As you all know by now (if you’ve been reading my blog for any length of time) W and I have been testing the waters of swinging. He wants me to experience it for many reasons, one of which most certainly is that he simply likes to watch me get laid, but also because he feels that the particular set of protocols and morays that make up the swinging lifestyle are ones that I should learn, and eventually, excel at. Because he believes that I will, eventually, be “good” at it.
Sometimes I am not sure about this last, but…(as you most surely know by now)…I will do anything to please him. If doing this pleases him, if being “good” at this makes him happy, if me becoming an “accomplished” swinger makes him hard, then hey–I’m there. And thrilled to do it.
Unfortunately the St. Louis scene isn’t exactly the swingers’ mecca that we might have hoped it would be. And…we’ve had a few bumps in the road as well as we’ve learned to negotiate this new dynamic, both between ourselves and in regards to others. And, frankly, we’ve had to backtrack and re-assess how it might work for us a couple of times, because it is so foreign to our own dynamic, and because, specifically, swinging itself does nothing for me. I need some level of kink, of a CNC or coercion dynamic, or it just isn’t hot for me. So we’ve been trying to figure out how that might be incorporated (without squicking others out or driving them away) and how best to allow our own dynamic to work within the framework of swinging. Needless to say, it’s been a bit of a slow start. And it may never work completely the way W wants it to. But, I’m hopeful, and (as always) eternally optimistic. If I can make it work, you can damn well believe I will make it work.
Meanwhile, there are scenarios that have come up via our contacts in the different swing groups. Not necessarily “swinging,” but scenarios that appeal to W’s and my particular kink and that we’ve decided to explore. Each one of these is an opportunity for learning (as well as the possibility of some hot sex.)
Lately I’ve been talking to a woman that wants to send another woman to fuck her husband in his hotel room (he’s in town for a few days attending a business function.) Ideally, for my hotness factor, this sort of scenario would happen this way:
W makes contact with the woman. She and he negotiate what will happen. He arranges a time with me that will work, without telling me the details. At the agreed-upon time, he takes me to the man’s hotel room, drops me off at the door, I go in and perform whatever service W and the woman have agreed to, and two hours later W picks me up (hopefully bedraggled and with some outward signs of having been used hard by this man.) Oh, and with pictures of it in my phone and sent to the wife. He then takes me home, “inspects” me for compliance with his and the wife’s wishes, uses me or abuses me to reclaim me, and sends me home to my family.
Fuck. I’m getting hot just thinking about it.
The reality, though, in large part because of the particular dynamics of swingers, is a bit different. I saw the wife’s post about wanting someone for her husband. Knowing that this is exactly the kind of thing that would get W off, I replied to her. She and I have been in negotiation now for two days, and today I made contact with her husband, confirming the details of a meeting that will happen Thursday. All the while, I kept W apprised of the situation, and he, knowing I needed to hear/feel it (even though I never directly requested it) gave me permission–and specific instructions to comply.
I need to feel his coercion, his demand that I do this thing, even though I was the one that set it all in motion, and have set it all up. He knows that, and has neatly (and quite adeptly) turned it into coercion play. And it works. And I am hot.
Trying to explain this to the woman doesn’t work out so well, though.
I didn’t set out to have to try to explain it to her originally. It was more of a slip. I am well aware of the female-driven swinger dynamic. Women run the show, their word is first and last. And a woman being forced into performing sexually is anathema.
So of course I didn’t tell her I was doing it for W.
Until I did, sort of. Accidentally.
And then I had to try to explain that yes, I was doing it because it made him hot, but that makes me hot, so it’s all good.
“You are doing this because you want to, right?” she asks.
I can honestly answer that “Yes, I am.” Because I am. She doesn’t need to know that I want to because I know W wants me to, and that knowing it will make him hard is why I am doing it.
“He didn’t make you contact me, did he?” “No,” I can reply with all honesty, because he didn’t. I don’t have to explain that if it hadn’t been for him, for me knowing that me doing this would excite and please him, I would never have contacted her. But he didn’t make me do it. (Nor that now that I have told him about it, he most certainly will make me do it–there will be no cancelling out of it now.)
And when she asks, “Am I excited?” about meeting and fucking her husband, I can honestly say “Yes.” Because I am. She doesn’t need to know that at least half my excitement comes from this fucked-up dynamic that W and I share, and that she would never understand. Yes, I am looking forward to and will like the sex, if he has any skill at all, and I am looking forward to his cock in me, to being fucked by a stranger. She doesn’t need to know that I will probably enjoy it even if he doesn’t have any skills, and not only because, as W says, every cock that fucks me is his cock and that the whole time that man is fucking me I will be thinking about what W will do to me later, about how hard his cock is, knowing I am there and what I am doing. Because there’s another part to this too. There’s the other part of this dynamic that she also doesn’t need to know about and probably wouldn’t understand. The other reason I will enjoy myself is because I will be serving her and her husband, pleasuring them. I will make damn sure he enjoys himself so that she is pleased and happy with the situation.
And that gets me (and W) off, too.
They already are pleased with me. Amazed at what they’ve found in me, even if they don’t quite understand what that is. They don’t realize what I am, or how hard I will work to make everyone happy, horny and satisfied. And that, in the end, their pleasure drives my own.
But they don’t need to know that. It’s enough that W and I know.