The fantasy I want to live out is about the same as what I do/want to do with my current partner: CNC three-hole gangbang with my sailing crew. You and my partner getting utterly railed and used as cumdumps. During an ocean crossing, relaxation is enforced policy for those not on watch. What better way to relax after a shift than to relieve that tension into a hole or three of the available bilge bunny? And she would pretty much always be available.

Another long-running fantasy I have is what I call Flotilla Sluts. Some sailors, including yours truly, sometimes travel in flotillas, i.e. a group of sailboats. Crew and resources can be shared as necessary, and there is safety in numbers. I often sail with two or three other similarly sized boats so that we move at roughly the same speeds. It helps that we captains are all very close friends of decades. It also helps that two of the other captains are kinky motherfuckers. I want to add two Flotilla Sluts to my crew roster. We would rail these women on the regular, full freeuse. I would love to see cum running down her thighs every time she was walking around.

When stuck in doldrums, I would lend one of my Flotilla Sluts to one of the other boats. Upon return, I would photograph her bruises before adding my own and railing her sore holes.

In true service submissive fashion, these Flotilla Sluts are a social glue, the backbone of the fleet. Crew and fleet cohesion are critical, and we would all rally around our Flotilla Sluts. The captain is responsible for everything on their boat, and the service subs would be well-cared for.

Aftercare plays into this fantasy too. I want to gently sponge-bathe my bilge bunny, tuck her in, caress and show my gratitude for taking care of the crew and me. I would wander my hands gently over her bruises, brush her hair smooth, bring water and a snack. Discuss how she's holding up. She's going to need her energy because we're still a week away from the next port.

So, here's the deal with monogamy: when partners insist on monogamy, the implicit corollary is that both necessarily assume full responsibility for their partner's sexual satisfaction. Too many people overlook the GGG aspect; they want the mental ease of monogamy without putting in the hard work.

That's a lot of words to say: I got nothing to offer that lines up precisely with your question. The partner with lower sex drive invariably gets exactly what they want while the partner with higher sex drive must remain unsatisfied. I have experience on both sides of this issue, and compromise is critical to all interpersonal dynamics.

Empathy by way of anecdote: my partner of eight years (female) wants sex about two to five times per day. I (male) have bandwidth and libido for once, maybe twice, a day. So... she gets a lot of cunnilingus. When she was undergoing chemotherapy, she had vaginal tenderness and dryness that made PIV sex and cunnilingus uncomfortable for her. But she wanted to be there for me. So there was a lot of jerking off in her mouth and using her ass cheeks as a fleshlight.

Much like polyamory/ENM, monogamy requires a lot of Jedi Master level communication. But without the mind tricks.

There's no such thing as a "worthless slut," but I like the moniker.

We've discussed elsewhere, but I would love to find your limits. I want to hear how you yelp and gag, hear the change in your tone and pitch when the group party goes from fun to questioning whether you're still good or if it's safeword time.

Most of my faves are unavailable on the web or seriously hard to find, so they're downloaded to my local server. And therefore not generally available.

But for stuff on the web...

https://www.xvideos.com/... I love almost anything that involves a fucktoy just getting chewed up and wrecked. This one fires on all cylinders for me.

https://www.xnxx.com/... Extra points for the maritime signal flags and her initial protest when the other guys start groping her.

https://www.xnxx.com/... Taking turns on a bareback fucktoy.

https://www.xvideos.com/... Classic from the spankbank. All holes, creampies, just a bunch of dudes going to town on her.

Quite probably. Two problems with that. We live on a sailboat far from any lifestyle clubs; this introduces all kinds of logistics complexities in getting to the LS clubs. Sure, that's an "Us" problem. We've gone to LS clubs and meetups, but our experience has very much been that it's a hookup scene. We tend to be a bit more demisexual and want a connection with our fuckbuddies. Quality over quantity, ya know? We also tried a few LS sites and apps. Those have been attempted scam, photo-collectors, hookup scene, wannabe bulls/cuckqueens (no, I don't want to humiliate your husband while we fuck), or some combination of those.

We're willing to hold out to find exactly the dynamic we want and explicitly indicate in our LS profiles.

Oh, you know her too? I hope she's not overcharging you. :D

True story: my maternal unit was in fact a prostitute. When I finally put the pieces together, I never quite understood why "Yer mom's a whore" jokes were supposed to be some kind of dunk on me. Kinda seemed like a self-own.

My partner and I own a sailboat, and we do ocean crossings.

That part isn't fantasy. We own a 46 foot ocean-going sailboat.

She’d look damn good laying out in a skimpy bikini while sailing.

