Words and other wonders

It's been a busy few days, folks. We had to dash out of town for a few days on business and for the most part, had a delightful time. On the not-so-good part, Vince caught a cold. And now he's given it to me. Grand.


But a few things have been rattling around my noggin so with no particular order, here's some Ivey thoughts:

There were a good number of posts last week that involved the words and how people react to them -- "slut" being at the top of the list. To me, it's a perfect example of why words matter. First, a little soap-boxing: anyone who ever utters some form of the phrase "it's just a semantic argument" in a dismissive tone is a fucking idiot. They either a) don't know the definition of "semantic," which is irritatingly ironic or b) they don't understand the value of "argumentation" which is very fucking process of how individuals come to consensus to form a group or community or c) they don't see how the definition of words affects the very essence of who we are.

For the vast majority of humans on the planet, words are how we define who we are as individuals, communities, and within the wider culture. There is a constant litany of words playing through our minds at any given moment reminding us of who we are and what we do. Everything from "I need to stop at the grocery store" to "That was a good thing to do" to "I am a good person" form and reform in our thoughts every day and, in essence, define us. Furthermore, we attach our values to our words. "Slut" is a biggie. In the wider American culture, it is a negative which means to most American men and women, a "slut" is a bad thing. However, in this little community (the "sex positive" or "progressive," for lack of a better term) it is generally redefined in a more positive sense.

But for an individual to switch from a negative to a positive they must question not the meaning of the word but the VALUE they place on it. In the culture in which I was raised, a slut wasn't just negative, it was a guaranteed one-way ticket to a literal eternal hell. It was the essence of a "bad" woman and a vile, immoral person. Even after I gave up the trappings of that culture, the definitions remained. Over time, I'm changing my value as it relates to sexual behavior but it isn't as easy as someone simply saying "Hey, being a slut is a good thing!" Our brains don't work like that.

So in order to change my reaction/perception to the word "slut," I have to change either how I see myself or how I see the world. Personally, I've changed how I see myself and the world but I haven't shaken my personal aversion to the word "slut". It is simply still too ingrained to apply it to myself. But I've changed the way I define it, the semantics if you will, and the value that I place on it with the following definition: "a person, generally a woman, who is in touch with her sexual nature, who embraces her whole self, enjoys both her body and brain as parts of a fully functioning sexual being, and who lives her life according to her sense of inner integrity."

Now, when you add in the complexity of groups, a marriage being the most intimate group of all, the internal definitions become even trickier. It's likely that most people were in somewhat similar agreement on their basic values when they got married, or at least thought they were; but when one person in that group, the marriage, starts to redefine their values, the other has no choice but to question their own definitions and values. And no one changes their values because some else wants them to or suggests that they should or when, god forbid, says "you're wrong." NO ONE.

This, in my specific experience, is the essence of how just the discussion of swinging has affected our specific marriage. Together, Vincent and I are both redefining the words and phrases that we've built our lives on. Not just words like "slut" but also words like "integrity," "good husband," "good wife," "well -lived life," "adventure," "friend." And, it's not always easy. But so far it has always been worth it.

On another, sexier, topic Vince and I have finally connected with a few couples on-line that we're tying to set up meetings with. One couple is local and really seems to have potential. Their photos are nice, but their writing is even better! When folks say in their profiles "we're funny" I expect to see it in print! And this couple is hilarious! We hope to set something up with them in the next month or so.

There's another couple that we've corresponded with for a while who we may actually get a chance to meet in person. I'm not going to write about those guys though because they read this blog and I don't want them to be "blog fodder." (Seriously guys, if you're reading this, we are really looking forward to just meeting and hanging out, no pressure -- even if it doesn't all click -- which we hope it does -- but if it doesn't... -- you guys are just feakin' cool! -- but no pressure, seriously -- aw hell, you know what I mean!)

Last night there was a meet and greet sponsored by the website that we're thinking about giving up on because it seemed like we didn't really fit as well as the last M&G we went to was poorly attended. Unfortunately for us, the one last night appeared to be very well attended but we couldn't go because Vince had a gig with a new band he'd already committed to. That said, the good news is that Vincent REALLY wanted to go. Not, "I'll just go check it out" kind of thing but he wanted to go MEET people! People that we may click with. People that we may end up having sexual adventures with. Real fucking people. That's huge, folks. He's also starting to see women he does find attractive, that he could imagine himself having sex with who aren't me. Wow. And I wanted to go to, but wasn't chomping at the bit in blaming frustration. I think we've both moved a little in the right directions for each other! :)

Oh, we also received a "Hey, are you going to be there" email from the young hottie we met at the little meet and greet I mentioned a few posts ago. Vince and this gal certainly had chemistry. We need to meet the boyfriend to see if he and I have any but who know? Baby steps, baby steps...

Also, as part of this new band gig, we had to go shopping and Vince picked out some awesome looking clothes to gig in. Oh. My. God. He looks so fantastic!! And the ladies are noticing, too. He's been getting lots of attention from the patrons and staff at the club they've played at. Now, part of it may because he's an awesome guitar-playing rock god, and because he's a devishly handsome Italian man, but I think the new threads are just icing on the new-adventures cake!

In addition to the above, our 30-year-old dryer finally gave up the ghost, our dishwasher is on the fritz, and we need to treat the lawn for weeds. Family wants our attention. Words need to be written. Business needs to be conducted. Friends need to be connected with. You know, the usual stuff of life.

Hope you're all having a great week!

