Beware a woman with a mohawk fetish. Do everything in your power to get her into your bed, but beware. You’re in for a wild ride, particularly if her name is Alice – particularly if she’s shown a penchant for having her clit sucked by a girl in a tight purple dress in the bathroom of a booming club. I’d missed her. I’d had fantasies about her. Hadn’t you? Well, last week she sent me another e-mail. I sensed an emergency situation. I sensed a libido on the prowl. Naturally I wanted to help. Here’s her e-mail:
The more I think about sex and have sex, the more people notice. I had to share a tent during a storm with a stranger. He slid his hand up my shirt, sliding it around my stomach. He put his leg over mine. I stretched against him, but because I was running on forty-five minutes of sleep, I went to sleep when he didn’t progress. I’m leaving this city in a few weeks. May I have an assignment to complete before I leave?
Alice Continue reading Sex Cafe: Alice’s Five Word Experiment
Dear Mr. X,
Did you miss me? I missed you. I wanted to send a postcard, or a sex toy, but then I don’t have your address, do I? So instead I thought of you and walked into a sex shop.
My chance to meet your sex challenge finally came one day when my sister went shopping. I told her that I wanted to stay home and read, and the second she drove away I changed into some sexy clothes and flew out the door. A few days earlier I’d spotted a sex shop not far from her place, and as I walked my excitement over what I would find there was almost unbearable. I had butterflies in my belly and a slightly burning crotch (ever so slightly, but distinctly there), and I thanked you for making it so fun in my head. Continue reading I am a sex toy: her response to The Sex Shop Experiment
Dear Beautiful Loser,
I loved hearing about your (losing but winning) sex adventure out on the town with your husband. I would have loved to be there at the bar, sidling up close to you and considering the possibilities. But then I’ve promised to remain at a distance (alas), although I do occasionally come across you in unexpected ways. For example, I was at a party last night and your name came up in relation to some of the work you’ve been doing. I played dumb, of course, and said I’d only met you once or twice…but had found you charming. What would’ve given me away, if anyone was paying attention, was the bulge in my pants that had appeared so emphatically that I feared it would rise clear out of my pants and walk off to order its own drink. We both needed a drink right about then. You do that to a man. Continue reading The Sex Shop Experiment
There’s something about catching the eye of a beautiful woman across a crowded room – particularly when that woman is your wife and two men are pressing their cocks against her. It was a vision I found exciting, although perhaps that had something to do with the two brunettes who had marked me for a likely score and were wriggling around seductively in front of me. My wife has good taste in women – the long-legged, well-titted lovely next to me was as stunning as my wife described her. Yes, we were daring each other to be strangers in a bar together, and we were both feeling the thrill. Continue reading Stranger in a car: the result of The Bar Game Experiment
Dear Mr. X,
You really do keep it coming, don’t you. Interpret that as you like. I’ve waited too long to write back, so without further ado, here’s the story of my night on the town with my husband, which turned out to be much different than I had suspected.
My first task was of course to present your game of seduction to my husband. We’ve always talked fairly easily about sex and our fantasies, but it’s most often he who starts the conversation, so this was a small challenge for me (I’m generally most open about sex after the seduction, when we’re naked in bed).
I knew he had a meeting the afternoon of the evening I’d planned for your challenge, so I called him and suggested we meet at a bar around 7:30. I proposed a seedier bar we haven’t been to in years and which is known to have its fair share of prostitutes. Are you sure? he asked twice, but I insisted. I knew that we wouldn’t meet anybody we know there, and actually I love observing prostitutes. In a past life I think I was probably some royal courtesan. And my husband loves any excuse for a cocktail anywhere (and probably wishes we went out more often), so he quickly agreed. His meeting might run later, he said, but he would call as soon as he was finished. Now I knew I had at least taken care of your requirement to enter the bar separately. Continue reading Seduction, neat, with a twist: her response to The Bar Game Experiment
Dear Fondled Femme Fatale,
Oh how I would have liked to rub my hands up the inside of your thighs, spreading oil out to your edges. And yes, I considered presenting myself as your masseur if you’d asked, but I wasn’t sure I could pull it off without giving myself away, and then I’ve promised you to remain a tall, dark stranger. In the end you seem to have chosen quite well on your own. Continue reading The Bar Game Experiment
Today I was responding to an excited reader who had written in with a particularly challenging experiment for my wife. I was thanking him for writing, and I was thinking about writing in general, specifically how I find that writing desires down on paper (or speaking them aloud) make them somehow realer, and subtly alter the way we interact in the world. Words are more concrete than dreams, and closer to real experience. Typing is an action in a way that dreaming isn’t, and so it’s a lot closer to mad orgies than idle fantasy. All of which is a roundabout way of asking for your help, and by that I mean your own naughty experiments. I’m eager to meet Mr. A’s, Mr. B’s, and Mr. C’s, as well as Susie’s, Yvette’s, and other unknown, better-named women. I’d like to read about experiments women have devised for men, and experiments men have devised for women. I’d like to put you in touch with others eager to live out your sex dares, and I’d like to read about the results of your own. Continue reading Want a sex dare? An open call/moan/groan to readers
Is it odd that 90% of my sexual fantasies involve my wife? That seems like some kind of unnamed disorder to me. Not that you can’t fit a lot of bodies into the non-wife 10% (and sometimes they won’t fit), but seeing her so sexually uninhibited just makes me more sexually uninhibited (and there’s probably a psychological name for that too). I walk down the street shooting molecules off my skin, and the women grin, knowing what I’m up to. Everywhere I look I see happy endings.
Do I mind that my wife let herself be manipulated to a happy ending by a masseur I’ve never met? Not at all. Mostly I just wish she’d freed his cock from his pants to wrap her red-painted lips round it with hypnotized lust. A couple of months ago, before I started this experiment, I imagine I would’ve felt a slight catch of jealousy at the thought, but somehow her experiments have been my experiments too, and we’ve evolved together. Continue reading The happy ending of The Full Body Massage Experiment
Dear Dirty Masseur X,
You know I do like to be touched. Also, isn’t it every woman’s dream to be painted nude by some attentive master? I just think of the hours – the days! – it would take, and you slowly getting to know my every single curve, and me getting all sleepy and languid and just letting you look forever. But I’m being coy, aren’t I? You’re sitting there awaiting your very official report, and this time I don’t think you’ll be disappointed, sir. I’m letting myself go. Because…well, why not? Continue reading Mister Masseur: her response to The Full Body Massage Experiment
Dear Delightfully Daring Lady,
You’re surpassing all my expectations, and I can’t stop imagining you splayed across your couch – legs wide, sex glistening. In my mind the image is like some 19th century French painting, and I wish I was there with my easel and brushes to capture your naked flesh for future schoolboys stuck in museums (part of the fantasy, of course, is that I would actually know how to paint). I’d call it: “Nude in the Afternoon: Upon Having a Lesbian(ish) Encounter in a Supermarket.” In any case, I hope your legs have stayed splayed and that your mind is thinking ahead towards more lusty adventures. Continue reading The Full Body Massage Experiment