If it's warm enough to wear a bikini while sailing, she's not wearing a bikini. :D

The largest age difference I experienced was when I was 17 and she was 38. The most significant difference was when I was 29 and she was 42 (and one of my professors). In my experience, older women with whom I had sex possessed way fewer hangups than women my age. But that could easily be attributed to mutual self-selection.

The lack of hangups mostly manifested as stuff like:

• secure and comfortable in their bodies
• more willing to experiment in raucous, ribald ways
• into, or at least willing to do, anal
• more knowledgeable about what works for them
• more eager to do what works for me, even if they weren't into it themselves

My partner and I own a sailboat, and we do ocean crossings. She is typically the only woman aboard. Our boat is large enough that we need a minimum of 4 crew, with 5 or 6 being the ideal. More crew means distributing the load . Her role during crossings is mostly cooking and taking care of the crew.

This is our long-running, mutually-discussed fantasy refined over years. One of the crew starts getting handsy with her while she's cooking. It starts innocuously enough, brushing past each other when moving around the boat. But the movements start lingering. Instead of passing ass-to-ass, one crewman passes with his crotch against her ass, holding her hips as he slips by for "stability" in the bouncy seas. Some of the other crew start following suit, trying to sneak longer moments walking past her, making up reasons to have to move past her. Things start escalating and getting more direct. Rather than discourage it, she starts wearing a bikini most days or a short skirt with no panties.

By the third day, the groping gets more assertive. Crew cohesion is important, so one day from the helm, I tell one of the crew he should go relieve some stress with her after his shift ends.

"Uh... what do you mean?" he asks. The confusion on his face is mixed with hope and a bit of worry at having maybe crossed a line.

Clear and direct communication is important. At sea, it can mean life or death. But we're all here to drink deeply of life, so I make sure he understands. "She is a service submissive. She lives for being useful. And you should use her any way you see fit. When your shift is over."

His eagerness is palpable. He is just counting the seconds of his last hour on deck. As soon as his shift ends, he's down the companionway like something scared him out of the cockpit. The next crewman comes up into the cockpit, wondering what is up with the guy he just relieved.

"Watch and listen."

The first guy starts uncertainly, tentatively at first. He puts his hands on her hips and turns her to face him. She goes into full service sub mode while his hands start exploring her. It's gentle at first but gets increasingly rough as he tries to find out just how much she will take. Before long, he has her on the floor face down, pushes her legs apart, jacks her skirt. In one smooth movement, he slams his bare cock into her shaved pussy. He rails her so hard I can hear the breath pushed out of her with each thrust. The crew who were sleeping wake up wondering what the noise is. Within minutes, all of the off-shift crew are absolutely wrecking her. Spitroasted, DPed, airtight... all of her holes are working to build crew cohesion. The one crewman in the cockpit with me is cursing that he still has three and half hours before his shift ends.

They all take turns on her for hours, rotating out crew as shifts end and begin. They've all pumped multiple loads in all her holes. Cum is in her hair, running down her thighs, handprints mark her entire body. She sets up one more evening meal for the crew before retiring to our stateroom.

My shift ends, and I head to our berth, finding her relaxing from her journey through subspace. Laying like this in our berth.

Yes, that is actually her.

I cuddle her gently at first, thanking her for taking such good care of the crew. I slowly push her face down, and with increasing assertiveness, get her to assume a service position one more time. For today at least. I push her legs apart and somehow there's still more cum leaking out of her pelvis. I slide into her sloppy, sore pussy. She gasps as I push all the way in, finding even more cum all the way inside of her. After a few minutes, I decide to slide out, sliding back into her swollen, tender asshole. There must be another cupful of jizz up in her ass. Holy hell, were these guys stockpiling it before departure?

She whimpers in time with my thrusts as I take out the stress of the day between her ass cheeks, adding my share to her soreness. I tangle my fingers in her cum-splattered hair, holding her head down while I take my time enjoying her squirming. After a while, seconds? Minutes? Hours? I add my load to the mix.

The rest of the sailing trip goes much less aggressively, but she gets to embrace her service submission every day, one way or another. By the time we get to port, she is absolutely glowing with all of her travels in subspace. After we get ashore, she looks to me eagerly and asks with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "When is our next scheduled sailing?"

M55 and my partner F51 is a service submissive. She absolutely gets off on being helpful, getting used, and generally being a positive addition to any situation. Sexy funtimes do nothing for her unless she gets me off first.

This is not just my fantasy, but one of many similar fantasies that we have shared and refined together. Ever since we started dating, I have wanted to push the limits of her service subbiness. It would all start innocently enough: she makes cocktails and snacks for me and a few friends, some innocuous flirting and cheeky comments. But as the evening turns into night, everyone starts getting a bit bolder. Hands start wandering, ribald quips turn into outright propositions. Slowly then suddenly, she's on all fours and we're spitroasting her, taking turns in all of her holes, and using her as the entertainment center. She is getting to express the full breadth of her full three-hole slutdom.

