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I think you need more than one thing. Trust and sex alone are not enough. You have to like each other; enjoy each other's company; enjoy doing things together, and not just cuz you like the same thing, but like doing whatever it is with the other person there with you; you need to have at least a few things in common. I think.

Dope and smoking; too dainty; overly ditsy.

Get by without being too much of an asshole or too much of a door matt; raise my kids with some semblance of well-roundedness, to not be bigots, to not be assholes themselves, to stay away from dope and self-destructive behaviour, to have respect for others, to take care of themselves, to be close to each other (even though they deny it), and to have some of the values that I have. Also, to feel that I am valuable at work and not too much of a slacker. Sacrifices: a lot of sleep over the last 10-11 years, gray hair, a few footprints on my forehead, and not doing a lot of things for myself that I would have liked.

Alright, I'm no Jack LaLanne here, and basically regurgitating (yuk) what I've read before, but the idea is if you're belly pouch is made of fat, all the sit ups and crunches in the world, although great for your stummy muskels, won't get rid of it. You have to burn it off just like fat anywhere else on your body. If it is a little leftover extra skin from when you were a few pounds heavier, it may not be get-rid-of-able, or may take time to shrink and tighten. If you got pregnant, that would tighten it up

I also am quiet. While I have my share of dirty thoughts, mostly I'm just not a good conversationalist. And often when I do have something to say, others around me are yakkers and it's just hard to get a word in with these people sometimes. Plus I'm a bit socially awkward, so after enough chiming in with something that doesn't fit with the ongoing conversation, you just learn it's better to keep your mouth shut. And then that time in 4th grade when the teacher asked if we could think of any chores around the house that only a woman should do. "Clean the bathroom," I piped up with, 'cuz in my house my mom cleaned the bathroom and my dad never did. The teacher just about ripped me a new asshole for that (or so it seemed to me as a 9 year old kid), with most of the girls in the class scowling at me. Again, another lesson to keep my mouth shut.

What brought me to tootimid was my wife saying she would like to do a threesome (FFM). In searching the internet for info, aside from finding tootimid, I found one site that said finding the 3rd person for a threesome can be difficult, and to consider a foursome, and that foursomes were very, very common. I thought that was interesting. For us, I would not like my wife with another guy, and she is not interested in other guys, so it would not be for us. Nonetheless, I am interested in what others have to say on the matter, if only for my own edification.

For the past couple of years, my wife has said she is bi-curious, wanted to try sex with a girl, and has had a few groping encounters in that time. During a recent date I got her pretty pickled, and she revealed that she had had an ongoing fling with another girl 8 or 10 years earlier. So in my mind, she went from being bi-curious to bi-sexual with that revellation: She not only wants to try sex with another girl, she already has, she liked it, has done some things since, and is actively trying to line further things up. Could she just as easily be in a long-term relationship with a woman as with me? No, probably not. Her interest in girls is more of a physical, sex thing than a fall-in-love relationship thing. But I'm stickin' with my argument. As far as a label goes, does it matter? Not really. Maybe at some level, I find it cooler to have a bisexual wife than a bi-curious one.

I will say no, or at least I don't feel it is, at least for me. And I'm pretty straight-and-narrow and square about most things. A couple of years ago, while talking about various things, my wife let me know that she was bi-curious, fantasized about and wanted to try sex with another girl, etc. and so forth. I was OK with that, and gave her the go ahead. Nothing major has happened, but she has had a couple/few mild encounters. I find the whole business arousing. I got her liquored up recently, and she revealed that 8 or 10 years ago (after we were married a couple of years), she had had an ongoing fling with another girl, including smoochings, gropings, fingers, toys, oral, and falling asleep together. She didn't tell me at the time 'cuz she didn't know how I'd react, plus the other girl didn't want me knowing (it was someone I knew). After our couple-of-year ago talk, she still hesitated to tell me 'cuz she thought I might be mad that she had kept this a secret for so long. I am not at all mad she did it or kept it secret. I do not feel cheated. Again, I am aroused by the whole thing, and keep asking for more sordid details. I have asked myself several times, "should I be mad or feel cheated?" But I do not feel those things. That it was with a girl and not a guy, to me, makes all the difference in the world. I'm not sure I could put into words or any kind of logical argument why I feel that way. But that's the way it is and the way I feel.

