jealousy

Controlling Jealousy

Jealousy is probably one of the largest concerns when a new couple starts swinging beyond the is my dick or tits big enough. Being the amateur psychologist that I am, I enjoy psychoanalyzing others at a party.

We were lucky in that our initial forays into wife swapping was with a great group of people and that my wife was understanding of my lack of impulse control. Like most guys, I let my little buddy make all my decisions for me.

For a guy, going to a swinger’s party is like being locked in a Krispy Kreme with an empty stomach and a Keurig on automatic.

When a new couple shows up, it’s like throwing raw meat to the lions as everyone wants a taste. For a guy, it’s that moment when you realize that not only are you going to get laid, but your significant other is also a prime target.

The first few times at a House Party can be stressful as you may not know many people, and how you’re going to perform under pressure is a polite way of describing the situation. As a guy, performance anxiety is a common thing that rears its ugly head, unlike what you really want to raise. After all, she only has to lay there. 😊

Like most things, practice makes perfect, and you’ll quickly recover the woody when you discover that everyone is about the same as you. Swingers are like everyone else, just with fewer morals.

My recommendation is to try, and both of you get lucky at the same time. It’s hard to be jealous when you’re getting your ashes hauled at the same time as your wife is screaming out someone else’s name. This is why I recommend that you start with house parties and not couple-on-couple.

It would seem that two on two would be better for newbie couples, but I don’t think that’s the case. From personal experience, I’ve found that when you get together with another couple, the chances that everybody will hit it off are rare. You don’t want to start out getting your lights drilled out while your other half is staring at someone he/she has no interest in.

If you go to a party with, say, ten or fifteen other couples, the chances both of you score is much better. Plus, you don’t have to do what we call a “charity fuck.” As much as I hate to admit it, there is one woman in our circle that I use every excuse I can find not to get together with her.

She’s really nice, and Wifey enjoys the company of her husband, but she just doesn’t ring my bell. She gets mad at me for ducking her and gripes to my wife that I won’t fuck her. I realize that the worst I ever had was wonderful, and I can go to Hell for culling, but I’d actually rather do without.

New couples almost always makeup rules to corral the other half but in actuality, that rarely works out. If you tell your wife, “I don’t want to see you on your knees with a waiting line,” good luck with that.

If your spouse breaks a rule, take a breath, and don’t explode. They can get caught up in the heat of the moment and do something against the rules. In most cases, what you’ll figure out is that the rules slowly fade away as you become more comfortable in the Lifestyle.

Don’t argue in front of others. Wait until you’re alone to air your grievances. Most of the time, these little things will work themselves out. I’m sure you’d rather have her head banged against the headboard at a party rather than at a long lunch with a co-worker?

Seriously, the first few times are the toughest, and you have to realize that consensual sex with others is not love but lust. If you are a committed couple and in a stable relationship, the Lifestyle can be entertaining and a lot of fun. Swinging will not help a bad marriage but will only hasten its demise.

We were talking the other day about how much fun we’ve had since we started swinging. With COVID-19, there is little we can do beyond talking about it. A fair percentage of the women in the Lifestyle are exhibitionists, and the show at a party is worth the price of admission. It’s kind of like watching People of Walmart without having to click the Next button and dodge the ads.

It’s also interesting that bi-sexuality is common among women but rare with men, at least in our group. My wife plays for both teams and is bad about taking my current prospect off my hands, but at least I get to watch and have sloppy seconds.

We’ve talked a lot lately about cuckold husbands with their Hotwives at ERWA, and several of our friends are into that kink. In general, Lifestyle couples accept pretty much any form of aberrant behavior as long as it doesn’t stain your new shoes.

We have an us against them attitude with the normal people or “straights” as we call them. Straights wander around with their head in the clouds, completely oblivious to what’s going on around them. Occasionally, at 3 A.M., a group of us will run into a group of straights at Denny’s or IHOP, which usually results in the straights leaving in disgust at our behavior. There is nothing worse than telling a group of swingers that you find their attitude or dress code offensive. I’m sorry that my wife’s short skirt and open blouse offends you. Not!

It’s not as bad in Las Vegas as it was in the Midwest. People here usually just roll their eyes and return to reading the National Enquirer about aliens at Area 51. Once you get away from the Strip, it’s amazing how conservative the rank and file are, but they tend just to ignore us.

I’m Larry Archer, a smut writer, and this is my time of the month to spout off about completely useless topics of little relevance. If you are looking to entertain yourself with some hot stroke erotica with a humorous bent, check me out at LarryArcher.blog. I’m also on MeWe, the uncensored FaceBook like site at https://mewe.com/i/larryarcherauthor

The Way It Was — or Wasn't

by Jean Roberta

As 2015 speeds to a close, I’ve been thinking about memory and its relationship to the imagination that all writers need to cultivate.

