Author Archives: Miss Dyyna

Hot Artichoke & Beet Green Dip

I planted one artichoke plant in my garden bed a little too early before the summer was over last year and I’ve been struggling to keep it alive. I had hoped I might get an artichoke or two this season, but it just wasn’t strong and mature enough…sigh.

I was riding my bike around town this week and got super jelly when I saw three beautiful, giant artichoke plants full of ripe artichokes. I was a prolific artichoke grower when I lived more in-land – five different varieties that kept me in artichoke leaves and hearts all season! This recipe was my favorite way to use them.


Servings: 8
Time: About 30 minutes active; one hour total
Price: About $19.00 total; $2.40 per serving
Nutrition (per serving): 
Calories: 186.9
Protein: 8g
Fat: 11.8g
Saturated fat: 6.7g
Carbohydrates: 14.5g
Fiber: 5.3g
Sodium: 379.4mg
Cholesterol: 33.3mg


  • 5 medium artichokes, cooked, hearts removed and chopped
  • 1 Tbsp EVOO
  • 1 medium onion, chopped
  • 3 garlic cloves, minced
  • 2 Tbsp fresh thyme, minced
  • 1 lemon, chop 2 tsp lemon zest and juice half
  • 1 bunch beet greens, chopped, about 8-9 oz
  • 1 tsp black pepper, divided
  • 1/2 tsp red pepper flakes
  • 1/4 tsp salt
  • 8 oz Neufchatel cheese, or cream cheese, but the former has better flavor and less calories, fat and carbs
  • 1/2 cup sour cream
  • 1/4 cup Parmesan cheese, grated


  1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a large skillet, heat EVOO over medium heat. Add onion, garlic, thyme and lemon zest. Saute about 5 minutes until onion gets soft.
  2. Add beet greens, 1/2 tsp black pepper, red pepper flakes and salt. Mix well and heat until there is no more liquid in the pan from greens, about 5 minutes. Add artichoke hearts and cook 2-3 minutes. Remove from heat.
  3. In a large bowl, mix together Neufchatel, sour cream, lemon juice and remaining 1/2 tsp black pepper. Add artichoke-greens mixture and incorporate thoroughly.
  4. Spray a casserole dish with cooking spray and spread the mixture out evenly. Top with Parmesan and bake for 10 minutes. Heat broiler and broil 2-4 minutes until Parmesan melts and begins to brown. Serve hot or at room temperature with your favorite dipper.


I met MegaDon on an online dating app that predominantly attracts older men and younger women. It works equally well for 40-something men and 20-something women as it did in my case – just add 20 years to both parties.

When he sent me his photo, he looked familiar, but I couldn’t place how or why. 68, 6′, the sexiest waves of white locks combed back but still fluffy and full, matching beard, wide smile with a body built by swimming, the sun, wine and a privileged life.

Once I recognized who he was, I was shocked and excited all at once. A local celebrity for sure and, within the family business, he was famous internationally for the industry-changing impacts his father and grandfather made. Truly his father was MegaDon – Don being a reference to the “Boss” in the Italian mob hierarchy. The family wasn’t mafia as far as I knew, but they ruled the land I now called home for many, many decades. With his father passed on (and my personal neglect for his older brother), this new sexy man who walked into my life took the naming rights. I’ll just call him Don for short.

Don first asked me to come to his house for drinks and dinner. After I explained my safety rule #1 – first dates always in public – he made us a reservation at a nearby Italian restaurant with a famed chef at the helm.

“I believe that the chances of us getting through drinks and a meal together, and then wanting to get together for even more is quite high!”

We were seated at a cozy crescent moon-shaped booth and sat at the 11 and 1 positions quite close for a first date. It was December and I wore black jeans, black boots and heavy but fitted grey sweater. He wore the mature man’s dressy casual – khaki slacks, button down long sleeve and V-neck sweater.

The sommelier addressed him properly by Mr. ‘Last Name’ and Don approved of his choice of a 2012 Grand Vin Pomerol for us to enjoy over our meal. There wasn’t a pause in our conversation all evening except when a random man heading toward the bathroom recognized him, stopped and said, “Hello ‘Don’ – great to see you. I enjoyed my recent visit to your ‘business.'” Don acknowledged him with a nod, thanked him and the man continued on.

We talked about the local industry, music, food, travel, family. He told his story quite modestly. Don was an alumnus of the local university which boasts a top tier program in our industry. Following, he was sent by his father abroad to learn more before returning home in the early 1970s to help run the family business. I actually felt lucky that I personally did not know the story (there are books about his family) and I could hear it firsthand in his own words and through his own experience.

At the end of the meal, he tried, tried again and invited me back to his house for a night cap. I reminded him of safety rule #1, but I didn’t want the night to end. I suggested a night cap at the bar and we enjoyed a fantastic Amaro – something I had neither heard of nor tasted previously.

As the evening wound down, he walked me to my car and we paused to next to it to continue our conversations. It was hard to say good-bye.

By his smiles, laughs, casual brushes and touches against my arm all evening and well of course the invite back to his, I knew he was into me. When he leaned in and only gave me a hug, I was a bit bolder than usual and asked him for a kiss. He smiled, placed his hand on my upper back and affirmed my request.

It will go down as one of the most bizarre first kisses I had ever experienced.

It had no natural rhythm or cadence. I couldn’t figure out the timing of when to open and close my mouth. And his tongue was beating to its own drummer. I learned during subsequent meetings to just give up on the rhythm and let him lead the lip locking party. Sometimes committing to awkward lengths of an open mouth, eventually I figured out his style.

As strange as it was, I was intrigued – I’ll admit slightly star struck as well. I was curious about a man 25 years older than me (he was and still is the oldest I’ve ever dated), but also genuinely interested in him and wanted to spend more time together. He was sexy as hell, interesting to talk to and I was already learning a bunch – and drinking practically untouchable wines (by their price points).

It wasn’t long before I got the second date invite to his house or rather his estate. It was tucked behind some high rolling hills – a solid 5 minute drive from the main road – through vineyards and olive groves. I passed land worker housing and a production facility led by periodic posted signs with his house number. It eventually took me to a one lane drive, which climbed and wound passed thick tree growth. The coded gate was open for me and when I crested the final hill the view that was unveiled was amazing to behold.

I could see the eastern mountains in the distance. Vineyards flanked the long drive on either side and the asphalt turned to tan and white pebbles, lush grass to the right and a house all on one level spanning in both directions. I wasn’t exactly sure where the front door was.

I parked, and collected myself and my belongings. Since Christmas was near, I brought him a Christmas Cactus. I wouldn’t dare bring wine but it felt fitting, respectful and grateful to bring something. I wanted it to be thoughtful and personal.

My mom had bought me a Christmas Cactus when I was little. It sat on my bedroom window sill all year long and had thick green leaves – a bit holly-like but with rounded edges rather than pointy ones. Only in the winter did beautiful deep pink flowers emerge and this one I gave him was in bloom. He was outwardly appreciative, but I had a lingering thought that my $8 gift fell short.

He asked me if I would like a Negroni. I was embarrassed that I had never heard of the drink. This offer started at least what is now a four year obsession. I only drink them the way he made them – Bombay Sapphire with a fresh orange juice splash. Bitter sweet.

He had started preparations for dinner – what he termed his “Man Meals.” This was a random collection of one protein plus whatever veggies and starch was in season from a local farm market stand at the indoor culinary hall in town. He had known the owners, his contemporaries, for decades – naturally. He would typically throw everything on a sheet tray, drizzle with olive oil and salt and roast.

He had also laid out a simple array of local cheeses, crackers and nuts to nibble on.

