kinky, life, love, sex

Swinger’s Love

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Victor was wonderful. Easy, positive, and inspiring. And hot, probably way too hot. He kept performing surgical procedures and operations in a local hospital. Jim kept grumping that he should be fired for being irresponsible, unethical, and lazy. I kept shrugging my shoulders thanking God for being a girl, no whose-dick-is-bigger games, no rat-racing for status and power.

All I wanted was chocolate for lunch and potted roses, carefully wrapped and sent anonymously.

Victor was open-minded. He loved women and horses. He was positive and caring. He was into pantiless nights in swinger clubs, partner swapping, and marathon running. From threesome and foursome to orgies, from guys to girls, from sub to dom, he switched sex roles and positions briefly and gracefully leaving each partner with the “WOW” impression. He was sincere, kind, and honest, everyone loved him, I was not the exception.

You are on my mind, Vixen all the time, – he was looking deeply into my eyes. I returned his gaze unable to hide a smile, he made me happy every time we had lunch together, – I keep thinking about you making love to two other guys while I am watching. The thought of it makes me hard. I would love to watch you swamped.

 – We are just friends, Victor, – I took a deep breath, I was curious.

It does not matter. I can find perfect guys for you, just let me know your preferences,  – His open-mindedness was amazing.

 – What about jealousy?

 – What about it?

 – Would you not feel jealous watching the woman you love being shared?

– Not at all, Vixen. You know I love you, right? – I quietly nodded. I loved talking to him, it was always fun and crazy. – I wanna share my love with others, – I was still quiet, I had nothing to say to this, – Plus, it is hot.

Victor was right about jealousy, I loved Greg, I never felt jealous, sharing him with others, I was happy when he was happy. I never claimed him as my possession to pay the bills or to mow my yard. I could love more than one person. Greg never got that, being married and changing mistresses, he demanded entire submission and monogamous obedience. I played by the rules solely because being a sub was fun, I loved fun, it made me feel good.

You know my dear, – I tried to put as much love as I could into “my dear”, – Greg would never appreciate this.

 – You do not have to tell him,  – Victor was a people’s magnet. Victor loved people; he shared them, he shared himself emotionally and sexually. Some were happy, most got hurt and revengeful – both guys and girls, they desperately tried to chain his heart, his mind, and his penis; when it did not work, they went to court. He never disputed a single case; he was always on time with child support, paid alimony, and covered moral damage. He was a nice guy, with a small ego and a big penis.

It was almost midnight when I received a call. – Can you give me a ride home, hon?  – his voice was dull, flat, and low.

Of course, my dear. Where are you?

 – Emergency, please pick me up, – each word was produced with extreme tension.

– Are you ok? – he hung up, I put the coat over my PJs and grabbed the car keys. It took me less than 5 minutes to get to the hospital. I saw him through the glass entrance door, tall, tired, pale, and emaciated with white gauze bandage around the head. I ran up to him with a hug. Dark circles under the eyes, bluish veins on both arms, he did not look good. – What happened?

 – Brain concussion, I will be fine, Vixen.

 – Why?

My girlfriend got mad and hit me with an iron.

 – Why?

– She found out about swinging.

 – Actually, it is battery, and she should be held accountable.

 – I do not need police in my personal life, honey. I love her, and she is gone.

He broke into tears as I was driving home. I had no idea what to say, how to calm him down. He spent that weekend in my place, cleaning the kitchen tiles and cooking uneatable breakfasts.

He left early on Monday morning. The smell of fried plantains and dried blood was still there, I aired the rooms prior going to work.

Two weeks after he asked me for lunch. He was back to normal, hot, horny, and loveable.  – I am invited to a private sex party, very upscale, wanna come?

 – How is your head?

 – You are so sweet, my love. You are the woman I need. Wanna go? We will find a perfect match for you, guys or girls, anything you like. It is a decent place, you will love it.

 – Where is your girlfriend?

 – She packed up and left that night.

 – Are you still in pain?

 – Of course, Vixen, my heart is broken.

 – How is your head?

 – Better than my heart.        

 He was awesome, I was laughing. We never made it to that party; he on call, and I had a headache. I loved him, he loved the whole world, he was unique, crazy, and generous. I was happy guys like him exist on Earth.

crazy, happiness, kinky, life, love, mind, psychology, relationships, sex

Pride, BDSM, Sub

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You can’t destroy me unless you take my pride, take it away, and I will have nothing.

This got me pensive. What is pride? – I had no answer. I closed my eyes trying to imagine what it feels like to have pride and thought about Jim – endless planes, yachts, and houses; narcissism and power, inescapable excellence and unavoidable success.

I gave him a call, I was curious. – Do you have pride?

Don’t you want to say ‘hi’? – his voice was bitter and pathetic

I want to know your thoughts on pride

 – Why does it even matter now? We are not even together.

 – Did I hurt your pride?

 – What do you think?

Speaking to him was hard, I hung up, I still had feelings. His pride was the size of his 14 thousand square feet home, I could not deal with it, I left.

