Seeking Applications: In Search of a Second Wife

Two episodes of Big Love and I'm convinced, I need a second wife - WE need a second wife. No, we're not religious or even marginally interested in the Mormon faith. We are however committed polyamorists and lately I've been feeling like something is missing. Yes, I know, polyamory is one thing and polygamy is another. Yet, I'm seriously starting to believe that a second wife would makes for a perfect equilbrium in our relationship. The type of girlfriend I am looking for, with the added bonus of being a friend/playmate/lover my partner. Unlike HBO's Barb, Nikki and Margene, I want both personal (me) time and shared time, with both the husband and the second wife.

The more I think about this to more dedicated I become to finding such a woman. But where would I look? Is there somewhere in particular I need to go to? Surely the swingers club is not the right location? Intelligent, open minded, sexually and emotionally evolved dark chocolate women interested in a multi-partner arrangement aren't easy to find. Are they?

An Open Letter To Ms. Anti-Relationship

She said, “You're beautiful,” I replied thank you. She said, “I can really see a future for us,” I replied me too. She said, “ I enjoy spending time with you and I never want it to end,” I replied I feel the same way. I asked, “You wanna be my girlfriend?” She says, “ hold up boo let’s dial it back. I’m not ready for a relationship.”

My reaction; WTF! This is an all too often the scenario played out in bedrooms, over dinner tables and in the back seats of cars. Speaking from my lesbian perspective, friends with benefits and non-titled commitment phobic unions seem to be the acceptable standard. I’m over it. Why is it that every woman I encounter "Isn't ready for a relationship" but your more than ready to make me holla or be your baby momma?

I consider myself a prize. I’m attractive, educated, focused on the bigger picture of family and success. I have all the qualities you say you want in a life partner, yet you don’t want to commit. You say, “I feel trapped and I still want to explore my options.” Well wtf you looking for so I can direct you away from me. My pussy is sweet enough to taste but not good enough to marry or at the very least commit to! And how much longer do you think you can play this game; we knocking at 30’s door and times a tickin’.

What boggles my mind even more is the implied suggestion that I must now wait for you AND be committed to you. Its exceptionally brazen of you to not want a relationship BUT you want to kick it, sleep together, go through my text messages, ask me where I'm at, who I'm with, why I'm there; bitch please. Please don’t take my kindness for weakness. I’m woman enough to like you but momma didn’t raise no fool; I also have options.

Maybe my expectations are too high. Maybe I need to reevaluate me and what I require and expect. But I will no longer be giving you the best, sweetest, wettest parts of me. I’m locking down the kitty kat and we will see how much longer this ambiguous love affair lasts. Maybe I'm trippin’? I just don't want to be that old ass bitch in the club 45 years old single and hitting on all the young girls.

Do we as "progressive" pulled together women put too much emphasis on labels and exclusivity?

How sweet it is...(Group Post)

"Mmmmm....Your nipples taste like Hershey's Kisses" he said as he cupped both of my firm breasts together and enveloped their plump nipples between his wet lips. My monthly visitor was in town and it seemed like forever since I'd gotten any action. As usual I didn't think he should have miss out just because I wasn't in the position to do the "do" so I'd planned on giving him yet another mind boggling blow job--you know the kind where he feels like the cum is rising from the bottom of his feet and has to make it all the way to his balls through his veins. The kind that last for damn near and hour because I make sure my saliva covers every skin cell of his penis, let it drip down my chin onto my breasts, massage his balls, lick all the way from the tip to his asshole, then let him shoot hot cum all over my face. Yeah that kind.

I'd kissed all over his chest, counted out his eight-pack with my tongue and was slowly movin down to where I really wanted to be when he stopped me. I thought he was getting ready to tell me he wanted to run the red light tonight but I just wasn't in the mood for the clean up process. I'd have had to deny that request so I'm glad he didn't ask. Instead he turned me over and put his legs on either side of me. For a moment he just stared at me, not saying anyting but just watching. I stared back at him, etching every detail of his perfect body into my memory all over again.

He used his two forefingers to trace the outline of my cheekbones and jaw, then my neck and shoulderblades. He came back to my breasts and ran his fingers along the sides of

each then up to my nipples. He stopped and stared again and I was beginning to think I'd give him a pass to run as many red lights and he wanted. He took each of my now super-hard nipples between his thumb and pointer and gently pinched them. I felt my body quiver and could feel the chill bumbs forming all over. He bent down and pulled one nipple into his mouth. He tongue was so warm, mouth so wet I couldn't suppress my moans. I tried to maintain composure as my children were asleep down the hall, but I wasn't very successful as he softly blew on both nipples. He went back and forth from the right to the left causing the warm wetness to cool down.

