Yes!!!

I'm lying on my back in the overstuffed, hyper-pillowed king size bed of a fantastic little B&B, covered -- and I mean COVERED -- in Vince's cum. Now the man usually has a, ahem, generous capacity but this is impressive even by his standards. A few minutes later I am cumming in convulsions (for the second time today) desperately trying to freakin' BE QUIET since this antique 18-room hotel carries sound like fog-shrouded quarry. Fail. I fail, fail, fail and I don't really care because Vincent and I are caught up in the post-sex intensity of our first swinging experience.

That's right, folks. Vince and Ivey are no longer "swinger" virgins.

I briefly mentioned in a previous post that we had plans this past weekend with a couple we've corresponded with for quite some time. These folks were worth the wait.

A part of me would love to give y'all the blow-by-blow, action packed description. But that part of me is going to shut the hell up. First of all, I'm not a huge fan of "and then he..." "and then she..." and "and then we all...." fuck-fest style storytelling. Second, my mind and emotions were in such a jumble I don't know if I can accurately recall the sequence of events. And finally, I think I just want to keep the sweet, sweet details between the four of us.

To cover the basics, so you'll have a little idea of the lay of the land, here is the general information:

• The couple is from out of state and were visiting a town a couple of hours away.
• We met them in person the first time Saturday afternoon, hit it off, and spent several hours together, just talking.
• They had other vanilla friends to visit Saturday evening, but we all agreed that the chemistry was there and met up at a hotel Sunday afternoon before they had to leave for a very long drive back to their home.

So if you're looking for juicy details, you can stop reading now and return to your regularly scheduled life. Instead, I'm going to tell you what we (and I) discovered on this very significant part of our sexually adventurous journey.

Vincent gets it done -- Oh, yes he does. As those of you who've been reading a while know, Vince is the reserved one, I'm the aggressive one -- the one ready to rock 'n roll this thing, to get it on, to move this fucking train forward, to step it up, to.... to.... you get the idea. Well, let me tell ya folks, when push came to lets-get-a-room, it was my Vincent who made it all happen. He made the calls, booked the place, got us to our car, picked up the wine and extras, got me a sandwich ('cause he knows how I am when I get hungry), checked us in, set the scene and basically held my nerve-wracked hand.

Yep, Ivey got nervous and I sure as hell wasn't expecting that. It wasn't the "Oh no, I'm not sure I want to do this" kind of nerves; it was the "OMG, what if they don't like us!" kind of nerves. I felt like I was ten years old and the new kid being invited to the cool kid's birthday party.

But Vince doesn't possess that particular psychosis (and let me say the couple was great and very reassuring, so they weren't putting of any weird vibes) and it occurs to me that I need to get a handle on this. It's also odd because I never thought I'd feel this way. But like so many things we've discovered on this trip, when an unexpected emotion bubbles up, it's something to learn from and, if you decided it's undesirable, to change.

I didn't worry about most of the things I thought I would -- Sure, I wish I was 20 pounds thinner and 10 years younger but those thoughts came and went as if they were never there and THAT my friends, was an amazing and welcome revelation. I also never experienced that flash of envy that I was afraid I'd feel in a sexual situation with a beautiful woman. No "her tits are bigger/better", "her abs are flatter/better", "her ass is smaller/better" than mine. Granted, they were a delightful and very reassuring couple, but I never felt as if I needed their or Vince's reassurance; I just felt like I was there, present in the moment, enjoying the body I have and the bodies they offered.

I was right about jealousy -- never felt it. Not a twinge. Not a flash. Nada. In fact, it was exactly the opposite; I loved, loved, loved seeing Vincent with her. Not only was it hot, I felt a sense of pride, of happiness, that he was enjoying her, accepting what she offered, and (while dealing with his own emotions and nerves) doing his best to give pleasure back to her.

FYI -- Vincent said that he never felt any jealousy when I was with the husband, in fact, it was more like "curiosity."

OMG, I fucking love fucking women! -- Okay, I've been upfront about my interest in having sex with a woman but WOW! That was incredible. First, I still can't believe how different it feels to be kissed and licked by a woman. Holy shit. After she made me cum I couldn't WAIT to leap over and reciprocate. Boobies!! Lovely, soft, luscious, lickable, suckable boobies are a de-light! And the other..... I mean the rest.... holy hell, the REST of her?! Delicious! As the Mr. observed, "I think[Ivey's] gone from 'bi-curious' to 'bi-furious'!"

But I'm not abandoning my team -- I love cock. I really do. I love Vincent's cock and god knows his is my favorite in the whole wide world, but this new cock was different and that was good. It looked, felt, and tasted different -- his balls, the curve of his ass, the feel of his arms, the grip of his fingers. The way he moved and touched was new and as such, exciting. I cannot thank these two husbands enough for sharing their cocks with me and the other Mrs.!

The combo-mambo is freakin' fantastic! -- There is nothing hotter, I mean NOTHING (at least in my admittedly limited experience) than looking up at your husband (who's in your mouth), down (at a woman licking your pussy), and across her gorgeous back to see her gorgeous husband thrusting in and out of her. Except for maybe laying on your back, legs up with one person between your legs, another licking and sucking your tits, and yet another showering you with kisses. Or maybe, you're doing the licking and watching the men both sucking her beautiful breasts that you'd just been nibbling. I'm sure their are many, many others and I'm also sure we would have tried them out if ONE of us had at least thought of them at the time. In fact, the only frustration, as Vince so aptly put it, was having trouble seeing the scene with his head and attention buried in her lovely parts.

The who matters -- It's true that both Vincent and I enjoyed the play and the fun but the bodies were made irresistible by the minds and hearts of our playmates. There are standard quotes among the Lifestyle people that play partners are essentially "sex toys with pulses" or "dildos with personalities" and I certainly see the value in that point of view, maintaining an emotional space between yourselves and another couple. However, we are definitely "friends with benefits" types. I didn't just like this man's cock, I like this man. I wasn't just curious about experiencing sex with "a" woman, but rather I was eager to experience "this" woman. For Vince, she was more than "hawt" she was "a sweetheart." For both of us, as we discussed later, physical attributes alone aren't enough now, and won't be enough in the future, to get us into the mood with another couple.

The after is awesome! -- As we got ready to go the husband said to us "Just wait. The next few hours will be amazing." And he was right. The talking, laughing, remembering, discovering, and learning that continued to wash over us long after the "moment" was over was incredible. Interestingly, neither of us felt "changed" and I think it was because we took the slow path that we have. We shared so much before this moment -- our thoughts, fears, desires, hurts, fantasies, limits -- that we didn't experience a single moment of "oh my god what have we done." We didn't feel embarrassed or ashamed "of" or "for" each other. We felt, for lack of a better word, content.

And then, even though we were tired and coming down from an emotional high, we went back to our room and fucked like bunnies. Again. He is my everything. WE reached this place together. Two people, deciding to make our journey through this life as one, as we see fit.

The last surprise -- But for me, there was one more big surprise and let me tell ya kids, I didn't see it coming. After Vince and I got home I decided to go for a bike ride, ya know, by myself, to clear my head. I had my iPod cranked, it's freakin' hot by now, and I'm pedaling away. My mind is mulling over the recent events but also just drifting around day-to-day stuff (grocery store, work, housecleaning, etc.) About 5 miles into ride, tears start pouring down my face. I was shocked. I wasn't sad or upset or angry or hurt or embarrassed or anything. I couldn't figure out what the hell was going on. I was in a great mood, riding my bicycle, crying.

A few more miles in, away from my beloved husband and life partner, away from the intensity and the surreality of the moment, I got it. They were tears of joy and, in a sense, of relief. I had finally said "yes!" Yes to the moment, yes to the universe. I said yes to living a fuller, richer life and in the process turned yet another corner away from fear and away from my greatest fear of all; missing opportunities to experience all that life has to offer. It was a sexual adventure; maybe one of many to come or maybe a one in a lifetime thing. At this point, who knows?

But the moment came and we -- me, Vince, him, and her -- said "Yes!!!!"

HNT -- Legato

Happy HNT, one and all!

Even with Vince off at a fabulous gig (and sending me awesome pics and texts!) I am committed to getting back on the HNT bandwagon, so to speak. So, I worked with the timer on my Kodak and ended up with this! Not bad for little auto-pseudo-erotica, if I do say so m'self!

As always, a few Ivey facts:

1. In my teens, before I discovered the theater, I wanted to be a classical pianist. I wasn't bad.
2. At 18, I was keyboard player for a group that traveled throughout the US, Mexico, and parts of Europe for a year.
3. I still sit down to play occasionally and though my skills are a bit rusty, I love the music.

As always, check out the rest of the half-nekkid-ness over at Osbasso's!

Legato!
Ivey

A quick catch up --

A quick post to catch you, dear readers, up on the comings and goings around Ivey Lane.

First of all,we've been a bit busy and for self-employed folks, that's great!! Tax day came and went and we dutifully sent Uncle Sam a share of our well-gotten gains. Pet peeve: I just can't stand too much whining about paying taxes. Yes, I would like to keep more of my money. I don't mind at all that some of my money goes to artists who I think create crap any more than I mind that some of my money goes to politicians I despise. But I love driving on good streets, living in towns with nice parks, in a country where I can, in fact, be my own boss and start and run a small business.

