[NEW] My husband wants to watch me have sex with someone else—but I’m afraid I’m a little too into it. | sammyboy – Vietnamnhanvan

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How to Do It is Slate’s sex advice column. Send your questions for Stoya and Rich to [email protected].

Dear How to Do It,

I am in my mid-30s and happily married to my husband for five years. We have a toddler and a fantastic sex life—better even than pre-parenthood. I had an intense crush on my husband for a long time before we hooked up, and he still gives me butterflies on a regular basis. We are very open with sharing our desires and fantasies, and we communicate really well about our sex life. This has led to us trying things for the first time that were unspoken desires in past relationships, and just generally having a lot of fun together in bed. 

One of the things we’ve discussed semi-seriously is my husband watching while I have sex with another man. He says this would be a huge turn-on, and I am certainly turned on by the prospect. We’ve also talked about our fears and reservations about actually following through with such an arrangement, so for now this fantasy is fulfilled by simply talking about it (what would turn us on, what I would do, what I’d want the guy to do to me, etc.). Where I’m struggling especially with this idea is that as much as I am genuinely turned on by my husband, I still find myself developing crushes/admiring other men. The biggest turn on for me in this whole fantasy is thinking about the rush of sleeping with someone new for the first time—basically the excitement that comes with the whole gamut of experiencing new sensations with someone unfamiliar to you. While my husband views this as perhaps a one-time thing, it has highlighted to me that I am regularly turned on by the thought of sleeping with someone else. My question is—why do I still develop crushes and find myself pretty strongly attracted to other men when my husband already ticks all of the boxes? Is this craving for novelty a sign that things aren’t as perfect as I think they are, or is this normal? If so, how do I remain happy in a monogamous marriage (I’m not open to opening up our marriage) when I crave this novelty?

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—Wandering Eye

Dear Wandering Eye,

I don’t know “normal,” never met her, never even sat next to her on the subway. What I do know is that a lot of people crush on others outside their completely healthy relationship. Why wouldn’t they? Strangers can provide one thing your partner cannot: newness. With that comes a thrill. Thrills are fun. People have cited animal studies to argue for the biological imperative of promiscuity (even in females of the species), but I think common sense does plenty of the heavy lifting in explaining the draw of the other, no red flour beetle data needed.

Could you be inherently nonmonogamous? Maybe! There are plenty of people among us who develop not mere crushes but intense love for others outside of their primary relationships. The nice thing about life is also the daunting thing about life: There’s no blueprint. You feel what you feel, and if it’s not affecting your sex life with you partner—which I’m assuming it isn’t, given your report that it’s fantastic—this isn’t anything to worry about or a reflection of a deeper issue. You’re a human, after all.

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The fantasizing about having him watch you have sex with another guy seems a bit fraught—you have both anxiety about doing it and also about continuing it. Just make sure you’re taking this slowly and keeping it from getting out of hand. Keep talking about this stuff. If you want to kick it up a notch, go out together and flirt with other people. Nothing serious, no promises, just a little light social frottage to get the juices flowing. You didn’t ask, but it sounds to me like you’re on the path to making your fantasy a reality. Keep up the communication, keep your eyes on your objective, have fun, and when the fun stops, let that be your signal to stop as well.

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Dear How to Do It,

I’m a cis hetero (with the occasional bi fantasy) woman in my 30s. My sex life has always been active but bland, which is … fine, I guess, but I want better and am newly in a position to explore. I’m excited for an upcoming date with a man I have a lot of chemistry with, but there’ve been a couple steamy phone calls that have me really doubting myself. He has been so specific, sexy, and confident describing all kinds of foreplay that sounds wonderful. He clearly enjoys the build-up and pleasuring each other in many ways, not just the actual sex itself—honestly, I can’t wait.

Make this burgeoning sexual relationship your

 

playpen.