Early morning in bed, focusing on my body in search of what google defined as pride -“a feeling of being good and worthy”. I could not find or feel anything.

Take away my pride, and I will have nothing”, – I had nothing. No regrets no sorrow.

I was a sub in relations. I was giving in myself completely, melting, dissolving, relinquishing all my powers and control. I felt empty, non-existent, unable to identify myself with anyone or anything, surrendering my body, my ego, my pride, my self-worth, my values, my beliefs.

I was a sub, going with a flow, being quiet when asked, speaking when allowed, serving in bed and in the kitchen, being available to the needs of my master 24/7.

I was a sub. The pride was crushed, I was capable of sensing and perceiving the world freely without hysterical attempts to hold on to my self-identity. I could be whatever my master wanted me to be, I could switch the personalities like undies. I could flip from a slave to a master, attaining the lost control, going as far as my master wanted me to go.

Does not it bother you that he takes control over your life? It is manipulation and abuse, – my girlfriends could not grasp what it feels like to live outside the fixed self-identity, they were shocked, I was free, I had no pride, I did not care.

Jim was in his office when I came in later that day.

Please buy me an apartment in Orlando.

He slowly moved his gaze from the laptop, dark eyes and relentless calmness. – Why Orlando?

The energy of the big city, I want to feel it through my skin.

I want to feel you.

 – We broke up, it is over

 – And you really think I am stupid enough to keep investing in you?

 – I believe in miracles. It never hurts to ask.

 – Come back, and we will see.

No.

 – Than go home and let me work.

His secretary knocked, I let her in. She was carrying a huge fruit basket, I helped her put it on the desk and took an apple. I was ready to leave.

You asked me about my pride, Vixen, – Jim’s voice stopped me at the door. I turned around, I was curious. – I have none.

 – Me too, Jim, I am a sub.

 – I know. We match, we could do good together.

 – Buy me an apartment.

 – Take the fruit basket home.  

The fruits were yummy, I ate them later on the beach smelling the ocean and listening to the seagulls. I had no pride, no identity, nothing. I did not exist, I felt happy.

kinky, life, love

Labeling, Stereotyping, Stigma

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– Vixen, I am so glad you dumped Jim, – Dave looked comfy and concerned, white and soft sweatshirt, bleached smile, and smell of quality perfume. – Wealthy guys are screwed up, your Jim has serious mental health issues.

I was in the middle of cutting my veggies for a green smoothie. His words caught me off guard, I froze with a kitchen knife in my hand staring stupidly at a cucumber on the cutting board.  I was offended. I hated and loved Jim at the same time; he used to be part of my life. Dave was nothing, just a nicely smelling dandy in Gucci outfit who tried to stick his nose where it does not belong.

What about yourself?  – I breathed out and proceeded chopping the cucumber.

 – What about me, honey?

 – You are wealthy.

 – I am not one of the freaks you used to be with, I value my soul over money. I would rather be in a forest than the Ritz Carlton. I have always been like this.

 – Who told you Jim uses Ritz?

 – Are you defending him?

 – I am not discussing him with you.

 – Why? I thought you trust me.

 – Dave, please…. Mind your own business

He had a fancy blender, perfect for smoothies and veggie soups. I took the lid off ready to put the cucumber in and felt Dave with my back.

 – You are in my house, and you are teaching me how to behave, – his voice got suddenly low and ice-cold. I shrugged my shoulders not bothering to turn around.

 – You gotta understand Vixen, I will do anything to please you, but you should be respectful and open.

 – Ok, – I reached for a tomato, he was still standing behind. “His blender is big and multi-functional, I want it, maybe I should ask him to give it to me… ”. The thought was kinda weird given that Dave seemed to be quite disappointed. Asking him was for anything at this point would be a waste of time.

 – I am talking to you, Vixen. Stop cutting your rabbit food and look at me.

I slowly turned, my irritation was growing. He gave my food a weird name. Jim loved my vegan dishes and always supported the idea to write a recipe book.  Dave made fun of all my efforts to make money. He considered me way too immature for it.

What do you want from me, Dave?  – he was too close, his perfume was too strong, chokingly strong. I felt sick to my stomach.

 – Your Jim wanted you to kiss his feet. It is sick.

 – It is hot. I am a sub, I loved it.

 – It is sick. You are sick too, Vixen. You need therapy, I will take care of it.

 – It is kinky, our kinks matched, the only thing that kept us together for a while. It is over now. Let’s change the subject.

 – You need help.

 – May I finish fixing my rabbit food?

 – Of course, – he stepped away, I added the rest of veggies into the cup and turned the blender on.

My hysterical reaction seemed to make him realize that not all my boundaries can be violated. He was too judgmental and too stuck in his perceptions of the reality. He divided this world into black and white and frowned at any other colors. He called me later, apologetic and regretful that I left too early. But I needed to leave, I needed my personal space to deal with his judgmental attitudes and condescending demeanor.

