#swinger hosting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

formosusiniquis · 26 days ago

Text

this doesn't have a title cause it's late and I have work in the morning. this is a surprise gift for @cauldronoflove cause her fic last week and the whatever is going on with this show did something to my brain (positive) wc: 860 | T | pre-Max/Avery/Tristan (odt3?)

“Welcome to Eyes Wide Shut week, doctor.” Tristan's smile pulls up higher on the right side, Max’s side, as he wiggles his fingers in a wave at a woman boarding. Her dress is tight as her hold on her husband's arm. She's older than him, easily old enough to be Tristan’s mother.

“Don't call it that,” Avery chides, still it's hard not to miss the amusement that sparkles in her eyes.

“That's the Tom Cruise movie?” He finds himself asking. He hadn't read the briefing, he never reads the briefing, far preferring this rundown where his experienced team tells him what he actually needs to know.

“So he knows the finer details of the Barbie Dreamhouse but not one of the best Cruise films to date?” Tristan muses.

That earns an actual reaction from Avery. Max can feel the smile playing on his own lips as her eyes widen and she leans enough to see around him to stare at Tristan, mouth dropped open just a breath in her disbelief. “Not Interview with the Vampire?”

“I did say ‘one of.’ I can like more than one thing.”

“Oh yes, I forgot you hit two of the B's for your little poker game.”

The quip is right there for the taking and something about the two of them has made it harder and harder for Max to resist taking. “Our Tristan is pretty butch, isn’t he?”

Pleasure ripples across Tristan’s face instinctually accepting the compliment implied with the claim before the next wave crashes over top of it, him catching the tease.

“Funny.” There’s a charm to his scowl. If Tristan weren’t so handsome when he was mad, he wouldn’t be so fun to rile up. As it stands, there’s a light in his eyes as he plans his next comeback, and the tight draw of his brow somehow compliments the line of his jaw. “Maybe you'll find someone who appreciates your wit during this year’s swingers week.”

“That’s what this week is?” He can feel his smile in his cheeks and his eyebrows arching up his hairline. In the milieu beneath their feet he watches with fresh eyes the way the boarding couples greet one another. The way greetings linger, hands on elbows and kisses pressed to cheeks.

“Officially,” Avery says, a warning note in her voice that the fondness on her face betrays, “we are hosting high ranking guests from several fraternal orders.”

“And unofficially?”

“Priapism is the diagnosis of the week.”

A grin that's all boarding school charm melts across Tristan's face. “Good thing for your steady hands, Doctor Odyssey.”

His own smile turns small, his face feels warm as he takes his eyes off his crew and looks back down at the boarding passengers. Faces with the bland similarity that he associates with wealth and power. A former Midwestern Senator moving around the floor holds his focus but not his attention.

That is devoted to the memory of Avery, laid out on his table. His fingers alongside Tristan’s inside her, her life in their hands.

“I thought swingers were couples.”

“Yes, that’s the point.” Avery says.

“No, I just mean that couple was just making eyes at Tristan.”

“Some are just looking for a third,” he says, lips twisting into something coy. “Have you ever known me to deny a damsel in distress?”

The former Senator has found the woman that smiled up at them in the mezzanine. A scowl has found Max’s face and his hand has found Avery’s. Their knuckles graze against one another, seeking comfort in a way that’s becoming increasingly common. He thinks he could pick their hands, strong and sure, out of a line up.

He understands more than ever the bright flashes of green eye irritation every time he and Avery emerged from a room with a locked door. Tristan laid out against white sheets with… He doesn’t even want to finish the thought.

“Don’t tell me you’re a prude, doctor.” A coy smile grows wider, teasing. Mirth and something Max has come to recognize as curiosity dance across his face, in the lines beside his eyes.

Tristan keeps his attention on Max, but with every brush of hand against hand he knows his answer will be for both himself and Avery.

“Personally, I think the only couple I’ll worry about pleasing this week are my nurses.”

It’s not been long, but they react the way he would have predicted. Avery scoffs, smacks the back of his hand with hers before crossing her arms across her chest, playing at annoyance and disapproval. Tristan, who’s need for approval and fickle attachment Max understands much better after meeting his mother, gapes any witty retort he might have managed stolen by the blatant way the thing they have been dancing around has now been laid out like a patient on the operating table.

“Now, is there anything other than fine gauge needles we should be preparing? Antibiotics? Some compresses? Condoms?”

As he wanders toward the elevator his team follows. The previous topic not forgotten but transmuted, changed in his favor like the tide beneath him. It’s something he thinks he could get used to.

#doctor odyssey #odt3 #max x avery x tristan #my fic #if I can think of a title this may go on ao3 later #the boys butches and bis poker game really did me in #I kinda live for being ot3 baited ngl #anyway go read jj's fic cause it is a masterpiece as is everything she writes

17 notes · View notes

quinnlarrabee · 1 year ago

Text

Palo santo 101

Before you click play on the audio recording and blithely ignore the written guide, be sure to review the important science-based charts and insight-rich visuals sprinkled throughout it.

If you’ve ever walked into a party hosted by someone under 40 in Brooklyn, Lisbon, California, Condesa or Roma Norte, or Venice Beach and not smelled palo santo, then you probably had covid. Over the past decade palo santo has become the official scent of good vibes. It is an olfactory assurance for anyone who recognizes the scent that conversation will be limited to polyamory, regional burns, and adaptogen supplements. Despite the fact that no one ever doesn’t want to smell palo santo, it’s important to know when to use it and when to relegate your surroundings to their default odor. This guide will ensure that you know exactly how to make the most of the palo santo you carry in the shoulder bag you purchased at the Sant Jordi flea market in Ibiza during the off-season.

Like most cultural appropriations, no one who burns palo santo knows what it is, where it came from, why they use it, or why it’s even called palo santo. Let’s uncover the facts.

Bursera Graveolens is a tree native to the dry tropical forests of South America. Its discovery by white people dates back to 1972 at a now defunct swingers resort in Quito, Ecuador, where a guest from New Jersey named Paulo Santonicola noticed a stick with a burning ember on the end of giving off a fetid, wispy trail of smoke. He pointed at the burning stick and asked the guy holding the cocaine tray, who would now be called a consent educator, “por que?”

