adventures at the poly mixer

The other night I went to a poly party with a married guy I’m dating. It was extremely fun.

I paid for all his drinks because he asked and because I was his sugar momma. That was delicious. He knew several people at the party. I was nervous but still enjoyed meeting (and flirting with) everyone.

Then my date went to the bathroom. The second he left, another guy I’d been sleeping with appeared with his girlfriend. It was the first time I was meeting her. They were both shockingly awkward and introverted. She glommed onto me and said it was hard to talk to people. She was not wrong.

The last time I’d seen her boyfriend, I was sucking his cock in my apartment and feeling weird about it.

He had told me stories about her. That she would bring women over to their apartment for them both to sleep with. That she’d alert him about this with a text that said “yay daddy, sluts!” The first photo of her I saw was of her asshole. What can we say, her boyfriend is a charmer. No he isn’t.

Now I was meeting her, and she was wearing a long black turtleneck, talking about how terrible alpha men are, holding onto my arm.

We are multidimensional.

When my date re-emerged, E and his girlfriend disappeared. My date suddenly needed to leave because his wife had texting saying she was sick. He did not seem happy about this. I mean why would you. But apparently he had wanted to invite himself over to my place. Instead we snuck in some kisses at the subway.

When I got home, I felt like electricity was sparking out of me. Adventure and potential. Who knows.

but that’s okay right?

You’re in a boat and I’m swimming out to it. But the water gets deeper quickly. Soon I am gasping with nothing to hold onto, and you have gotten no closer.

I push forward until my arm muscles burn. Waves are constantly coming at me. Sometimes I float above them, and sometimes I submit to them. I cough and flail.

Meanwhile you are teasing me with your invitations. It’s been so long. You’ve missed me so. Once I get there everything will feel so good. We will melt into each other like we did before, will go even further beyond what we did before. You didn’t actually disappear; you were just too far out on the horizon to see, but you wanted me there the whole time.

I’m so close, and when I come it will be amazing.

Water stings my eyes but I push ahead. Fueled by lust and fantasy and promise.

I open my eyes and you are pulling up your anchor. The boat is leaving. Plans have changed. You’re so sorry we keep missing each other.

Then you disappear. And the shore is so far away.

queer guilt

I was supposed to have a date with a beautiful girl on Saturday and I just cancelled. I feel like a monster.

The same thing happened that has happened before. Swipe right, stunned by her photos and her hair and her face. Chat chat. Number exchange. Find out she is lonely/looking for something serious/monogamous. Realize she is getting excited about this date. Panic, cancel, block.


Better to do that now though than to go along with it and hurt her later.

I have done that before too.

In my old city, I once had dinner with an extremely sexy lesbian. The conversation was so good and she was sweet and so pretty. Then on the night of our second date I sent a really long text about how I couldn’t do this. I remember clutching my own chest and wincing right before I sent it. As if I was giving myself a heart attack.

How do you go so quickly from an excellent first date to a humongous wall of panic and then a freak-out-and-cancel?

For me it happens right in between that excited glint in her eye, and that rising wall of dread over inevitably disappointing her. By not being “experienced” enough or committed enough, or being a selfish lover or too committed to my friends or I don’t know, any of the other weird accusations my ex-girlfriend threw to me at 3 am right before we broke up.

There’s a lot to unpack.

I’ve been hurt by women I dated, and I haven’t exactly faced all of that. If anything, I’ve run away and ignored what I’m feeling there. I’ve also doubted my own bisexuality in moments like this, and I know that self-erasure is really the last thing we need in an already biphobic society.

If I’m not queer, why do I keep getting myself into situations like this? Why do I keep getting crushes on women and swiping right on them?

Testing the waters of solo poly seemed like a good way to dive into this. This way it’s possible to enjoy women (and men and everyone, yay) and not crush feelings by not wanting an exclusive relationship.