It was dark and cold outside so we sat by the fireplace in the large expansive kitchen that included a well out fitted cooking area. Indoor grill top, two sink areas, built in wine fridge and counter tops that went on for days. This all opened to a dining area – rustic circular table which could seat eight comfortably plus wood fireplace and seating area with a long white couch, two individual chairs, coffee table and work desk in the corner. There was a butler door leading to the formal dining room, walk-in pantry and the longest sliding glass doors that accordioned open to bring the outside in during warmer months.

We sipped our Negronis and enjoyed the hot fire on our backs. He looked so handsome by firelight – glowing embers reflecting on his face. I can hardly remember what we talked about.

Each time he crossed and uncrossed his legs, he used it as an opportunity to move closer in until finally he leaned in to kiss me. Still just as strange, but I was starting to get the hang of it. He paused and pulled back for a moment.

“Ohhh baby!”

I smiled. “Why thank you!”

I was helping him finish up dinner and get ready to plate everything when he told me he needed to go and check on the trees outside, talk to them and see how they were doing that day. I was puzzled because he told this story with such a serious, straight face. He opened the sliding door at the farthest end and disappeared into the night. After hearing this story several times over the next few weeks, my brains synapsis finally connected that he was going outside to pee.

He came back in.


He disappeared down the hall and then down a set of stairs. After a few minutes he reemerged with a bottle of 2008 Nebbiolo. He popped it and poured it right into our glasses set at the table.

Then he joined me in the kitchen, pulled the plates from the warming drawer and plated salmon, leeks, carrots, broccolini and fingering potatoes. Dinner always included an unusually large selection of vegetables.

We ate, we talked, we drank, we listened to music playing on the speakers mounted across the room. The fire in the distance kept the space cozy and the light dim. We sat there for a long while enjoying each other’s company and finally the last drops of wine went in to each of our glasses. He invited me back to the fireplace to enjoy it only we didn’t do much talking after that.

He sat right next to me in front of the fire and picked up my legs to drape over his. He put his hand on my cheek and gave me a very deep, very open mouthed kiss. I let him lead and I was getting more than hot from the fire.

“Would you like to continue this in my bedroom?”

I nodded.

He led me down a long corridor passed the formal living room, formal dining room, and the front door which I had entered when I arrived. Then passed perhaps three or four or maybe more closed doors, which I assume were bedrooms. When the hall took a sharp left, we took a right through slightly open double doors, down three steps to his sunken master bedroom. It had large floor to ceiling windows, a fireplace and a king bed. He sat on a chair to remove his boots and clothing. I did the same at the edge of the bed.

He was slim and quite toned – a swimmer’s body. Moderately hairy chest with salt and pepper fuzz. He had pecs, bis and I could even see definition in his abs. His cock was quite long and slender.

He met me where I sat, bent down slightly putting both hands on either side of my thighs and began kissing me while pushing me backward on the bed. I laid down and started to slide backward toward the top of the bed when he put his hands on my thighs and squeezed gently to signal me to stop.

He knelt on the floor at the edge of the bed, coaxed my hips to the edge and buried his beard in my pussy. A little forceful at the start, he read the movement of my hips and my breathing and found his rhythm there. I was concerned about all the wine and gin being an obstacle to my orgasm, but his dedicated efforts were quite successful in the end.

After several minutes of grinding my hips to the tune of his tongue on my clit, I could feel the rush of my orgasm coming. I pressed forward into his face, arched my back and exploded. I kept my expletives G-rated this evening not knowing how he might react. He hadn’t really thrown out many F- or S-bombs since we met.

As I was coming down, writhing and twitching, he pushed me slightly forward so I was fully on the bed, climbed on top of me and thrust his hard, long cock into my soaking pussy. He laid his chest on mine and I put my arms around his back to pull him close. His groans were guttural and deep. His cock was so long that with his most enthusiastic thrusts he could go no further inside of me – an instant of enjoyable pain I had never experienced.

He didn’t hold back verbally when he came – rose up off my chest and with one last enthusiastic pump, came, screamed wordless noises from the depths of his insides. He pulled out and flopped next to me on the bed. He pulled the blankets down and we tucked in. He put his hand on the side of my head as I was adjusting so it lay on his chest.

“My god, you sexy woman!”

I smiled and we sat there quietly enjoying our skin contact and heavy breathing coming back to normal.

Eventually he asked if I’d like a rinse. He led me to his bathroom which was up three steps on the other side of the bed from the three steps leading into and out of the bedroom.

It had two sinks, master jacuzzi tub that would easily fit two, a toilet room with a door, a glass shower and doorway leading to his walk-in closet. He turned on the water in the shower and invited me in. He picked up a shower sponge, pumped some lavender soap on it and began washing me from head to toe. He pressed his chest to my back, reached around and washed my chest with the sponge while kissing my neck.

I felt like I had stepped into a sexy movie scene.

We finished up, dried off, redressed and he walked me out to my car. He told me what a lovely time he had and that he hoped we could do it again soon. I agreed. He knelt down to give me a quick kiss while I sat in the driver’s seat of my car with the door open.

I drove home in a fog.

“The moon is rising above the mountains. Your parting kiss raises my hopes of seeing you again.”

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…Because I’m Awesome

If you’ve read a post or two on here, you may have noticed I like music. Well, I actually love music and I think I have quite eclectic taste, which started I believe at about age 4. I vividly remember listening to The Nutcracker while learning to dance ballet and Chaka Khan in jazz class a few years later.

It’s quite curious, though, because I don’t recall my parents being so into music. They had their favorites. My mom loved the music of her youth in the late ’50’s and early ’60’s, including some that are still my favorites – Johnny Mathis, Patsy Cline, Loretta Lynn. My dad was much more into ’70’s and ’80’s rock, but came to love many genres he heard when he traveled – most notably in my memory, Zydeco music after a trip to NoLa.

At the end of every post, I like to include a song, well really a video, from YouTube – something that relates to the story I’m telling. I try to vary the genre from week to week and have actually discovered some great songs I wasn’t familiar with along the way. I had never heard Ozzy sing about getting so high that he saw fairies with boots on, had you?

I actually keep both Pandora and Spotify, mostly because I’ve had Pandora so long it’s only $3.99 a month without ads, but also because I really enjoy creating a station and letting it suggest new songs for me rather than always being able to pick exactly what I want to hear. Yes, I know you can select playlists on Spotify, but you can see all the songs on the list already. Spoiler alert fail!

I have created playlists for important people and events in my life on Spotify. I have one for Nerdie that I shared with him – all love songs so if he ever needs to be reminded. One for our Wedding that we created together. One for Diamonds of my favorite songs that make me think fondly of him when I’m missing him.

A few months ago I created a playlist for myself called “…Because I’m Awesome.” It is named for a song by The Dollyrots, which I have been jokingly calling my personal anthem for years. The day I created the playlist, it struck me that I should build my own list of songs to keep track, not just of songs I love, but of songs to remind me that I love me.

So far I have nine songs on the list – just about 30 minutes playing time. Usually that’s more than enough to improve my mood, but every time I think of a song I add it.

Some times listening acts as self-care – picking me up after a hard day or week and reminding me that I kick ass. Some times I’m already in a good mood and just want to boost that dopamine into the stratosphere.

Here’s the current list:

  • “…Because I’m Awesome” The Dollyrots

    Let’s just say I have a healthy level of self-confidence…most days. This is a silly, girl power, rockin’ tune with the best chorus:

    “I’m a leader, I’m a winner, and I’m cleaner…’cause I’m awesome,
    I don’t need you ’cause I’m neato and I beat you ’cause I’m awesome.”