Tonight Vince and I have a date with a couple we met on our new swinger website. After my lament about the frustrations of finding people, we persevered, sent out about 6 more greetings and heard back from a very nice couple. We've chatted on-line and I've talked to the Mrs. on the phone. It's just drinks and folks, if it goes well, I'll tell ya all about it. But if it's another disaster, I may just keep it to myself. As I mentioned to a friend in an earlier email, I'm a bit sick of reporting on things that 'almost' worked out. I might get over that though, so please don't hold me to it.

I'm also planning to participate in HNT this week. Again, we've missed out recently because of our schedule but I'm determined! I have several shots in mind but none that can be achieved without the assistance of my numero-uno photographer.

We're also about to go into a 4 week travel mode that will be taking us out quite a bit. First, we 're meeting another couple we met through a swinger website this weekend. We really like these folks and if nothing else, are excited to meet some really cool people and new friends in person. After that, Vince has to drive his aging parents back north, then it's off to Texas for a few days, then to a business conference we go to every year and is a blast.

That's what I got, folks! Babe -- I'm looking forward to hearing more about P90X and am keeping my bitchy "size 4!" remark to myself. MR -- I hope the GF is working. Hubman -- Safe travels. Mr. Cool -- on m'mind. Mr. B -- sounds like things are looking up a bit at your place. 13M -- haven't seen much new lately, hope all is well. Emmy -- we're taking your advice tonight. Fig -- why are you so freakin' smart AND sexy. Hope to see an HNT. Britni -- stay safe. Inferno and Mr. ABC -- Welcome to the Lane. John and Ann -- hope you're doing well. Everyone else -- hope you're all doing well this fine, fine week.

Best,
Ivey

TMI Tuesday -- Ivey's first meme

I've had a ton of stuff rattling around my noggin' to write about but right now I'm in one of my hormonally induced "blah" phases. Oh well, it comes with the territory. So I saw this meme and thought I'd give it a run and see if I like it. Don't know that I do; it seems a bit insipid but as I said, I may just be awash in enui. This may be a first and last.

Well, with that stimulating introduction in mind, enjoy!

Hi, my name is: not really Ivey, but you knew that.

Never in my life have I been: to South America, Asia, or Antarctica. And I have no plans to visit Antarctica.

The one person who can drive me nuts better than anyone else is: my mother.

When I’m nervous: I get even funnier.

The last song I listened to was: "Learnin' to drink whiskey".

If I were to get married right now my best man/maid of honor: I am married and I had a man of honor.

Last Christmas: was spent in the hospital with my Daddy after his stroke.

I should be..: thinner. sigh.

When I look down I see: perfectly pedicured toes.

If I were a character on ‘Friends’ I’d be: A character on what?

My current gripe is: people who bitch constantly about paying taxes.

I have a hard time understanding: there's very little I have a hard time understanding though I confess I do get baffled by people who think they can change my mind by insulting me.

There’s this girl I know that: could really benefit from a big ol' dose of lighten up.

I like it when: Vince plays his guitar in the morning and I wake up to the sound of live jazz bouncing off the plaster walls and wood floors.

If I won an award, the first person I would tell would be: my husband.

Take my advice: do not ever tell a nun she's going to hell for being Catholic. Especially not when you're a 5-year old Southern Baptist child.

The thing I want to buy: is... uhhhh... a, uhhhhh.... a new seat for my bike? Socks? Not really a big spender.

If you visited the place I was born: I have no idea what you'd see. I haven't been back there since I was 6 months old.

I plan to visit: everywhere except Antarctica.

If you spent the night at my house: we would have a great meal and then spend the evening either on the back porch or in the living room (depending on the weather) chatting about life, the universe, and everything.

I’d stop my wedding if: nothing would have stopped my wedding though many things tried.

The world could do without: fast food. Seriously.

I’d rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: shop for a bathing suit.

Most recent thing I’ve bought myself: Bare Ecsentuals "Fairly Light" makeup.

Most recent thing someone else bought me: ah.... drinks?

My favorite blond is: my neighbor. She's in her sixties, extremely funny, and a rockin' blond!

My favorite brunette is: ahem, I'm a brunette and I think I'm pretty cool. If I disqualify myself from the equation I'd say Vincent.

My favorite red head is: my very good friend I'll call the Doyenne. She is magnificent beyond words. When I'm around her I feel smarter, better, wiser, kinder, anything and everything good. Magically, she makes you think you're a better person than you know in your heart you are.

My middle name is: not nearly as interesting as my real first name.

In the morning I: leisurely lie in bed until Vince comes upstairs and either gently wakes me up or ravishes me with wake-up sex.

The animals I would like to see flying besides birds are: horses.

Once, at a bar: I actually ordered a soft drink.

Last night I was: grappling in a karate class.

There’s this guy I know who: is actaully one of the world's top 5 antique aircraft mechanics.

If I was an animal I’d be: a horse. Childhood dreams die hard.

A better name for me would be: My real name's pretty cool. I can't imagine a better one.

Tomorrow I am: going to the beauty shop. (I'm southern folks. It'll always be a "shop" not a "salon.")

Tonight I am: going to soak in a bathtub, reading a book, while sipping Chardonnay.

My birthday is: a celebration!

Gratitude?

Over on my blogroll you'll find "Sex with the Wife." Mr. B, as he goes by, posed an interesting question the other day about gratitude, specifically "should a wife be grateful to her husband for not cheating on her." He went on to make it gender neutral, but later in the post it appears that the question should more aptly be phrased "should a husband/wife EXPECT their spouse to be grateful that they didn't cheat on them."

It's a nice short post so rather than recapping it, I suggest you give it a read here. I was going to add my thoughts in his comments section but soon realized it was turning into a post so I moved it over here.

The short answer to his primary question is "no." As he said, to insist someone else be grateful because one party simply held up their end of a deal is silly for all the reasons he gave. It's simply honoring the deal you made in the first place. I don't walk around giddy when people don't lie to me; but depending on the severity of the lie, my relationship to the person, and the harm done to me, I'll vacillate between being disappointed and enraged depending on the situation.

But.....

His question had to do specifically with sexual fidelity and I have to admit, when Vince and I were having our dry spell (6+ years worth!), I was and still am extremely grateful he didn't cheat on me. Now to be fair, it wasn't like we were communicating all that well about sexual issues at that time and that's a huge part of our growth as a couple over the past few years. In addition, I am an outstanding wife on all other fronts. We've never lacked love or overt appreciation for the other, there was no hostility, resentment, or animosity; we just weren't having sex.

I would not have been surprised -- and I would have been tremendously hurt -- but in hindsight, I would definitely see how my behavior, our circumstance, etc. could have contributed to the situation. So, in spite of provocation, my husband honored his vow to me, and for that, I am indeed, grateful. That's how I feel, but even if I didn't, he would still have no right to expect it from me.

You see the idea of one person expecting their spouse to be grateful to them for simply not being a dick or a bitch is arrogance at its worst. For example, should you expect your spouse to be grateful if you don't call them names, if you don't hit them, if you don't ignore them? Should they be happy that you don't yell at the kids or kick the dog? If that is how you truly want to behave, feel you deserve to behave, and you are graciously holding yourself back, then you, sir or madam, are an ass.

And that is where I think the idea of expecting people to be grateful for anything falls apart. You see, I've seen this particular line of thinking all over the blogosphere. It usually comes from a man or woman who feels they are being unreasonably provoked by their spouse (he/she doesn't understand me, he/she isn't giving me enough sex, he/she is actually a bitch/dick but I "can't" leave them because of the kids/money/morals/inertia/disruption/whatever the fuck have you) and they actually deserve to lie or deceive their husband/wife but for some reason, they aren't. Yet. But they sure as hell are thinking about it.

But the final paragraph of Mr. B's reasoning concerned me quite a bit because to me it falls under the "future payoff" paradigm -- you honor your vows to remain sexually faithful now because in the future you may actually need this person to do something unpleasant for you.

Yuck.

Now let me go on record and say that I've read almost every post Mr. B has on his blog and I DO NOT think that Mr. B in any way lacks integrity. In fact, he appears to be the guy that finds himself in a position not unlike my Vincent did a few years ago, only Mr. B has his blog as an outlet, and my Vince had only me, his damaged but loving wife.

That said, (and I'm going to keep with his husband/wife scenario just so the prose won't be gender tortured but yeah, it could go either direction) let me offer my take on the final paragraph a phrase at a time:

"Here's a newsflash guys: there will come a time when she may be in a position of advantage..." That's "game" thinking. This isn't a fucking game: it's your wife/husband, your personal integrity, his/her heart, your combined life, your children's lives, your past/present/future, etc. Also, it implies that the cheater is in a position of "advantage" now. An opportunity to cheat is no more of an advantage than an opportunity embezzle.

