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| Blogs > Dustcover > The Great Adventure |
Crawl, walk, run....
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Crawl, walk, run.... There really “should be” a training wheels kind of program for anything. “Should be,” being the central idea, because in fact when you are talking about meeting people you don’t know for sexual encounters what you actually have is a sort of an elementary school playground situation. People from all levels of life experience, from scene virgins to hardcore gangbangers, find themselves in the same area at the same time and there is really no way to tell who is who. Also everyone usually wants to be more grown up and bigger than what they actually are. Nobody wants to write a profile that boils down to “no fucking clue”, and as a result they may portray themselves as being rough and ready. The “My wife loves to suck cock” thing when she is uncertain about being on the site at all springs to mind. The other direction frequently seen is the, “friends, maybe more,” gambit, where people will actual trade e mails and pictures, and in some cases even meet, seeking the adventure but having no intentions of following through. They will meet people, and talk for hours about how fucked up the swinger scene is, and then go home and fuck each other raw using the “close call” as fuel. Now this may seem like absolute gender bias but I will tell you from our experience that time after time what we have seen is horny guys showing up with a wife who is plainly having serious doubts about the whole thing. I am not calling anybody a liar or a sissy here. Any wife who is remotely familiar with guys and their impulses understands the risk she is taking. You don’t lightly trade the conventional prospect of a secure, sane, and clear cut relationship, even if it has become a bit boring, for the great unknown that getting it on with other people represents. You are risking a metric buttload of potential hurt feelings, trust issues, and the basic premise of the monogamous relationship itself on one impulsive throw of the dice. Once done it cannot be undone. Great adventure indeed. Regardless of fairness or equality, or any of the other “should be” concepts, guys will always reserve the right to be irresponsibly horny mainly to themselves. We are all fairly sure that we can get some strange on the side without it changing our feelings for our partner. Hell, we fuck girls we don’t like, and enjoy it completely. Having a partner who is openly and genuinely happy about the idea of strange cock is almost never what a guy goes looking for in a life partner. I can attest that you can get used to it, but at least for me it did in fact take some getting used to. I was fortunate enough to have a partner who was in no doubt about where she wanted to go, and I was down in principle, but I also had the veto power, and although I thought I was good with the plan, I was aware of the no take backs nature of what we were proposing. Now after several close call encounters where we had couples over and the action was limited to touchy feely games, I was becoming frustrated with the whole idea. The idea of what might result from my wife having sex with other people, and repeatedly psyching myself up for it, only to run into another close call, was taking its toll. I had expected to feel relief that not much actually happened, but in one memorable case was actually thinking, “please just fuck the guy and have done with it”. This may have had something to do with the visitor wife who was standing fully dressed in the corner stating that she “just wanted to watch.” Yes, the adventure will take you some fucked up places. We knew what we were trying to do, but we were looking for a no fault risk free way to do it. And there isn’t one. Then the great idea occurred. What I was looking for was an anonymous sexual encounter where no emotional attachment existed, and there was no danger of fouled up alternative relationship issues getting thrown into the mix. Yes, what we were looking for ultimately was people who we could have that sort of ongoing relationship with, but I first had to make certain that I wasn’t the poser. It became fairly obvious that in our case I was the stick in the mud, and in order to get unstuck I was going to have to take some action. The problem was simple. How do you find an acceptable guy to fuck your wife that has no previous connection, no expectation of a return engagement or ongoing arrangement, and effectively ceases to exist without evidence the moment the deed is done, preferably without bringing a stun gun and cement overshoes into the equation. The answer was obvious, inelegant, and completely scared the crap out of me. My wife likes toys and in small town America there are a limited number of places that sell them. In her shopping travels with a girlfriend she had found our local adult book store, and become immediately fascinated. Now you have to understand my wife is not Barbie. She is physically imposing, and a veteran of men’s hockey in Canada, as well as raves, concerts, biker parties, and a life lived both on the streets and in the wild places of the world. She will without hesitation go into any area not well marked with crime scene tape if her curiosity is peaked. The back room video area of the adult bookstore is dark, dingy, and has a variety seedy characters lurking about attempting invisibility. The place had always made me profoundly uneasy even when I was alone, and I had never found reason to go back there. So as is her nature, my Canadian flower grabbed her unfortunate accomplice firmly by the arm and ventured into the lurker infested darkness with a handful of tokens to explore the possibilities. I got a full report upon her return home, both from the wife and her shell shocked looking friend, on what was actually concealed in the darkness. Now I am not a timid sort but neither do I go looking for trouble and the place sounded to me like the very depths of the in towns shadowy gay scene, and I was really not in a big hurry to become further acquainted. The wife was however fascinated. The girl has always had a bit of an exotic dark streak, which has led to anxious moments and great fun in probably equal measure. Now I have probed the red light districts on three continents, and have seen things that are simply illegal in the United States offered as light entertainment, but I was completely ignorant of the bookstore arcade thing. It didn’t seem dangerous to me, and I didn’t feel like I was walking my wife into a men’s prison in a bikini. As with many forms of wildlife the population of the bookstore are more scared of you than you are of them as a rule. Still a dark place that smells of nameless sexual activities, where the scurry from the light, is not something that would have occurred to me on their own. My wife assured me however that she and her friend had not been approached much less harassed by anybody there and that although the men of the gloom watched carefully to notice what booth they entered, it had seemed a harmless if nasty environment. There may be an opportunity here I thought…. |
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