HNT -- Something new

Happy HNT! Another week has passed and it's time for something new .... for Ivey.

But first, a few Ivey facts:

1. I've never been a "bondage" kinda gal. Nor a person who cared AT ALL for being smacked in any fashion and certainly not on my ass. Anything that even hinted that's where a guy -- from my husband all the way back to my first -- was headed was guaranteed to irritate the living hell out of me and put a stop to the proceedings post haste.
2. I've never allowed anyone, ever, to restrain me, to tie my hands or feet nor for that matter to hold me down. Let's just say it rubbed me the wrong way.
3. As I've started exploring new concepts, I've decided to try new things. So far, I've discovered that I actually like a little spanking -- not hard, just a little -- and probably only from Vincent. I'm not a fan of being held down, except, for some weird reason, from behind. And today we gave this a shot for the first time. I gotta admit... I kinda liked it. ;) I think Vince did too. (hehe)

Happy HNT! Head over to Osbasso's for more half-nekkid-ness!

Unexpected realizations

A few days ago Vince and I are lolling in bed after one of our perfect morning "wake-up" sessions. I love a good rogering in the morning, usually 3 or 4 times a week! Wheeeee! Usually Vince wakes up earlier than I do, heads downstairs to start the coffee, check email, etc., then as soon as he hears me start to stir he comes back up to the bedroom.

Now some mornings it's just for a snuggle and giggle, so I can gently greet the day. But not this morning. This morning was a thrashing, pulsing, screamin', rip the headboard off the fuckin' wall, pussy pounding, fuck-fest.

During the slow years, as we call them, we never did this. Never. I wouldn't have been interested and he wouldn't have initiated it. Now, almost every morning I wake up good to go. Yes! Another change is that I used to be pretty embarrassed when we had sex. I made sure it was dark, that I was covered. No bed shaking, no headboard rattling; I was very quiet.

Not anymore.

Anyway, we're languidly enjoying a post-coital snuggle, as the rising sun starts to light the room and the birds start to trill outside our window. In our little part of the world, Spring has sprung.

Suddenly, it hits me. If I can hear the birds through the windows...

My eyes widen and I turn my head. "Shit! Vince, do you think the neighbors can hear me?"

He stares at me for a moment, then his eyes mirror my goofy-ass expression, "Damn, baby. I'd never thought about that."

We work from home and tend to have sex whenever we feel like it; morning, noon, or night. We've lived in our old house for about 10 years. It has no insulation but instead just block, plaster, and stucco walls. Our bedroom has two stained glass and three double hung windows as well as fireplace with no damper and a copper-topped chimney. People on bicycles, walkers, runners, kids, old folks, the neighbors to the north who are in their yard year round and happen to be the principal of the local high school, the neighbors behind us with kids in the backyard constantly who happen to be one of the local pastors, the neighbors...... OMG.

Vince looked in sequence at the windows and fireplace. "We might need to check it out."

Later that afternoon I'm upstairs in the bedroom faking the most dazzling orgasm I can muster while Vincent stands in the front yard and checks for kids walking home from school. I spice it up with a reference to one of his favorite three-some fantasies by ending with "Aieeeeeee, Papi!"

A few minutes later, he comes into the bedroom laughing.

"I think we may need to get you a ball-gag, senorita."

The expression on my face says, Never gonna fuckin' happen.

"I might just have to learn to keep my mouth shut."

The same expression crosses Vincent's face, Never gonna happen.

Well, we'll think of something. Hopefully, before we start having friends over. My, my, my... whatever will the neighbors think?

A little house-keeping

Nothing sexy, no story. Just a quick post today because something's been on my mind recently -- blogrolls.

I gotta tell ya folks, I'm getting ready for a freakin' purge and I don't really have a lot over there but one or two may have to go.

Here's the thing, in my life, I don't spend any time, not any time AT ALL, with people who are rude or hostile. I just don't. For starters, I'm self-employed and yes, I've turned down jobs (not a lot, but a few) because I felt something "off" from the potential client. I've also refused to accept money again from someone who was a pain to work with the first time. But most of my clients are off-the-charts smart AND generous AND funny AND well -reasoned AND mature. When I worked for large companies that wasn't the case, other people chose my co-workers, bosses and in many cases subordinates and some of those folks were really quite trying. I managed but corporate life is not for me.

On the social side, if Vince and I are out and about with a group, and there's someone who is either dumb or hostile to either other members of the group OR to people who aren't in the room, then we usually split; then we don't join the group again if that particular bad egg is there. It's a huge help. We now have three of four circles of friends (vanilla) about 30 people total, that we just love to hang with. There's plenty of debating and discussing going on and there isn't one that agree with everything I've ever thought or said, but not one of them are jerks and not one of them thinks that I am.

I don't hang out with people who refer to people who disagree with them in derogatory terms. I don't care if you're referring to "Demo-rats" or "Repuli-tards." I don't care if you're talking about a subject I agree with (like how much I can't stand rape jokes) or something that doesn't really bother me too much (like illegal immigration.) If you can't keep a civil tongue in your head then YOU are an immature jerk and I won't subject myself to your negative waves. You're out.

I also don't care for people who, in their quest to make the world a better place, treat the very people they need to convince with contempt or hostility. PETA, hard-core feminists (the "all men are evil -types), most of the Tea Party people, etc.