Yes there’s still the unknown and that’s nerve wracking. But there doesn’t have to be so much overwhelming *expectation.* We can connect and find each other fascinating and enjoy what it’s like to touch each other, and even keep in regular contact afterwards. And that doesn’t mean we’re now married.

Anyway that’s where I am. It’s always better to just be honest. Turn that spotlight on your monster self and maybe see that it isn’t really so heinous.

yet another sexual misadventure

God I don’t even know where to begin. In the past 2 weeks, I have had more sex, with more people, than I had previously had in the past six years.

Wow it sounds dramatic when phrased that way.

I’m just going to write about one of the sexual partners for now. Wow, this is a multi-chapter story.

Chapter E.

E met me at a bar in a white line suit and immediately gave my a look like he wanted to fuck me. He is in an open relationship so I felt like the stakes were low. All this made me feel at ease. I’d told myself I didn’t even want to sleep with him.

Cut to me naked in my apartment, and him holding me by the hair and telling me how fucking pretty I am.

E invited me to a sex party that was happening a couple days later. I giddily said yes. Oh my gosh yes.

The next morning I woke up hungover, beating the hell out of myself. Oh so you’re just a straight-up slut now huh? But nothing bad had happened, no one got hurt, and I was doing what I wanted.

I was so nervous in the lead-up to the party. But curious too.

On Saturday night he showed up in another linen suit and a straw hat. It was a 20’s-themed sex party. He was nervous too. But he had taken a beta blocker and brought joints.

The ride over to Brooklyn was surprisingly sweet. The sun was setting over the city and it looked beautiful from the bridge we drove across.

He looked at my knee, bare under my dress, and asked if I’d had surgery. I said yes and he gently traced circles over my knee. I sighed.

The party was a lot. I was anxious and almost bailed before we even got there. There was food and booze and gorgeous people. E wanted to fuck me in front of all of them, and it was freaking me out.

In the basement, several beds were pushed together like a stage, full of people fucking while other people (me) watched.

One woman looked like a blonde, strong, tan porn star. She looked gorgeous even while getting her face pounded into a mattress. While she was getting railed, the strand of pearls she was wearing broke and scattered all over the bed. It was just beautiful.

Oh my god I can’t do this.

E kept pawing at me, kissing me, trying to get me to have sex with him right there, and I kept saying no. We found a semi-private corner (that still had tons of people walking by). His member was out and I stared at it for a long time, then with a sigh I knelt down and… well, you know.

We moved again, to a red room with restraints and a bed and another couple fucking fight next to us. E pushed me onto the bed. I was starting to feel better, possibly even comfortable. He got on top of me and we kissed for a while.

“Were you scared that you were about to fuck me out the window?” said the woman next to us, to the man who was inside her.

And that’s when E admitted that he couldn’t do this either.

We left the party and went to my apartment, where I went down on him for much longer. He growled things at me in a much deeper, primal voice than how he usual sounds. That growl called me a cocksucker, and I was surprised by how deeply I enjoyed being called that.

Who would’ve known. The night you go to a second party, the hottest stuff happens in your own apartment.

perhaps my craziest fantasy ever (extremely nsfw)

I just had a fantasy where I split into two people.

One of my selves was a Domme.

My other self was a sub.

Domme Me was fucking my sub self with a strap-on.

And sub me was moaning/mewling in ecstasy all while Domme Me was taunting and tantalizing you.

You were in the corner watching us (the two me’s). You were naked and your cock was in a chastity device. You were groaning. You couldn’t tear your eyes away.

“Pretty amazing how I’m fucking her so much better than you’ll ever be able to, huh?” Domme Me hissed at you. “She’s so far gone that even if you touched her she wouldn’t even register it. Try it.”

You came out of your corner then. You came and started touching, kissing sub me from behind. And sub me did not acknowledge you. sub me just kept moaning.

“That’s enough.” Domme Me said. “No need to waste any more of your energy while I’m fucking her like this. I’m sliding in and out of her, in and out, and it feels so perfectly good that her mind is just dissolving.”

You groaned again.

“You know she feels so good that she doesn’t even know you’re there.” Domme Me said.