I closed my eyes and imagined us naked on a tropical beach. I pictured him on top of me making more waves than the ocean as he caused my pussy juices to flow from my juicy cunt lips all the way to my asshole and down to the white tropical sand. He held my breasts firmly and I could feel the nerves tingling. He licked and sucked and licked them some more. Through my pajama boy shorts I could feel his hard dick poking my clit just wishing it had all access at that moment. He stopped and stared again. So flattering yet so intimidating at the same time. He then massaged my breasts together first then one at a time.

I felt the tension I'd held all week move from my back to my shoulders then release through my nipples. He bent over again and sucked some more and I swear it felt as if he was just sucking every bit of stress from my body. Suddenly I felt a familiar sensation rise up from the soles of my feet to my inner thigh. He felt me shaking and began to suck harder. One nipple, then the other then both at once. He massaged one and sucked the other, sucked one and pinched the other. He cock was still in the same place--hard and pressing down on my belly now leaving my clit free of stimulation. Then it happened. And he sucked and rubbed my clit began to throb and my pussy erupted. I quivered and shook and let out a deep moan letting him know that I was cumming and cumming hard. He held on with his lips until I stopped moving. Then he sat up and looked down at me once again. "Yesss...loooveee my Hershey Kisses...now u can come suck my dick". Of course I gladly obliged.

Check out the others' "Sweet Pleasures" with Kimberly of The Errant Wife and see who else is taking part in this month's group post: Petal, Ronjazz, Autumn, Gray, Salt and Pepper, Barefoot Dreamer, fgsakes, Topaz, Britni, Panserbjorne and Bri.

The Good, The Bad, The Hopeful

Life never lets you know where it's going. Sometimes the roller coaster ride makes perfect sense and the scenery is beautiful if not awe inspiring. Other times its best to just hold on tight, and try not to throw up. To say that 2009 was the most difficult year of my life was an understatement. A car accident, the sudden illness of one parent, the death of another, unemployment, the near loss of hard earned graduate fellowship. My 29th year kicked my ass in ways I couldn't even understand furthermore anticipate. The road of life has worn me thin this year. The journey has been harder than any I have made thus far. I don't know what the universe was trying to teach me but I just had to do my best to listen and stay sane. Keeping going has really been a test of wills and an unearthing of strength I didn't know I had. With three months left until my 30th birthday, I'm in quiet reflection. What have I lost, this year? What have I gained? What has been my greatest tragedy? What has been my most rewarding triumph?

Looking back I realize that my primary relationship with all it's tumult, sacrifice and joy has been the most stable and reliable constant in my life this past year. Amid all the ups and downs of the last 12 months my relationship has been a meditation within the chaos of my life. A noisy, rarely quiet space, it forced me to concentrate and focus my energy to build the type of union I believed in...taught me to figure out in many ways what it meant to believe...and finally allowed me to transform. I examined the depth of my commitment to my partner...measured and took stock of it in a way I had not before. I learned what it meant to acknowledge that I had not been meeting expectations - both my own and his. I began to say I want, I need, I feel, I think and to own those statements, to voice them in the open, without subterfuge or camoflage.

Relationships, whatever their nature - romantic, platonic, professional - are work. We rarely talk about the work of romantic relationships but work it is. A partnership between us and the other, relationships leave us vulnerable, opening us to success and to failure. Last year I both succumbed to the perils of failure and was exalted on the wings of success. The entire time my partner has been with me, traveling the road at my side, pointing out potholes, navigating with me through traffic jams and detours, searching our map for alternate routes and embracing me as we reach each new destination. He's been my co-pilot reminding me ALLways why the trip was worth taking. I struggled. I cried. I tired. I grew. And in the end, I hoped.

In this new day may I remember that while the good is never simple and the bad is often too much to bear, the hopeful have the presence of mind to dare another day.

Pussy Palace

I moved into my new apartment a few months ago and I am still living out of clothes thrown in boxes and suitcases. I haven't invested in a single piece of furniture and my mattress was a gift. I have nothing else but a few hangers I use for my fanciest wares, a sheet set and two pillows. It's time to turn my space into a grown up and sensuous lair - worthy of setting the mood for some kinky encounters. Honestly, it's killing my mojo; I really don't feel comfortable inviting anyone over. I scheduled some time to do online window shopping and while looking for pillows, I stumbled upon something quite curious. At first I was shocked and wondered how much a potential buyer would have to love the vagina .... or the uterus for that matter. That's one of the designs they offer too. I admit, part of me hopes to create an ambiance that screams "I am Woman!" "I am sex vixen! Turn me out!"

However, these pillows I found here might actually be a bit too much. Are they complete novelty pieces? weirdo fetishy items for perverts ... or meant to prop your back up while sitting waiting in your gynecologist's office?


What do you all think? Would you put pussy on display like this? ... and why doesn't it come in black, brown, butter pecan for us colored girls?