2nd or 3rd grade, sort of. At bathroom break time, the class would go as a group down to the bathrooms. The boys would go in and often we'd climb on the partition walls like monkeys. Somewhere along the way, I found out that if I hung on a partition like doing a pull-up, but just holding on that way, I'd experience a pleasureable sensation down there. An orgasm, but I didn't know what it was at the time, just that it felt good. I would do this often enough over the years. At home I would hang on the glass shower door or closet door (pants off), with Mr. Happy rubbing on the door. Very glad I didn't brake the hinges; that woulda been tough to explain. Does that count? At some point, goo started coming out, and I figured out what was going on. I later learned I could get the same effect with my hand, and didn't have to worry about braking door hinges.

Less pain than getting woken up by a screaming monster 3 and 4 times a night, every night, for weeks or months, when you still have to get up and trudge to work every day . . .

sex on the table in the conference room at work. Not worth losing my job over, but a guy can dream, can't he?

Clean the house while naked. Maybe cook dinner naked also. To help get yourself worked up. How about have him change when he gets home into a bathrobe with nuthin' on underneath, or loose shorts, or something with easy access? Does he need some unwind time after he gets home? Maybe help with a massage or massage with oil? During dinner, would he like if you had a vibrator going under the table, maybe all the way to orgasm, with him just watching? A big plate of baked beans, of course. Bwah-ha-ha-ha . . . Watch out by the candles! (Sorry. It's getting late and I'm gettin' silly)

Oh, we've got sensitivity training on top of sexual harrassment training. Personnally I think it would be more cost effective to single out the sensitive people and give them insensitivity or thick-skin training. Then we've also got ethics training and about six seperate levels of computer security trainings, business-travel-credit-card training, and a whole host of other things. I can't even keep them straight anymore. It gets worse every year. Every time there is some perceived problem area, the top dogs must decide, "We need to train the workforce."

We get beat up every year where I work with annual sexual harrasment training. A key word in there is "unwanted" advances. So, applying what I think they are teaching us to your situation, if you and I worked at the same place and I did that to you (flirty talk, head on shoulder, peck on the cheek) and you said "knock it off; I ain't interested; beat it, scram, get outta here," but then I kept doing it, that would be crossing a line and be sexual harrasment, and I'd get in trouble. If I do those things once and you say stop and I stop doing them, then I'm not in trouble. (As long as I'm not grabbing your boobs or putting a hand in your crotch or slapping your butt; the kiss on the cheek I'm not quite sure about, 'cuz that could be considered physical contact of a sexual nature. Call that a gray area.) If you don't say stop, I have reason to think my actions are not unwelcome, so in that case I believe that I'm still OK and have not crossed a line, even if I continue pestering you. At least that's how I think it works. In the real world, I try to mind my manners and watch what I say and just plain stay out of trouble.

Mebbe usin' one them thar weird eyeball-looking video camera things mounted to a compyuter so as folk way acrosst on th'uther side o' th'innernet can see whutcher upta? In this particular sense, showin' off somma yer sex parts?

So if you stop and go off to the bathroom, does anything come out? And if so, does it at all seem like it isn't pee? From what I recall reading, it is a bit of a mystery where all the fluid comes from when a woman has a G-spot orgasm, and there can be a lot of it. Just wondered if it could be backing up the urethra into the bladder, then come out during orgasm. Thus if you stop sex and try to pee, is there anything in the bladder to come out?

I remember reading that too; it's been a while, but going by memory and a quick Google search, the particular STD you were more likely to catch was HIV. I don't recall anything about the condom having to break, though.