I avoid talking to people who can't or won't make a distinction between a "difference of opinion" and a "difference in intelligence." There are lots of smart people that I disagree with and vice versa. There are also a lot dumb people who agree with me; that doesn't make them smarter or me righter. There are also a lot of smart people who expand my perspective (and I do the same for them), who present ideas I've never considered or better yet, explain an idea I just haven't been able to wrap my mind around in a better or more interesting way. These types of folks make me a better person; the others just make me want to climb a bell tower.

I'm bothered by people who apparently choose not to see the difference between "not listening" and "not agreeing." I'm also irritated by people who believe that everyone who apparently disagrees does so because clearly the don't "understand."

I don't care to chat with folks who choose to be "offended" over being "effective." Master your own fucking emotions before you join the debate, please, especially if you're the one throwing down the gauntlet.

One of the reasons I started Ivey Lane was so that I could join the conversation with some pretty intelligent and insightful bloggers out there. I used to lurk on their sites and wanted to be involved in the conversation, to contribute my voice and ask questions that have been on my mind but can't be addressed so well in the vanilla world. But I can't tell you how many times, lately I've commented on a blog, especially when I was mostly in agreement with the author, with either a "yes and..." statement or a "have you considered..." comment only to have either the original author or their cult-like followers come down on me like a ton of bricks for apparently "sympathizing with the enemy" or being "just another part of the problem."

My standards are quite basic -- be reasonably smart, reasonably accurate, reasonably civil, and thereby, reasonably effective at communicating what you want to say. Like the standards I use when deciding who I will and won't spend face-to-face time with, I am only willing to associate in the blogosphere with writers that rise (yes, RISE) to my standards. Some of these bloggers are very smart; some are incredibly entertaining; some are even committed to changes that I'd like to see happen in society (PETA and sex positive). But if you're a smart jerk or a committed asshole, you won't be on my blogroll.

Yours sweetly,
Ivey

HNT -- Not feelin' it

Happy HNT, one and all! I gotta tell ya though, with all due respect to the lovely Osbasso, your Ivey just can not get into any type of "winter" theme, Olympic gold or no. So, a few Ivey facts:

1. I hate the cold. Hate. It. For those of you who don't know, I live in the sub-tropics and my northern born Vincent knows that if you can't grow a palm tree in the yard we will never live there.
2. I don't know if I have thin blood or poor circulation but when the temprature drops below 60 degrees my hands and feet become like ice cubes. At night, I stick my frozen tootsies under Vince's ass to warm them up at which point he recoils in horror and yells "Get those off me, you freak! Jesus, Ivey!!" (But he usually pre-warms my side of the bed. I don't know if it's true love or self preservation.)
3. We travel a lot and usually find ourselves in the coldest places in the US during the coldest months of the year. It is beautiful, no doubt. I love to visit. I do my best. I've tried to snow ski. But my body was built for the sun and the warmth.

The photo below was taken at Salt Lake in Utah last summer where they hosted the Winter Olympics a few years back. That's as close to the "Winter Olympics" as I can manage. Enjoy!!

More on-topic HNT loveliness can be found at Osbosso's! Check 'em out!

Nude Night and other tales

"I promise you, Ivey-honey," Vince reaches across the front seat of the car and squeezes my hand, "we'll find you some playmates soon." He then lifts my fingers to his lips and kisses them, making me giggle and smile, like always. This was last night about 11:00 pm as we pulled back in to our driveway after a wonderful – though still a bit frustrating for me – evening out.

We'd just come home from attending Nude Night, an art show dedicated entirely to the human nude. The crowd was fantastic – stylish, hip, artsy, SEXY! We had a ball! Unfortunately, none of our vanilla artsy friends could join us due to prior commitments and we didn't think of putting out a "hey we're going to be here" call on our swinger site. Never the less, it was a great time. The frustrating aspect of it was that it was still pretty much Vince and I interacting with each other. Now he LOVES to people watch and now that we're establishing what he finds attractive and unattractive, let's just say this place was a smorgasbord. There were probably about 300 people there when we arrived and at least twice that by the time we left. Practically all of the ladies went all out to look great. The men too looked absolutely dish-y to me, but I find myself always holding back because I don't want every time we speak to each other for the conversation to be about other potential sex partners.

Also, Vince has a greater tolerance for crowds than I do. When I find myself constantly being jostled or bumped, trying not to spill my overpriced and served in a plastic cup cheap-ass wine, and can't see what I want to fucking see because some clueless foursome has decided right there is where they have to park themselves, well, I get a bit annoyed.

But the frustrating side was watching all of the groups -- people talking, laughing, touching, and being part of the scene, not just observers. I've never been a watcher, always a do-er, and this is part of our challenge. It's the same frustration I had at Trapeze. And once again, Vincent is having a wonderful time, checking out the ladies, looking at the art, being with me.

To back up a bit, Vince and I have been together for almost 15 years. (July 1^st is actually our first date anniversary, and yes, I make sure we celebrate both that one AND the wedding!). When we first got together we both had pretty busy social lives. In addition to his day job (where we met) he was and still is a musician and had gigs almost every weekend. I'd go out and play the perfect groupie to his bass or lead-guitar playing Rock-God-ness. I was a professional actress during the day and spent my evenings either in community theatre plays or getting my graduate degree. In other words, though we were madly in love, we and especially me, had tons of other social interactions. Furthermore, in my case, those interactions almost always had a sexy, double-entendre, undercurrent. Always.