“Plaga,” he replied, and gnashed his teeth and made a flapping-wing motion with the hand not holding the cocaine tray. Paulo brought the wood back to his central New Jersey home as a last-ditch effort to ward off the deer that were eating the tomatoes in his garden. He started burning the wood around the clock in the steamy summer of 1972, during which he and his girlfriend hosted dozens of play parties.

“I didn’t care if people at my parties had a problem with the smell,” recounted Paulo. “Those frickin’ deer were jumping my fence and chewing through wire to eat my tomatoes. When I caught a whiff of that wood down in Quito, I thought, ‘they won’t come near my garden if I burn this shit.’”

Mr. Santonicola had achieved some level of notoriety in the adult film industry in the early 1970s, and his parties were well attended by neo-hippies, the disco elite and the first generation of yoga professionals. Over the course of the summer, a pavlovian association formed between the scent of the wood and casual sex, and his friends started asking him for sticks so that they could take the vibe home with them. At the sunset of his porn career, he saw an opportunity not only to rebrand his legacy, distancing himself from grainy adult films with problematic titles, but also to make oceans of cash: import the wood and sell it through his readymade network of yoga instructors under his stage name, Palo Santo.

Palo santo’s ubiquity today grew from its two foundational use cases: repelling pests and masking the odor of too many naked bodies in poorly ventilated New Jersey basements. Palo santo is still used today as a repellent of sorts to ward off bad vibes and people who do not use the word vibe in place of most nouns at the end of a question, such as scene, weather, temperature, culture, menu, rules, culture, law, opinion, suggested attire, relationship status, sexual proclivity, net worth and so on. It is also still used during group sex, but only when the group sex is intentional and/or ceremonial. There are many other ways, however, that you can improve the vibes of the world through the smoke of this wood, which was recently added to IUCN’s Red List of “near threatened” species, making it even more important to burn palo santo as a way of calling attention to its growing scarcity.

Airplanes

For a brief, blissful period during the pandemic, the only people who traveled were intrepid hipsters who had already contracted the virus and been instrumental in scaling it to global significance through music festivals, long-distance polycules and global nomadism. Commercial airlines from the spring of 2020 through the summer of 2021 were basically private air travel for people who know to always ask if party buffet chocolate is psycho-active. Air travel today is a much lower vibration experience, and it’s important that assertive restorative steps be taken by conscious travelers to make flying chill again. Hanging a dreamcatcher from the back of the seat in front of you and burning palo santo on the tray table is a great way of making a public flight experience feel more private. Be sure to light your palo santo only after the aircraft reaches cruising altitude, because tray tables must be stowed until then.

Other people’s parties

Not everyone with whom you may socialize is aware of how critical palo santo is to creating and maintaining a vibe. Some less experienced hosts try to make do with incense from India, Japan or other countries that have been annexed by Brooklyn or with candles from La Labo, and it may be up to you to rescue the vibe. Back when people consumed alcohol, bringing a nice bottle of wine was a way of showing a host your appreciation, but these days bringing palo santo, immediately lighting it and waving the stick around like Harry Potter on quaaludes is the optimal way of saying thank-you to someone who has invited you into their home.

Hospitals

While palo santo has not been proven by any form of science to deliver the healing benefits touted by people who sell or use palo santo, be assured that it does all of the things people say it does. Burning palo santo creates smoke, and smoke is pretty to watch and - like cardiovascular exercise - creates a healthy challenge for your lungs. Medical facilities are places where people go to heal, and bringing palo santo to visit a recovering friend is a beautiful contribution to not only their journey back to health but also the recovery of every patient within a twenty to fifty foot radius.

Conscious uncoupling ceremonies

Modifying your relationship trajectory in a direction that disappoints the person you are with might seem like a low vibe experience, but you can make it a high vibe experience by burning palo santo. While explaining that the rules that you set last week for your ENM pairing have become too confining, burning palo santo will deflect negative reactions and in some cases even seduce your partner into being amenable to a situationship that has absolutely no structure, rules or expectations. This can add to your sexual abundance and also serve as a pillar in your temple of confidence that helps you acquire new lovers at floor parties. If, rather than just undefining the relationship, you are certain there is no future with the person to whom you have exposed particles of burning wood, palo santo will prevent your ex-partner from making an opposing case or lingering too long after you have had uncoupling sex.

During sex with someone you don’t want to fall in love with you

In a rare moment of cultural relevance, Science has proven that pheromones strengthen the bonds of attraction between two or many more people during sexual activity. Sometimes, though, it is undesirable to strengthen bonds with a sex partner. Sometimes, it is optimal to maintain a totally impartial, unattached, stoic distance between the person who you are inside / is inside of you, given that attraction can lead to unintended expectations. Burning palo santo is an excellent way of muting the potency of pheromones, leveling the olfactory playing field and creating a piney through-line for all the people participating in a sexual experience.

Any kind of intentional wellness space

Because the smell of palo santo is so potent and distracting, burning it during intentional experiences (e.g. yoga, journaling, meditation, tantra classes, tantric sex, facials or any kind of PRP therapy) compels participants to step up their intention-setting efforts. It forces deep focus and concentration, kind of like how the deafening emo whines of RY X at a RY X concert force you to lean in, cock your head and make that weird squinty-eyed, mouth-agape listening face to be able to hear the unsolicited story of how literally anyone you happen to be standing next to was in an intentional polyamorous relationship with RY X.

Ancient actually sacred genuinely authentic real cultural events that were not invented by white people to extract money from other white people

Many people who attend Burning Man have begun to explore other intentional gatherings outside of Nevada that don’t involve metallic gold body paint. Some of these gatherings are thousands of years old and are led by people who have trained their entire lives to uphold traditions that have been passed down for generations within their culture. Particularly if a gathering takes place in its country of origin (rather than being exported, diluted and branded, like an ethnic fast food franchise), you may encounter native smells that don’t smell like palo santo. In these cases, it is not only permissible but even advisable to add palo santo to everyone’s experience, which you have probably been very reluctantly allowed to attend. Burning palo santo will communicate to the religious or cultural leaders of the gathering that you are on their level and (despite having never read anything about the gathering other than first few words of the top Google result you saw while standing on the Premier Access line into your Delta flight at JFK / LAX / SFO) have a deep respect for whatever they are chanting in a language that you cannot understand while you record the most intensely sacred moments for the Instagram story that you will post at the appropriate time in your home time zone so that everyone will know that you are an internationally intentionally spiritual person who gets access to authentic cultural events.