    The video is equally silly and entertaining.

    Girl power rock music (NOT pop) is definitely a fan fav with me. L7, Liz Phair, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Metric, Snake River Conspiracy, Bif Naked, Lily Allen, No Doubt, Amy Winehouse, The Donnas, Regina Spektor, The Breeders, Santiagold, Veruca Salt, Dorothy…the list is long and deep.

    Anything that makes me feel strong to go out, face another day and kick some ass (figuratively speaking, of course!).
  • “Vulcan” Snake River Conspiracy

    I mean the first word of this song is her yelling, “FUCK!” Well, you had me at fuck!

    I’m not sure I even understand all the lyrics to this song, but the music fucking kicks ass and makes me want to kick a door down or something.

    My fav line: “You could talk me into fucking you, but I don’t think you’d survive…”
  • “None Of Your Business” Salt-N-Pepa

    These ladies had a lot of killer songs in the late ’80’s/early ’90’s, including a family favorite with my sister’s side of the family, “Push It” because of a very funny incident with my mom back when the song released in 1986.

    I was 10 and after a very brief hair band phase (I wanted all the Sugar on Me and the Cherry Pie!), I got into rap because, you guessed it, I had a crush on a boy. He also loved the Beastie Boys, who I still enjoy to this day.

    I can remember this like it was last week. It was me and mom in the car. Obviously at age 10, she’s driving and I’m in the front passenger seat. “Push It” comes on the radio and I start singing the lyrics.

    Mid-my belting out, I can see her head whip around out of the corner of my left eye and I can feel her eyes piercing my skin with her stare and she says firmly, “PUSH WHAT??”

    I have no idea what I said to get out of that one – probably something about a dance move. Well, we still play this song at every New Year’s Day Party my sister holds, and we never told my mom why.

    “None of Your Business” was a few years later and, while it got air time, definitely wasn’t as popular probably because of the lyrics. If you don’t know this one, it’s kind of self-explanatory. The shit they do behind closed doors ain’t none of your concern.

    It definitely resonates with me because of my ENM lifestyle. First, when I was out exploring my sexuality after being newly single. I really didn’t feel bad about all the sex I was having with lots of different people (I carried no religious guilt), and this song agreed with me. More recently because I do feel like a circus freak sometimes when I meet someone new to ENM and they have a zillion questions and comments for me. I don’t mind sharing and explain my journey and primary relationship with Nerdie, but remember the “Wow – I can’t believe your husband lets you do this!” comment? You haven’t missed the boat – the boat you were trying to catch is on another planet.

    Several Fav Lines:

    “Opinions are like assholes and everybody’s got one.”
    “The difference between a hooker and a ho ain’t nothing but a fee.”
    “And if she wanna be a freak and sell it on the weekends, it’s none of yo business.”
  • “Can’t Stand Still” Buffalo Clover

    I believe this was Margo Price’s band before she went solo. This song is killer, but you can’t find it anywhere. I have to randomly wait for it to come up on my Pandora. It’s not on Spotify nor YouTube. There must have been some legal something something that prevents it from being searched and downloaded.

    Nevertheless, it’s all about giving the bird to traditional women’s roles.

    So many fav lines starting with the first one:

    “Well women ain’t supposed to ramble,
    and women ain’t supposed to drink,
    why would I want to stay home all night,
    washing dishes in the kitchen sink.”


    “But my papa said I gotta get married,
    My mama told me ‘settle down,’
    But I bought me a ticket on a big jet plane,
    I’m gonna fly straight out of town.”

    “I still got a long way to go,
    Because I can’t stand still,
    No I never will.”
  • “HOT” Ktlyn

    Here’s that healthy self-confidence delivered right to your veins. It’s an uncomplicated, modern pop/rap song – that’s it.

    Fav Lines:

    “They fuck with me because I ain’t tryna be no one I’m not,
    This is why I’m hot,
    Hoes prayin’ that I flop,
    Ima keep it simple,
    You just don’t got what I got.”

    “Wait, I’m really that, really that, hot bitch.”

    And the best line EVA…

    “I mean at this point, I’m jealous of my fuckin self.”
  • “Did It On ‘Em” Nicki Minaj

    There are only a few Nicki songs I like, but this one is at the top, no contest. It was released in 2011, and it was my work anthem for two straight years.

    In 2011, I was the second in charge working at a school in higher education. My boss left and I went for it. I actually had more experience than she and for three years had already had to keep my corset on – I wanted to breathe and show them what I could really do!

    I got turned down for the job, so I went across campus and got the same ass job at another school. I just sucked all the air out of that team and left the dean high and dry with no top fundraisers to close big donations from alumni. I have to say it felt so good to fuck him over.

    Then two years later, I turned up the volume on that song again when I left the university altogether to go to culinary school. Fuck that whole bureaucratic, creativity crushing, cliquey bullshit!

    Fav Line:

    “If I had a dick, I would pull it out and piss on ’em.”
  • “Kiss It” Dorothy

    Dorothy is bit more modern grungy rock with the volume only turned up to 10, instead of the 11 you experience with Snake River Conspiracy. I’m sure you can guess by the title how the song is going to go.

    Fav Line:

    “My baby told me listen here, a woman need a man!
    All I gotta say to you is kiss it baby,
    Yeah, kiss it!”
  • “Started” Iggy Azalea

    I actually encourage Nerdie to listen to this song every day. I know when he hasn’t because he reverts back to saying he’s sorry too much for no reason. Oh god, you Californians say sorry for everything!

    One day, I’m going to sing the lyrics of the chorus when I get to the other side.

    “I started from the bottom and now I’m rich,
    I got in my bag and I ain’t looked back since,
    I started to say sorry, but fuck that shit,
    You started out hatin’, now you love my drip.”

    I absolutely LOVE that she sings the chorus each time twice in a row.

    But my fav line:

    “You can say what you want about me as long as you pay me.”
  • “Sugar Baby” Megan Thee Stallion

    Just like Nicki, I’m not a super fan boy of Megan, but she’s got some tight lyrics. The opening one to this song makes me crack up.

    “Oh, he want a bad bitch?
    Well, I wanna a nigga with some money and a long dick,
    Buy me everything in my cart if you my boyfriend,
    Invest in this pussy, boy,
    Support black business.”

    It’s hilarious and accurate all at once.

    Fav Line:

    “And I’m in my book,
    So I think like a bad bitch.”

    She likely meant that as being smart because she’s well read, but I like to interpret it as being in her book keeping track of her money – strategizing, being entrepreneurial, and smart as hell.

I write this post, hopefully to be entertaining, and maybe you’ll discover a new favorite song, but also because I encourage everyone to start a “…Because I’m Awesome” playlist for themselves. Maybe it’s a Katy Perry “Roar” or Christina Aguilera “Beautiful” or Gloria Gaynor “I Will Survive” or Journey “Don’t Stop Believin'” type playlist.

Whatever your songs are that lift you up and make you feel powerful, smart, pretty, accomplished, and confident, put them in a playlist so you can listen to them whenever you need to or just want to because you are having a great day. Stop, take a moment and say, “Yeah…because I’m fucking awesome!”

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I believe in fairies.

I’m not talking about Tinker Bell, Fairy Godmothers, Puck, the Tooth Fairy or even the Sugar Plum Fairy.

Fairies in my life could also be called One Hit Wonders. They are typically first dates that don’t lead to a second, but where, in those few hours we are getting to know one another, I learn something helpful or meaningful to me at just the right moment in my life. They sprinkle their fairy dust of knowledge and experience on me and then flutter off.

I’ve talked about fairies here before. If you’ve read deeply into the FUCK section back in 2017 I posted two stories about my first fairy.