I came home with his blender that day.

kinky, love

Swinger, Lunch with Victor

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          Tell me what turns you on,  – Victor’ voice was hypnotic; he had dark eyes and a calming touch. I loved hanging out with him.
          Well, – I blushed but did not look away. He was amazing; NON-possessive, NON- judgmental, NON-monogamous. Once or twice a week we met for lunch to discuss each other’s kinks and lick vanilla chocolate off the fingers, – Kindness, common sense, big hard cock.
          That’s me, baby.
          We are just friends.
          But we can take care of each other’s needs.
 
If Jim heard us, he would freak out. He hated Victor. “Your friend is cuckoo, I would never hire him, never in a million years. His hospital privileges need to be revoked. Don’t tell me you are talking to that pervert again”.  I kept hiding my smiles and faking seriousness every time Jim lectured me.
 
          I have questions about swinging, –  I was subtly changing the topic. 
          Wow, Vixen. I can’t believe you are interested. Ask me anything.
          How do you find partners for group sex?
          By asking friends. Or through swinging clubs and private parties. At both there is no pressure, you and your partner can do what you want. It is so hot going to those places. Some of them are very upscale. I will take you. You can pick out a guy for you to play with
          Please go on, – talking to Victor was much more exciting than working on the damn research proposal. The statistics was killing me that day; I was thankful that he called and invited me for lunch.  
          Vixen, I am safe, been tested
          What excites you most about such places?
          May I be direct? – Warm smile, white teeth and deep gaze, his openness touched my heart.
          Yes, you may, – I was curious, he was horny
          Watching you getting f*cked would excite me a lot. I love you Vixen, you have the qualities that I need: kindness, intelligence, you are submissive sexually. I want to f*ck you hard and watch a hot guy f*ck you hard. A swingers club will be ideal for it.
          Hmm,  – I  did not expect that our hey-what’s-going-on lunch break would turn into this,  I was stunned and speechless. I was entirely unprepared – we were just friends.
          I hope you are not upset.
          No, I am not, – no one ever expressed his feelings in such a weird way, it was interesting, I did not want to interrupt his stream of consciousness
          Do you want to give us a try?
          So, it would not bother you to see me with another guy?
          Not at all! – his excitement was increasing, my sanity was vanishing
          Can you love several people at the same time, my friend?
          Of course, I love you, I love my girlfriend, my heart is open, can you?
 
The question caught me off guard. I was surprised I never asked myself if I can have feelings for more than one person. The answer was on the surface: YES, YES, and YES. I threw back my head in hysterical laughter. I felt relieved. Victor’s kinkiness was amazing. The lunch was over.
kinky

Jim, Dominance and Submission, the Safe Word


I literally hated Jim’s Quid-Pro-Quo attitude. My timid “let’s be friends” crashed into his “I can’t be there for your without intimacy, it is not fair to me” . It was a bargain, the ongoing business project under the “get-more-give-nothing” slogan. One day I got tired of feeling angry, sad, and offended, since it was a mere waste of energy. He neither listened, nor understood. His “I want my lover back” was the only response to my attempts to explain why it will never happen.

I got quiet. He tried to get into my mind – I did not care. I am predictably pedestrian, but he never got that since he never listened.
 
          I want you, let’s start over again
          Leave me alone
          You are always busy for me
          Please leave me alone
 –          What do you want? Arrangement? How much? Talk to me….
 
I threw my head back and burst into laughter.  Something happened. Something flipped the switch in his head, and he turned into a stranger. The stranger grabbed my wrist, dragged me into the bedroom, and threw me on the bed. Our eyes met as he was forcing my legs apart. Glassy look, he was numb and freezingly callous. His unresponsiveness to my repetitive fuck-you-fuck-you-fuck-you was scary. I felt the sharp pain in my fractured knee and tried to release the leg from his body weight. All in vain, he was way too heavy. The pushed to the side panties cut into my skin adding to the absurdity of the situation.  My attempts to slap and bite were mixed with ongoing laughing and crying. I kept whispering I hate you, and I knew he did not care.
 
          You are a witch, –  he finally let me go.
           Get out, – The stranger turned into the Jim I knew; warm confidence, persistent dominance, and the buy-low-sell-high philosophy. I was no longer scared, just tired from the overall insanity.
          Why? We were just playing.
          You are nuts, – I adjusted the skirt and reached out for the hair brush. Shaking hands, trembling lips, still sobbing.  
          You told me you wanted it rough. I was trying to make you happy. You should have said the safe word. I would have stopped…
          Get out.
 
The next day Heather came to see me. She brought apples and Ibuprofen. Jim had pulled my hair too hard.  
 
          I do not want to see him any more
          He is a nice guy, Vixen, – I started crying, she handed me a tissue, – he has common sense, you should stay with him
          No, – I was thinking about Greg, his talented introversion, firm dick, and quiet psychopathy. I missed him. I wanted him back into my life.   
          Forget about Greg, eat.
 
 I loved Heather, she was a good friend. The apples were sweet, Ibuprofen numbed the pain. I smiled, I felt better.