Dear Greedy One,
I like a little experimenter who goes above and beyond the call of duty. You definitely get a gold star for extending your experiment to include your husband’s cock (couldn’t you have extended it a little further in my direction?). So why don’t you stay after class today in order to discuss your extraordinary progress? That’s right. Go ahead and shut the door.
What’s that? You can’t stay? Then I’m laying some serious homework on you, naughty girl, and I’ll expect it on my desk first thing in the morning. At which point I hope you’ll shut that door. Continue reading The Pornography Experiment
Oh, you’ve been a bad girl. I really can’t emphasize that enough. Not that I expected anything else. Will you believe me if I say that I was even unsurprised to discover that one of your most insistent fantasy objects is a woman. You’ve mentioned your appreciation of the feminine form before, and then you’re becoming more open-minded by the month. So join the club: our membership is approximately half the world’s population, and we fantasize incessantly about naked women. It’s a blessing and a curse, my dear, but once you’re in the club you can never get out. You’re made. Great tits will distract you forever. Alas. Continue reading The Sex Confessional Experiment
Well you are a dirty little thing. Your success with our last experiment turned me on to such an extreme that I have to admit I reached for my own zipper and came as hard as your husband did in the dance club. You are, admittedly, a formidable woman: you stroke one cock and two men come. Savor that thought for a moment. I know I will.
I also have the feeling that you are becoming more sexually daring with every experiment. Will I be able to keep up with you and keep you interested? I have no idea. But from the brazen way you’re using words that drive me wild, it seems clear you’re getting closer to the heart of Fuck. Do you know the place? It’s not on any maps, but it’s a place just made for you, and I have no doubts you’ll recognize it when you arrive. Continue reading The E-mail Experiment
Dear Little Showoff,
After the brazen way you last showed off your naked body to that lucky neighbor of yours, is it any wonder that I’m seriously contemplating making an appointment with one of our local real estate agents to see if there might be another apartment free in the building? I make a charming dinner companion, I promise – always appreciative of my hostess. And I happen to be a great lover of artistic photography – I guess you could call me a collector. So really, what could be more perfect? We could knock on each others’ doors in search of understocked kitchen supplies…share wifi…have neighborly orgies. You know: everything you look for in an investment property. Yes, I think I’ll head down to that real estate office this afternoon. Continue reading The Public Experiment
Good scientific method means that occasionally your experiments are going to be a failure. The results will sometimes surprise you, and your theories may be overturned. It’s these unforeseen consequences that make experimentation, particularly sexual experimentation, worthy of some healthy obsession. I’ve written about this before, but I was reminded of these thoughts this week after I received an e-mail from a devoted reader who had tried a couple of the wife’s experiments herself…with not entirely satisfying results. I replied that experimenting itself is its own victory, and that I hoped she’d keep at it. Continue reading The Dinner Experiment
Dear Magnificently Misbehaving Mistress,
What are we going to do with you? Part of me hopes that I’ve restored erotic order and that you’ll have remembered that you have a normal human name, but that I am Mr. X. A bigger part of me hopes that you will be as rebellious as ever and continue making chaos out of order. Most of me wants to see you in ever-intensifying situations, wants to push your limits, wants to see you repeatedly transformed. I intend to show no mercy, my captivating one. I intend to lust after you more fervently than ever, even if from a distance, and I intend to dare you towards new lusts. Do you understand? You want me to repeat it? How about a little spank? Enough of the questions. I just hope you’re smiling.
So it’s transportation that turns you on…. I can do transportation, but if you’re going to do transportation (apart from an eventual rendezvous in a taxi, whose story I await with relish), I want you to make it public transportation. You’ve proven to be quite the little exhibitionist, after all, and so I thought I’d oblige. Continue reading The Bus Experiment
Dear Department of Transportation:
Imagine a taxi. Make it a seductive little conveyance on four wheels. Deck it out with leather seats, furry little balls lining the roof, neon plates…. Now imagine me in the backseat. I’m wearing a dark linen suit and a white shirt with a few buttons undone. Is that the hint of a hard-on you see outlined against the fabric at my crotch? Imagine that, and a hard-on it will be. Imagine me riding without a destination, taking my time, checking out the women in their summer dresses as they glide past my windows. Imagine the high heels and the short slit skirts. Remember that hard-on you were imagining? You don’t have to imagine it anymore. Consider the hard-on a fact. Continue reading Backseat Imagination: his response to The Taxi Sex Experiment
My Little Exhibitionist,
I hope you’ve put that sexy bodysuit to good use since we last wrote. Somehow I imagine that in putting it to good use, you also put that body of yours to use, and that now the suit has become like a second skin you wear as you prowl the night like some new erotic superheroine who leaps from bedroom to bedroom like a cat. I loved the thought of you cavorting naked around that dressing room – loved it so much that I’ve probably spent too much time thinking about it. So now I’m going to be greedy – perhaps too greedy. I want you naked again, completely. At this point I believe I would do almost anything for a glimpse of your bare flesh, but I’ve made these damned promises of anonymity. Fine. So be it. I will keep to my promises, but I am not jealous (how could I ever presume to be jealous?), and so if my eyes are not to feast upon you, then I want others – others besides that shopgirl you modeled for – to feast, and feast, and feast. Continue reading The Photo Experiment
Dear Intrepid Voyager,
You want to know who that lone stranger in the basement of the sex shop was in your last experiment? It was me. And I’m still there, waiting, waiting, passing time by imagining all the adventures you and your new sex toy have managed to share since then. Please tell me you’re bringing your toys back to play with me.
Meanwhile, while I wait, I have a another project for you. Summer is coming, and I want you to go shopping: for lingerie, a body suit, a camisole, or a teeny bikini – something a woman puts on intending to take it off quickly. Continue reading The Changing Room 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