Since then I’ve had several more. I will be sure to acknowledge all of them for the wisdom they have imparted if I ever get a book deal for this blog!

In case you haven’t read those posts and/or don’t care to, the short of the story is I had two dates with this guy, Fairy #1. Sex was fun, but the major takeaway was my first opportunity to really talk to someone about ENM and polyamory – someone who was actually living it. His ideas about “negative jealousy” as he termed it and having the capacity to love many people at once were game changers for me.

Negative jealousy was his way of saying what I now know as compersion. I had literally never heard this word when I learned it several years later from someone else. Fuck, WordPress actually thinks it’s misspelled – that’s how uncommon and infrequently it is used. Perhaps that’s a comment on American self-absorbed, me/me/me culture that the idea of compersion – essentially being happy when someone else is happy. It’s talked a lot about in the ENM community because of the jealousy that can arise when your partner is happy in another relationship and you feel left out. Learning and truly practicing compersion dismisses the jealousy you may have for your partner’s partner and your partner’s happiness in that relationship. It teaches humility, acceptance and support for your partner. Instead of feeling threatened, you are happy for your partner.

Compersion does take some work, I’ll admit. I recall early on when Nerdie started dating. He actually did not date anyone else for the first three years of our open dating relationship. I secretly always wanted him to, but never verbalized it because I didn’t want to put any pressure on him or make him feel bad that he wasn’t dating. If he wanted to, he would.

When he did, I remember those first few dates were challenging for me. Someone else was kissing him, laughing with him, getting to experience his fantastic cock and tongue skills. I was at the same time excited to hear the details because it was fucking hot. Maybe the jealousy I felt was more the reason I wanted to know all the details.

Over time, with communication and consistency in our relationship (which is easy to say and harder to practice), I was able to drop the jealousy and just be excited, happy and turned on by his dates.

Fast forward to today and I’m friends with one of his lovers on FB. She’s come over to the house for dinner. She even came to Christmas Dinner one year because, as a nurse, she only had the one day off and didn’t have time to drive up to see her family. We told everyone she was a friend in the neighborhood. It was quite funny that evening that they all probably thought she was really my friend, but Ryan spent the most time talking to her.

Fairy #1 also introduced me to the “Ethical Slut” – a book that totally changed my life, my outlook and my thinking about love and intimate/romantic relationships. I have since fairy dusted the suggestion of that book on many others.

The book brought to life Fairy #1s second sprinkle of fairy dust – the capacity to love many people at the same time. I plan to write a much deeper post about this topic, but essentially I said to myself, “If I can love all sorts of people in non-romantic relationships in all different ways – friends, family, kids if I had them – why can’t romantic relationships be the same way? Why do those relationships have to be black and white?”

On to Fairy #2.

Last year, I met Mr. Retired Fortune 100 Executive – Mr. Executive, for short. And short it was. We went on one date, but I won’t soon forget it.

The week prior I had a particularly challenging break-up with a guy I had dated for nearly a year and a half. I’ve mentioned him before, but not given him a name nor written his story. We fell in love, but it was very unsustainable. His constant pressure and pushing to spend more time with me was putting quite a strain on things at home with Nerdie. He was the one who introduced me to compersion, but ironically he was constantly jealous about Diamonds and my communicating with anyone I had previously dated that I stayed friends with.

I was pissed and upset, so the first thing I did was immediately get back on the dating apps and had a first date with Mr. Executive five days later.

We met closer to the city at a favorite restaurant of his. He was a black man in his 60s, tall and wide with a bald head. With decades in Corporate America, I’m sure it was routine for him to wear a blazer to dinner. I felt underdressed in my usual jeans and cowboy boots.

Three house talking over dinner flew by. We ordered nearly every tapa on the menu, drank beautiful Spanish wines and he talked about his career, his businesses in retirement, his volunteer ethos, his son’s success in publishing a book that was to be turned into a movie (my secret wet dream!), and his missing the company and comfort of a woman in his life.

Right as I was served my first glass of wine, he handed me a gift bag. Inside was a Cartier necklace in the iconic red box with a statement of authenticity. Googling it, I found it was worth about $1,600.

I was fucking floored.

Midway into the first tapas, as I was telling my story from the past 6-7 years – culinary school, break up with PhD, finding my way, rebuilding my life strategically to focus on my health and happiness, and my new career that wasn’t quite as lucrative as I previously experienced, he stopped me and motioned his head down for me to look under the table. He had a wad of blue bills folded up in his hand. I took it and graciously, overwhelmed and gratefully, thanked him. He joked and said count it – “You never know, it could be dollar bills.”

I laughed. It was five crisp hundies.

These were absolutely, over the top, amazing gifts to receive on a first date. Had never happened to me before, and I doubt it will happen again.

But they were not the greatest, most meaningful gift he gave me that night.

When I told him about this blog, LTD, but that I had stopped writing over the past few years because life got in the way, he implored me several times that evening to start writing again. He described my story as if I was a phoenix rising from the ashes after the break up with PhD. I was a little embarrassed by the comparison. It was life changing and difficult, but people go through harder things everyday.

He pointed out that I had rebuilt my life with literally no instruction manual and no support. He impressed upon me how helpful this could be to others in similar circumstances who may need a boost of reassurance, assistance with how to take the next step, or just the knowledge that someone else was like them and did it. He told me that I essentially couldn’t keep this to myself – if I help one person on this planet, it would be worth the time I invested in writing my story.

That was a fairy dust explosion the size of Hiroshima.

Still, I sat on that for months – five to be exact. I started thinking about writing every day, but I thought that LTD was too much of a mess and not very good writing. Started in culinary school as a journal of my experiences over those two years disjointedly followed by a bunch of sex stories when I was newly single after the PhD and rebound Mechanic breakups.

It wasn’t until I met REO (aka Recently Enlightened/Emotional One) those five months later that I got off my arse and actually started writing again. He was so impressed with my story and my writing (and to this day, besides Nerdie, is my biggest LTD fan even mentioning it to his first dates. I was very flattered by him essentially cockblocking himself to share it! LOL).

I committed to myself to write weekly, and even though my readership is quite small today, I find I have no shortage of content and I’m excited to write weekly to improve my writing and continue to document my story. One never knows who will read it, how it might be helpful, and secretly, when that book deal may come along. As they say, “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.” So here I am!

Fairy #3.

He was even more recent. A one-time date for drinks and apps that ended in a decent make-out sesh, but with too many smarmy red flags for me.

Yet, he did leave some fairy dust. In fact, I told him about fairies during the date and when I declined a second date, and said thank you for treating me on the first date and being a fairy in my life, I think he was pissed because all I got back was a big thumbs up emoji.

At the time, I was struggling to get a loan for some home renovations. I had never applied for a loan other than my home loan, but was declined by my primary bank that I had been banking with for more than 20 years. Despite no debt except the house, a nearly perfect credit score, stellar equity in the home having already shaved five years off the mortgage by overpaying plus the home value increasing about 50% over the six years since I bought it, I was declined because as a self-employed businesswoman I deduct everything leaving by AGI too low.

I was declined by several other no name banks as well and had virtually given up on making the renovation dream a reality.

He said fuck that!

He had come from Ecuador in his late teens with literally nada. Today, about 25-30 years later (depends on if he was telling me his real age), he owned several businesses and several rental properties, sat on county business councils, had nice cars and expensive things and could send his kids to any private school they could get themselves in to.

“You don’t give up. When one bank tells you no, you go to the next one and the next one until someone gives you that loan. Then you build. Invest it in something that will bring you more value than the loan then pay it back, take out more money and repeat, repeat, repeat. I go into my bank now and can virtually get whatever I need for the next project I want to do.”