After thinking about this thread, and skimming the "Secret Liasons" thread in the Article Submission section last night (haven't had time to give it a proper read yet), I found myself on the way to bed last night half wanting to ask my wife if she had ever cheated on me. Not, "are you now," but "did you ever, even if you aren't now." Not that I think she is or ever has. I'm not at all worried about it (though sure, she could be, but I really don't think she is). Then I thought, ya know, I'd really just rather not know. Things are pretty good between us for the most part, now. No good can come from knowing. It would only hurt. I just don't wanna know. Now, that's for a past indescretion. I'm still not sure my answer for if it were happening now. Gotta think some more on it.

First off, I have not done a threesome, but wife would like do a FFM (me being the M ), so this is just some miscellaneous thinking on the topic from that point of view. Bottom line up front, to me it would be too much of a gamble. (I'll probably get yelled at for this, but) I hate condoms, so if we ever did do a FFM, I'd prefer to find someone we could trust to be clean, and forego the condoms. Even though I have been snipped, I would either want the girl to be on some sort of BC or get myself rechecked prior to the event, since vasectomies do fail every once in a while. If we were to ever do a MFM (which neither me nor the Mrs. is interested in, but if . . . ), I would not be comfortable with just a condom. In fact, I'd be uncomfortable with the whole thing since my wife is a Fertile Myrtle, got preggo twice on BC pills, and her getting pregnant would be pretty bad since I'm snipped (explain that), she's got some health issues, etc. and so forth.

There was a time when I was maybe 30-ish, hadn't orged in a few days, was horny from warm weather and bike riding and working out half naked and dirty thoughts and such, and I felt almost like I could come just with thought and kegel contractions. Couldn't quite do it, but within seconds of touching Mr. Happy he went off.

She heard it was supposed to be good for you, purges excess water and toxins and what not. She puts olive oil over it and bakes it in the oven. As for me, it is not exactly my favorite food. As a kid, I rated it as #1 worst food ever -- worse than brussel sprouts. It would make me gag, and I couldn't even get it down unless it was smothered in ketchup that was further smothered in more ketchup. And even then I would gag. As a grup (Star Trek term; short for "grown-up"), I have found it to be not so terrible, but am traumatized by my childhood memories, and can only eat a few bites before I become overwhelmed with fear that the gag reflex will rear its ugly head again. (I'm almost gagging just thinking about it . . . calm peaceful thoughts . . . calm peaceful thoughts . . . ocean waves crashing at sunset . . . vulture plucking eyes out of a dead animal . . .)

"Darn, just woke up, never get enough sleep, it's getting late and I gotta start getting ready for work, but I gotta do this or, perve that I am, I'll be undressing that chick in the office with my eyes all day and thinking about sex and won't get any work done, but I gotta hurry 'cuz the kids will be awake soon and then I won't be able to . . . Let's see how quick I can do this. . . . "

An Archie Bunker term. So it might work better if you can imagine his voice saying it. Also spelled groinocologist.

The world isn't all black and white; there are many shades of gray mixed in. The ones I speak of were her closest surviving blood relatives, and for the last 6 or 8 years were the ones who put a roof over her head, made her meals, hosted her during holidays and birthday celebrations, drove her to stores and doctors and the hair dresser, visited her daily and picked poop out of her ass when she would become ill and bedridden in the hospital or nursing home; advocated to get her out of those places and back on her feet. But she would not let things go, and too often caused a lot of unnecessary strife and friction and resentment. And in the end, these people who had cared about her and cared for her, and had had fond times with her and less fond times, they had had enough. They went to the funeral 'cuz that's what you do when a family member kicks; you don't even think about it. They went to pay their respects and say their goodbyes; not to selfishly or falsely suck up a boat load of sympathy. Enough dreary stuff. Happy Easter (or happy rest-of-the-weekend if you don't celebrate it).

Huh . . . my wife has been on an asparagus kick for the last few weeks, and I haven't noticed any horribleness. Maybe I just haven't been munchin' on the days she has eaten it? I'll have to pay more attention and see if I notice anything.