Despite its countless unproven benefits and its universal appeal within a very small circle, there are certain times when palo santo should not be burned. Palo santo can trigger flashbacks for people who first encountered the scent of it during acid trips. If someone walks into your container, smells the palo santo you’re burning and begins behaving erratically, just ask them to immediately return to their own container, lest they harsh the vibe you’re cultivating. The only other times that do not call for burning palo santo are when you’re alone, and no one else will see you lighting the stick and waving it around the room, bringing it within inches of everyone’s face whether they’ve invited it or not, while making awkwardly long eye contact with them, nothing but the winding trail of smoke in front of your your vulnerable gaze, thus communicating to them that you are a spiritually endowed person and care deeply about them knowing that you are a spiritually endowed person. So, a helpful rule of thumb is this: as with masturbation, you should always and only be burning palo santo when someone is watching, otherwise what’s the point.

#comedy #satire #dark humor #culture #burning man #essays #hipster #palo santo #woo woo

227 notes · View notes

xactodreams · 1 year ago

Text

Supercorp Fic Recs

for the anon who asked me for fic recs—

first let me shamelessly self promote a fic a very dear friend of mine wrote, whom I collaborated with to format into an actual CatCo magazine. (that I totally printed out and got Katie to sign)

Her Brother's Keeper by ProfessorSpork

A CatCo Magazine exclusive by Kara Danvers Photos by James Olsen

Chapters: 3/3 Words: 7,910

(artwork is chapter 3)

Completed works I’ve read more than once

A Ribbon at a Time by abcooper After Lex Luthor defeated Superman, after the courts declared him innocent, after CADMUS rose to power, 16 year old Kara Danvers went into hiding. Five years later, a chance encounter with L-Corp CEO Lena Luthor throws her back into everything she's been running from.

Chapters: 5/5 Words: 27,929

We Need a New Song by uhpockuhlipz the ballet AU that's mostly not actually about ballet.

Chapters: 17/17 Words: 70,495

The Laws of Fate by sten06 A soulmate story with a twist. Lena has the ability to see the red string of fate, and the power to change it from one holder to another. She meets her match, after years of pining, but she's left having to make an agonizing decision.

Chapters: 7/7 Words: 85,760

Supergirl In Training by wtfoctagon Lena Luthor doesn't plan to have any kids. Or to get married, even, really. After the revelation that she is actually of Luthor blood after all, she's quite set on ending the family line with her and not taking the risk of any more drama.

Then Lorelai L. Danvers crashes into her life, claiming to be her seventeen year old daughter from the future.

Chapters: 19/19 Words: 71,381

listen closely and the stars will sing by celaenos Lena casts her mind around for the last time she felt this unmoored, this off-balance, by a woman, and can't come up with anything. Kara Danvers is unlike anybody that Lena has ever met; the sweetest, bubbliest person Lena’s yet to come across, and simultaneously one of the saddest, who is probably lying to everyone that she meets. It’s an impossible contradiction to wrap your head around, and Lena should probably stop hiding in this bathroom and trying.

(Or, Kara and Lena get parent-trapped into a relationship by a goofy little alien.)

Chapters: 14/14 Words: 118,667

The Fifth Wall by Black_Tea_and_Bones Kara goes to bed with Mon-El, and wakes up with Lena Luthor.

But it isn't Kara’s bed, and they’re not in Lena’s apartment, and that is definitely not their baby... Right?

Chapters: 29/29 Words: 109,273

Something Borrowed by janewithawhy Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. Three weddings and the two women who attend them.

Chapters: 3/3 Words: 49,473

An Ocean of Fire by IcarusAndHerSun Medieval AU

Kara Zor-El, princess of Krypton, was a prisoner – and she was scheduled to become a martyr.

Chapters: 47/47 Words: 139,568

leave tomorrow behind (series) by Jazzfordshire Kara is a sexless housewife in 1969, feeling trapped and not knowing why. But when mysterious, kind-hearted Lena Luthor moves in next door, hosting swinger’s parties but ignoring the men, Kara’s whole world shifts on its axis.

Works: 2 Words: 53,961

there's a big old moon shining down at night by Jazzfordshire Needing to get away from the stress of her job for a few months, Lena buys a summer lake house in the most remote town she can find. She fully intends on keeping to herself, resting, and interacting as little as possible with the local colour.

That is until her car breaks down, and the town mechanic happens to be the hottest woman she’s ever seen.

Chapters: 7/7 Words: 71,987

run the red out by searidings red daughter is dead, yes, but she's not gone. not really. kara (and lena) have to come to terms with what that means.

Chapters: 4/4 Words: 69,797

you and me (and you makes three) by searidings fourteen-year-old kara shows up in present-day lena's office. things go about as well as could be expected.

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 10,478

i'll be cleaning up bottles with you on new year's day by robie In which Kara is a whole entire idiot, Alex is a permanent mood, and Lena is just glad Kara is there for her, as her fake wife, while she recovers from another quarterly attempt on her life.

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 6,400

let all your damage damage me by searidings after the horror of the phantom zone, lena helps kara heal however she can.

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 25,169

WIPs I’m Currently Obsessed With

Evil by Marieke_things_dreams_and_stuff Following the 100th episode of Supergirl, Metallo Lena crosses universes and ends up at LuthorCorp, set on getting her revenge on Supergirl. Kara not only has to deal with someone trying to kill her again, she also has to explain to her best friend why and how her carbon-copy is walking around LuthorCorp, and has to keep her sister from actually killing the Other Lena.

And why is it easier to talk to the Other Lena who wants to kill her than it is to talk to her actual best friend?