"When you are 70 years old and committed to a wheelchair and need your loving wife to help you wipe your ass...." A) 70 ain't that old. B) Now you need her to help you?! Now?! How about when you were younger? Did you need her then? To give you love and guidance? To help you achieve your dreams? To help you build a combined life for two not a one-man show and his support staff? If you really don't need her now, then man-up, do both of you a favor, and get a fucking divorce.

"...you will be very grateful that you stuck with her ..." No, you'll be grateful that SHE stuck with your sorry, resentful, entitled, frustrated ass because SHE didn't have to either. More likely though, you'll simply devolve into the battling-Bickermans, sniping and griping your way to the grave.

"...when you didn't have to." If you lack the integrity to honor your commitments then no, you didn't "have to." Furthermore, if you lack the ability or willingness to communicate with your spouse, if you lack the courage to make changes or sacrifices for the person you claim is "the one" then no, not only do you not have to, you probably aren't able to either.

"...life runs in circles..." That almost always shows up in a "just you wait, you'll get yours" context. Does anyone ever think "Hey, I'm reaping some pretty bad karma now." Do any of these people ever think that the current unhappy circumstance they find themselves in is because of some effort they failed to put in before? Any of them?

"...and if you jump for greener pastures at a moment when you think you can get a nicer deal..." That's just it, they don't think they can get a nicer "deal," they aren't terminating the deal they have. They are trying to keep their spouse from dissolving the deal (i.e. the marriage) so they can have something else in addition to their existing deal. "I want my married life, AND I want, nay I DESERVE, pussy on the side." Oh fuckin' please.

"...you may find yourself dumped when you are in pretty sorry shape..." Let me see if I understand, you're saying she's the type of woman who would put up with decades of resentment and blame for whatever his frustrations are THEN decide to leave? Also, it's a pretty specious assumption to think she's going to be some spry septuagenarian at the same time he's failing on all physical fronts. She may have her own reasons for staying with him.

"Just stick it out and don't get too full of yourself for doing so." Seriously, if it truly is that bad, don't stick it out. If what you are lacking in your marriage and in your life is that important to you, if it is that crucial to your joy and happiness, MAKE A CHANGE. Accept the (hopefully) temporary hurt and disappointment you are going to cause. The chances are, if it really is that bad for you, it isn't all that great for her either.

I know, because I lived it, how painful sexual difficulties between a husband and wife can be. I also know, because I lived it, how wonderful it is to finally grow through it, as a person and as a married couple. I married a good man.

So yes, I'm grateful to him that he is a good man.... and that's completely different from being grateful that he isn't a bastard.

Here's to you, Stanley Tucci

So the other night I rented "Julie & Julia," a fun little film perfect for the evening. But I gotta tell ya, the best thing about the flick - Stanley Freakin' Tucci under the direction of... well.... whoever directed the damn movie portraying Paul Child, husband of Julia.

Paul Child was, quite frankly, a man. And he was portrayed as a man -- an adult, smart, sexual, witty, well-written and well-read, kind, compassionate, brave and for lack of a better term, manly man. Furthermore, it appears that the film depicted the two of them and their relationship quite accurately. They liked each other. They respected each other. They had delicious sexual desire for each other. They talked to each other. They each had individual lives that they loved to intertwine. He was not some obstacle she had to overcome in order to succeed. He was not some ogre enforcing his will nor "shaping" her.

I mention this, because I think if I see one more movie, TV show, commercial, comic or anything else that perpetuates the "all men are over-sexed, unaware, mindless morons" myth, I'm going to fucking explode.

Seriously. My health may be in danger here.

And it's everywhere. In some cases it's blatant, like the sit-coms and commercials who couldn't sell beer or vacuum cleaners if men were, like, competent human beings. But in other cases its couched in "science" and even under the guise of "helping" men understand women. Evolutionary psycho-babble would have you believe that men are just barely containing some inbred need to fuck every female that crosses their path (not true). The PUA and MRA's people promote the idea that lying and deception are simply the natural order for men to get what "they want" and what women are naturally withholding because, ya know, deep down, chicks really like being manipulated and holy-mother-of-god, trained.

Well intentioned neo-feminists are constantly spouting "men, you just need to listen to us" mantra as if being respectful and considerate of another human being were some big fucking revelation. At the same time, you have the aforementioned Ev-psych and PUA idiots spouting shit like "don't blame us for being assholes, we're men."

My girl over at BarefootDreamer posted a lovely list of things men can do for their wives and I agreed with everything on it, only my feeling is that it shouldn't be gender specific. Doesn't everyone want to be treated with respect? Doesn't everyone want to be listened to? Appreciated? Sincerely praised? Wouldn't you, if you loved your husband, want to encourage your husband and make his dreams come true? Shouldn't every adult human being take umbrage at being "told" what to do?

I agreed wholeheartedly with the "tell us your problems but don't act like we are your problem." The trouble is, that's exactly what the entire list was doing. Moreover, it plays straight in to the "all men are mindless morons" paradigm especially at the end with a bit that really bothered me. It was a long list of things a man needs to be to make a woman happy and not screw up then wrapped up with what a woman need to do keep a man happy (Show up naked and bring food. har har.) Maybe your man is a neanderthal but mine isn't. In fact, I doubt neanderthals were that neanderthal.

So here's Ivey's corollary to what is, in fact, I think a wonderful list for how people who want to enjoy their relationships should try to act. These are just a few additional things to consider:

• If your life partner IS ignoring you, it's because he or she is an ass, not because of their gender.
• If your spouse doesn't listen to you, then she or she is a self-absorbed prick (gender not withstanding).
• If your spouse doesn't spend time with you, then he or she may have a priorities problem or they may actually not enjoy spending time with you. Two different problems requiring two different solutions.
• If your spouse doesn't praise you, or encourage you, or try to make your dreams come true then you need to take a look at your specific spouse or the dynamics of your specific relationship, not paint half the human race with the black brush of insensitivity.
• If your husband or wife is habitually condescending or bossing you around, then that person may be a control freak or a jack ass but it's not simply a natural behaviour they have to overcome, it's a character flaw.
• And yes, if your spouse is happier it's likely that you will be happier. But you can't make anyone happy. You could be doing absolutely every fucking thing on this list and still be married to an unhappy, miserable, or unrealistic person. If that's the case, it's sad, but it's not your fault.

Relationships are between people, not concepts, not ideas, not cultures, not even genders -- it's about PEOPLE, people.

HNT -- Vince's View (a)

Happy HNT everyone!

After missing last week, I just couldn't stand to miss another, so late last night, Vincent was once again pressed into service! And I just love the result. This is his one of his many, many views and I must say, I kinda like it. First, a few Ivey facts:

• I have an odd fascination with what "other people see."
• I'm very curious about what Vincent sees, not just when we're having sex, but when we're dining out, riding our motorcycle, working in the yard, doesn't matter. It's all about how he sees the world.
• I think this way figuratively as well as literally.

Happy HNT one and all! Check out the rest of the perspectives over at Osbasso's place!

The ONE

The stars overhead are clear, completely devoid of light pollution so the Milky Way stretch across the southern sky. The sound of the waves lapping the shore, gently because this was the Gulf of Mexico, combine with the ever-present wind rustling the Sea Oats that hold the dunes in place. The temperature is warm, even at 2:00 in the morning; the beach is deserted, part of the Florida State Park system so there are no houses, no development, no stores, no cars, not a single item that would have you believe you are nothing if not the only two people on earth.

It had been a wonderful, natural progression; camping with college friends, an evening of guitars and laughter, he and I chatting late into the night across our sleeping bags and finally deciding to take a walk on the beach to avoid waking our slumbering companions. We found a connection that night, common ground and shared interests. Youth, art, idealism, films, humor, beauty.

I'm 20 years old and the boy is all of 21. We are tangled together in the sand, salt and grit not impeding the passion of our kisses and exploring hands and mouths. My breasts and his chest are exposed, his grip is firm and gentle, his kisses warm and sweet. Slowly he moves his hand farther down... fingers just under the exposed band of my panties... and I stop him.

"I can't."

And it's true, I couldn't. A twenty year old virgin, so caught up in the soul crushing fear of sin and the guaranteed wrath and retribution of God that what could have been, should have been, a wonderful moment of memory just got stacked like cord wood on the vast number of missed opportunities before and after. Fuck!

Fuckity, fuck, fuck!!

A couple of weeks ago, 23 years AFTER that event, I missed my second opportunity to have sex on a beach, which is what brought this little memory to mind.

You see, I was taught from the moment I graced this world, that there was ONE man, ONE who would be "worthy" of intimate congress, ONE that would make what was dirty, sinful, and unclean into something sanctioned by God. And in the same way that I believed the Garden of Eden was a literal place and I knew for certain Jonah lived for three days in the belly of a whale, I knew that God punished sinners and those that broke His holy law. And the wages of sin are death and being cast into the Lake of Fire was a real fucking threat and besides, this sweet, sweet boy would see me as nothing other than the Whore of Babylon once he's "had his way" with me. Oh, and I would no longer be worthy of "the ONE," in fact any ONE worth being the ONE, wouldn't want me anymore since I was no longer pure and waiting just for him.

And for that idiocy I don't have a memory of a fantastic fucking night of sweet sex on a perfect beach on a perfect night. And there are a ton of other memories I don't have either, momentary connections that never happened, physical sensations and pleasures neither felt nor shared. Stupid.