But I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing! For 15 years, with every partner, I’ve always skipped straight to the main event. A couple minutes of fondling, OK, then stick it in. I figured that’s what they wanted. Now, beyond regular penetration and blow jobs, I’ve got nothing in my repertoire—I’ve literally never even given a hand job. Also, while I have no trouble bringing myself to orgasm alone, I’ve never gotten off with a partner (or even with one in the room). It’s just never been the focus I guess. So … what do men like, beyond and before the sex itself? What kind of foreplay do you recommend? And any suggestions on upping my odds of an orgasm? I’m not a prude, but I feel like an absolute rookie here.

See also  10 WORST Champions YOU SHOULD AVOID Going Into Patch 11.24 - League of Legends Predictions | lol champions

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—Rookie of the Year

Dear Rookie of the Year, 

What do men like? I’ve noticed that most that I’ve come across want a dick in their butt. That’s not very helpful for you! And I hope it shows why I cannot tell you what you or your partner will be into. You have to explore that for yourself. Luckily, you’ve got the perfect forum for that. Make this burgeoning sexual relationship your playpen. Learn through trial and error. If you can, just let yourself go and do what feels right. You’ve never given a hand job, so give one! Make out, play with his nipples, eat his ass, have him eat yours. The sky is the limit here. If this sounds too intimidating, just defer to him. Follow his lead. You could even exploit your novice status into some roleplay in which he’s the instructor. You know, if that sounds like something you’d be into. You said he’s been quite specific on the phone—have him put his money where his mouth is.

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It also sounds like you don’t have much experience kissing, which for a lot of people is what foreplay is all about. So explore that.

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In terms of upping your odds for an orgasm, I’d feel it out. Give this guy a chance, and see if he can honk your horn. If you sense no real movement there, attempt to integrate what is working for you solo, whether you’re using a toy or just your hands or whatever you do. Don’t feel embarrassed about it—so many people do this to climax during sex and, remember, this is for you. You get to help make the rules here. Your best bet is to relax and not put so much pressure on yourself to come. Now is the time to let the fun come to you.

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Dear How to Do It,

My boyfriend has death grip syndrome. His dick is basically dead from jerking off too hard, too often. We have sex all the time—endless, pounding sex. While some might think this sounds great, for me it gets boring and later painful, as he pounds and pounds and never finishes. I don’t even think he can feel it, although I am fairly tight and also use Kegel pressure. I love giving head and do it all the time, but he can’t come and never wants me to stop, so I go until my jaw aches. I jerk him off until my arm hurts. He just never wants it to stop and never finishes. I love him, I get off with him all the time, and I find him endlessly sexy. He is hard and ready to go all the time. I suggested he ease up on jerking off so intensely and give his dick a chance to feel something other than his hand, but he said he just really likes jerking off.

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My vagina hurts so much I have been using lube 24/7, even at work, just to keep it from bursting into flames. I don’t want to start dreading sex with him, but sometimes I feel aggravated. I always call a halt when it gets too painful, and he gets frustrated, which in turn makes me resentful (as I go ice down my undercarriage). Help?

—Gripping

Dear Gripping,

Reading this made my vagina hurt, and I don’t even have one. Ouch.

There’s some controversy regarding the actual existence of death-grip syndrome (I don’t know of any major medical bodies that recognize it as an actual condition), and the Mayo Clinic does not list masturbation as one of the potential causes of delayed ejaculation. But I think messing with masturbation technique is always worth a try—good to shake things up in attempt to dishabituate. I’m with you in that I suspect his habits could very well be affecting your sex life and, perhaps even more urgently, your physical comfort. Something’s gotta change. He should maybe even talk to a therapist about this. Orgasms aren’t everything, but his insistence on eternal pounding with no climax sounds potentially compulsive.