Chapters: 14/15 Words: 168,305

Queen Of The Damned by JadedLover The medieval supercorp zombie AU

Chapters 9/10 Words: 51,236

Honorable Mentions

with the birds i'll share this lonely view by searidings something terrible happens at mount norquay. kara and lena have to try to pick up the pieces.

Chapters: 3/3 Words: 41,713

don't go slow 'cause you're gonna be someone by robie The Wedding Date AU, inspired by the movie

Chapters: 6/6 Words: 59,904

is it gravity (or are we fallin' in love?) by coffeeshib Kara isn’t dating. Lena isn’t dating. Kara and Lena try not dating each other. Even if the lines start to blur a little. Even if they do the most girlfriend things.

They won’t date.

They won’t.

Chapters: 13/13 Words: 151,305

The Power of Deliverance by sten06 Kara as Persephone and Lena as Hades ;)

Chapters: 12/12 Words: 178,370

pour me a drink by lunchables a celebrity/bartender au

Chapters: 24/24 Words: 277,261

#supergirl #supercorp #fic rec

145 notes · View notes

housesunstone · 9 months ago

Text

Only dropout would make me have a conversation with someone at 10 am that the Thistlesprings aren't swingers but that they host orgies and sex parties.

#dimension 20 #d20 #d20 fhjy #fhjy #dimension 20 fhjy #digby thistlespring #wilma thistlespring

41 notes · View notes

darlingillustrations · 30 days ago

Text

How To Know If Someone Is In Love With You

Ever since I was a kid, I was notorious for being gullible. Context clues were often lost on me, and I’d launch forward into social interactions, taking people at their word.

When I was in 9th grade, I’d just returned to the states from living in Bulgaria. I’d spent the last 4 years away from American pop culture and was clueless about a lot of things. While riding the bus home from school, the other kids told me that Tommy Hilfinger had a crush on me. They were laughing at me. I did not know who that was.

In college, I went on a study abroad program to London and struck up an easy friendship with one of the guys there. We bought a literary tour guide to the city and spent our free time visiting obscure locales important to different authors. While we were busy walking through Virginia Wolfe’s park and standing outside Rudyard Kipling’s old house, the girls in the program were taking bets on whether or not we would end up dating. I didn’t even realize the guy was into me until I’d unwittingly rejected him. After that, we didn’t hang out as friends any more.

The summer after I graduated college, I worked at a coffee shop, and I fell for one of my co-workers, a wiry Italian who invited me to her feminist book club and would drive me home from work when our shift ended after my last bus. When she invited me to her birthday party downtown, I hitchhiked to make it there (even though I was two hours late). To me, she was brilliant, and her moments of raw honesty felt real in ways that many other relationships were lacking. I could never figure out if she liked me romantically or not.

Relationships are complicated, and people are confusing.

I used to play D&D with a family who hosted in their special D&D room at their home. Above the D&D room, there was a loft with a bed, and the couple talked about how they had guests stay over often. The husband used to go out of his way to touch my shoulder as he walked around the table, but I just thought that he was clumsy. The wife would needle me, teasing me about liking David Bowie. It didn’t occur to me until years later that this couple were swingers and that they had likely been trying to see if I would swing with them.

I don’t know how to read people. If you tell me you want to see the original manuscript of Samuel Johnson’s dictionary, I will pack snacks for the tube. If you say you want to watch the Labyrinth, I will grab a blanket and curl up on the couch. If you say you have a friend who wants to date me, I will ask you questions about their interests and values, even if their name is Calvin Klein. I don’t know the difference between interactions that are flirty, friendly or making fun of me, but if I’ve learned anything in life it’s this:

I will live brilliantly. I will live my life as in love with myself as possible. If someone is in love with me or not really isn’t my business, at the end of the day. Each person is entitled to their own feelings. But I treat each interaction as genuine, and I live like everyone loves me for who I am.

And, if I want a relationship with someone along the way, I will tell them, point blank, and let the chips fall where they may.

This writing originally appeared in my newsletter. If you want to read more of my creative writing and get updates on my art, you can sign up here.

#personal essay #my writing #relationships #love is a multifaceted thing #autistic things

19 notes · View notes

shotmrmiller · 8 months ago

Note

So, I recently moved to Berlin. Please tell me why, on 3 (THREE) separate occasions, I would be walking home in the evening, walk past a normal looking club, think to myself "Oh, they're playing good music, I should check this place out this weekend/ whenever I can convince my buddies to go dancing with me" and I'd get excited, bc most clubs my friends take me to only play techno and not to be a hater, but I hate that.

And then I'd google the club and find out that it's a sex/swinger club that on 'regular' nights has a dancefloor full of barely dressed people and public "play" areas and on special nights hosts intense BDSM/kink parties.

And I'm always real happy I looked the place up before texting my friends.

But you know who might not have the foresight to do that and might accidentally invite their friends to a sexclub: Johnny (or maybeee Gaz? Or reader?)

johnny doesn't warn anyone and kyle doesn't tell soap but warns the other two.

also coincidence that i'm going to a swinger club on friday ??? I THINK NOT YER A WIZARD HAIRY.

24 notes · View notes

fever4theflavor69 · 2 months ago

Text

So.... someone suggested that i share this with you all. I wasn't sure how it would go over but I am going out on a limb here. Please be gentle.

I have been lucky to have had a very fulfilling sex life. There have been things that have brought me great pleasure. There have been things that reduced me to tears. As with all things, there is both good and bad. I have made some bad choices in my life that led to those unfortunate experiences, however I do not regret them because they have made me the woman I am today.

I don't hide who I am. I don't ever judge anyone for their sexual likes, fetishes, or Kinks. That being said, I don't feel like anyone should judge me for mine either. When I am asked about my experiences or my fantasies I answer honestly because that's who i am.

This is the story of Our short lived swinger experience

Some years ago my husband and I decided we wanted to spice things up in the bedroom so we looked into the swinging lifestyle and joined a local swingers club. We begin chatting with the other couples on their chat board, and once we became trusted, we were invited to attend one of their parties. We were nervous yet excited and anticipated the night of the party to come for weeks.