And that, my friends, is one of the many reasons that I do not like religion nor the religious and, furthermore, why I think the bullshit they teach is harmful. Because it is simply not true. Nor were many if not most of the other things I was taught and shaped my life around including gender issues, work, lifestyles, politics, friends, family, and pretty much anything else you can conceive. I'm focusing on the sexual side here because, well, this blog is pretty much about sexual exploration and growth. And here is something key I learned as part of our journey:

Sex is a natural and wonderful part of the human experience. It is not an act the demands punishment nor for that matter judgement. And any sex, good or bad, does not "ruin" you for future sex r relationships. I don't for one fucking moment now believe that had I had that delightful experience in the mid 80s that it would have a negative impact on my relationship with Vince. In fact, I strongly believe that if I'd had more generous, accurate, positive experiences he and I would not have endured years of sexual dysfunction.

I also think I would have made fewer real mistakes. When I finally did become sexually active (and the first time, seriously, "bad" doesn't begin to cover it) I held so many wrong beliefs that I continued to compound problems -- the biggest was the conviction that sex HAD to equal love. It wasn't just that I needed every sexual partner I encountered to like me, I needed them to LOVE me. I also had to love them, whether they were worthy of it or not. They couldn't just be a good time, a lark, or an experience. No, no. I had to know their motives and they'd better be good ones. In fact, it became almost a necessity for the guy to lie to or mislead me just so I could rationalize my own desires and behavior.

From there, it became, in a sense, a race to the bottom as the men I chose were more and more willing to give me what I required (deception), so that I could have what I wanted (sex).

That's not to say they were all losers and bad guys. Some of them really just liked me and wanted to have a good time. Man, I wish I could've recognized and enjoyed that; like I said, I think I would have some wonderful memories now. But a couple of them were downright bad news. The last one before Vince was a drug using, racist, abusive homophobe who, lucky for me, dumped me for the wife of a co-worker. I was devastated. Depressed. And finally realized that I need some fucking therapy.

Two celibate years later, I found Vince. And he is "the one." Not the pre-destined, Jesus approved, magic-man of myth, but the one that chooses -- deliberately and with good judgment, patience, and self-awareness -- to share my dreams, strange as they are. He's the guy who is willing to work, laugh, compromise, grow, share, accommodate, celebrate, sacrifice, and decide every day that I, that we, are worth it. His purpose in life is not to be the living embodiment of every dream I've ever had nor the gatekeeper of every desire and interest that might come to me. But, that said, he wants me to experience life as fully and as richly as I can.

And I want the same for him.

The church was then and is now, wrong. You don't suffer because you connect with people, even if that connection is sometimes momentary, sometimes limited, and maybe even sometimes physical. You suffer when you withhold yourself out of fear. You create suffering when you require others to withhold themselves because of your own fears.

So he is the one that I choose to make this trip with, hopefully a long one. And along the way, we will be open to what comes our way -- one journey, created by two people, shared generously and joyously with friends and loved ones.

Taking a break?

So as I was hopping around the blogs yesterday one post stuck out -- my main man Hubman and Veronica's "Swingshift." In a nutshell, it explains why they've decided to take a break from swinging for a little while:

"As it turns out we've grown frustrated with the work involved in finding playmates. It seems like all we've encountered lately are couples that don't follow up or seem intereseted in, I dunno, actually meeting. Assuming of course that we find them attractive in the first place!"

Read the whole article here.

It was so similar to a few conversations Vince and I had lately it made me wonder if you can take a break from swinging before, I dunno, you've actually swung!

Maybe I'm naive (okay, I am naive) but I had no idea how difficult this would be. Forget, for a moment, the emotional and relationship work it takes to finally get on to the same page. Forget, even further, the amount of personal growth that is required to mentally move from "I'm kinda curious....." to "I think I wanna...." to "I am going to....." Let's say you've finally slogged through all of that and now you're ready to get down to business; well, good luck with that.

Let's take up H&V's statement from our perspective.

"Assuming of course that we find them attractive in the first place!" This has been a bigger kicker for us than I thought. From Vince's point of view -- and one that I really had a tough time with initially because I bought the 'all men are barely contained horndogs' crap -- he really doesn't find a lot of women attractive as in, he's very selective. We've discovered that he certainly has a "type" both physically- and personality-wise but they are a rare breed in the swinging world from what we can tell. One thing he makes perfectly clear, they have to at least measure up to me, and I apparently set his bar pretty high. (He's sweet!)

But the truth is I do set the bar kinda high. First, he has a problem with "shallow." Now these ladies may be the epitome of depth and perspective but if so, they sure hide it well. He's also not too hip with "dumb." Again, lot's of folks talk about being smart in their poorly worded and typo-ridden emails. Maybe the disconnect is just with us. He (and I) also like people who are creative and, well, classy but it's kinda hard to believe the "we're a smart, classy couple" rhetoric when you're staring at 20 photos of ass and pussy in a public profile. Ditto for "discrete."

Sheesh.

Our routine is Vince peruses our swinger site's profiles and bookmarks the ones where he finds the ladies attractive -- and there aren't that many within a reasonable driving distance. He scans the written info because the woman can be hot as hell and if the writing sucks or is non-existant, it's an automatic "pass." From there, I weed out the ones that I'm not that hip, too. After that, I read the profile and see what I think.

This is where my point of view is odder than I thought. I've always been attracted to a wide range of physical types. As long as you appear to take care of yourself, then personality is what matters. Well, I'm getting pickier and I seriously think it has to do with moving from the "forbidden fantasy" to the "sanctioned actuality." It's sort of like when I go shopping. When I don't have any money, everything looks good! When I go back to the store with cash in my pocket ready to spend, I'll look for hours and not find a damn thing I like.

Then we have the problem of NO MALE PHOTOS in the damn public profile. I'm cool if there's no face pic (there isn't one in ours) but no male at all means he's not an asset OR the man doesn't matter; both of which are a turnoff.

Once we settle on, say 10 or 12 profiles we think are interesting, I write an introduction email that is specific to the profile. Usually the first paragraph says exactly what it was that caught our eye. The second paragraph is a quick cut and paste that tells a little more about us that I modify a bit to suit each couple, and the last is how to contact us. All that takes time.

"It seems that all we've enountered lately are couples that don't follow up....." Shoot, they don't respond AT ALL. That's fuckin' rude, especially when you consider that all the sites have a generic "thanks but no thanks" button you can simply click on. Now granted, I don't respond to generic "Hey, wazzzup! Yo, you hot!! Chckd ur profil an pics! Wanna fuck!!" But I do respond to people who at the very least put our screen name somewhere in the email.

Other than the ones I've written about before on Ivey Lane, of all the couples we've contacted we've recieved exactly three responses, not counting the additional spam emails from folks posing as a couple wanting to contact us, but really just pushing their event. "Hey, checked your profile and liked what we saw. You'll have a great time at the ________ party! Only $50 per HAWT couple! See you there, sexies!!"

Jeeez-us!

".... or seem interested in, I dunno, actually meeting." The three that did respond all said something along the lines of "hey, let's get together" but every time we suggest a time a place, they mysteriously go quiet.

To add to all of this, we already knew that we aren't the "party" types with the wacky dress up and the make-a-spectacle-of-yourself behavior. Neither of us ever really have been. We've also learned there's something kinda creepy for us about the swinger bar scene. We'll probably go to another one at some point in the future, but probably only if we're planning on meeting someone that we already know there. Again, neither of us are "meat market" types. Never have been.

On the upside, we're enjoying the vanilla world a lot more! Vince is not only comfortable but confident checking out the lovely ladies at his gigs. I'm much more open to enjoying myself on the dance floor knowing that he's not up on stage getting jealous while I enjoy myself. Together we check out waitresses or others that cross our path and it's a fun game.

When we're out and about we do occasionally encounter people that make us both go 'hmmmmm...." or give us that little jolt. If it's only one of us, we enjoy the jolt and move on. But every once in while, someone turns both our heads and we look at each other and think "how could we make this work?"

We're both more confident and I think it shows. We're also both more "out there" with our humor, our jokes, our interactions with each other and with others. Personally, I'm slowly shedding that constant feeling I used to have of being contained, of not being myself. And people are noticing.

In addition, I have my on-line flirty friends who fullfil a wonderful role in my life right now. Vince knows who they are and appreciates what they do for me and in a way, for him. An interesting phenomenon I realized the other day is that the more I engage my fantasies on-line, the more present I am with him when we're together. We're also able to share and more fantasies together, something we never did before we started this journey.

There's still plenty of room for growth and we're definitely open to and seeking new experiences but I have the feeling when we finally have them they'll be more organic, more of a natural flow from the mutual chemistry and the moment. We're becoming more clearly defined as a couple and more aware of each other as separate individuals.

In the end, I wouldn't say that Vince and I are "taking a break" from our pursuit of adventure but we are relaxing a bit, breathing into it, letting the tension go. Opportunities are on the horizen and we're keeping our eyes open but we're not banging our heads against the wall quite so hard anymore. And that's really all we needed a break from.