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Your body may be telling you that you aren’t compatible with his sexual tastes. I can’t diagnose you as incompatible, but it seems that’s what you two very well could be. I think you should approach him again and more firmly about a trial moratorium on masturbation for you to see what happens. If he won’t or, even more detrimentally, can’t, that tells you a lot about him and could help inform whether you want to stay in this relationship. Right now, you’re paying too high a price for this sex life with him. Have a serious conversation, intensify it with an ultimatum, if necessary, and in the meantime, have yourself a good sitz bath or 12.

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—Rich

Advice From Dear Prudence

My boyfriend and I have been together for over two years. Around 10 months ago we moved in together. Things have been pretty normal except one thing. Let me tell you first that I grew up in a house where we did not speak of bathroom behavior. As a result of that, I am quite uncomfortable talking about going number two. I am as secretive as I can be when I have to do my duty. Now that “Ron” and I are living together, I have to divulge certain information on a need-to-know basis. More specifically, if I have diarrhea. These times I have had to explain, “You may not want to go in there for a while.” The weird thing is, 15 minutes or so after telling him such, Ron initiates sex. I find it gross and confusing. He knows how uncomfortable I feel as it is. This has happened four times so far. He denies a pattern or that it’s unusual. Am I the one being weird about this?

[NEW] My First Sex Party Experience With Strangers At A Dingy Hotel In Geylang | sammyboy – Vietnamnhanvan

Attending A Sex Party In Geylang

“Would you be open to a swing party?”

Up until that moment, all the swing I knew was of the dance variety. But given the nature of my relationship with Nick, this definitely wasn’t an invitation to bop to jazz.

Nick and I had connected on Tinder over profane, sacrilegious innuendos, involving self-flagellation, prostration and holy sutras to finding enlightenment in the bedroom. He showed me his contraband political literature, revealed he’d dropped out of an elite school, and did hard drugs every now and then. He was the poster child for the Singaporean bad boy, a puritan’s worst nightmare. We’d meet every few weeks to mess around, talk about group sex and how to get high.

Nick once said, “Intelligent people are more experimental with life, and bolder with drugs and sex.” It was a pompous thing to say, especially since he was referencing himself, but he did just prove he had the resourcefulness to get us swing party invites.

“Where’d you find these people?”

“Sammyboy Forum,” he declared smugly.

A few weeks prior, Nick had begun trawling the forum, looking for (legit) listings under the category “Orgies/Swinging/Fuck-Buddies/Sugar-Daddies? It’s All Here!”. Bypassing the leceh process of crafting bios, swiping and banal banter, people on Sammyboy aren’t wasting any time on foreplay or decorum. The listing is literally ASL HMU. The site’s aesthetic says it all.

Sex party

Source

If Seeking Arrangement, Pornhub and HardwareZone had a threesome baby

Nick proceeded to show me a photo of the swing organisers: A selfie of a couple in their early thirties at the beach. I’d imagined hipsters with full sleeve tattoos or hippies with shaggy hair and baggy boho outfits. But these two looked like your everyday Singaporeans, the kind you’re sure you’ve crossed paths with on the MRT to work.

Seeing their faces meant shit was getting real. But sex parties were never a high-priority experience on my bucket list.

“Go recce by yourself first,” I suggested, like it was a site visit.

“Girls can go alone. But guys HAVE to bring a girl along. Otherwise all the coffeeshop chee ko peks would just conveniently show up for some.”

Whether this was some made-up excuse to convince me to go or a requirement set out by an under-the-table swing party association, I had no way of knowing. But I knew if I returned to the motions of online dating after coming so close to this new corruptive force, I’d be haunted by the regret of an opportunity lost. #fomo

I agreed and we RSVPed.

The day of the party

The fateful day arrived. Nick and I convened at a bus stop near the fuck-spot. I realised it was the first time I’d seen him in daylight.

Who would choose to meet at 1pm on a weekday afternoon? Do people take regular AL/MC for sexy time? And why Geylang?? My mind buzzed with logistical questions that distracted from the serious existential questioning of my absurd life choice of agreeing to this meeting at the edge of Singapore’s red-light district.