On the night of the party, my husband and I drove to the address that we were given and arrived at the house. There were many cars there in that sort of freaked us out a little bit. However, we went to the door and was greeted by the hosting couple, who introduced us to the room of about 15 other couples. Everyone made us feel very comfortable.

The first hour was a lot of mingling and drinking. We all then retired into a large basement parlour filled with couches and futons. The lights were dimmed, and soft music began to play. And everyone started to kiss and fondle each other. My husband and I being the newcomers, naturally, everyone kind of flocked to us. We were the fresh meat so to speak.

There was lots of fun going on around us but a lot of action happening to us. I started out with several women and I didn't even notice it happening, but at some point it became mostly men. It wasn't until six or seven men began to undress me that I had even noticed the women were now across the room servicing my husband orally.

The men began to undress me and pleasure me sexually. I was being kissed licked groped fingered etc. I was overwhelmed in a good way. I felt like a porn star in the center of an orgy. I reached up and took the dicks into my hands and started to stroke them, while other cocks being put into my mouth, my pussy, and being slapped off my tits and nipples. All dicks that penetrated me wore condoms. That was crucial and a rule that me and my husband set forth before anything happened.

I was completely into it. I moaned loudly and really let myself go. I embraced every second of it. This was my fantasy finally happening and while it was a little distracting to make sure that I didn't exclude or ignore anyone, I was able to completely tap into my own pleasure.

It was completely enthralling to be sucking cock after cock. All shapes and sizes. To have all these strange men lusting me. To be fucking me savagely. To be exploding all over me. It made me feel like a filthy slut... But in a GOOD way.

During this, I looked across the room to see my husband surrounded by women and fucking them well eating another one. Sure I became jealous but also super excited because it looked like he had a harem and he was a king or a god. And I was okay with that because I knew I was the one going home with him. And who was I to be jealous while I wore 10 different guys cum?

We were allowed to shower at the house before we left and went home and for the most part people were very friendly in accommodating.

THAT NIGHT

In months to come other parties happened and the people became less friendly and less accommodating. They started to become pettier and jealous that me and my husband were getting all of the attention. So much so, that we stopped being invited to attend parties.

Our fun was short-lived, but those few months certainly fulfilled certain fantasies that we both wanted to experience. So well it wasn't perfect both me and my husband came out of it ahead of the game and relatively unscathed.

#fever4theflavor69 #my swinger experience #a hot time in my life #please dont judge me #be gentle #kid gloves please

22 notes · View notes

daenystheedreamer · 11 months ago

Note

this is not nedcat slander I love nedcat so much but I feel like the most drama they are in in modern once they have all the kids is like every year cat insists on hosting a big xmas party with their whole family and this is like her met gala. on the 23 she gets wine drunk and has a meltdown about how it's all ruined and she and ned fight because he hates the parties but tries to hide it but is always like oh you could just cancel like idk if it's so hard you could cancel. and then the party goes well and they go we're never doing that again but always they do

nedcat in my mind are such like former woodstock hippies who are now gen Xers and arent quite as like anti-establishment etc as they used to be but still very chill and nice and not evil conservatives or anything. cat is like ah yes my crazy wild youth!!!(she didnt do any drugs she just wore flower crowns and brought water for the people who did do drugs) and ned is all embarrassed about it like oh yes haha i was a very silly young boy then (about polaroid of him sloppily making out with robert). when the kids come out of the closet theyre like haha everyone has bisexual phase me and your father certainly did youll grow out of it and all the kids are like ????????? and nedcat never ever elaborate. theyre not homophobes either theyre just latent swingers (would never be swingers but have the capacity to and would probably have fun tbqh). and they have such cool photo albums. meanwhile everyone else's photo albums got burned in the divorce!!!

#ask #Anonymous #nedcat

50 notes · View notes

corleonecaretaker · 3 months ago

Text

♥ 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝'𝕤 𝔾𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝔾𝕠 𝔹𝕒𝕕 ♥

Image sources: One | Two | Three | Four

Summary: Michael takes Kay to a swingers club just to shock her, just to show her that she can’t handle the kinds of debauchery in his world. But when they encounter the seductive, spellbinding John and Helen Wick, Kay isn’t as shocked as he expected. All of Michael’s plans are about to go awry…and the strength of his marriage is about to be tested. This story is a response to a request from a guest on AO3!

A few historical notes: “Swinging” as we know it today began in the 1960s, and The Godfather is set in the 40s and 50s. At the time, they probably would have called this “wife-swapping,” which began during the 1940s among Air Force pilots according to everything I can find, and it wouldn’t have been as common. But for the sake of the story, let’s just pretend that Michael knows some people who are very ahead of their time.

CW: swinging, digital and oral sex, crying during sex, internalized homophobia from Michael, discussion of Kay's fear of domestic abuse

Your good girl's gonna go bad I'm gonna be the swingin'est swinger you've ever had If you like'em painted up, powdered up, then you ought to be glad Because your good girl's gonna go bad - Tammy Wynette

“You really want to know what my world is like? What men like me do at our leisure?”

“Yes, I do,” Kay replied defiantly, a challenge burning in her eyes.

So Michael let her dress to the nines in a pleated red dress and wide brimmed evening hat, and took her to the Syrup Saloon, one of the many clubs that pulsed to the neon heartbeat of Las Vegas. But this one was VIP only. “Fifteen years ago, this was a speakeasy,” Michael explained, as the bouncer swung back a hidden door in the mahogany wall panel of the decently furnished but otherwise inconspicuous foyer through which they’d entered. “But it still has its secrets today – thank you, Joey,” he said, interrupting himself to let the host put a drink in his hand. As they fell into conversation, he watched Kay out of the corner of his eye. She was glancing around the dimly lit room with all the open curiosity of a wide-eyed doe who had yet to realize it had just stumbled into a pack of wolves.

In all honesty, he thought it would scare her. He thought they’d walk in and she’d realize what was happening only to demand that they walk right back out and not ask him anything about his business or his private life again for a month.

“It’s so good of you to finally persuade the missus to join us,” said Joey, and he kissed her hand. “It’s a shame that I’ve already made my reservations for tonight. If I had known, I sure would have saved myself for this doll.” For a second, fear swept through Michael. He laughed awkwardly and said something without knowing what it was. What if they got in too deep? What if Kay was too polite to insist on leaving – or worse, called his bluff? What if another man actually fucked his wife?