Even when we were engaged and the first four or more years of our marriage, I had plenty of opportunities to flirt, quite graphically, with men (and in a way, women) who gave as good as they got. And whether Vince realized it or not, he was on the receiving end of plenty of women's' "oh-my-god-he's-hot" lists. Perhaps what they considered "sexy aloofness" or "he's totally into Ivey and that's soooo hot" attention was simple cluelessness on his part, but either way, he had the benefit of the vibes.

Then, we changed. In both our cases, quite abruptly. We started our own business and I suddenly spent every fuckin' day ALONE. It was also at this time that my weight started to surge upwards, my hormones went haywire and our sex life really started falling apart which is a post for another day. Vincent, on the other hand, was working pretty much three (sometimes four) jobs to keep the money coming in while we built our client base. For a true introvert like him, who recharges his energy by being quiet and alone, this was grueling.

In a nutshell, we spent the next 3 years each in our own version of hell – me in practically solitary confinement, him with no chance to go to his "man cave" and just get it back together.

After he finally quit the last day job and we became 24/7 self-employed, we evolved into a pretty boring couple. We were together all day every day but we stopped going out except on occasion and only with one other couple we were friends with. We used to joke about how we were "too young" to be sitting in front of the TV on any given Saturday night getting ready to go to bed at 9:30. I lost contact with all of my former theater friends. Vince's gigs became fewer and farther between.

So we've recommitted ourselves to going out and doing things. Like last Saturday when we met up with some folks from the swinger site. We met them in a little town about an hour from here and had a fantastic evening. We were invited out by an exhibitionist/voyeur couple, joined by a soft swap couple who were friends of the first couple, and also joined by a very hot but already a bit tipsy 26-year old whose boyfriend wasn't available. The good news – Vince found Mrs. Voyeur (who was having her 40^th birthday) and Ms. Tipsy absolutely hot and desirable. This is a big deal folks. (For the most part, up till recently Vince thinks I'm hot and everyone else is an also-ran.) I also found those two to be quite attractive and certainly piqued my "curiosity." J Vince thought the guys were nice, funny, and respectful (a far cry from Bill) and though I wasn't salivating, I wouldn't kick either one out of bed! The downside was that neither of us had any chemistry at all with Mrs. Softswap. But we did discover something surprising: though Vincent found Mrs. Voyeur attractive, the fact that they were both "you can watch but not touch" was a bit off putting. "Why fucking bother?" we opined. We can watch people have sex on TV and if we've finally found someone we're both interested in fucking, why would we want to frustrate ourselves because of someone else's "hands off" rule? So we decided on a nice "had a great time" email but didn't ask for a date.

Ms. Tipsy on the other hand, was another matter entirely! Not only was she pretty WITH glasses (something she and I share) she was great at bantering -- direct, funny, flirty but not vulgar, and overall, a fun chick to be around. I usually avoid the young ones because I figure at 43 and 46 we're too old for them. And maybe we are. She said we were "great" and "hot" that night but didn't respond to our follow-up email. Then again, maybe she just sobered up! Either way, it opened my eyes to some new possibilities and helped clarify for me what Vincent is looking for in a potential playmate.

So since our recommitment to socializing as well as our foray into swinging, we usually go out every weekend. We've rediscovered that we actually enjoy dance clubs though I'm the one who likes to dance and Vince still prefers to be the Rock-God on stage. We are going to more events (art shows, friend's parties, theatre) than we have in years. We go out at least once a week to our local hangout where we are enriching our local, vanilla connections as well as finding that those can have a fun, sexy undercurrent and still remain "respectable." Vince is learning that he is actually quite attractive to the opposite sex and they really ARE flirting with him (trust me, honey, none of the ladies are that interested in your new Humbucker pick-ups, they are interested in you.)

As for your Ivey, I'm waiting for the moment when we cross over from observing to participating. To me, that's really what even the swinging side of this is all about – to embrace action, to experience people and moments, and to participate in this wonderful life we're given. Not sit at home on our asses on a Saturday night wondering where the hell the time has gone.

HNT -- An old fashioned girl

Well folks, it's that time of the week again.... Happy HNT! As always, before we begin, a few Ivey facts:

1. I am a sensual person. I don't just "take" a bath; I indulge in them.


2. Every tub in my home is an antique, primarily because they are deep and comfortable.


3. Whenever I bathe, I always include a novel and a glass of wine or a wine spritzer. Always.

So relax... soak it in... and enjoy. I always do.





And don't forget to check out the rest of the HNT fabulousness over at O's!

A Trip to Trap

So, beloved readers, Ivey and Vincent finally had a mutually good night. Our meet and greet left us in the mood. J FYI – this is the last of the "how we got here" series!" After this, I promise, nothing but memes and short posts!! (Vincent – yeah right.)

In case I haven't made the timeline clear enough, this whole thing started in July of '09 when I met Rick and Leah and in August we had our not-quite-disastrous date with them; September was drama city. October was the really disastrous date with Bill and Reanne. November brought the two Meet and Greets and finally, we are starting to get on the same footing.

In December, fate took us to the lovely city of Ft. Lauderdale on business and we decided to add a night to our trip and check out a legend – Trapeze. Folks, from what we learned on the blogs and swinger sites, this place is mainland Nirvana; the only thing better are the resorts in the Caribbean.

Being the prep for it type, once again, I called to check the place out and pick the best night to go. First, no theme parties! Maybe it's a characteristic of lots of the Swingy-types, but not us.

"But Ivey," the guy dressed up like a pudgy gladiator says, "it's about letting your inhibitions go! Come on!! Don't be a square!!"

