Chancy Chatter

These are the potentially dangerous words of an over fed, under appreciated, tattooed, formerly pierced and occasionally purple-haired, wife and mom.

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

Firsts (Warning: Explicit Sexual Content)

Back to my originally planned post. I was reading Heads or Tales today and was inspired by his post about past sexual exploits. I'm a just a boring little housewife these days but I was once quite the sexual adventurer. My poor husband is beyond intimidated by my past. He's asked me several times (in jest of course but a lot of truth is said in jest) if I could just pretend that he was my first and NEVER tell anyone else that he wasn't. Sorry dear, I just can't do that. I treasure all my sexual experiences even those that, in hind-sight, make me cringe. Furthermore, I have a sick and selfish need to share those experiences with people who are interested in such things.

There is one experience in my past that I consider the catalyst for most of my sexual exploration. I figure that's a good place to start. Oh, and if you missed this in the title of this post, I'm about to get pornographic. Bail out now if that might bother you. As an awkward teenager, I was nerdy, anti-social, and insecure. After a couple of embarrassing incidents with boys I started going out with my official highschool sweetheart and future first husband. We were both 16, curious, and full of raging hormones. He and I were inseparable and screwed like bunnies. We were young enough to believe that our sexual chemistry was the same as love and got married on my 18th birthday. He joined the AirForce and within 6 months we were living in Mississippi where he was being trained.

My ex (who we'll call Dan) was the only married guy in his group of buddies. His marital status made him a "sep rat" which stands for "separate rations" and meant he was the only guy in his class allowed to live off base. So our crappy little apartment was the official party pad of at least 6 guys. I had never been around so many good looking guys who actually paid attention to me. I cooked for them and brought them beers and they repaid me with lusty stares and sweet talk. Two of the guys were Hispanic and would whisper naughty sounding Spanish in my ears sending shivers through my entire body. I must admit I found it strange that Dan never seemed jealous of all the flirting. I assumed he either didn't realize it was going on or just trusted me enough to not worry over it. In retrospect that assumption was naive but I was just a girl. What did I know?

One Saturday night Dan had planned a particularly wild party to celebrate the completion of a difficult block of training. Early in the day we made a trip across state lines into Louisiana to buy booze. At the time the drinking age there was 18 so we could by alcohol without a fake ID. By dinner time the boys were playing drinking games and I was feeling left out. I hadn't done much drinking so I was definitely what you'd call a "light-weight." I wanted to join in the fun so they taught me the rules of a game called "Quarters" and I began to play. Within a couple of hours I was drunk enough that I could not hold the shot glass anymore and Dan helped me get to our bed before I passed out. I was in and out of it while the party raged on around me. In the small hours of the morning it got a little quieter. Dan came in to give me a status report on everyone's drunkenness and large glass of vodka and orange juice. Everyone except for Dan and one of the Hispanic guys, Miguel, had passed out or taken a taxi home. Dan suggested I come back to the livingroom. After a short trip to the ladies room to try and freshen up I joined Miguel and Dan in the livingroom.

The two of them were studying a Hustler magazine from Dan's stash. My head was spinning and I suddenly felt like I had stumbled into quicksand. Dan elbowed Miguel and declared "Man, my wifes tits are bigger than this bitches!" Miguel exclaimed "No shit?" " For real vato," Miguel continued, slurring, "her titties are bigger than those?" They were discussing my tits like I wasn't even in the room. I was too drunk to be angry or embarrassed. Mostly I just felt confused. I wasn't sure I was really hearing any of it. Dan pulled me to him by my belt loop and told me to take off my shirt so he could prove his point. I resisted but he reassured me. I stripped off my t-shirt and Dan undid my bra so I was standing there, drunk and exposed.

The details of how we got from that point to the bed are still too fuzzy in my mind to write. The next thing I remember is being naked and the boys leaning over me in nothing but their boxers. They started kissing me and fondling my breasts. I said no and tried to push them off. Dan responded by telling me how sexy I was and Miguel agreed. I knew this behavior was fueled by alcohol and I was terrified of the consequences. At the same time I was honestly turned on. I'd never even considered being with two guys at the same time. The idea of being the center of their attention was even more intoxicating than the drinks I was still reeling from. I was too drunk to think clearly. I just gave in to what my body was saying and let it happen.

Again, my memory is somewhat foggy on the details of what they did to me and what I did to them. I know I took turns greedily sucking both of their cocks while they compared notes on my technique. I remember watching Dan jerk off as he watched Miguel fuck me with furious strokes. I remember trembling in fear when Dan ordered me on my hands and knees and began exploring my anatomy in ways I'd never allowed before. The last thing I recall from that night was being sandwiched between them, Miguel beneath me and Dan behind me. I was shocked when they both entered me. Dan had tried to talk me into anal before and I had never been able to relax and enjoy it. Now, in my inebriated state, Dan was slowly plunging deeper into my most guarded orifice while Miguel thrust his dick in and out of my wet pussy. Once I got over the new and frightening sensations I began to move with them and much to my surprise came not once but twice before they both pulled out and covered me in there appreciation.