“Michael, what was that gentleman talking about?” she whispered, as they made their way to a velvet booth in the corner. The room was heavy with smoke and bluesy with the sounds of saxophone pouring from the phonograph, creating a soft haze that was only punctuated by pink and yellow neon strips along the ceiling.

“Well…you see, I’ve never come to the Syrup Saloon before, even though Joey’s invited me more times than I can count. Only couples can come here, and I wanted to keep you out of places like this. But if you say you can handle it...” He leaned back, watching her gaze follow a group of four at a nearby table. Her mouth fell open as they traded places, giggling, and made their way off to two separate rooms.

“Oh my – Michael, they’re…they’re swingers?”

He frowned. “How do you know what swingers are in the first place?”

“Connie told me,” she said indignantly. “Michael, this is NOT what I meant.”

He bit his tongue before he could ask how Connie knew what swingers were – he probably would rather not know that much about his sister. “Listen to me. You want to know about the ugly parts of my world? Okay. It’s this or letting you watch Al Neri blow a man’s brains out.”

Her lips pursed. Anger. But she didn’t have a chance to reply. A woman’s voice cut in, a sonorous, confident, casual sort of voice. “Is this seat taken?”

She was standing over them with her head tilted in playful curiosity, maple brown hair tickling her collarbones thanks to the scandalous off-shoulder gown that hugged her torso. A man in a suit towered next to her, with dark hair almost as long as hers. It fell forward to obscure deep, black eyes. From one look at him, Michael could tell he wasn’t a civilian. He was pure muscle, and stood like a soldier or a bodyguard, placing himself between his wife and the rest of the room as if by instinct.

Michael opened his mouth, but Kay had already answered for him. “Not at all. Please, join us.”

The woman slid into the seat next to her, and the man next to Michael. He felt suddenly trapped. Kay was looking intently at this sculpted, vicious…thing sitting next to him. If someone distilled masculinity in human form, it would look like this. Just kill me already.

“I’m Kay.” Her words filled up Michael’s stunned silence. She offered a hand to the woman.

“And I’m M,” Michael broke in hurriedly, realizing just how much he didn’t want to be seen here for long. “We’re going by first initials, see.”

The woman shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to us. We’re from out of town, and we stay out of the spotlight these days anyway. My husband’s retired.” She shot him a wink before turning back to the Corleones. “I’m Helen.”

The man spoke then, and if the woman’s voice had been sonorous, his seemed to vibrate straight through his firm handshake to the inside of Michael’s ribcage. “John. Sorry for barging in. It’s just that you two caught my wife’s eye and well…what she wants, she gets.” He smiled across at the table at the woman, with a genuine warmth that told Michael it wasn’t a hardship to give her everything she could ever ask for.

Michael managed to claw his way back towards composure. Flattery was at least something he was used to. “Well, I appreciate the compliment, Helen. You’re a rather eye-catching pair yourself. Wouldn’t you say so, Kay?”

“Oh, I would. I hope you’ll do us the honor of spending the evening together.” Michael shifted in his seat. No. Absolutely not, this has been a mistake! Let’s leave. But the words were caught in his throat. He found himself paralyzed. Yet again, his attempt to unbalance her had been instantly turned back on him. Her voice had a sultry lilt to it that normally only showed up in their own bedroom, and she was staring at John, letting her eyes wander over his biceps, over the enormous hands resting on the table. Michael felt his heart skip dizzyingly.

“We’d be so glad to! And tell me Kay,” said the wife, her voice dropping to an intimate near-whisper, “Which of us do you like better?”

Her lips parted in a wordless inhale as Helen’s hand slid over the top of hers, resting there without pushing between her fingers. Kay blushed fiercely. “Oh, I don’t – I could hardly – “ Her words came out breathy and overcome at first, but the next were spoken with a kind of wonder at herself. A dawning awareness. “You, Miss Helen.” She spread her fingers, letting Helen’s sink between them to clasp their hands together.

Michael exhaled in relief. “Splendid! I think we have ourselves a plan for the evening.” Good. This was an image he could handle – Kay holding hands with another woman like two innocent girls, not showing the slightest interest in this John…oh. John.

Under the table, John’s hand was on Michael’s thigh. He couldn’t breathe. “Yeah,” John said.

───•⋆⋆ʚ♥ɞ⋆⋆•───

Kay let herself be led to one of the bedrooms in a trance. Led by the hand, in a way completely different than any hand-holding she’d ever experienced.

They had to get there as fast as possible – she needed Helen, needed her now. She’d been wet since the moment the woman’s soft skin had rested against hers. All she could think about was the softness of Helen’s lips, and of her…oh god. She was burning, throbbing inside. She’d never touched another woman like that before. Her mind went to the nights when she’d sinned, when Michael was away on business and she’d let her fingers slide down the silk of her nightgown and feel the curves of her own hips and and lift the hem and…and…oh god.

It was a beautiful little room, lit by a stained glass lamp adorned with pink and yellow roses. The bed was covered in pink sheets...satin like her own nightgown…and it was shaped like a heart. A scandalous bed. A sex bed. Kay realized she was trembling.

“Are you nervous?” Helen stopped in front of her and tilted her head again in that absolutely sweet way. “Is this your first time with a woman?”

“I am. It-it is.” She swallowed. “But that’s not why I’m shaking. I…”

“Go ahead. Say it.” Helen’s face was moving towards her and she let her eyes flutter closed. Her insides pulsed maddeningly and she realized her underwear must already be soaked through.

“I just…want you…so much. It’s so…physical.” A kiss. Helen’s lips, every bit as soft as she had imagined, devouring hers. The blood was rushing violently in her ears and they hadn’t even taken their clothes off. There was a screaming urgency, the way there was on the edge of orgasm, that this moment couldn’t slip away, it must not stop, it had to reach its conclusion, please…a fantasy she didn’t even know she had was right within her grasp.