HNT -- They eyes have it

Happy HNT one and all!

Hiding the face in HNT shots can be quite a challenge but also quite boring. It's usually an arm across the face, a rear shot, or close crop. But the truth is, it's really about hiding the eyes. So, quickly, a few Ivey facts:

1. My eyes are very expressive. Even when I have my guard up or don't feel like I know you well enough to be fully me, you can tell in an instant if I like or dislike what I'm hearing or seeing.
2. I've been told my eyes "flash" when I'm angry, excited, wanton, joyous, etc.
3. I love to write, but more than that I love to talk face to face, to really get into whatever the topic is. When we're together, you get the full me, all my attention on you.

And I won't take my eyes off you.

For more HNT, visit our man Osbasso!

See you later,
Ivey

Sex, life, and videotape

I watch the brunette, her tongue sliding up the hard, vein-y cock. Her hair bounces up down with the motion of her bobbing head, moving quickly, then suddenly slowing, taking him deep, then sucking as her lips drag upwards, popping over the mushroom-shaped head. She does this several times. I hear the in-suck of his breath, then a low groan.

The view is from his angle, what he sees. The part in her dark hair, her boobs, bouncing out of a leopard print bra. She shifts her legs, lowers her back and I see the curve of her ass lift behind her, the matching thong perfectly splitting her cheeks-- firm and round and shapely. Suddenly she looks up at him, smiling deviously, deliciously, happily. He says something; I'm not sure what, but she smiles, full teeth, full lips, and like a goof rests her nose on the tip of his penis. He tells her he's "getting this on video," on his iPhone.

She laughs out loud now -- throaty, and a wonderful -- and responds by taking him all the way into her throat, as deep as she can.

As deep as I can. It's me on the little screen and Vince's gorgeous, lovely cock in my mouth.

We've never done this. Not ever. Well, yeah, I've given him blow jobs and once he took a picture of it but never run a camera. I mean really, I've never seen myself, or my Vincent, like this before, and it's fucking hot.

Now, I'm not necessarily sultry. I don't look like the chicks on porn making freaky-pouty faces, odd mewling noises, and teeth bared snorts. Vince describes me as "cute." I laugh. I smile. I giggle. A lot. I didn't really know that about myself. And as I continue watching, I realize, I don't look stupid, silly, fat, or ugly. In fact, I look damn sexy, especially when I look straight up at him, into his eyes, and all I can see there is wanton, wonderful, enjoyment.

I continue to watch the screen where our actions of a few moments before are recorded. I can see my lips curled over my teeth, to protect his gentle skin but I'm not being so easy with the rest of the package. My hand has his balls in a tight grip that I use to raise him deeper into my throat then pull back him back down. I can't see it but I know my knuckles are pressing hard between his balls and his ass as I pull up with my hand and push down with my mouth. My other hand is under him, pressing up, tantalizingly close to an area I'd just love to play with a little more.... like he does with mine.

I have rediscovered the blow job, and oh my fucking god, is it awesome.

His hand enters the screen and just as his fingers intertwine in my hair, the shot ends. He's put the fucking camera down so he can concentrate on what's going on. He grabs hard too, and lifts his hips to slide his dick even deeper, deep enough I almost gag, but not quite. When it gets too much, I press on his stomach with my other hand and he lets go of my head and wraps his hand around his cock to stroke himself to completion.

I wait, my gaze going back and forth between his face, his pumping hand, and his swollen member, waiting for him to pant out "now, suck it now." And I do. And he bucks and grinds into my mouth as he comes and I keep sucking and licking and squeezing the tip of his cock while he cums and moans and calls out for god.

My, my, my, how things have changed!

I'd never considered myself great with the blow job and there was probably a six year period where Vincent may have received three or four half-hearted ones. Two years ago the idea of a camera would have sent me running from the room. Now it's my freakin' idea. Hell, a year ago, I still would have squicked at the idea of him cumming in my mouth now it's an integral part of the plan. I stay on task dammit, until his fuckin' eyes roll back.

My friends, I have seen the light and I don't know why.

I think part of it is thanks to Sadie and Figleaf and Goose and Emmy and Hubman and Veronica, and all the other bloggers who write about the joy of enjoying sex. A greater part of it is changing my views of sex and love in general. Another part is the delightful on-line play I have with a few choice friends who rev my engines and fill my head with fun fantasies and awesome ideas.

But, and I think this is pretty huge, is the greater communication between Vince and me. To tell you the truth, the entire time we were "in the desert" he never complained, never once told me that my inability and unwillingness to have sex or give him a blow job hurt him or that he missed out on intimacy or even just the fucking fucking. I never knew how good orgasms felt to him. I guess I "knew" but I didn't know from him. It was only very recently in fact, that he told me how it felt when I sucked him off has he came, that it's "a nerve shattering, body wracking, mind blowing" sensation. I swear to god, I didn't know that.

And now that I do, I want to give him those sensations more. I want him to feel good. Very good.

I have a few readers (men who aren't having sex with their wives and some women who are struggling with lack of libido) to whom I'd love to say "I don't' know the specifics of your situation, but it DID turn around for us. It can turn around for you." My sex drive came back ... with a vengeance ... and man oh man I can't imagine going backwards.

After Vincent caught his breath it was my turn, I'm running the camera now and he's running his tongue and our toys. We've actually named them so I have Oscar in my pussy, Lil'Pete in my ass and Vincent suckling my lady bits. And yes, I've got pictures and no, you can't see them! But we did. And it was great! And after he rolled my eyes back in my head and I came so hard I almost pulled his hair out. But we weren't done. Oh no. We next found ourselves at the end of the bed, me bent over and him behind for all out pounding. OMG I love that! We ended the festivities with Vincent cumming for the second time in an hour.

This is our new normal and it is still unfolding, still evolving, still growing.

Part of me feels like a seventeen year old boy. I mean, I'm good to go! Ready and oh-so-willing any day, any time. It doesn't even take a stiff breeze. And Vincent ... well, let's just say he's not only keeping up, but starting to lead off on occasion. We're both continuing to open up a little more, to each other, to life, to experience. Who knows where we'll end up? But we're both pretty sure we're going to enjoy where the ride takes us; we're sure as hell enjoying the ride now.

Sunday rambling

Vincent is making his way home from his gig and I spent the morning indulging in a few favorite pastimes -- one of which is going for a bike ride. The following is a few thoughts that crossed my mind:

1. The tree on the right is an orange tree; their blossoms smell like heaven. It is an almost overpowering scent that doesn't just fill a few feet around them but instead you can smell them hundreds of yards away. If there are enough trees, the aroma carries for miles. It's a rich, heady sweetness that can overpower anything in its way -- exhaust fumes, pollution, anything. In season, this smell wraps around everything; of course it only lasts for a couple of weeks. When I was growing up, hundreds of thousands of acres of orange groves made pretty much the entire center and lower-center of the state come alive like this every year. The freezes of the early 80s and again in the mid-90s have all but destroyed the industry this far north and the developers of the late-90s pretty much destroyed the rest of the groves. But they're still a few of the trees here and there, and I look forward to this time every year.
2. Our community has a bike trail that cuts through the center of our town and continues into the counties west, north, and east of us. I feel like I'm among "my people" when I'm on the trail. The hard-core bikers have hard, cut muscles in their legs and butts. Awesome. The runners are in heaven right now because of the weather even though they still look miserable. (I know, I know, runners. You're not "miserable" but "in the endorphin zone." Whatever. You still look miserable. And when it's 98 degrees and 98% humidity in July and August, you can't convince me you aren't miserable.) The in line skaters are beautiful with the graceful sway of their bodies and legs, sweeping from side to side. The earnest walkers make their way up and down the trail. Young people with kids, older retired folks with bikes that cost more than my first car. Gangs of people "training," groups of people "socializing." It's just freakin' awesome.
3. There's a nature preserve also along the trail with a back entrance. Today, I locked up my bike on the rack and hiked a mile or so on the trails as well. I saw one other couple through the trees but for the most part I was completely alone. For a while I toddled along with The Indigo Girls and John Prine on my iPod then eventually shut it off just to hear the "nothing" around me. I texted Vince with a photo. I am, in my heart, a nature girl.
4. After my solo bike ride I decided to have a solo breakfast at our local french restaurant -- french coffee, an omlette with "fromage et fin herbs," and fruit. I sat in the outdoor cafe section that over looked the trail going through the center of town. That's where I observed once again the huge difference between the folks on the trail and the ones on the sidewalk. Not everyone on the trail was a hard-body (I'm certainly not) but everyone on the trail looked like they gave a damn. Many of the sidewalk strollers moved with that overweight or broken down and painful-looking shuffle of people who've given up; as if they've prematurely embraced decrepitude. These folks weren't old, but they were all, to a man and a woman, damaged.
5. While I was eating the chef came out of the back, strode purposefully across the street to the local fresh vegetable shop. He walked back out carrying fresh green onions, tomatoes, and several clumps of the "fin herbs" previously mentioned. He's french, so he looked a bit pissy about it, but his food is always fresh!
6. I didn't feel especially sexy this morning but I felt great never-the-less. It's almost a neutral feeling I get when I'm "independent Ivey"; a contented quality that fills me when I'm engaging my body, exploring my environment, entertaining my own thoughts, and observing the world without filters, clutter, or distraction. No one with me whose wants or opinions need to be taken in to account. No one around with whom to discuss, debate, or defend my thoughts or ideas. No one's schedule but my own, no direction except what I choose. It's an awesome and peaceful feeling.