Now see here, sugar. I AM a square. I am a cross between Suzanne Sugarbaker and Barbara Stanwick. (Said with a thick Southern accent) "I am not now, not ever, and never will be the clown in your rodeo." No "naughty school-girl" attire on this grown up girl. There will be no dressing like a 'Ho. Oh no. Angel or Devil? Go to hell. Not a chance, honey. I'm a woman in my prime and what I want is to wear the beautiful, stylish, sexy, outfit to show off my gams, boobs, and shoulders that I never enjoyed when I was younger.

So we get dressed in our sexiest attire which, by the way ladies, was still mighty tame compared to many of the gals there. If you're going for the first time keep this is mind. You CAN'T be too sexy; whatever your body type, whatever your age, whatever your taste. If you put on the dress in the store and think "OMG, can I leave the house in this?" The answer is "Yes." If you must, grab a damn trench coat, but go.

Trapeze is located in a pretty non-descript kinda strip mall-y thing in a rather non-descript part of town. From the outside, it ain't nothin' to write home about, which is precisely the idea, and they absolutely nail it. Vincent hands the rental car keys to the very attentive valet and I couldn't help but wonder what these guys think? I mean, every woman is dressed to KILL sporting "fuck me- type footwear. Every man walking through the door is going into a place where not only can he get banged by the incredibly sexy woman on his arm, but probably the woman in the car before and after. I mean, are the valet guys also patrons? Or is it just a job? If they're squicked or repulsed, I guess they wouldn't work there. But do they ever go as members of the club? Is it a benefit? Do they get a discount? Yes. That is exactly how my mind works.

You enter the plain-Jane front door and immediately on your right is the check in counter where you pay your fees, and have your number put on you BYOB bottle. The gal behind the counter was friendly enough (Vincent says "HOT!!!") and once we told her it was our first visit, she helped walk us through the process.

The good thing was that this particular Saturday night there was no theme party and it was being hosted by a Yahoo group; if you joined, you got a discount on your three month membership. Yes, I am quite Scottish about money.

That's right, you have to have a membership to go in. Now I get it. It's a private club for the very specific reason that "private" things go on there. You must join and I have no problem with that. But when the odds of getting back there any time in the NEXT three months are pretty much nil, yeah, it's a bit annoying. But they are good business people, because we paid it and paid it happily. I'm all a-twitter with anticipation and would've up-ended my wallet on the counter; if I'd brought a wallet. But I didn't. Where on earth would I have put it?

But before you can join you have to go to a computer kiosk where you have to enter your REAL name, address, and contact information as well as present your REAL identification to the receptionist. I swear, Vince's hands were shaking. When I called earlier the nice gentleman who answered the phone told me about this part and assured us that a) they have great security in place and b) they'd never had a breach. Those of you in IT type industries, let me ask you, would you be reassured? No? But it doesn't matter, because we're here!! I swear if they would've set a hula-hoop on fire and required me to jump through it to get in the door I would've taken a running start and shoulder-rolled on to the dance floor.

Next we go back to the counter to pay our admission. Again, no problem. At least we have our discount. Oh, and we've paid the valet. And purchased the bottle of very good vino we brought with us because this was a big first for both of us. So we're talking about a hundred and twenty bucks or so before we got in the door. No problem. God knows I've paid more money for less anticipated entertainment before.

Now the same gentleman who told me about the security features also told us a bit about the club over all. First, it's divided into two parts; the public area which consists of two bars, a buffet style dining area, and a very nice dance floor and the private play area in the back. He said the front part of the club is pretty much like your average club for the most part, on steroids. More sexiness, you'll definitely see some nudity (mostly the girls), but for the most part if you've been to a club you know how to act here. In back, it's anything goes.

We took our bottle to the nearest bar and gave it to the bartender who poured us two glasses and we paid for the pour. Oh, and I tipped. Cha-ching. Then we took our vino, found a perfect perch on a couple of bar stools overlooking the dance floor, toasted the fact that "holy shit, here we are!" and started soaking in the vibe.

First, the place IS nice. Classy, comfy appointments. Great lighting and super layout. Second, the music was great. Third, the people were… well… they were… fantastically NORMAL. The ages ranged from 21 to well into the sixties with the average age appearing to be mid-thirties to late-forties. Most of the people were reasonably attractive. If there were any single men there that evening, we didn't spot them. But there was a wide range of "types." Lots of couples just seemed to interact with each other (we were one of those), perhaps they were first-timers like us or perhaps they just prefer to keep to themselves. A few were groups that had met for the evening. Most people seemed to rotate on and off the dance floor (with varying degrees of ability) but most all appeared to be having a great time. All very much like every other club we'd ever been to except the one time we went to get refills on our wine and found ourselves next to the guy getting the blow job. Didn't take long though. He was through before we got our drinks. I don't know if that's a comment on his staying power or the bartender's workload.

The younger folks were the wildest on the dance floor and one girl in particular (dressed in a very hot Santa's helper outfit) pretty much stole the show. No panties, tits out more than in, beautiful face, rockin' body, and having a marvelous time. As the evening went on, this group and their guys got absolutely into the evening. At one point, the girls seemed to be having a ball removing each other's panties on the dance floor, kissing and playing with each other and the titty-grabbing husbands/boyfriends were just elated. Man, I wished I was one of them. The girls, that is.