In a flood of adrenaline, she grabbed the back of Helen’s head to deepen the kiss, tangling her fingers in her hair, pressing into her tongue, rubbing down the soft curves of her body, squeezing her breasts, making out like crazed teenagers at a drive-in movie. At some point they tumbled onto the bed. She let her hat be swept off and her own dress be forced off the shoulder to give access to her breasts. Helen’s teeth on her neck, hers on Helen’s nipples, their hands sliding over every part of each other’s bodies in shameless hunger.

Helen threw back her skirts and Kay realized in a flash of panic that she was about to touch the soaked mess of her underwear. “I – Helen – ahhh!” Helen’s hand was already rubbing against it vigorously, right over the clit. All the could do was arch her back and fight not to scream. Every moment between them felt more scandalous than the last and yet more right. How long had it been since she put her own pleasure first this way?

The woman laughed good-naturedly, watching her face in admiration. “Does it feel good, honey?”

“Yes, mmm... Yes. Yes. Oh my god…”

The underwear and her tights pulled suddenly away and she felt cold air against her burning labia. She moaned in frustration, wanting it to continue, and then had a better idea.

“Wait. I want to feel you too.”

Helen stripped obligingly, right down to the skin. Only a thin gold necklace adorned her perfect body as she sank back down at Kay’s side, entwining their legs and humping at her momentarily before resuming the handjob. This time, Kay put her own hands to work. She gasped hard at the wetness pouring out of Helen’s opening, at the breathless way Helen sighed when Kay’s fingers explored the bulb of her clit and at last plunged inside her. There was so much to feel, the heat, the curvature…

But the feeling of Helen’s rhythm was so distracting. She’d gone inside Kay too, and in a minute, Kay found that she couldn’t move, she could only focus on the way her muscles were starting to clench and the way her hips wanted to thrust up into Helen’s palm. Helen was hitting some delicious spot over and over and over and her own fingers were still deep inside of Helen, massaging her like such a bad girl and… “Ahhh oh my god, don’t stop, don’t stop, I can’t, I think I’m going to…”

And to her embarrassment, she flooded over Helen’s fingers with her head thrown back and a wild moan wrenching itself from someplace deep and ecstatic in her chest. She expected her to stop after that like Michael did, but the pounding continued right through the orgasm, and within seconds she was cumming again, even harder.

And Helen nuzzled into her neck, kissed her sweat-drenched forehead, and whispered, “Don’t worry sweetheart. I’m not going to stop until you’re dry.”

───•⋆⋆ʚ♥ɞ⋆⋆•───

Leaning against opposite walls on either side of the bed, the height difference between them was apparent. John must stand at least six feet to Michael’s 5’6”. Michael wondered idly whether God would permit him to sink into the floor and straight to hell in the interests of escaping this situation.

He was hard because the women had looked so pretty together. That was why. That squeeze John had given his thigh just before they stood up had nothing to do with it.

He pulled out a cigarette, grasping for some semblance of normalcy. And a second one with it, for John. “You want a smoke?”

The man just shook his head. So damn silent. Michael lit up and tried to focus on the sensations hitting his lungs and then his veins.

A long, awkward moment passed. Maybe he could just sit there and smoke for as long as it took and not do a thing.

As if in answer, the man finally spoke. “We don’t have to do anything.” He was fixing Michael with those dark, soulful eyes, the same way he’d looked at his wife. With that devastating gentleness, like he wanted to serve Michael. Wanted to give him everything he might desire, whether that was the most exhilarating night of his life or just peaceful silence. It was so damn…comforting.

Michael shook himself and paced back and forth for a minute, trying to dissipate the ache between his legs. “I’ll be frank with you, John. I don’t know what men even do together.” He found words spilling out of him. “I’m no upstanding gentleman, but I’m a man. I’ve never practiced sodomy. I brought my wife here tonight to shake her up a bit, to show her what kind of shocking debauchery goes on in this world. Better she see the sex than the blood and the death and the things men do to one another in wild betrayal or vengeance. Better she see it and never ask to see any of it again. But then your wife came along and…” He laughed hollowly. “You know what, maybe she’ll come around and be alright with the business after all. She’s alright with walking into a place like this. Who knows what the hell else is just fine with her.”

“I see.” Was he amused? Michael couldn’t tell. He stared at John, waiting, demanding some further response to that monologue. At long last, he continued. “She’ll know the difference between sex and violence. And she’ll never be just fine with the violence. At least my wife wasn’t.”

“Hmm. You’re retired, she said?”

“Yeah. For her.”

He nodded, looking away into the corner and struggling with the hopeless feeling that was starting to tighten his chest. “Well aren’t you a goody-two-shoes. But that would be an impossible task for me.”

A smile seemed to flicker over his lips, and then it was gone just as fast. “You feel trapped.”

Michael stopped pacing. He must look like a nervous fool. Now he was the one who was silent. What was he supposed to say? Yes? That was the truth, wasn’t it. He was trapped, always trapped. Trapped between the violent protection people needed and the gentleness they thought they wanted, trapped between driving his family away and letting them die. Trapped in Kay’s all-knowing, accusatory gaze.

He tilted his head backward, willing the tears to sink back behind his eyes and down his throat where he could swallow them unseen. This night had become an endless disaster. The last thing he needed was for this infuriatingly handsome man to see him crying.

John was at his side before he realized it. “Hey. I won’t lie, it’s not easy. But it’s possible. You can live a normal life if you want to. Just you and your wife, kids if you have them. Safe.”

The image, the thought of it…it was too much. Something inside of him broke and he collapsed against the warm body in front of him, horrible, pathetic noises clawing their way out of his throat. “No. No. You don’t – you don’t understand. The things I’ve done…the things people will do to me…” John just stroked the back of his head and held him gently. His head barely came up to John’s shoulder. He felt more fully embraced than he had in years.

“You can be forgiven. But not if you never confess to her. You have to trust her. And you have to make up for it the way she says.”

He spoke through the ragged waves of despair flowing out of his lungs. “I don’t trust her. She’ll leave me, John. She’ll run, because she doesn’t forgive me for anything. And I can’t – I can’t live without her, I can’t let her go, I can’t - ”

“I can’t speak to that. But I forgive you. I know who you are. You’re The Godfather, right?”