Random rambling. Vincent is home now after an obnoxiously long trek home. The temperature is perfect and I've opened all the windows to let the soft spring breeze perfume the house with orange blossoms. I'm going to let Vincent rest while I go and get a pedicure. Then later, I'm going to cook him a fantastic supper. After that, if he's up for it, I think I'll give him a good night blow job and then snuggle him off to sleep.

Over-thinking it

Ah, finally a little solitude! As I may have mentioned before, Vince and I live and work together from home but for the last eight days, we have not been away from each other's physical proximity by more than maybe 15 feet at any given time. Let me tell ya somethin', the kinky-folk that brag about their 24/7 dom/sub life can suck it. (A joke, my kinky-type readers! Joke!!) But seriously folks, the constant little shifts from me to he to she to we that make up our existence can, on some days, be a pretty intense dance -- sometimes a jig, sometimes a tango, sometimes a waltz. But on most days, just a joyous dance. :)

Lots and lots has been going on in my noodle and I just thought I'd share a little.

So, here's a bit about our visit to the off-site swingers club last Saturday. First, it wasn't exactly "a club" but instead a regular bar in an OK part of town that recently started hosting a swinger event for Lifestyler's on Saturday nights. It was about a 45 - 50 minute drive from where we were staying but considering the offerings in our hometown, that didn't seem too far for us.

We found out about the place through our swinger website and posted that we were planning to attend. One of the host couples emailed us back to say they were looking forward to meeting us and to ask for them when we got there. That was very nice. I'm a gregarious girl and I still have trouble just walking up to people in a bar and saying "hi."

Anyway, we decided to try something a little different: this night, Vince called all the shots. From where we stood to who we talked to, whatever. First, in most swinger relationships, its the opposite, the WIFE calls all the shots. But in our case, Vince is the more reserved so rather than have him standing there being uncomfortable with whatever choices I was making, I suggested I just hang back and go with whatever he wanted. The other reason is because I can be, ahem, a bit pushy, some would say a control freak, other might more charitably say ... well ... there is no charitable way I can think of to control the thoughts, words, and actions of another person who doesn't want to be controlled. Let me tell ya, pushiness and control can get fuckin' old fuckin' quick; from both our standpoints.

To agree on the dynamic we used the example of how we act when we ride our motorcycle. I'm fully capable of driving the thing (licensed and all!) but I enjoy just riding on the back, he makes all the decisions, calls all the shots, and I trust that I'll enjoy wherever he decides to go.

And it worked, for the most part.

The evening itself was okay. When we first got there (after I jumped the gun and asked for the hosts before Vince was ready, as he reminded me of our deal) we checked out the bar. It was nice overall; there were a good number of couples at the main bar, in the back was a dance floor, complete with stripper pole and a DJ, and a nice fenced-in outdoor area. Unfortunately for us, the dance area was also the smoking section and that pretty much kept us out of there. In addition, the evening was cold and I was wearing a sexy ensemble, so the porch wasn't a great option either.

Vince chose a spot at the end of the bar where we could see folks coming in the door and check out the people at the bar. And check we did. And there was no one that we were interested in physically. Ages and sizes aren't a huge deal for us but we've discovered a few things that are: we like women that look "soft" not "hard." Vince likes big eyes, full lips, and natural looking hair of any shade. We both prefer women that had a "feminine" shape, a little round and curvy, not "hard body" fit or broad-shouldered build. Those folks can be very nice people, but they don't turn either one our heads and make us go "hmmmmm." We also have a thing about class or taste. We like to have as much fun as the next couple (we think) but there's something about vulgarity that just turns both of us off. A person can be hot as hell, but if they can't manage a sexy look or sexy conversation without acting like they were born in a barn then they also, aren't for us.

You may notice I didn't say much about the men and that's something we have to work on. Since Vince was in the lead, there was no discussion of men for me at all. His position, and in some sense I agree, is that since there were no women of interest, the men didn't matter. But it bugs me. I've made it very clear I'm bi-curious (probably bi-definitely-curious) but I am certainly straight, so I just think that as a matter of equity he should take my interests into greater consideration however, since we were leaving all of the decision making up to him, it didn't ever come up until the car ride back to our hotel.

We did chat with the hosts and a few other couples. The hosts were nice and one of the guys was quite funny. But the bar setting wasn't the best for Vince; it's hard to hear, he gets distracted by the music, and he's not a small talk kinda guy. Maybe we're just not shallow enough for the bar crowd? Maybe it's not our setting? See, the thing is, we've never been "bar" people. Vince plays gigs in them, but neither of us hang out in them and really never have.

At the end of the night Vince decided he "didn't have a bad time." And that's not enough. We both want to have a good time -- an exciting, fun, and adventurous time. We (and I think he more than me) needs to be excited about the people we're with, especially the woman and he is, if not picky, very selective.

Personally, (and I could be really wrong about this) I think if I was only interested in three-somes with women or girl-girl action we'd have already jumped in by now. But there is something about "the men" that bothers Vince. He swears that it's not jealousy, that he trusts that I love him and that I'm not looking to replace him. When we last discussed it he said that he felt that "the man hadn't earned the right to be there" or to be with me. "What's this guy bringing to the table?" is how he phrases it.

I'm not really cool with that.

It appears that his position is "if I want to fuck the guy's wife bad enough then the you can do whatever you want with him." But I know my husband and that type of callous disregard for me just doesn't sound like him. So I keep thinking there's something else there that I'm not getting or he's not saying.

See, I actually WANT to see him have sex with another woman. I WANT to watch his face when she's doing something wonderful to him and with him, I WANT him to have the experience of two (or more!) women working to give him fantastic sensations and powerful orgasms. I want to be able to do things with him that it's not physically possible for me to do alone. I WANT the satisfaction of knowing that at the end of every day I am his wife and I happily and eagerly do whatever I can to give him whatever HE wants.

And I want him to feel the same way about me, but in spite of what he says, I just don't get the feeling that he does.

Maybe it's as simple as he just can't get his mind around the thought of me giving or receiving any type of pleasure (sexual or otherwise) with another man; and that certainly wouldn't be unusual compared to the vast number of men in world. Maybe in his mind I am literally "his" to call the shots, to run the show, even though he does not want to be the person that prevents me from experiencing anything this life has to offer.

And maybe I'm just over-thinking this thing. Maybe we just haven't met an attractive enough woman who also has a good enough guy.

Sorta HNT

So we've finally returned to our humble abode and back to the land of predictable internet service and adequate bandwidth. Whew! What a week!!

As you can see, we didn't actually get an HNT pulled together so I thought I'd show you something that is pretty secret -- Vincent. So keeping with tradition, first, a few Vincent facts:

1. Vince is an amazing musician (guitar is his main instrument), an outstanding amatueur/sorta pro photographer, and an all around good egg.
2. He is a pretty -- oh hell, who am I kidding? -- VERY private person. This is about as much nekkid as I ever think we'll see on Ivey Lane.
3. He is pretty oblivious when it comes to his attractiveness with the ladies. He's usually so into whatever he's doing, he doesn't always notice when a woman digs him. "She was hitting on me? Really?" Of course she was.

(Vince adds "I'm not that stupid. I do know when I'm getting attention. But I am always surprised by it."

Oh, and this shot was taken on a beach in north Florida, south of St. Augustine. The rocks you see are coquina outcroppings.

Happy Half-Nekkid-Thursday everyone.

Ivey

Raise up a child in a way that is right....

[Warning -- I wrote this at 3:00 am. I can't sleep. Don't ask why. But a self-pitying wallow follows. Read at your own risk.]


For those of you church-y types, especially if you have any familiarity at all with the Southern Baptist tradition, you know exactly what the title of this post refers to --

Proverbs 22:6 "Raise up a child in a way that is right, and when he is old, he shall not depart from it."

Ivey's corollary is "Raise up a child any fucking way you want and when they are old they won't depart from it; the couldn't if they tried."

See, I was raised to be the following: obedient (above all), subservient, and accommodating.

I was taught to never "talk back," never question, never doubt or challenge authority; never, ever, put my needs and certainly not my desires, over anyone else's, not fucking ever. I learned and learned well that what I think is wrong, that I cannot function properly without correction and that punishment does not need to be understood but rather withstood. I know that love is conditional and that it can be, and will be, withheld when I displease those that I am required to love and to obey. I learned, and learned well, that I do not, I do not ever, embarrass people with my words, my actions, or my thoughts. Not. Fucking. Ever.

Yes, indeed folks. I was raised up right. And those lessons were driven home with belts, brushes, paddles, slaps, humiliation, and ridicule. And I got the fucking message before I turned five. By the time I was ten, I stopped trying to figure out what I'd done wrong but instead was learning to avoid anything that might earn a correction. Unfortunately, I also learned that I wasn't very bright, because I failed at that a lot.