More kink than fantasy, lately I have been using her mouth as a spank sock. When I need stress-reliever, I tell her to come into my office and kneel down. I queue up one of my favorite porn shorts and throat-fuck her until I cum. I then leave her hanging until my workday ends. By the time I get around to taking care of her, her panties are thoroughly soaked. She is a very, very good girl and I am grateful for her every day.

My absolute favorite Playmate of all time. It absolutely blew my teenage mind that Playboy would have a centerfold with short hair AND moderate proportions. I was sooo not into the look of most Playboy centerfolds that I was seriously only interested in the interview of the month, the journalism (especially politics), and the monthly author highlight. Oh, and the celebrity-of-the-month nudes.

If I may suggest some non-smut reading, some of the most impactful reading of the first 18 years of my life were the Playboy interviews. MLK Jr, Malcom X, Jimmy Carter, Fidel Castro, Kurt Vonnegut, Jack Nicholson (1972, "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest), Gene Simmons (coincidentally the same issue as Kata Kârkkâinen)...

Of course, finding the bunny on every cover was always the first thing to do upon seeing a new issue.

Edit to add: In the early 90s, I got to meet and chat with Arny Freytag and Richard Fegley (not at the same time). Their ethos on photography guided my whole approach to photography with everything being in-camera, lighting, film selection, and paper selection, no retouching. When I became an audio engineer, I carried that ethos forward: one take, room selection for acoustics, as little post-processing as possible.

One Xmas, I had a houseful of guests. I noticed the drains weren't running properly, and there was a lively green patch of lawn between the septic tank and house. Normally, only the leech field was green in winter. I urgently dug up the pipe to check and found it had completely sheared. I couldn't get a replacement on Xmas Day, so I had to dig a large enough pit to capture the wastewater for the next two days. While people were using the bathrooms. Standing knee-deep in fresh sewage. It still gives me a shiver.

Oh, absolutely. From 2015 until 2017, one of my lovers was a free use submissive. Whenever my best friend was in town, I'd have her come over and we would go to town on her together. He'd never done anal theretofore, so I would make sure he was properly lubed and guide him in. He quickly got the hang of it. But it was still fun to guide her onto him or guide him into her. He's married now and extracurricular play is not on the menu :/ Which is a bummer because my current partner is very into group games.

Probably my favorite was the FWB arrangement with my best friend. I mean, sure, sex at work is great. But NSA, guilt-free sex with person I'm hanging out with anyway? That shaped my intimate relationships moving forward. The sexual dynamic set me up for a lifetime of a non-dysfunctional regard of sex, ethical non-monogamy, non-jealousy, and compersion.

Not mentioned earlier: the captain of the high school color guard dropped by my townhouse one night. I was initially very pissed off that someone just showed up at my home. More than that, I was seriously perplexed how the hell one of the hottest girls in school knew where I lived, much less know my name. Her best friend had gotten too drunk at a party and needed to sober up before getting dropped off at home. The captain and I were just chatting while her friend laid on the couch. I don't even remember how it happened, but we were suddenly making out and then in my bedroom having sex. It was very vanilla, and I was so nervous that I couldn't get off. It was all so surreal that I thought I dreamed it. The following Monday, my best friend (the lesbian) kidded me about hooking up with the captain of the guard. Turns out the captain was asking my friend about me, told her about the sex, and how to ask about being able to drop by more often. There were, for better and worse, no further visits.

Great look, fun pose, dynamic lighting... Clean your lens. Looking forward to seeing more.

Love the "Story of O" vibes.

This used to actually be fairly normal (at least, within the realm of taboo social sex activities), its where the term ‘swingers’ originally came from, way back in the 50s/60s.

According to "The Lifestyle: A Look at the Erotic Rites of Swingers" (Gould, 1999), key clubs originated with WWII pilots, but entered the lexicon as key parties in the 50s and 60s. However, all the academic study is based on secondhand accounts. It's the kind of thing that leads me to wonder if "key party" was some kind of Urban Dictionary expression with someone making up the term for giggles. The expression entered the lexicon and some people then tried it out, i.e. the vocabulary preceded the social trend.

Non-monogamy does seem to be the human norm, and it's a bummer there's so much unnecessary taboo and complexity wrapped up in non-monogamy.

I also fully accept that we're just not moving in the correct circles for our goals. Working on it!

I love when old(er) folk have great adventures and anecdotes to share. And proceed to share them.

He at one point met with Howard Hughes, but in a bathroom at Boeing Field. No, not gay stuff

That qualification gave me a good chuckle. Thanks, cheers, and enjoy your holiday!