Fairy dust…

Two months after that date, as I sit here now writing, I can hear the buzz of a saw and smack of a hammer as the workers prepare my garage for the new concrete scheduled to be poured tomorrow.

I went to another bank – a local one – got a loan – not as much as I needed, but it’s a fucking amazing start. When I get done, I intend to use the increased home equity to get a bigger loan and then start buying rental properties.

So yes, I believe in fairies. Thank you, fairies for your magical fairy dust. You’ve made me wiser beyond my years.

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The Power of the Pole

You may have heard this term ‘power of the pole’ mentioned by go-go dancers, strippers or other sex workers. I actually was a go-go dancer for a brief time in the summer of 1996. It WAS powerful – mentally, physically and sexually. Sexy clothes, dim lights, tantalizing grooves, seductive dancing. The eyeballs on me vying for my attention, waving or throwing dollar bills hoping I’d come over, talk to them and let them have a grab or two. I felt like everyone in the room wanted to fuck me.

For me, though, the power of the pole goes way beyond all this. It is really the power of confidence in my sexuality.

I think sexuality is a tricky word to define. It’s so personal – a blender of thoughts and feelings you have about your sexual interests and desires, sexual orientation and sexual self-awareness. I checked a few online dictionaries for assistance and found many didn’t quite capture what it was to me.

The Oxford Dictionary said this:

“The feelings and activities connected with a person’s sexual desires.”

Sort of, but not very wholistic, so I kept looking.


“The quality or state of being sexual:

a: the condition of having sex
b: sexual activity
c: expression of sexual receptivity or interest especially when excessive”

What? Sexuality means just sex? And WTF is “…especially when excessive”?

To me these miss the mark because they only address the part of sexuality focused outside of one’s self mostly as it relates to others. They totally overlook the concept of how I think and feel about who my sexual self is, my sexual confidence, my body confidence, my sexual power. Sexuality, to me, isn’t defined solely in relation to someone else and what I may or may not do with them sexually. It is my sexuality – not yours or ours.

Looking back I believe I first started building a sense of my own sexuality pretty early in life when I began dance classes at age 4. For five or so years, I learned my body – its rhythm and how to move it and how to move it with confidence. At age 9, I discovered sports and continued, without self-awareness mind you, to learn performance, how my body was, how it worked, and how it was changing.

This gave me a connection from my mind to my body in an entirely new way, but still, I was slow to understand this connection and slow to feel comfortable and confident with my body. As many youth are, I was also self-conscious as I was growing up.

In my angsty teenage years, I hated my body actually. I had a big nose, small boobs and ribs that didn’t lay flat along my torso. I was uncomfortably taller than everyone else. I grew fast – about 5’8″ when I was 12, 5’10” in high school and then 6′ in college. I didn’t experience growing pains, but I did get stretch marks on the outer sides of my upper thighs. I thought I must be fat because only fat people have stretch marks.

My mind went through very chaotic and sometimes very dark years with my body.

When I was 16, I received my first body compliment and that helped me link the feeling of connection to my body with feeling comfortable and confident in it. It’s not surprising that that had to come from the outside – I didn’t have the perspective and self-awareness within me yet.

The compliment was about how nice my legs were. I was so surprised and also beyond flattered. I hadn’t consciously thought of them as sexy – more that they just were long, muscular, and helped me run down the strikers on the soccer field as the sweeper.

Then I started looking at women’s legs. Wow – mine were really nice! Long and muscular was sexy. I gained body confidence in the awareness and my sexuality began to bloom.

By 19, I was taking revealing pics to mail to my first BF who went back to London after a year abroad at my university. Me in my single dorm room working some suggestive poses dressed only in a thong with my face very visible. This was the 1990s back when I had to take them to a place to get developed. I actually didn’t care. Lucky photo developer – I hope I was material for a good wank!

The next summer I wasn’t making enough money waiting tables so I got a job as a go-go dancer. Topless with thong. The power of my more mature sexuality prancing around on that stage was intoxicating. It was fun to feel so sexy, so powerful and get paid for it. When I go to strip clubs now, I think even at 46 that with a few days of clean living I could easily get back on stage. I may need to take pole dancing classes to update my moves from 1996, but I look just as good, sometimes even better than, those 20 and 30-somethings that I see up there now.

But unfortunately my evolving sexuality suffered for the 5 years that I lived in NYC in my late 20s. I saw lots of beautifully thin, fit people and I became obsessed. I worked out every day. Road my bike everywhere instead of taking the subway. Kept my daily caloric intake during the work week to 1000. Binged on the weekends and became depressed on Monday if the scale said anything over 152 pounds. (Today, I range between 153-156, exercise about 4-5 times per week and eat healthy with a good balance of French fries, cheese, pizza, cookies and mayo. What a fuck of waste of time all that was!)

My developing sexuality, including my body confidence and sexual self-awareness hit pause after that – all through my 30s. I don’t think my sexuality really became a full adult until it all came together in the last 7 years. It started at age 38. PhD and I were separated. He was cheating at that point, but it was unconfirmed. A guy 9 years younger than me (Wino BTW) started flirting with me one night at a local bar near my culinary school apartment. I hadn’t felt sexy or sexually confident in a very long time.

That night I felt powerful. I felt my sexuality. I felt like myself – not repressed or weighed down by past baggage. Again, it came from an outside source, but it whipped me back to focus. It was all inside me – being sexually self-aware and body confident.

A year later I broke up with PhD and decided to get on some dating apps and have fun. I got all kinds of perspective then – just read through the FUCK posts! This was the time my sexuality finally graduated – over those years I learned the last part that made me complete – my sexual interests and desires. You would think at 40 YO I would have known that stuff by then, but I didn’t. I was in three back-to-back monogamous relationships from 19 to then and shit just gets routine and boring after awhile. This is why I went on lots of dates with lots of different people, including women, guys totally opposite to what I was normally physically attracted to, older men, foreigners, every shade of color.

Today, I own my sexuality and its inherent power. I am sexually self-aware, sexually confident, body confident, and I know my sexual interests, desires and orientation – although I’m always curious to try new things. I actually think the self-awareness and confidence that comes with knowing all this and loving it about myself gives me more power, but I also might secretly have a little dictator running around inside my brain.

Even if you’ve never gotten on a stripper pole in front of a bunch of randy drunkies, you can develop your own power of sexuality. You made not need the outside perspective to give you sexual self-awareness and sexual confidence in who you are. You may not yet fully understand your sexual interests, desires and orientation. But I hope if you haven’t found the power of the pole, you’ll go seeking. And if you have already arrived, I hope you’ll continue to walk with fierceness in your own secret super power.

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The Irishman that Taught Me to Love Trans Porn

I met the Irishman (aka Blarney) in the summer of 2017 on Tinder, Feeld – I don’t recall which. His lean body type wasn’t really my style, but his brain was very intriguing. I’m calling him Blarney because a few months into knowing each other he went back to Ireland to visit his family and brought me a piece of the Blarney Stone, which I still proudly display on my fireplace mantle as ‘culture.’

Gardener by day, thespian by night, he lived in a flat in the city with two other roommates. Late 30s, very pale, long and bony with a treasure trail of hair from his chest to his pot o’ gold. He would take care of rich people’s gardens in the daytime and then acted in plays at night and on the weekends. He was really Irish with a sexy accent and all his family back in the Old Country. He was also quite effeminate and very bi-friendly and curious. This all added up to quite a fun and dramatic persona.

I first met Blarney in the city at a dive bar. He ordered whiskey. We talked effortlessly for three hours about everything from plants to Ireland to cooking to family to sexual exploits.

