathroom and lightheartedly discussed the idea; no matter how comfortable he is with Don, I really did not believe it would happen. Nor, I think, did he at that moment, not knowing how much booze would be consumed the next night!

Fast forward now to me coming home from visiting Kitty. Majorly hungover and feeling exhausted after going to sleep at 5:30 am, then driving home 2 hours and stopping on the way to visit my old college roommates. The last thing I was expecting when meeting Steph at the Drapers was news of them all getting it on.

After being home (I call it that ‘cos we’re there so much it feels like it!) for about five minutes, one of them made a joking reference about something that had happened the night before and I caught the vibe that more was going on than was being discussed. My gaze went straight to Steph and he sat there with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. Honestly it made me feel ill. I’ve seen that grin before when he’s scored with a lady unexpectedly and every time I’ve seen it, he’s handled the transference of information badly, so I knew something was up. I went straight to Don to ask for some clarity, and he also offered me nothing. Now I think that everyone had at least a tiny bit of responsibility regarding getting me in the loop fast but I can definitely forgive the Drapers as they’re not married to me and are allowed an embarrassment delay.

However … Steph IS married to me, and here’s where the point to my random story comes in. Rather than filling me in on what happened the night before while the Drapers left the room for a bit, I got nothing. Rather than asking me if I was ok with it, I had to tell him how I was feeling instead. Don’t get me wrong, I was / am definitely overjoyed that the three of them shared that experience. Compersion in this situation is alive and kicking. I liked that the Drapers were able to insert a little spice into their marriage and that they were able to get drunk and let loose and that my husband was involved.

That doesn’t mean though that just because I felt all of those happy things that something like this was an instantly easy pill to swallow. I was envious and sad that I missed out and also instantly insecure. Nothing spicy had happened between the four of us for quite some time – we used to be a lot saucier, looking back – so when I realized that I went out of town and suddenly sparks flew without me around I became incredibly insecure.

Really though, there’s not much that anyone else could do to help me deal with this stuff. Since then Betty and I have talked and she’s made me feel more than sure that I wasn’t the problem, which is great, but that doesn’t change what Steph should have done at that moment. When his wife walks in and she’s not in the loop, his immediate responsibilities are to tell me what happened and make sure I’m ok, as I would make sure to do with him. It’s something that he and I have talked about and agreed upon for years, and when it didn’t happen, he really hurt my feelings.

I needed to feel safe and important as I processed, because though I talk about sex all the time, this was still something new that I’d never dealt with. When he didn’t ask how I felt with all of it, I felt like an outsider and a fool. I felt like I wasn’t allowed to feel anything besides happy with the situation which is ridiculous . No matter how turned on and happy it made me, I still had to process the fact that after years of saying “I can’t”, my husband had just had an MMF without me, and that it took place while I was out of town when nothing had happened with me there for months.

I think it’s important to try and train our brains to get used to the ideas of things happening that might make us uncomfortable but when there is more going on behind the scenes – like a lack of “I’ll try” and a heavy dose of “I can’t” – it’s often easier said than done.

There is nothing wrong with admitting that you’re feeling insecure. Saying so doesn’t mean that it’s another persons’ responsibility to ‘fix you’ but instead that you’re putting yourself out there, asking for love and guidance to help you feel safe.

That’s exactly what I needed from Steph that day. To let me own my envy and my insecurities but to do his best to offer reassurance and honesty. Instead I received a lot of avoidance on his part because he knew that I felt weird about it. Rather than ask if I was ok, he chose not to because he didn’t want to hear that I wasn’t. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that I was feeling kind of off, nor was I not allowed to feel whatever I was feeling.

The following week was filled with a lot of discussions between Steph and I. It took a little longer to get over the hurt than I was anticipating and eventually I worked out that the “I can’t” attitude was really affecting me. He admitted that it was easier to do it without me in the room, which, while it hurt my feelings, I could understand – kind of. I guess years of perceived expectations made him nervous, but he agrees that it would have been good to discuss this along the way instead of after the fact. The main lesson that we learned from all of this is the following, probably obvious logic.

If you’re going to have your cake and eat it too while your partner isn’t around, you need to remember to clean up after yourself. Crumbs aren’t fun for anyone. Take care of each other.