A short list:

• An eye-roll would earn a slap along with "Roll your eyes at me, I'll roll your head back, young lady."
• Disrespect in any form, but especially in public, would earn having my underpants jerked down, turned over a knee, and spanked with a hand or paddle. "Don't you EVER sass me!"
• Disobedience, swearing, or lying was a belt-worthy offense; when little, over the knee worked, in the teen years, I would lay across the bed, as instructed, in undies only. "I don't want to do this but you WILL learn not to [fill in the blank here]."

And guilt or innocence was immaterial. Judgement was swift and punishment was sure.

Furthermore, this was a "village" kinda vibe. It wasn't just my own parents that didn't spare the rod to avoid the proverbial "child spoiling," relatives, neighbors, the church, hell, the school community, got to get their licks in too.

An interesting side note, at least to me, is that I had one teacher in middle school who was especially paddle-happy. One day I observed that I was always wearing a dress every time I did something that required me to go out in the hall, put my hands against the wall, spread my feet, and take my "whuppin." Weird. But I quit wearing dresses and that seemed to solve the problem, at least in Ag. Class.

In the church (and reinforced at home) I learned that not only was I responsible for my behavior but apparently for the behavior -- and even the thoughts! -- of every boy and grown man around. Once, we were coming back from a Youth Trip ("Jesus! '82" at Seaworld) late at night. I'd fallen asleep in the back of the church van. Suddenly, we pulled off the side of the road, waking everyone up, where I was informed that I had to go ride on the children's bus because I was "inspiring lust in the hearts of young men." This not per the young men, but according to the chaperone driving the van who should've been keeping his eyes of the fucking road and not on the sleeping 15 year old in the back row. By herself.

I made it to college and my 20s, virginity firmly in place, and discovered that I had, in fact, been raised up right. I never questioned the authority of my professors, even when they told me that I would never realize my dreams and utterly lacked talent. I never talked back or questioned the "brilliant" and "learned" minds that were there, but I anticipated what I needed to get the grade well enough and gave it to them, with little thought on my part and less understanding.

And when opportunities did come my way, a chance to study abroad or be cast in a very challenging role (that included.... shhhh.... nudity) I turned those disgusting opportunities down, and right fuckin' quick too, let me tell you. I didn't need to "think" about anything, weigh pros and cons, challenge myself. Hell no! I already KNEW the right path, because my parents and God and the pastors and the relatives made sure I did. And when the professional chance of a lifetime (for a serious young actress, at least) presented itself to me, I let that pass too. I mean, Mama and Daddy and Granny and Granddaddy and Ganny and Gramps and all my aunts and cousins and the preacher and well, shit, you get the idea. They would NEVER be okay with that. And you don't cross Mama and Daddy. Not if you know what's good for you.

"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away! But Mama and Daddy are the hands of God."

I have no children and I never will.

And because I had no experience or understanding with "boys," other than the fact that good girls didn't put out, when my body's desires finally overcame my morals I fucked up in more ways than one -- from a disastrous and very regrettable "first time" to the first in a long line of bad choices.

I rationalized that it's okay though, if, ya know, they love you. And they did love me, right? I mean, I loved them. All of them. From the compulsive liar to the drug-abusing racist asshole. From the ones I don't remember to the ones I've tried and failed to forget. I loved them. I had to. And they just HAD to love me. A lot of them didn't though. And seriously, why would they? I was a dirty, sex-having whore.

Because sex equals love, right? Because if it doesn't, then I was fucking lied to. See, I was told that sex is only okay if both the man and woman love each other and if they aren't married then they are going to be soon. Right? Oh, and it's dirty. And it's from the devil. And it's all Eve's fault anyway. And that's why it hurts to have babies. Because God made it so when he drove Adam and Even from the Garden of Eden. Because God was fucking pissed at stupid Eve. And that's why she's not as good as a man. Because she's stupid, and gullible, and weak, and well, dirty. Unless a man loves her, and that makes her okay. But not any smarter.

And as I entered my thirties and now my forties I am realizing, deeply and completely, just how "right" I was raised and how I want to, but don't seem to be able to, depart from it.

I have obligations to my family, and I owe them, because they made me who I am -- right? -- and eventually I will bankrupt myself and my husband to take care of them. Under their constant criticism, correction, and derision. I know that.

And when the day comes, and it will because it has before, when my brother needs me because he is even more fucked up than I, I will take care of him, too.

What other people want or need will always, always, always be placed above what I want or need. Always.

And now that I no longer believe in God -- or my parents for that matter -- I have to tell you I'm a little disappointed that my sacrifice won't even earn me a place in heaven. I'm kinda pissed off that failing to please others and not doing whatever it is that they didn't want me to do isn't going to give me at least some cosmic fucking payoff. Of course, I shouldn't be surprised. My vigilant dedication to not upsetting people has failed to make them happy, and it's sure as shit failed to make me happy.

I mean, I've not done it all. I "didn't do" the long list of don'ts.

I'm forty-fucking-three. If family history can be trusted and nothing else goes awry, then I'll probably live to be ninety and that's not a given, is it? I would really like, no REALLY LIKE, to do some of the don'ts and even some of the do's.

But I don't think I can.

That's not how I was raised.

Moonlight Serenade

So Vincent and I are working from the road for a few days. This project requires -- I mean just requires! -- us to spend 7 nights at the beach. During the day, we're pretty much driving up and down the beach road, writing, taking pictures, and conducting an interview or two, and at night we explore the local restaurants and haunts.

Last night, after a hard days work, we headed over to a little hidden gem of a dining establishment that our client suggested. It's a backwoods Florida coastal kinda place that serves up Alligator Tail, Frog Legs, Catfish, Oysters, etc. etc. They also serve this tasty libation called a "Swamp Thang"; I'm not sure what all's in it except Bacardi and lots of other stuff and our fantastic server, Jimmy, who was just as cute as could be, took a shine to us and told the bartender to make 'em "friendly." It was indeed the color of swamp water and served in a mason jar. I had three. (Vince had a couple of beers, as is his custom.)

Dinner was great but that's not the story. After we ate we came back to our resort where we have what amounts to private beach access. It's still a little cool at night but we decided to take a walk down, just to listen to the waves and watch the stars.

Man, oh, man! It was DARK. And low tide so the waves were crashing rhythmically in the distance. This stretch of Florida coast has no high rise hotels, no light polluting city lights, and mostly private homes on the beach. In other words, it was totally deserted. So it was just me and him. Just us. All alone. On our own private peace of paradise, arms wrapped around each other, gazing into the heavens.

I was so happy I just had to give him a blow job right there on the beach. And I did. (Grin!) And it was marvelous. (Vincent grins!)

It was also a first. I gotta tell ya, I completely envy the camping-in-the woods nature-types sometime (not all the time, but sometimes) mostly because they get to fuck in nature. That just sounds pretty cool to me.

But back to the beach, we hadn't thought to bring a towel or blanket with us and the thought of sand in my ladybits wasn't appealing so we zipped up and hustled back to our room for some right proper nookie! And Vincent got to come again. Twice in one hour! Not too shabby for a 40-something year old man, eh? And I, of course, got as many big O's as I could stand, as is my custom. (More grinning here!)

There's a swinger club in a town not too far from here and if we can swing it (get it? swing it?) we're going to head over there this evening.

Since we are working from the road, Internet access is spotty and time is limited. I won't be posting or commenting much but will be reading your stuff.

Catch ya later, Alligator!

Ivey

HNT -- Thinking of him....

And another Happy HNT is upon us! The time has sprung forward, Spring is around the corner, and my thoughts turn, as always, to him.

But first, a few Ivey facts:

• Over the past few months I've delighted in a number of cyber-crushes and on-line flirtations and you guys always put a smile on my face! (You know who you are, and THANKS! :) )But my number one pass-time, my favorite mental preoccupation, is Vincent.


• We are literally a 24/7 couple. We work together from home, travel together for business, and entertain together as a couple. And we are extremely happy and content with our arrangement.


• Occaisionally, he has a gig and is away from me, so I have the evening home alone. I usually slide into the tub with a good book, or maybe curl up on the couch and peruse my favorite blogs, sometimes I may flirt with a disembodied friend or two, but every night when I'm climbing in bed he's the one I think about before drifting off into a contented slumber.

Everything I dream about is in addition to -- never instead of -- him.

Enjoy!

Check out the other half-nekkid loveliness over at O's place!

And on another note, I'd like to give a special shout out this Thursday to the delightful Babe Lincoln and her hubby. They are rejoining the HNT wackiness and I hear a "rock and roll" theme is on the docket. Congrats, you two!!

I am Ivey Lane

I had a pretty good time last week; specifically, Vincent and I got a away for a few days to a little resort-y kinda town with a few friends -- definitely a vanilla! -- but a little out of the ordinary this time. One night, we went to a dance club and, oh my god, was it fantastic. I haven't danced like that since before I was married! Hell, since before we started going out. Well, shit, I haven't danced like that for almost 18 years.

And it was wonderful.

Of course, the achy knees took over at about mid-night, a clear reminder that age catches up to us all but in my case, it's kinda worse than that....