It took us awhile to organize a second date, but we kept up on text – mostly about the sexual exploits. I was on the dating scene exploring like a modern Magellan at the time.

“I’ve been chatting a lil with a bi friendly guy.”

“Hmmmm. Is he cute?”

“Yes, I haven’t met him yet, but told him about you. He told me he wanted me to teach him to suck dick using you as the test subject :)”

“Oh my fucking god. I’ve actually done this once before a lady. It’s so hot. If he’s cute and in shape, I’d be up for it for sure…You have all kinds of wild thoughts in my head woman…there is something really hot about talking about this with you.”

“I like that you are bi friendly and kinky and into some dress up time. I’d really enjoy exploring that with you…”

“Me too! I better launder my lingerie…”

“Oh pls do!! I’ll do the same :)”

“Lingerie party!! …ahem, do you ever watch porn?”

“You betcha!”

“Ever watch trans ladies?”

“No! That sounds interesting…”

“Lots of cute little femme tranie gals. Maybe we could watch together sometime and get off at the same time! Some of them barely have breast and are really just super femme guys with girly faces. Something about them really turns me on…sort of gender neutral types I guess…”

On our second meet-up, he came to me late on a Saturday afternoon right after I moved into my new house. My living room was quite sparse with just a TV and a futon cushion on the floor acting poorly as a couch. I had a barely stable, old IKEA wood table and four chairs outside on the deck.

Dusk had nearly arrived when he did and I already had a bottle of wine open for us to enjoy. We took it out back to view the fading colors of the setting sun.

After a glass, he launched in a soliloquy from the latest production he was in. I could barely keep up with what he was saying as he twirled around the deck, gestured demonstratively and abruptly stopped all motion at the end of most sentences.

When he was finished, I gave him an enthusiastic round of applause and a wide grin. He leaned down to me sitting in the chair and gave me a soft, wet kiss in appreciation.

As the sun disappeared, it got a little chilly so we moved back in to the house. Before I could even get the wine set down in the kitchen, he coyly asked if he could put on a pair of my panties. Oh hell yes, I wanted to see where this would go, and more importantly, if it would turn me on. I could say at the time I had never been asked that question by a man.

He picked out a sheer pink pair with a fuchsia lace trim. With his slim frame, the medium fit him perfectly well being just a little snug in the front for obvious reasons. You would have thought he had put on a superman cape or a queen’s gown! He instantaneously turned into a different person – giddy, light on his toes prancing around the living room, running his hands over his chest, humming a tune – happy.

It was a turn on to watch.

“Thank you for celebrating my little inner queen with me.”

“My pleasure.”

“Let me show you those nice trans femme ladies I was talking about.”

We went to a porn site online on my phone and then cast it to the TV.

She was dark olive-skinned with quite large, perfectly round breast implants, very slim with long, dark hair, long thin legs, painted nails and a bit of an over painted face. I don’t even recall what the guy looked like – who cared? I wanted to see her in action. I had never seen a trans woman naked before.

She was lying on the bed – every bit of hair removed except what was on her head. The camera angle was from the bottom corner of the bed looking up and from the side at her. He came from the end of the bed and crawled up and over her. She put her hands on either side of his face and moved it directly over her cock. She slid his mouth right over her hard dick and directed it by pulling it up and down. Her cock was long and slim to complement her body. Her moans were high-pitched and she gave him lots of direction and encouragement.

“Just like that daddy.”

She stopped him, pulled her legs up to expose her ass and he dove in with his cock. The camera zoomed in and filled the screen with his wide cock plunging in and out of her ass. Hers was open, hairless – a perfect round hole for his fucking hard peg.

She was still hard and began stroking herself.

Good fucking god it was so hot to watch. Blarney had been playing with me during this entire time, but I could hardly pay attention. I was on my back on the flattened futon cushion and he had buried his face in my pussy. The visual and physical overstimulation was amazing.

She started stroking faster and yelling louder. He went harder pounding her ass.

She came first – all over her big round tits. He followed and when he pulled out, the camera went right in to capture the cum dripping out of her ass.

The video stopped and now that I could concentrate on Blarney I was bound to explode in record time.

My mind was racing over what I had just watched. I closed my eyes and replayed the entire video again watching her exploding on herself while rocking back and forth to his fucking her ass. Blarney coupled with the images on the back on my eyeballs was too much to control. My back arched and I pulled my pussy back away from his mouth as I screamed through my orgasm. Grabbed my left breast and cupped my soaking pussy while I spasmed. Once I came out of that trance-like high and opened my eyes, I looked down to the widest smile on his face.

“Wow – thank you. That was fucking amazing in so many ways.”

Those images are on repeat in my mind to this day during sex with and without a partner, and continually have me seeking out trans and gay porn when the mood strikes.

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Nerdie & Princess Leia

If you pull out the bottom drawer of my dresser, you’ll see a curiously large number of ziploc bags each with different colored clothing in them. These are my sexy costumes and lingerie – not the ones you get at the Halloween stores that pop up every year in a super-sized empty strip mall store front, but from a proper online sex shop.

Nerdie loves me in costumes and good thing is, I love to dress up for him! We accumulated so many outfits that it was impossible to tell them apart, never mind tear them apart, when I wanted to wear one. The velcro of my school girl plaid skirt stuck to the cowgirl halter top. The long straps of my ninja costume that attach at the hip of the booty short onesie and wrap around each leg hopelessly intertwined with my French maid dress.

So organization by ziploc it was.

Nerdie’s favorite outfit by far is me as Princess Leia. He is nerdy after all.

It has only three pieces. A brown triangle bikini top with a sown-on gold pattern. A long brown pleated skirt with a slit on either side all the way up to the 5″ gold waistband. A gold choker with a plastic chain connected to a wristband.

My hair is only just below shoulder length, but I do my best making tiny little buns on each side of my head before sauntering out from the bedroom, wrapping my leg around the wall so Nerdie can see from the living room that I’m ready for him to take me back to his Tatooine prison.

On this episode of Return of the Jedi, I got into bed perched on my knees so Nerdie could see my thighs all the way up to my hips exposed from each side of the skirt. He walked through the bedroom door and I grabbed each tit and squeezed while looking him straight-faced and dead in the eye.

He jumped on the bed, put his left hand on my throat with a gentle squeeze and gave me a wide, open-mouthed kiss. He paused for a moment and told me to lay down at the top of the bed. He pushed my knees apart with his and leaned over to continue kissing me while pressing his hard cock against the outside of my vagina over the skirt. Rubbing back and forth, I lifted my legs so the pressure was directly on my clit.

With purpose and swiftness, he pushed my skirt to one side, slid down the bed and buried his face in my pussy. Using little more than the tip of his tongue, with a rapid flick, I could feel my clit swell and my hips start to move. I took just a moment to look down and see the sexy sight of his face just from the bridge of the nose up, arms wrapped around my thighs holding on to feel my rythmn.

He got me well under way and himself all worked up. He came up, pulled one of the triangles of bra material to the side and filled his mouth with my breast then tugged on the chain connecting the choker to my wrist. He sat up and with little warning plunged his cock into my wet pussy.

This is my favorite part.

I love watching his cock be buried inside of me. A quick withdrawal then his hard, wide, veiny specimen disappears repeatedly, over and over again, inside. The feeling at the entrance of my pussy tingles and the repetitive motion keeps me dripping.

His groaning and heavy breathing is barely louder than mine.

He pulls out to finish me off returning to eat my pussy. With all the excitement, it takes me no time to feel the build up of pressure in advance of my orgasm. I erupt in expletives and for a moment, two, a zillion years, I’m on another plane – out of body pleasure as my body jerks and spasms without warning.

