Posted by Lex Konrad in Meta | Apr 17, 2008
After years of helping women get in touch with their orgasms, my lovely wife is now blogging about bisexuality, non-monogamy, sex and toys over at the Bisexual Girls Club, her very own pleasure positive organization for bi women. Leslie often has a different take on things than I do, so those of you who are curious about how we navigate our open relationship should find plenty to compare and contrast. Please do drop “bi” (I know… I’m terrible) and say hello.
Posted by Lex Konrad in Sex | Apr 12, 2008
I’m too blunt to be the seductive one. I distract myself too easily. I’m too distant. As much as I like the idea of passion, as much as I admire, and envy, the overwhelming attractions that drive other people mad, I cannot work myself into a froth over someone else. Leslie, on the other hand, never fails to be passion and warmth and light.
It’s why we complement one another so well. I am the stunt-cock, the reinforcements women call in when they need a man who won’t take center stage. Leslie is the real draw: the girls cannot help themselves around her.
I am okay with this.
When Leslie calls, telling me to hurry it along, I know what is expected of me. Leslie’s date, a married woman who drove all the way in from Westchester, greets me with a smile that lets me know I’ve been evaluated for fuckability and have not been found wanting.
This is their second outing. The married girl is biracial and pretty and cinnamon-skinned. Her husband leaves her for weeks at a time.
It took me a long time to come around on the subject of married women — but don’t mistake me for a man of great principles. A married woman had a crush on me once; her husband, an ex-Marine, had a gun. I decided my time was better invested elsewhere.
They seem sweeter though, the married girls do. And they aren’t so shy about sex. For the married person the occasional romp in the nude isn’t as fraught with expectations. The scales of desire even out.
But this married suburbanite still understands the game. After she drives us home, when I’m down the street picking up mixers, she tells Leslie: “I don’t know if I’m comfortable doing anything with Lex.”
I know what’s expected of me. I am patient. I wait for her to ask. When I enter her she arches her back and grips the sheets. She doesn’t last long. Leslie and I fuck while the married girl plays with us both. In a fit of inspiration she reaches between my legs, uncouples me from Les and wraps her full lips around me.
She’s watching while I penetrate Leslie from behind. When I cannot hold out any longer I let the married girl finish me with her mouth, the brown-eyed stranger jerking me onto her playfully extended tongue. Her face is messy with pearlescent jizz. The girls kiss.
The women play and cuddle, oblivious to me now. I smile at them, my cock still twitching. Content that I’ve fulfilled my role in this sexual drama, I stroll into the kitchen and fix myself another drink.
Posted by Lex Konrad in Dispatches | Apr 10, 2008
There’s an old saying in Tennessee — I know it’s in Texas, probably in Tennessee — that says, fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can’t get fooled again.
-King George
Conventional wisdom tells us it is unwise to discuss politics on a date, but then again conventional wisdom elevated a dunce to the White House, so perhaps the concept is overrated.
My date (well, technically Leslie’s date), a tall, leggy surfer-girl with a taut, athletic frame, charmed me with her wit, each of her punchlines punctuated by a wry smile. She liked to tell dirty jokes. She didn’t take any shit.
And yet just when I began to daydream about offering her our spare bedroom she shattered my reverie with an offhand remark about the Iraq war. At the time, our Middle Eastern misadventure was but a gleam in every Neocon’s eye. It was, however, already a touchy subject for me.
“Excuse me,” I responded, hoping against hope that I may have simply misunderstood, “did you really just say you support this… folly in Iraq?”
She nodded, flashing me that wry smile again. A long argument ensued, neither of us gaining or giving ground.
“The pendulum swings both ways my dear,” I told her after we had exhausted our talking points. “This war — and you people will probably get your way — this war is going to be your undoing.”
Her knee bumped against mine. “I won’t hold it against you for being completely wrong if you don’t hold it against me for being completely right.”
Two weeks later she showed up at my birthday party wearing a form-fitting dress. When she settled next to me she laid a hand upon my inner thigh. She was such a sweet girl in all the ways that mattered. How could I possibly regret waking up next to her in the morning?
We never did discuss politics again. It was probably for the best. In our little cold war of words, we had reached a sexy detente.