I was turned on! I wanted more!! Vince and I danced a few times, talked to each other, pointed out the "OMG" moments to each other but it was really like we were just observers. I wanted participation, damnit! I wanted to go to the back and see the "rest" of the club. I wanted Vincent to grab my ass, and play with my tits, ,and stick his tongue down my throat. We'd decided before we even left our hotel, hell before we decided to even go, that we weren't going to try to meet anyone. We weren't ready for any public or really even private play with other people. But we both wanted to "experience" the place. Little did I know that my idea of experience and Vince's once again, wasn't the same.

To Vince, experience means to watch, to observe, to enjoy the view. It's to evaluate what other people are doing, to watch person A interact with person B. To me, experience is to get into the emotion, to let the sexually charged atmosphere work its magic, to feel the pumping, oh-my-god-I-want-to-fuck-you desire flood my veins. I wanted to go to the back and see what all the action was about. I wanted to "feel" the sex. And when I mentioned this to him, with the music pounding and the panties flying, and the booze flowing…. Well, let's just say, the night went to shit.

Without realizing it, we had ventured on to two separate pages. He was having a great time – essentially by himself. Yes, we were talking. Yes, we were together. But he didn't see that once again my frustration at being what I feel is a wall-flower was driving me nuts. "Pay attention to MEEEEEE!" is all he heard. "Why does it always have to be about YOOOOUUUUU!" was his response. "Why can't you see it's about UUUSSSSSS!"

And five minutes later, we were back in the rental car.

Great.

Fucking great.

We never made it to the back rooms, never had the hot, passionate moment I was so waiting and prepped for. We argued all the way back to the hotel. Him pissed off at me because he "was having a great time" and I "ruined it" by picking a fight. Me, ready to get out of the car and walk to the fucking hotel because he "is just leading me on" and clearly has "no intention of ever actually DOING anything, not even with me."

Now, I'm sure it didn't help that we'd finished a bottle of wine between us. And I'm sure the fact that we were both nervous and unsure of what to expect was part of the problem. But I also know that part of our problem is that we are RADICALLY different personality types who just happen to be very much in love with each other.

He swears he's never wondered what it would be like to be married to an "earth mother" type -- a nice, conventional woman; the kind that doesn't have some wacky craving for sexual or just plain physical adventure; a wife who is satisfied with the status quo and who is content to live a life other people are just hunky-dory with. He tells me daily that he couldn't be married to anyone but me, that I am his spark, that his life would be hopeless and dull without me. And he means it. But I can't help but wonder sometimes if his life would be easier for him if he were married to someone else. Not better; but easier. (Vince says "no" on both counts.")

And here's the kicker. After we'd both cooled off and were back to speaking calmly again, he really was enjoying himself that night. He really was becoming comfortable with where he was, who was around, and what was going on. He was enjoying the show the girls were putting on. He was marveling at the fact that he was there, that his wife wanted him to be there, wanted him to open his mind to possibilities he'd never considered. He was starting to see that other men, some just like himself, were getting to experience something he thought only happened to other people. He was, in fact, turning a mental corner. If we'd stayed and enjoyed the atmosphere a little longer, who knows? He may have actually continued the train of thought past "wow, look at what they're doing" on to "wow, I could actually have that experience" and maybe into "hey, honey, let's go do something ourselves."

But I'm getting tired. Tired of the constant frustration. Tired of the two steps forward, two steps back two-step we're doing. It's been six month of this. I've started connecting with some blogs, making some cyber-friends. I am growing full of envy for people who -- at least on the surface -- have what I want. I'm ready to pull the fucking plug. For the last time. I can't stand it. I mean, it's not that there's anything wrong with our sex life. We fuck 5 – 6 times a week. We're getting more creative. I have plenty of screaming, rip the headboard off the wall, knock the lamp off the nightstand orgasms. So what if I'll never get to satisfy my curiosity about women, right? I mean, tons of women don't and they seem fine, don't they? And maybe there really is something wrong, and sinful, and evil, and dishonorable about me because I have lustful desires for men I'm not married to. Maybe the fact that I know that I had a screwed up sexual life in my 20s and a practically sexless marriage in my 30s is just how it is and I really did miss out on having an adventurous life "when I had the chance."

Maybe I really am a selfish bitch.

Maybe if I would just shut the fuck up and concentrate on cleaning my house or working in my yard everything would be just fine.

And maybe, when I'm 60 or 70 or 80, I won't resent the fact that I missed out and maybe I won't be broken hearted because I chose to be a "good girl" rather than a great woman.

"Hey, Ivey," pipes up Vince a few days later, "I've booked marked a few couples on our site. Want to check them out?"

"What?"

"I've added some folks to the list of people we should contact. I think you should check them out before we send an email or anything."

"You went to the swinger site?"

"I never stopped going to the site. I do it every day."

"What?!"

"Well yeah, I check it every day. I keep hoping someone will contact us but I think maybe we should reach out to them, don't cha think? Oh, and there's a club I want to go to. I've seen it mentioned in the forums. It's vanilla, but there may be some people there we'd like to get to know, as long as the guy's not a dick. And the woman is attractive. It's all about chemistry, ya know."

The man never ceases to amaze me. Or keep me on my toes. God, I love him. We're now up to January. The crazy holidays are behind us. On Jan. 7^th, I launched Ivey Lane and for the past few weeks I've been chronicling the start of our journey, or how we got here.

And we are about to re-embark on our wild adventure. We're still swinger virgins, so to speak, but we're looking for the right couple (or single female!) to help us move forward to another level of adventure, and ultimately to a deeper level of understanding of each other and ourselves. From here on out, you guys are all pretty much up to speed. Last weekend we were finally contacted by someone from our Swinger site who invited us to a small meet and greet.