He comes up, wipes his mouth with his arm and plunges right back in. I can feel the noticeable difference in how easily he slides in and out of me, pounding down so I take in his entire cock.

He quiets for a moment and I glance up to see a tremendous concentration in his furrowed brow.

Pound. Pound. Pound. Pound.

Explosion. Expletives. Collapse.

We spend a moment lying next to each other catching our breath. I noticed I had broken the chain of the choker to wrist component of the costume and there are love juices on my skirt and a wet patch on the bed.

We smile, cuddle, kiss, laugh and I’m so grateful to have such a satisfied and fulfilled sex life with my husband.

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Mini Egg White Frittatas

I’m sure you’ve seen those expensive egg cups in the grocery store lately. They are everywhere! I’ve been making them at home for over 10 years at about $0.70 each. This version below uses egg whites and has Italian-inspired ingredients. However you can easily replace egg whites with whole eggs – probably 8 large eggs would do the trick – and use any vegetables, herbs and cheeses you want and/or need to use up from the fridge.


Servings: 12
Time: About 10 minutes active; 35 minutes total
Price: About $8.60 total; $0.70 per serving
Nutrition (per serving): 
Calories: 45.8
Protein: 6.2g
Fat: 0.88g
Saturated fat: 0.48g
Carbohydrates: 3.5g
Fiber: 0.76g
Sodium: 263.9mg
Cholesterol: 1.9mg


  • 1/2 cup dried tomatoes (or dried tomatoes packed in olive oil)
  • 1 small red onion, chopped
  • 1 cup spinach, chopped
  • 3 garlic cloves, minced
  • 1 tsp dried oregano
  • 1/2 tsp SnP each (salt and pepper)
  • 1/4 tsp red pepper flakes, optional
  • 1 cup parsley, chopped
  • 2 cups egg whites
  • 1/4 cup fat free milk
  • 1 oz Parmesan cheese, grated


  1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Meanwhile in a small bowl, add dried tomatoes and cover with warm water. Let stand 10 minutes, then drain and chop. Omit the soaking step if using tomatoes packed in oil and just chop.
  2. In a medium skillet over medium heat sprayed with cooking spray or drizzled with a little olive oil, sauté onion until soft, about 5 minutes. Add spinach, garlic, oregano, SnP and red pepper flakes, if using, and sauté 2-3 minutes more. Remove from heat, and add parsley and dried tomatoes. Let cool.
  3. Whisk together egg whites and milk.
  4. In a 12-cup muffin pan sprayed with cooking spray, distribute veggie mixture evenly. Then pour egg white-milk mixture over top.
  5. Bake 20 minutes. Sprinkle cheese over top and cook 5 minutes more. Remove and let cool 10 minutes before removing from the pan. Serve warm, cold or at room temperature.

Ands, Not Ors

I have been dating a new man for just shy of a month. I am naming him Duke because we both have an insatiable love of mayo. He so much so that he orders Duke’s online and keeps a healthy stash in his pantry. If you don’t know Duke’s mayo, it’s a Southern institution born and raised in Greenville, SC.

This isn’t really a story about Duke, but rather about my surprise at where my brain is with regard to relationships.

I was jolted on a recent date with Duke – well they are all recent really – we’ve only had four of them! We had just had a fun romp in bed and were lying there afterward chatting. Even though it’s early days, I have found that now that we are long-time adults serious relationship conversations can start happening pretty early in the association.

So we were lying there naked on our backs next to each other and somehow the topic turned to ‘us’. I can’t remember how it got there, but only what he said.

“Well this can only go so far because you are married.”

At that moment, I was overwhelmed with both sadness at the comment and relief that it was pitch black in the room because my eyes started to well up.

Part of it was for sure baggage from a previous relationship that broke up about a year ago. I haven’t written much about him – it still makes me sad and I haven’t quite processed it all, but essentially that guy had the same line of thinking. If I can’t have all of you to myself in a monogamous relationship then I don’t want you at all OR the only thing to work toward in a romantic relationship is marriage.

Those thoughts have haunted me since that break up. He threw away a deep honest love because he couldn’t see any grey or didn’t want to because he thought it would be too complicated or he couldn’t see a way he could get all his needs met. Well fuck that – sometimes things don’t come to you in neat little packages and they are hard – I would say especially the worthwhile things. In my (angrier) opinion, the weak MF just gave up because it was too hard.

The implicit idea of possession within monogamy always pisses me off. My husband isn’t mine – I am not his. We are still independent people – for me, the two did not become one when we married. We are not assets, possessions or trophies of the other. I have heard this statement too many times to count and I’m sure I will again.

“Wow, it’s so great that your husband let’s you do this.” [implied: date other men]

You can fuck all the way off with that!

My husband doesn’t “let” me do anything. I don’t “let” him do anything. We have a connected, communicative relationship where we really listen to the other person’s needs, wants and feelings – and really care about hearing what they have to say. Then we create a path or a space together so that the other person can feel comfortable and supported and confident in pursuing those needs, wants and desires. Each person is heard, validated and respected. It takes continuous communication, honesty and above all the truest love that comes from a place where you, with all your being, want the other person to be happy and fulfilled in whatever they want to pursue.

Back to the bedroom: I also realized in that moment just how much I had unwound my brain in the past 7 1/2 years with regard to all types of relationships, but particularly intimate ones. My thought patterns don’t have two lanes – black or white. I see infinite possibilities – a beautiful grassy plain in front of me with no worn paths, no trees or rocks defining the way. I can walk in literally any direction.

This obviously took conscious work I wanted to do. Sometimes I forget I live in a monogamous world. My brain just doesn’t think like that anymore. With everyone who comes into my lie, I assess in the beginning how and where the relationship/association is or where I can see it may be going or just go with the flow and don’t think about it all. But always with the idea to “Let Relationships Be Where They Are.” Not to force or push in a direction, but rather try to be open to receive the person as they are and vice versa and see how we naturally fit together. The fit can also change over time – friends become lovers, lovers move to the friend zone. Some friends become make out buds without intercourse. Some lovers are just fun acquaintance hook ups.

The monogamous world we’ve all been brought up in doesn’t allow for all this grey area. It once did a long time ago, but I don’t want to get into a history lesson.

Why couldn’t Duke and I have a long-term relationship? We are prisoners of our own thinking sometimes.

Instead of confronting him with that question, I expressed just a sliver of what I was looking for. Maybe he would start to see things differently over time. It is definitely too early to tell, but I’m just putting myself out there.

I told him I was interested in one long term relationship with someone, and then I stepped out on the potential plank just a bit. I added that I could see the possible…maybe…potential in him for me – not knowing of course if he saw anything remotely like what I did. He’s 70 years old, a semi-retired pilot, widowed for 20 years and never remarried, no kids. He had had a long term girlfriend before, but they never lived together. He’s got a very active social life, including four planes and is always flying near and far to visit friends and fly in airshows. He’s still besties with his ex-GF – they even share one of those planes together. All of this is exciting to me that we could be a complement to each other’s otherwise full and fulfilled lives.

But will he be open enough to see the potential? I can see the challenge – 70 years of thinking like a monogamist.

I am also not in any way disparaging monogamy. I hope none of this comes across that way. I just truly believe that if people were exposed to the possibility of ENM, learned how it could work successfully, ethically and with respect and then given the freedom to pursue their true heart and mind, the world would be a more magical, happy place. Some would still choose monogamy, some wouldn’t.

Before we left the bed, Duke said, “You are really pulling at my heart strings. I really like you.”