“Yes.” you said.

Domme Me returned focus to sub me. “That’s right sweetie, feeling so good now as you feel me fucking you even longer and deeper than ever before. Longer and deeper than anyone has ever before. Feeling so good, feeling so much pleasure.”

sub me responded with a blissful moan and eye roll.

“She can’t even think.” Domme Me said to you. “You know it’s true, don’t you.”


“And you know that you feel so good,” said Domme Me, “that you can’t think either. Isn’t that right.”

“Yes.” you said.

“And you know what that means.” said Domme Me. “It means that I control you too. Doesn’t it.”

“Yes.” you said.

“Yes what.”

“Yes Mistress.”

And then I came.

this is new and wild

I know I’m coming in hot from a lot of different angles this weekend. Gay feels and sad feels.

Well now get ready for some first date/sex-for-the-first-time-in-over-a-year feels.

What would you guess the first thing he did to me was, after pulling off my clothes?

The correct answer: eating my ass.

And that was just the *first* thing!

It was all so hot and all felt so good, I overrode my typical intense awareness/shame of my own body and just went with it.

4 hours of fucking later, I found my sweaty self out of breath and wrapped in a pair of warm, strong arms. Several hours after that, it was morning and we were having sex again.

I love how post-sex when, while you go about your day like normal, various parts of your body still feel tender and vulnerable. For me it’s my neck. Because I told him to bite it, and he’s a very good listener.

Once I was back home, I looked him up on the internet, and that was a mistake. It turns out he is an Incredibly Successful Person and this is very intimidating. His apartment was beautiful so I had a hunch that something was up, and sure enough, it was.

So I’m dealing with that. In the meantime he is really nice and wants to see me again, and that makes me feel warm. So we’ll just take it from there.

back to the kinda gay stuff huh

If you’ve been following the drama that is this blog lately, you might be surprised to know that while having feelings for an unavailable man, tonight I also managed to get hurt by an unavailable woman from work who I used to have a crush on but hadn’t seen in years.

Well it turns out she has also been with women.

We were out at a bar with friends and she mentioned having sex with a couple once. To which I replied “Honestly? Same.” And the entire table erupted into laughter. I usually never tell people about being bi, ESPECIALLY not work people.

So at one point the two of us were at the table alone (…in retrospect had the two straight girls gone to talk about us? Me? Who knows, probably not) when I offered the following:

Me: haha that was funny

Her: what?

Me: both of us dating couples

Her: (paraphrased) oh yeah, I mostly just date guys but I wanted to try it. I went out with a girl once and she was more into it than I was and I think I hurt her feelings. But I’ve usually just made out with them.

Me: (feeling super embarrassed and rejected and vulnerable without actually having said anything) ……….hahahaha me too! I tried to date women and had a girlfriend who was kind of abusive and I just always felt like I was disappointing them.

Her: (says something I don’t hear because I can’t believe I just divulged all that)

And then our straight friends came back. It wasn’t that they were weirded out. I was weirded out.

Talking about girls feels so vulnerable and embarrassing. I watched The Happiest Season and realized that I was Harper in that movie. No one wants to be Harper. It’s scary to be Harper and you end up hurting people. Ugh.

Does everyone feel like they don’t know what they’re doing? And just accidentally hurt people without meaning to? We are all doing our best and just soft loving vulnerable creatures who hurt and get hurt.

how fascinating

We met for a first date at the pier. We talked forever, watching as the sun went down and the city lit up.

Your fingernails were painted black. At one point we talked about tattoos. I don’t have any but I want some. You have a few. Some on your hands and your arm. Some in more hidden places.

You described one that you wanted to get next. A thin line that starts at your wrist and goes all the way up to your shoulder.

You traced the line slowly up your arm. And my eyes widened with a sudden thought.

Oh my god I want to fuck this person.

Now I remember that feeling. It is fiery and uncomfortable and can make you feel crazy. But maybe we are not crazy.

You gave a really good hug.