The next day I woke up alone with Dan. Miguel had politely moved to the floor after we pulled ourselves apart. My head throbbed like someone was jack-hammering inside of it. I started to try and convince myself that the night before had been a bizarre vodka induced dream. But the evidence of our activity was all over me. Before the hang-over could fully take hold I turned to Dan and began apologizing for "letting it happen." I don't know why I thought it was my fault but I was sure I had done something I shouldn't have. Dan laughed at me and told me he loved every minute of it. He even thanked me for being "open" to it.

In retrospect, he probably should have been the one apologizing. At the time I decided that the easiest course of action would be to accept the experience and avoid blame. It was confusing. I knew it was an incident that would probably come back to haunt me but I couldn't deny the incredible pleasure of it. 11 years later I'm still not sure how I feel about what was only my first threesome. That night opened our marriage and pandora's box. It was an eye opening experience sexually but it was an emotional quagmire. After 4 years of very rocky marriage we were divorced and the scars from sharing our bed with Miguel (and eventually others) were visible on Dan and I both.

Maybe that's why I married a man who is Dan's exact opposite sexually. My husband believes in monogamy (even in thought) and is far from obsessed with sex. I appreciate the stability of our relationship. It's the right way to raise our daughter and it keeps me grounded. Not to mention, I really love my husband. He's my best friend. He understands me and knows my faults. He sees right through me and loves me anyway. That kind of relationship is hard to find. Still, I sometimes feel like I'm trying to squeeze into someone else's shoes. I seem to always be flirting with temptation, even if it's only in my head.


Saturday, September 25, 2004

Domestic Bliss...Sort of

I lovingly simmered a pot of chili all afternoon and the sweet perfume of garlic, cumin and tomatoes still lingers in the air. The left-overs have been tucked into thier plastic storage container and put to bed in the fridge. The dishes are done and my 2 year old is finally asleep after a minimum of whining and resisting. I am sitting in front of my laptop sipping a cup of chai tea made with real honey and real milk. No, honey isn't on my diet but Splenda just sucks. Other things that have gone into my mouth that weren't on my diet today include: 10 pringles, 1/2 bowl of coco puffs, 6 marshmallos which I roasted over the electric burner of my stove, and a fourth a cup of sour cream because the chili was just too spicy without it. There I've confessed. I should now be absolved of these caloric sins and lose at least one pound if I promise to say 5 Hail Marys and 5 Our Fathers.

So, despite my food issues you'd think I'd be in housewife heaven right about now huh? Well, I'm not. I think I'm still pissed because between the dog puking on the carpet all night last night and my daughter waking up 5 times I got a grand total of 45 minutes of sleep. Thank God my husband dragged himself out of bed at 9am today so I could take a nap this morning or I would have collapsed before dinner. I've also been secretly tortured by my husbands constant headache and general malaise. (If my husband is reading this: Hon, you might want to skip this segment.) He's been on the verge of or plagued by one of his headaches all week. Is it stress? Is it a migrane? Is it a defense against my sexual advances? Quite frankly, I think it's all three.

How often have you heard a woman make a statement like this "Gee, I've been begging Bob to let me give him a blowjob but he just doesn't feel up to it." Yeah. I know it's practically unheard of. I happen to marry the one man I ever met who could resist my sexual charms and yes, I have many. It's like the perpetual challenge of getting him to lose his composure and go wild with lust just made me want him more. Now that we're old married people and everything from parenting to paying the mortgage distracts us from our carnal desires he never initiates sex. Except when our child is away for the weekend or we're on vacation celebrating our anniversary. We still get it on once a week or so. I realize this is about average for a married couple with offspring (at least that's what I tell myself) but I always wish there was more and most of all I wish I didn't have to ask for it.

It's not really about the physical gratification either. I'm quite capable of physically gratifying myself. It's about being desired. I want to be wanted. There is nothing better than the look of lust in a man (or woman's) eyes when they look at you. It's not really about love either. My husband tells me he loves me everyday. We hug and hold hands and I know those gestures are heartfelt. It's about the intimacy that can only be achieved when you share your flesh, your fantasies, your climax. I think the situation is made worse by the gender dynamic. It makes me feel un-feminine to be the one who is constantly pursuing sex. I always believed that all men wanted sex all the time. I mean supposedly guys think about sex every 7 minutes, right? So, I can't help but wonder is it sex he isn't interested in or is it just me?

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