For a second, Michael’s sobbing stopped in shocked fear.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. You’re in a bad situation. The organization could collapse under you if you make the wrong move, and then the whole family’s dead. You’re trying. I forgive you.”

And Michael’s face slowly rose to meet John’s, wet and broken and suddenly feeling the compassion behind those soulful eyes. Maybe that was why he kissed him. Long, and hard, and grateful. Maybe that was why, when he pulled away, he said, “Show me what men do together.”

───•⋆⋆ʚ♥ɞ⋆⋆•───

“It’s not that he doesn’t care about my pleasure.” It was sometime past midnight. Helen was laying side by side with Kay, playing with her curls and listening in rapt attention. “It’s that he cares about it the wrong way, you know? He thinks he can buy my happiness with pretty gifts or go dancing once in a while. And I like to go dancing, believe me, but I want…I want things to be the way they were between us in the beginning. No secrets. I want him to trust me, I want his respect. That’s what would really make me happy. I want to – I want to merge with someone. Like we just did.”

Helen frowned. “So he keeps secrets from you?”

“He doesn’t just keep secrets, Helen, he outright lies. He lied to my face and said he’s not in the business anymore and then what do I find out? …Well, nothing I can safely tell a stranger, unfortunately. And as if that weren’t enough, there was this time in Sicily that none of his guards will talk to me about.” She tsked in frustration. “I know I’m being horribly suspicious, but I’m sure he had a girl there, I know he did. And if it wasn’t that, I’m sure it was something even worse.”

“Wait, go back. Let me get this straight. You asked him to quit the business, and he lied and said he did? But in reality, he never quit?”

“Exactly.”

Helen whistled. “Listen. My husband and I come to these places for a good time for everyone involved. We’re not in the habit of homewrecking. But if you want my honest advice…you can do better. I would never settle for a husband who hid his darkness from me. You know what John did for me? He left everything behind. At the risk of his own life. I can’t tell a stranger about that either, but just know that he did the right thing. And if he’d failed, he would have told me honestly. That’s what I love about him. He’ll do the right thing no matter how vulnerable he has to be.”

She let her hands continue stroking along Helen’s arms absently, deep in thought. “I’ve thought about leaving. But he’d never let me go. I’m afraid of what he’d do sometimes.”

“Oh, honey. If that’s really true, it’s even worse than I thought. You have to get out of there. You have to run.”

The idea was too much to confront. She sighed miserably, blinking at the ceiling. “How? I feel so trapped. I think I’d have to do something drastic. Something that would make him hate me. If he didn’t want me anymore…that’s the only way.”

“You’ll find a way. I believe in you. You can be safe. You and your kids. They won’t live a life like his, they’ll be good to other people and you’ll teach them what matters. They’ll be free.”

Free…the thought of that possibility just made it all worse. It was so far out of reach. Her breath was catching on every word as her voice pitched up into sobbing. “You don’t understand, Helen. He’s a violent man. He just wants to possess me like a trophy. He just wants me to shut up and not ask questions and do as he says and I’m scared – I’m so scared…I think… sometimes I think he doesn’t even love me…” There. She had said it. And there was a triumph to saying it. Something felt permanently decided.

“I don’t know. I don’t know him, I can’t say if he loves you. But I can say that he should. You deserve to be loved. You deserve happiness.” Kay curled into her, letting Helen shower her with forehead kisses and wipe away her tears. Helen would be gone in the morning. But how could she return to Michael after being held like this?

“I’ll do it, Helen. I’ll run.”

───•⋆⋆ʚ♥ɞ⋆⋆•───

There was a man between Michael’s legs.

He had a beard, and Michael loved the texture of it, the roughness. He smelled like a man. The musk of their sex crazed bodies mixed in the air, overpowering even the cigarettes. It was intoxicating. It made him feel drunk and animalistic and completely in the power of lust. He was losing himself, leaned back against the headrest with one leg dangling off the bed and the other splayed out across the sheets with John’s arm wrapped around his thigh. He was rutting into John’s mouth, giving himself over to pleasure in every way. John wanted that for him. John wanted him to feel good. John cared so much for him, for a stranger, adored his body, respected his heart. “Hhhh…fuck.” His fists closed on the sheets at the thought of it.

John was a man. And he was between Michael’s legs, and it wasn’t debauchery, and it wasn’t violence, and it felt…right. He moaned yet again, feeling tears spill from his eyes. He kept crying, damn it. This was the third time tonight (for him at least – he’d already taken John twice as well) and John was just so. Fucking. Good at this. He almost never came three times in one night, but he could feel it building up in his pelvis, so close. Could he really be this turned on for this long? Was it even physically possible? He thrust upward into John’s mouth, a hand on the back of his hair, using his head without remorse.

He was babbling, pleading without knowing what he said. “Come on, come on, give me more, please, faster, I need it, I need…”

And John’s enormous hand squeezed down on his inner thigh.

He almost screamed through the orgasm, unleashing down his throat. John swallowed all of it like it was nothing, rose up, and pulled Michael’s shaking body into a hug. “You okay?” He’d asked that every time.

Aftershocks of pleasure were still sending him twitching. It was better than being drunk, better than being high. He could barely talk but he managed, “Yes. I’ve never…I’ve never felt this good before.”

A wordless grunt. Michael was already learning to read him and that one sounded like disapproval of Kay. That disapproval translated right into more protective affection. Just about everything seemed to bring out protective affection in John. He slid into bed behind Michael and hugged his torso from behind, nuzzling the back of his head. Spooning him. Michael would be blushing as soon as his blood could make its way back from his pelvis to his cheeks. John’s hand closed over his above his heart. Why was he so sweet?

For the first time in years, Michael felt safe. He sighed, feeling his breathing slow. John would be gone in the morning. But how could he return to Kay after being held like this?

“John?”

“Hm?”

“I think…I could let her go.”

#jw godfather crossover #wickblr #the godfather #michael corleone x john wick #kay corleone x helen wick #michael corleone #kay corleone #john wick #helen wick #john wick fanfic #the godfather fanfic

9 notes · View notes