I’ve been reading Skin Effect: More Erotic Science Fiction and Fantasy Erotica by M. Christian. I promised to review this collection months ago, and now I have time to do it. In the opening story, “[Title Forgotten],” the central characters can have their worst memories “overwritten” by mind-movies that seem like memories of real experience and which prevent the subjects from becoming aware of memory gaps (“Why can’t I remember 2013?”) Yet the traumatic memories underneath can still be accessed by means of special software, and some people choose to access them because they value the truth, however painful.

How many of us would make that choice? We like to think our lives are coherent narratives showing a logical process of cause and effect. “Overwriting,” however well-done, would probably throw something off. We would probably want to know, for example, why we dread visits from Uncle Fred , and when we first became aware of our fear of heights. Or why we like certain sexual activities more than others.

Actually, “overwriting” seems like something that human beings tend to do constantly, without need of external software. Most of the people I’ve known for years disagree with me about some of the details of our shared experiences, and this is why I’m reluctant to part with souvenirs that can serve as evidence.

I’m glad to know that one of M. Christian’s obsessions (the nature and value of memory) coincides with one of mine.

One of my worst memories involves someone else’s memory, if you follow this, but the someone else (my husband in the 1970s) is no longer alive. Even if he were, it’s unlikely that he would remember things differently now.

He was newly-arrived in Canada, after I had sponsored him in from England, where we had met. He was a refugee from the Nigerian Civil War. In Canada, I had helped him find a kind of loose community of international university students and Nigerian doctors who had been imported by the local health-care system. A group of people we hardly knew had attended our courthouse wedding, and came to the party someone threw for us later. It was fun.

On one occasion, we were invited to hang out in someone’s apartment with a crowd of people we hardly knew. My husband drank until he fell asleep in a comfortable armchair, which seemed rude to me. When he started snoring, I shook him awake and told him we should find the host, say our goodbyes, and leave. To my relief, he didn’t argue, and he managed to drive us home without crashing the car.

The next day, I launched into a discussion of his drinking. He interrupted to tell me how hurt and humiliated he was when he walked down a hallway to the bathroom and saw me in flagrante. According to him, I was lying on a bed in a bedroom (with the door open, unless he had X-ray vision), and some man he didn’t know was fucking me wildly. My husband said he didn’t understand how I could do that. Neither did I. This was hardly the evening I remembered.

In vain, I asked him how likely it was that I would be that reckless, and that he had walked past, silently, despite feeling wounded to the heart. He accused me of gaslighting him: trying to make him think he was crazy, when he was no such thing, and no loyal wife would suggest it.

In hindsight, I realize that I should have left my husband that day, but I soldiered on for two years longer, trying to convince him that dreams prompted by jealousy and paranoia (or mistaken identity?) are not reality. He persisted in telling me how much I was hurting him, and how real his feelings were. If his feelings were real, how could they be based on illusions?

Since I wrote my first erotic stories in the late 1980s, I’ve wondered how this scenario, or credibility gap, could be turned into an exciting erotic story, purged of the anguish on both sides. How could I describe the mystery man? Could I imagine my husband as a fan of spontaneous threesomes, and to do that, would I have to reimagine him from scratch, with different cultural roots and physical characteristics?

There is a bleakly funny story by Mark Twain (the title escapes me) about an acre of ground that is claimed by two families, who continue the conflict for generations, even though the land is so barren that nothing can be grown on it. Eventually, the man who narrates the story claims to be the only person involved who made any money from that land. In that sense, the land finally produced a paying crop.

Real-life conflicts tend be remain unresolved, and real-life relationships often trail way without satisfying endings. (My ex-husband’s death was definitely an ending for him, and it ended a phase of my life, although I didn’t find it especially satisfying.) The challenge for all writers, including those who write fantasy, is how to make a profit from barren ground by transforming the often frustrating, boring, enraging, or work-in-progress quality of life into narratives that are exciting to read, and also realistic enough. And with a beginning, a middle, and a conclusion.

I don’t have a handy formula, but I have plenty of raw material to work with. Maybe I will find a way to turn garbage into gold. Beginning in July 2016, I will have a full-year sabbatical (a break from teaching) to spend on writing. I already have an outline for a book on censorship in various forms, which will draw on my involvement in the stranger-than-fiction cultural politics of the 1980s and 1990s. I will also have enough time to battle my internal censor and squeeze out some fiction.

I hope everyone who reads this is blessed with time and inspiration in 2016.

pressing wine after the harvest, circa 1400s

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