Sex and the Academic

First of all, apologies that these entries are running heavily tilted towards being written by me (George). The point of this blog is for us to be reminiscing together about past experiences, and hopefully to explore our two different (but highly compatible!) approaches to sex and sexuality in th econtext of a committed, lifelong, open relationship. But Alison is crazy busy right now, and I’ve got a lot of free time at the moment. What can you do.

Anyways, I think it would be nice to relate the story of our very first threesome. There is obviously so much background to our relationship that is crucial to these stories, and would in many ways heighten the eroticism. Hopefully over time, these details will fill themselves in. One thing you should know about the following story is that it was our very first time sleeping with an extra person. It was also Alison’s first time having penetrative sex with a man other than me. And finally, it was the first time I was with another man in a very long time!

We’d started with an ad on Craig’s List: I don’t remember the actual text, but it was something along the lines of “couple looking to explore, open to just about anything.” Our newly-inaugurated anonymous hotmail account was flooded with responses from men, some of whom we corresponded with a bit. One older gentleman offered to pay us $150 to sleep with him, which, to be honest, was tempting both for the money and the illicitness! But one email stuck out at us. It was from a guy about our age, who had just returned home from Iraq. To prove it, he’d sent us a picture of himself in uniform, holding a large gun. This is exactly what were looking for, frankly. Half the fun of meeting strangers for sex is the chance to meet people you’d never meet otherwise in your day to day life. We’re both latte-sipping members of the coastal elite, and neither of really knew any members of the military, let alone someone who had been in Iraq.

Plus, he was hot. His face was not his strong point, rough and cragged with protuding teeth. But in addition to the picture with the gun was another he’d taken himself with his arm stretched out. His body was smooth and clean-shaven, his muscles glistening in the flash. His cock lolled insolently out of a patch of red pubic hair. Clever move, that. Every time a guy sends you a picture of his penis, it’s always erect. Sometimes, when a cock is large, and perfect, and beautiful, that can work. But an erect penis shows every imperfection. You can see if it bends weirdly, or has a kink. Misshaven hairs are pushed into relief. Penises of the smaller variety show their inusfficiency. Any irregularity is pushed into utmost clarity by the rush of blood.

Not that you want a fully limp dick either. Nobody likes a limp dick. So our military friend sent us the perfect picture: stiffened, thick, but not fully erect. His cock was engorged with the promise of sex, but also implying there was more work to be done.

We wrote back, and then talked on the phone. Alison did the talking–I’m rather shy–and he seemed to be pleasantly surprised that she was in charge. We agreed to meet a hip wine bar nearby, promising that there would be no sex, just talking about what we would like to do.

I tell you, we were nervous. It seems silly now, but I managed to convince myself that our man was actually kids playing a joke. I was sure that we would show up at the bar and there would be some sort of Punk’d camera crew waiting to embarrass us.

Luckily, this was not the case. Our man–he’s clearly going to need a name, so let’s call him…Chris–turned out to be quite nice. Nervous himself, and with a goofy face. But he also had broad shoulders, and when he looked at Alison he would occasionally lick his lips unconsciously. He asked us what we wanted to do, and we hemmed and hawed. The focus, we explained, was to be on Alison. We wanted this initial experience to be about her, for the most part. Beyond that, we were open to just about anything. No anal for her, though, unless it was coming from me–we’d only recently started having anal sex, and her poor little asshole was nervous at the though of anybody else messing with it. And although both Chris and I were bi, this was a somewhat complicated issue for me at the time, and it wasn’t the right moment for me to be exploring that. Which was fine by him, I think–he’s in the military, and I could tell that his sexuality was…complicated. So, emphasis on pleasing Alison, whatever else happens is just bonus.

All bases covered, we set a date for the following week. We’d meet at his apartment. We’d bring a bottle of wine. And then, we’d all fuck.

Tune in later for Part 2!