Friday, July 17, 2009

The Second One

Maybe a month after our first swinging experience, we had our second one. It was mostly born of our sense of balance and fairness. Though I had nearly fumbled it entirely, I had just had my first experience with two women, and my wife was entitled to the inverse indulgence. Moreover, she’d just had her first bisexual experience and it seemed like I should try the same. I’m not sure exactly how interested I was in that as much as I was interested in the idea of it. You don’t know that you don’t like something until you try it and I was harboring the notion that the only truly complete people in this world are bisexual.

So we found a bi-curious male online. He was perhaps a year or two older than we were. We met him at the hotel and spent a substantial portion of the evening just sitting around the hotel room talking. As luck would have it, we learned that he was friends with one of my wife’s cousins. He had also gone to the same college as us, but we had never seen him there. We had a few friends in common. These uncomfortable realizations were made relatively early in the evening. They tripped us up a little, but we decided not to abort. All of the people that we had in common were very liberal and open-minded; we weren’t that scared of any information finding its way back to them.

Just like our first experience, it took quite a while to get anything sexual happening. There was still no alcohol involved. In retrospect, that fact still amuses me. It’s a strange experience the very first time you watch another man fuck your wife or girlfriend (and I would imagine the inverse to be true). It’s kind of exciting and a little distressing all at once. I recommend it for absolutely everybody. It’s one of those intense epiphanies that you can only achieve by direct experience. It’s another facet of your significant other (and yourself) that has to be learned if you’re really going to know them completely and cement your relationship. And, beyond the bizarre cocktail of excitement and violation that you experience, you are also confronted with your own homosexuality. Even if you don’t touch that person at all, you’re still watching them. You’re willfully naked and aroused in the same room.

I actually had an easier time getting into it this time around. I think it may have been easier for me because I felt less pressure. I didn’t have to perform for anybody other than my wife, which I had done countless times in the past. She, of course, took to the whole thing very well. She managed both he and I without difficulty. It’s remarkable how much less fettered by inhibition and corny social posturing women can be. I don’t believe that women are any more intelligent or emotional than men by nature. I think in the process of becoming a man, emotional intelligence is deliberately groomed away, like dogs that get their tails docked. In less civilized times this practice may have been advantageous, but now it seems like an antiquated expression of a prejudicial notion of what a man should be. It’s stupid.

About halfway through the act, the subject of male/male interaction arose. I had almost forgotten about that component of the evening and would have been content to just let it go. Now, confronted with it, I had to give it some immediate consideration. Very quickly I came to the conclusion that I couldn’t just walk away from this opportunity to learn without extracting all the possible knowledge to be gained in it. I can be weirdly mechanical that way. I agreed, though we kept everything oral. I don’t think either one of us could have done anything beyond that. I know I couldn’t have.

Suffice it to say that I gained a great appreciation for the art of fellatio. It’s strange, and fucking difficult. It was also interesting to learn that head is head. It feels no different whether it’s administered by one gender or another. However, once again, my neurotic tendencies prevented me from actually enjoying the experience. The male/male portion of the evening was short-lived and clumsy, though my wife enjoyed watching it. Graciously, she spared us the burden of any further awkward attempts at homosexuality and finished us both off.It wasn’t what I’d call a disastrous experience, but from my perspective it was kind of rough. Everything after this would get progressively easier, though it would be quite a while before I would do anything else with another man.

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