You see, and I don't mean to alarm anyone, but I have a thing about my mortality; I know it's comin' and I know it's gonna suck.

Don't be alarmed. I'm not sick or anything, just hyper-aware of the process.

"Well, Ivey, everyone 'knows' they're going to die. You're just being morbid."

No, they really don't. They don't watch, day after day, month after month, year after year, strong people decay -- mentally, physically, spiritually, emotionally -- before their very eyes. They don't do, with their own hands, the things that dying people need, like wipe shit from asses, and change adult diapers, and spoon-feed hand mashed peas into drooling mouths. They don't lift and carry from rocker to bed the same woman who used to both wipe and spank their behind. They don't fall to their knees so they can hold the penis of the bravest and baddest man that ever lived in a plastic jar so he won't piss on the carpet. Again. Then lie beside them, in a darkened and dingy room that smells of both Clorox and urine, as they are drawing their last breaths and hold their hands -- one on a hot July night, the other the following Spring -- as they leave this world for... what? The next? Oblivion? Heaven or hell?

No, everyone doesn't know they are going to die. But I know. And I know sooner or later, my last day on this earth is coming. It would be a gross understatement to say that knowledge caused the birth of Ivey Lane.

I'd been coming to the realization that something was "wrong" for quite some time. Not all at once, but with a sense of urgency that was palpable and intense. And on one of the many, many days or nights that I spent with my loved ones, I realized something horrible -- I've lived my life trying to please people who couldn't be pleased and missing out on the wide world of experiences that could be mine if only I'd hadn't been afraid -- of judgement, of condemnation, of disappointing people, of disappointing God. And here's the kicker, if I didn't change, I was going to die the same way that the two old folks in the house were dying, alone, afraid, incontinent, inarticulate shadows of their former selves; and in my case, without the benefit of heirs or children to ease the transition, however modestly.

"Oh, Ivey, it's just a mid-life crisis. You'll get over it."

Yeah, ya see, that's the thing. I don't want to get over it. I think most people do get over it by getting the tattoo they always wanted (check), buying the motorcycle or sports car (check and soon to be checked) and having an affair (okay, no affair but surely the swinging desire counts for that) AND THEN realizing that deep down, they either hadn't really changed or that they were still more afraid of dying than of not living.

But I really, honestly and truly, changed. And I have traded my fear of death for a fear of a life not fully lived. I want to experience everything I can, without fear, rejecting judgement. I want to know what I'm capable of; I want to know how much of life I can take in, how many people I can meet, how many places I can go, how many things I can do.

I want to know. That's all.

I want to know what it feels like to have sex with a woman. I want to know what it feels like to have sex with two men. I want to know what it's like to experience that kind of chemistry with another person or group of people then to indulge in the connection that presents itself. I want to experience pleasure for pleasure's sake whether that be good food, good sex, or good times.

And I know, in my heart of hearts, that I am fully capable of living life to the fullest. I know that I can enjoy moments and people and sensations. I know, for example, that if I decide to go to a strip club I can have a ball. I know that if I had the opportunity to have sex with another man or woman that I will enjoy it for what it is and not try to turn it into something that it isn't, for good or ill. I'm aware, that there are possibilities and limits in the world. And still, I am unafraid and unashamed.

And I'm not limiting myself to the sexual realm either though I feel this is a strong phase because of where I am in my life now combined with what I lost, through ignorance and fear, in my youth. I want to push the limits of my athleticism, to see what I can keep my body doing. I want to expand my mind and my understanding of people and ideas. And I must say, except for the sexual adventures, I'm doing a damn good job.

But some folks can't or won't do those things.

And that is how you "get over," or avoid entirely, a mid-life crisis. You accept the notion that life's experiences are, for whatever reason, not for you. Perhaps you cannot or will not explore beyond your defined comfort zone. Perhaps you are not willing enough to let go of your own judgments of yourself or others enough to connect with people who may not be like you. Perhaps you are unable or unwilling to jeopardize what you have for what you want.

I've mastered the first two. I am fearless -- "intrepid" is the word Vincent prefers -- and I've redefined my judgements in ways that have opened my heart to some fascinating and wonderful people. But that last one, may, in fact, be the one that moves me off Ivey Lane. I know there is one thing, one person, that I cannot give up. I would literally die for them. I hope to die with them, hand-in-hand, side-by-side in whatever old folks home we finally reside in, interacting with each other and with whoever is willing to wipe our asses and spoon feed us our mashed peas. If it ever comes down to what makes him happy or what makes me happy, the answer is already made -- it will be him.

It may seem self-defeating, but I cannot make him miserable, even if the source of his misery is my happiness, and still be happy myself. And if I lose him, the one experience I want more than all others, to share my life with him, will be sacrificed.

I am flexible and can change; perhaps he is not or does not want to. He is content with who he is; I am no longer content with who I was.

He is who he is. I am who I decide to be.

And for now, I am Ivey Lane.

What's the weather out there?

Look outside. Clear freakin' blue sky. It's 8:00 a.m.; Vincent and I are looking out the french doors into the backyard contemplating a Sunday morning bike ride. We wonder, aloud, what the temperature is out there.

And here it is, the difference between Vincent and Ivey, in a nutshell:

Vincent whips out his trusty iPhone, pulls up the local temps, and assess the data while I get up, open the door, and go outside to see how it feels.

That's it, folks -- Vince and Ivey.

I don't give a rat's ass what the numbers on some device says about the temperature. 58 degrees? What the fuck does that mean to me? Maybe 58 feels good today, maybe it doesn't. Maybe it's a dry 58 or a humid one. I won't know 'til I get out there, man, and once I do, the decision is made completely and totally, no looking back. "Feels great!! Let's ride!!" Or "Hell no! Let's go to breakfast."

Vincent assess data. He knows if he has a good response to "58 degrees" or not, if it falls inside or outside of his acceptable range. There is no need to go check and "see" if it's all right. No need to subject himself to some potential discomfort if he's already decided that's too cold nor waste time verifying it if he's already decided the weather is fine.

No amount of data is going to change my impression of the what my senses tell me so it's useless for Vince to try to change my mind if his data tells him something different.

"Honey, it's only 58, that's not cold."

"Are you kidding me! I'm freezing out here."

At the same time, if I insist he go out there and check for himself he will come back with an affirmation of what he's already determined.

"Baby, com'on! It feels awesome out here!"

"Hey, 58 is cold. I'm not going out there just to be miserable 8 miles from home."

Now if you and your spouse are both analyzers or both experiencers, then it's easier to understand and accept their judgements and reasoning about pretty much everything, especially as it relates to the twists and turns of swinging. You may disagree on the conclusion of the analysis or the outcome of the experience but you at least recognize as valid how the other person reached their decision.

But if you're different types, if you reach your conclusions through vastly different processes, it's a whole new fuckin' ballgame. You have to learn about, recognize, admit exists, commit to, trust in, and be patient with a mental and emotional decision making process that you yourself don't use!

People often talk about how their "communication has improved" thanks to their foray into swinging and my question is always "How, exactly?" Be specific; know what is "improving." You see, my impression is that only committed people who already have a damn good communication system are able to navigate swinging successfully. Oh, and please don't assume I'm saying that committed people with good communication should try the swinging idea. I'm not. I am saying that if you don't have those two things, you definitely shouldn't.)

Our communication (and in my opinion each of us as individuals) has been made better by the various revelations of our journey in very specific ways and this is one of them. I watch his gears turn, I see his assessing mind at work when we're deciding who we want to contact on our swinger site and deciding who is and isn't a good fit as a good thing. He is the one who keeps our train on the track, so to speak. He sees my ability to experience the unfamiliar without a lot of analysis as intrepid and fearless, not reckless or stupid, which opens us both to new adventures and a richer, more meaningful life.

I'm always out front, saying "The weather's great! Let's go!" or conversely "This doesn't feel right." Vincent checks the data, verifies the facts, makes sure we have appropriate clothing for the weather, and plots the course.

Each holding the other's heart safely in our hands.

HNT -- Obese? Really?

Greetings, one and all and happy Half-Nekkid Thursday! I'm finally recovered from my cold, mostly, and have just gotten home from a kick-ass karate class. Tonight, two of my classmates promoted so the rest of us did the testing with them for moral support. Ow. But damn, I'm one bad-ass Southern lady....

That said, today's HNT -- Obese. But first, a few Ivey facts:

1. Yes, according to the standards being used by Hubman's children's school district, yours truly is truly obese. My BMI is (gasp!) 31.
2. I can bike 30 miles without breathing hard, can lift as much weight as many men, and am a Green belt in karate. I eat very well. I sleep very good. I am, according to many, quite lovely.
3. There are two types of people in the world -- those who find my body repulsive and something to be ashamed of and those who find it beautiful and something to be enjoyed. It took me 41 years to finally join the latter group.

And I haven't looked back.

Happy HNT everyone! For more Half-Nekkidness, go visit Osbasso!

Oh, and for those one or two people who don't already know, my fave babe Hubman has a new URL. Go check him out, or update your blogroll, or whatever you need to do. That man it too cool to miss!