With the venue being so historically (in)appropriate, under any other circumstance, I’d have been cracking bad jokes to shake off the nerves. But I took to watching passing cars, wondering who else was driving to meet us. Even smart-mouthed Nick was oddly quiet, chain-smoking the entire way down Lorong 4, to the block of service apartments.

We reached the building, walked up the stairs. This was it. We knocked and entered the room.

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Meeting the organisers

The curtains were drawn, it was dimly lit and there were two queen-sized beds, shrouded in a haze of cigarette smoke. There they were, the organisers, the couple from the photo, still fully clothed.

Good, we weren’t late to the party.

“Come on in, you guys,” the man beckoned.

If there was a memo explaining proper sex party etiquette, we never got it. We started making formal, proprietous introductions, even shook hands. We awkz AF. As much as Nick and I attempted to be verbose, the old birds, Trevor and Bridget, picked up on our uneasiness. They told us they’d been swinging for years and “Aiya, first time will be like this one, lah!”

They told us four more people were coming, so we had to get comfortable and “make friends” while waiting.

Trevor started the ball rolling. He was a property agent, and a chatty one at that. We asked him if he’d ever hosted a party in properties he’s handled. He laughed it off, saying it would be “unprofessional”. The cheeky glint in his eyes implied otherwise.

We then asked what was the relationship status between him and Bridget.

“Sometimes, couples are husband-wife or GF-BF. But Bridget’s not my wife; she’s my swing partner, my partner-in-crime for 6 years now. My wife doesn’t know…”

I was trying my best to approach this experience with a certain open-mindedness and had no business moralising while on this hedonistic pursuit. But I just couldn’t help feeling disturbed that men could blindside their wives like this. Or make strangers like me, unwitting third-parties.

Trevor said he and Bridget would meet their swing friends outside, eat at Hai Di Lao and Swee Choon, even celebrate each other’s birthdays. It was a community, a subculture if you will. For a moment, the conversation was about an innocuous hobby group of like-minded people coming together to do something they enjoy. I’d almost forgotten why we were meeting, when Trevor’s monologue was suddenly interrupted by a phone call. One of the couples had backed out.

Considering the nature of the event, last-minute flaking didn’t seem out of the ordinary. It was forgivable, given how people are already struggling meeting off Carousell.

But the last couple really made Carouhellers look like saints. Citing bad excuses to mask their indecision, from “losing their way” to “wife was so hungry she needed to eat right away”, Trevor had to give them an ultimatum: show up or we’d start without them.

The duo finally did make an appearance, cautiously entering the room with body language not unlike frightened feral street cats, ready to dart with any sudden movement. They looked like they were in their late forties. I made extended eye contact with the older woman, and she seemed to register that Nick and I were young enough to be her children. That’s when she bolted, husband following promptly behind.

The attendance had officially halved. But Trevor was unfazed and proceeded to explain the rules and regulations: condoms were non-negotiable, partners needed to consent to sex acts, there’d be no same-sex action, and voyeurism was permitted.

I took one last big gulp of air. My original intention was just to be a bystander to all this, because I was hiding a bloody secret. Aunt Flo had chosen precisely the wrong time to visit. But the poor attendance made it such that my participation was inevitable. We proceeded with what we had RSVPed for.

My First Sex Party Experience

Before leaving the scene, I took a final glance back at the room. Blood all over the sheets. The place could’ve passed off as a murder scene and in some sense, it was. It was the complete butchering of sex as I knew it and the stark realisation that sexual deviants are among us. They are us.

Kinky really does come in all shapes and sizes. And ages, for that matter. Sometimes they’re next to you on the MRT or at the adjacent table at Swee Choon having supper. The only way to suss out who they are might be to turn up for a sexy. But preferably when you’re not bleeding from your cooch.

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Cover illustration by Asher Mak

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