I'll tell you all about it next time!

Ivey

 

 

Oh my gosh!! How cool is this?

Oh, my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!! On the fourth Ivey Lane HNT, EVER my ("our" Vince reminds me) photo was chosen byBlue-eyed Vixen for her Friday faves!! I'm also in good company with Amy and Margaret. Check it out if you have a moment. I think it's well worth your time!!

By the way, it's probably not possible to describe how thrilled I am with this little turn of events. If you didn't see my first HNT and accompanying "Ivey Facts" check 'em out. Especially if you're a gal who doesn't think her body is beautiful.

Thanks Vixen!!

Ivey

HNT -- Vinnie's favorites

Ah..... Another HNT! If you can't tell, Vincent is now part of the HNT process, the man behind the camera.

So for today's Ivey facts, a little about my Vincent:

1. Vince is a wicked-good guitar player. I never tire of it.


2. This is one of over twenty guitars. Stratocasters, Telecasters, Les Pauls, classical, bass, jazz hollow-body, whatever; he plays them all.


3. He's also a great photographer though it is a new hobby he's recently picked up. He usually prefers more "documentary" style shooting, but we're having fun with "studio-style" as well.

So without any more preamble, Vincent's two favorite's in one shot.

For more Half-Nekkid happenin', visit our man Osbasso!

Our First Meet and Greet: or OMG, a hot chick is finally touching Ivey’s boobs!

So our intrepid adventurers, Ivey and Vincent, go back to the drawing board once again. The good news is that we did learn a lot from Bill and Reanne, primarily that we needed more info.

Now I'm a researcher. I just loves me some books and blogs!! There were a few that I'd found before but they were mostly forums from Swinger sites and I'm now rapidly learning that most of what you read on those sites is primarily fantasy or at the very least, fiction. I don't mean to be harsh… oh hell, who am I kidding? This blog is MY inner voice I get to be fuckin' harsh folks! I don't know if the vast majority of people are shallow, stupid, or just poor communicators but I can only take so much "I said 'hi' then we fucked" stories before I want to slam my head in a door.

So we posed the question "How do Newbies meet people?" on our site's forums and got a few good responses. Mostly, folks recommended Meet and Greets. For those who might not know, a meet and greet is exactly what it sounds like – an event, generally at a vanilla club, bar, or restaurant that's been rented out for the occasion, so people can mix and mingle and get to know a lot of folks at one time. For Newbies, it is generally ideal because there is no on-site play, and everyone there is looking for the same thing – chemistry.

The problem with just setting up a date from the site, we were told, is that experienced couples generally shy away from newcomers because of the potential for "drama" and/or the "flake" factor. And two inexperienced couples just going out to dinner together is a recipe for disaster especially in our case where Vincent isn't a "typical" swinger guy chomping at the pussy bit. Apparently, it's so odd in the Lifestyle for the guy NOT to be Mr. Pushy, that most couples literally don't know how to deal with it.

To make matters even more challenging, I hate to say it, but our area is apparently pretty lame in the ol' swinger world. There was one "swinger club" in town but its reputation was horrific. Another had recently folded after only being open a few months. Another was trying to open and for a couple of weeks, we kept riding by periodically on a Friday or Saturday night to see if there was a crowd but none ever materialized. They got panned on the swinger board and as far as we know, they too, went out of business.

Our swinger site hosts parties in a city a couple of hours away but in addition to the distance, they are almost always theme parties e.g. Naughty School Girls, Angels and Demons, Law and Order, etc., etc. Now I like a good party as much as the next girl, but do I really have to dress up in a zany, risqué costume in order for someone to get to know the real me? Do I have to make my private, introverted husband put on a toga so we can find some people "like us?" Also, neither Vince nor I were into fraternity/sorority party antics when we were in college, we sure as hell ain't into it now.

Sigh.

OK. So the sponsored parties are out. However, there is a couple not too far from us that hosts a private pool party during the summer and one of the respondents to our question suggested we go. The good news – they seem like really nice folks. The bad news – it's a Naked Pool Party and once again, we get back to thing that we just aren't zany folks. Now I'm perfectly comfortable at a nude resort but Vince, again, private kinda guy, not so much. He'll go. But he won't make a spectacle of himself (so-to-speak.) Add to that the idea that everyone's nude AND looking to size you up for sexual compatibility AND you may or may not be the oldest couple at the event AND the photos of the hosts look like Ken and Barbie well, the no pressure idea is now out the window.

"But hey, they won't be pressuring you to have sex! They just want to meet you!" Fine, you idiot, but the pressure isn't from THEM it is from US. Because just like every other social situation in the world, you are still going in not knowing a soul. The pressure is can we relax?
Will we fit in? Suddenly, we both feel like we're in Jr. High again and the popular kid is throwing a skating party and not only do we not know how to skate we don't know why we were invited.

Once again, good news. The hostess of the party is having a birthday and they decide to throw a huge bash at a vanilla club in their area and invite us to join them. We suck it up. Get dressed in our sexy attire. And go.

It's about an hours drive away and the place is huge. Vincent is very nervous and once again, I feel like I can't show any fear. We decide to have a glass of wine at the bar then go to the party and switch to Ginger Ale. We end up having two glasses of wine but manage to stick to the Ginger Ale routine when we finally screw up our courage to go to the party.