Well I hope with time, talk and trust, I can help bring his mind along with his heart.

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Champion & Otter

I wrote an intro story about Champion last fall. This is a continuation to that story. Should you wish to read the first story, you may find it here.

It didn’t take long for Champion to find that contestant for an MMF and he set up a drinks date for the three of us in a small town midway between ours and his. It was an old school, frontier-themed establishment with lots of dark wood and Prohibition cocktails. I felt it was a perfect venue for alternative dates and sex conversations.

If you are not familiar with the term ‘Otter,’ it refers to a hairy gay man that has an athletic or slimmer build than a ‘Bear,’ which describes a larger, hairy gay man.

Champion found us an Otter.

He was in his late 30s, married and helping to raise a daughter from his husband’s previous relationship. Seemed to live a taken-care-of lifestyle as a teacher and husband to a high-powered PR exec. Tall, more on the muscular side of otter with an amazingly wide smile, great sense of humor and all that yummy chest hair I could see saying hello to me at the top of his button-down shirt.

Once at the bar, I sat in the middle. Champion was equally excited and nervous about taking this big first step on this particular item from his sex to-do list. Putting me between him and Otter created a safe, defensible space should he have some crazy freak out and need to run or bike away quickly.

Thankfully though we all hit it off immediately. Great, easy conversation about work, life, our primary relationships. I thought Otter was incredibly charming and super cute. I just hope Champion was thinking the same thing.

After 2-3 drinks and a few apps, they were both moving closer to me. Otter crossed his leg and his knee just barely rested up against the bottom of my right thigh. On the other side, Champion’s foot was playing a slow game of footsie with mine.

Then, Otter asked the question on everyone’s mind.

“So what do we think about a second date?”

I was an enthusiastic two-thumbs up so replied first – positively, but cautiously because I didn’t want to make Champion feel uncomfortable if he was a no deal.

“Yeah, I’d like to too,” was Champion’s response given with a little nervous smile.

Then we got to the good parts as I’m sure anyone nearby who overheard would agree – the how, what, when, and where of a second date.

Schedules would be the challenge with both of them having kids, but we decided to get a hotel room in another nearby town one late afternoon. The guys would split the charges and I’d bring some libations and snacks.

We started talking about what everyone felt comfortable with doing once together. Otter was extremely gracious and thoughtful understanding that this would be Champion’s first time with a man. I was up for nearly anything, but Champion wanted to keep it light with his rear activity. I expressed my interest in having everyone interact – that pile of body parts grabbing, kissing, sucking, groping I so desired. Champion said he was ok with all of that and even expressed interest in kissing Otter. I could barely wait! If I wasn’t wearing pants at that moment, my pussy would have been dripping on the bar floor I was so excited.

We agreed on a date and location and wrapped up our evening. As we all walked to the parking lot, we stopped to hug and say goodbye. Instead of a hug from Otter, I got his big, full lips planted on mine. They were so lush and the way he moved his mouth was amazing. We were in a sexy, wet rhythm. I also didn’t realize how much it would turn me on that Champion was watching. Otter grabbed the back of my head and pressed me further in to him.

The other guests leaving the bar must have thought it a strange scene for a woman to be making out with one man while a second watched. Really I hoped it turned them on as much as it did me!

Otter pulled away and we both smiled. Champion expressed his pleasure at watching and we all said good night and went back to our cars. Since Champion and I lived in the same town, he drove and when we got back to his car as soon as the doors closed, he leaned over, grabbed my face with both his hands and gave me a long, passionate kiss. I moved my hand over his thigh and gave a firm grab to the bulging cock under his pants.

On the back of my eyelids, in that moment, I saw the three of us in bed rolling around in a pile of fucking. I wish I could have fucked Champion in the back seat right then to relieve my sexual tension, but I was denied – not in the car where he shuttles his wife and kids. FUCK!

The several weeks until the hotel date seemed to drip by so slowly.

When the day finally arrived, Champion once again picked me up and we drove about 45 minutes to meet up with Otter. He was already in the room. I opened up some wine while we settled in and chit-chatted. Otter was playing to stay the night because his husband and step-daughter were out of town.

Once everyone felt a little lubricated mentally, Otter got up from the desk chair he was sitting in to come closer to me. Champion was already sitting on the other side of me on the bed.

It was summer and I was wearing a relatively short sundress that of course became shorter when I sat on the bed.

Otter leaned over me, pulled my chin up to turn my head toward him and he started giving me those amazing full, wet lips. Inspired, Champion ran his hand over my chest, under the dress and my bra and gave my left breast a big squeeze. He started kissing my neck then put his hand under the bottom of my dress and began rubbing my pussy over my panties.

All the sensations and hands on me were fucking hot. I was loving that they just took over me and were doing what they wanted.

Otter pushed me back on the bed, looked at Champion and they both leaned over and starting kissing right above me. Champion took a handful of Otter’s hairy pec. Otter took a handful of Champion’s cock and began stroking it.

I couldn’t help but start rubbing my clit while I watched this live gay porn scene unfold in front of me.

They stopped and turned all their focus on me. I was quickly being undressed from both ends. Otter was pulling my dress over my head and taking off my bra while Champion removed my panties. He spread my legs, pushed my knees up and went right in on my lips. Otter grabbed my tits and started kissing me again. At the same time, Champion reached up for a handful of Otter’s hard cock. I strained to see him stroke him from the corner of my eye.

After that it was hard to keep up with the frenzy of activity, but I felt like Goldi-cocks with a buffet in front of me.

At one point, Champion was fucking me while I was on my back. Otter came over and put his cock in my mouth. I loved the challenge of riding up and back while trying to keep Otter’s cock in.

Then Otter moved down and with Champion leaning over me pumping me back and forth, he put his cock in Champion’s mouth.

They got into a rhythm until Champion needed a break. Otter took his place, flipped me over on to all fours and was thrusting so hard I’m sure our hotel room neighbors could hear the slapping of his thighs against my ass.

Champion saw an opportunity and came around the bed and thrust his cock in my mouth. He paused his body and just let the rhythm of Otter pushing me forward and back take over. My moans of pleasure muffled by Champion deep in my mouth.

We did just about every configuration of them sucking each other, fucking me, me sucking them, everyone making out, groping bodies that came to anyone’s mind in the moment.

Otter then tapped out for a break and watched as I rode Champion – pushing off my knees to bob straight up and down on his cock. His breath quickened and got louder, which only inspired me to go faster and come down harder on his dick. I could hear Otter starting to stroke his own cock sitting in the desk chair across the room.

Champion’s whole body tensed and then explosively released. I bent down to give him a tender kiss on the neck before I moved my attention back to Otter. I went over, knelt on the floor in front of him and took his cock in my mouth while being sure that Champion, still lying spent on the bed, could watch my ass from behind.

After a few moments, Otter pulled me up and told me to get on the bed. He fucked me fast and hard missionary-style until he collapsed on my chest.

“I haven’t fucked a woman in over 20 years! That was amazing!”

“And I’ve never fucked a gay guy!”

We all burst out laughing. I felt lucky to have played that role.

Since Champion was more familiar with my body, Otter let him finish me off while he watched.

If someone had set a countdown, I doubt it would have made it from 30 to 0 before I came. What a fucking hot evening, I was stretched and dripping and exhausted and satisfied.

We all sat on the bed naked afterward chatting and drinking a celebratory glass of wine before Champion and I packed up and left Otter in the room for the night.

On our next 1:1 date, Champion told me that he had fun that night, but no desire for a repeat session. Damn! I got Otter’s What’s App number from Champion, but Otter and I never did connect on our own. It would have been such fun to be a gay guy’s fuck buddy.

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