The band was loud and the place was jumping. It was also very clear that this was a pretty close knit group and NOT really a meet and greet. We met the host briefly to thank him for the invite and introduced ourselves to the guy from the website who suggested we come to the party. They were both very nice but it WAS THE WIFE'S 40th BIRTHDAY. We felt like total party-crashers. It also started to heat up on the dance floor. The birthday girl was singing a lot of the songs and her friend's were joining in. Everyone was having a ball and getting crazy drunk. Girls were grabbing ass and getting pretty bendy on the dance floor. Guys were gulping their drinks and leering watching. Lots of GG tongue action on stage, on the dance floor, ass-smacking and pussy revealing galore.

Oh, and did I mention this wasn't a private event?

No? My, my. How did that escape me? The party goers were only about 25 percent of the crowd. The rest were regular vanilla patrons. We actually ended up striking up a conversation with a few of them who were a bit, ahem, shocked by the behavior.

"Oh my god! Did you see that? That woman just completely French kissed that other woman! OMG!! Do you have any idea who those people are?"

"We have no idea." Only a half lie.

Again, discretion seems to be a bit of a problem. We actually asked the host about it before we decided to attend ("We have three kids and own a business. We are very discrete!") I'm beginning to seriously wonder if my understanding of that word is somehow out of date.

Overall, we had a good time. Or at least, we didn't have a bad time. But my frustration is growing. Part of Vincent's and my agreement as we pursue this is that we only go as fast as the slowest person. Guess who's who. I don't realize it, but Vincent's comfort level with the idea of swinging is improving but he is growing damn tired of being the bad guy, always cast in the role of the "slow" one. I, on the other hand, feel as if I'm "so close but so far" away from what I'm looking for and I am chaffing under the leash. I am a person of action. Standing on a sideline is not for me. Being a wall-flower at a party is not my style. Vincent will not be pushed. Can't be done. Don't fuckin' try.

So another step forward and another couple of lessons learned -- little more talking, a little more adjusting for the other, a lot more understanding of who we are as individuals and a couple. The amazing thing is, we took the lesson… and decided to try again.

About a month later our swinger site group had found a local bar that was willing to turn over Saturday nights to the Lifestylers. The bar is in a good location and a lot close to us. They put out a notice on the site and off we go.

We get to the bar about 10:00 pm and there is NO ONE there, maybe three or four cars in the parking lot. We decide that maybe we're just too early and go to a nearby bar for an hour before we go back. At 11:00 pm, we go back and sure enough, there are more cars in the lot and we decide what the hell, we're here. So we go to the door, to pay our admission.

Behind the counter, checking people in, is an absolutely gorgeous woman! She is hot. Indescribably hot. OMG hot. Now Vincent and I have both worked in film and entertainment so we're not unaccustomed to beautiful people, but we'd never been around one who was there, as she said, because she "likes to fuck and likes to help other people meet people fuck them." Okay then. Where's the bar?

We head on in and there aren't many people there, maybe 15 or 20 total, including the host and hostess. We go to the bar and I order my Ginger Ale and Vincent get's a beer. After a few moments, a vivacious, beautiful woman around 26 years old joined us. Allie was a Unicorn, invited to help host and to introduce people around. She was a fantastic hostess – funny, smart, sexy but not obnoxious. We finally met someone who we could be ourselves around. Allie took a shine to us and after chatting with us for about 15 minutes, said "hey, you're here to meet people. I'm a single female and everybody wants to meet me. So let's go mingle!"

There weren't a lot of folks to mingle with but we did manage to meet one couple that was great, wayyyyy more advanced that we are, but they were fun, funny and again very normal, more "like us." It wasn't a click with anyone but we had an absolutely lovely time. There were a number of folks not to our liking but we were quickly able to assess why – they seemed to have that bored, "I'm so over it" air that comes when you're jaded and bitter. I wouldn't have cared for those folks at any party, not just this one. We were about the same age, maybe only a few years older, but in looks, we pretty much fit in.

We laughed with the group and the hot hostess joined us for a while. The cool couple told us about some of their experiences (Wow. That's all I can say. Wow.) and answered a few of our questions. The only down note is that again, we got that puzzled look at one point when Vincent admitted that he'd never wondered about three-somes or four-somes before I'd mentioned it to him. At least they were polite enough not to either laugh or snort. And other than Allie, there wasn't anyone there who floated Vincent's boat. As for me, I'm pretty easy to please. Like I've said before, I want experiences and am attracted to a wide range of people.

Allie was soaking up the attention and putting on a fantastic show. The cool couple we met tried to take her home but she turned them down graciously. They and their friends got bored pretty quickly since there never were more than about 20 people there so they left about mid-night. As we'd entered, we told the hot hostess that we were new. It was she who directed Allie our way. On our way out, she asked us if we had a good time and told us they'd love for us to come to their parties sometime (about two hours away) and that they'd introduce to "tons of people." The hot girl said she thought I was super-dishy. She and Allie both said they like girls with plenty of booty (of which I have plenty), "somethin' to grab" they said. I wasn't wearing a bra and my glass-cutter-like nipples were responding quite predictably to all the praise and attention. The next thing I knew, Allie's hands were on my ass and Hot Hostess was feeling up my boobs and playing with my nipples. Vincent was watching with a bemused smile on his face, enjoying the view. I was getting so wet I was sure it was about to run down my legs.

I loved it. And I want more, more, more!

We ended up going home, having great sex, and thinking that finally -- Finally! -- we are getting somewhere.

Stay tuned. Next up -- A trip to Trapeze: or Advanced Studies.