Jesus Christ, 2-5 times

The perimenopause has been brutal on me. :D She's doing great, thanks, been in remission for two years.

That is a broad, blanket statement overlooking a constellation of preferences and proclivities. For example: free use, CNC, bored and ignored, to name just a few. Something even more obvious to a person: not getting sex from one's partner and the lower-drive partner can't be arsed to do something about it.

no joke I would do this for real so fast if it weren’t for life obligations

"One doesn't discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore." - Andre Gide (although others have also said similar things). It applies to way more in life than sailing.

Line handling and winch grinding are absolutely real activities on a sailboat. As is "Rail Meat." :D There are lots of lines (another word for "rope that serves a specific purpose"). For example, there are lines to hoist, control, and trim the sails. The two main kinds of lines attached to sails are halyards and sheets. Halyards raise the sail and keep it vertically tensioned. Sheets, very generally speaking, control the horizontal position and shape of the sail. Those lines are controlled by winches, and it's a workout. It's more about arm endurance and stout core muscles. How's your core strength? But seriously, a few training sailings, and even the weakest crew quickly develop the economy of motion needed to grind winches. BTW, Rail Meat are people who sit on the windward side of the boat to help it sail flatter, although that's usually for racing.

though the anal part would be rough, not completely inexperienced there but it’s always been a bit rough

If you think that's rough, wait until you experience your first Pacific Ocean storm. :D It can be downright terrifying, and I have a boat designed for it. But seriously, I've anally trained all my subs. Time, patience, communication... much like so many other things in life. Sure, some of my subs can take more pounding than others, and it's on the captain to understand and respect the design limits of all systems in use.

isnt there something about a sailor’s mouth

I'm living proof. I regularly curse up a storm.

Degradation isn’t the same as disrespect if its consensual.

Agreed and point taken. I am strict about negotiating scenes and communicating boundaries.

i dont know boat terms

The vocabulary list is unreal. It's a whole other language. When a landlubber hears my friends and I chatting, they be all like, "Are you even speaking English?" But you hang around boats for a bit and it becomes natural. Like learning any other language, immersion is key.

What’s the most men I might end up servicing?

At one time? Three crew. You have three holes, and boat resources must be shared consciously and conscientiously. Also, crew are either on watch, on maintenance duty, on enforced downtime/relaxation, or sleeping. That also applies to the bilge bunny/cabin girl. We would have to be in good stead (sails trimmed well, moderate seas, everything aligned) for three crew to be available for entertainment. I hope you're good at cunnilingus, because my partner will need some cum cleaned out of her too.

Now, when becalmed or in port, the only sequential limit will be how busy the other flotilla crews are with post-sailing responsibilities. Two of my other sailing captains are married. One, whom we'll call Ted, will return you to me bruised, battered, and well-used. I look forward to tending to the necessary refit and refurb of my bilge bunny. The other captain, "Colin," is a bit more lower-case 'c' conservative in his proclivities, but has been questing for a unicorn. There is a third captain, "Edward," who is a total degenerate to whom I wouldn't lend a rusty socket set, much less the woman I'm using as my personal ratchet. But he usually books solid, trustworthy crew on his sailings.

Colin's son is 18, and I suspect could fuck you raw on his own. So, no, you wouldn't be the youngest, although you would most likely be the youngest on my boat. Young crew tend to come from racing backgrounds, and racers tend to put too much stress on the sailing rig when they are at the helm. While my boat can take it, it just means unnecessary premature wear.

I have been thoroughly trained in that department, and get pretty regular practice

I'll just have to ascertain that for myself. "Trust, but verify." Everything and everyone on the boat is the captain's responsibility, after all.

would i be able to keep videos?

Of course. They're yours, after all. I'll even edit them up into a highlight reel for you.

And what happens if I refuse boat related duties like line handling if that’s a real thing

I am adept at dealing with brats and constructively breaking the wills of those who disobey direct instructions. For starters, there is a lot of rope aboard a sailboat, and sailors are ace with knotwork. It would be a trivial task to tie you up safely yet in maximum discomfort until you reconsider your insubordination. I also have a 24 inch acrylic "ruler" (it's for spanking). The ruler can do everything from playful taps to leaving sexy welts to literally opening up skin. No joke: I once used it for self-defense when someone tried to break into my boat one night. Laid his cheek right the fuck open. It took a bunch of scrubbing to get his blood off the teak.

But that's just the physical motivation. Psychological warfare is just another flail in the leadership toolbox. How well would you thrive in the absence of approval, attention, and being put to good use?

But seriously, if (when) the shit hits the fan, you'll be begging me for instructions. In a storm, you'll wish you were getting your ass railed without lube rather than staying belowdecks, clinging onto handrails to prevent flying across the cabin. And why would you be belowdecks? Because it's your off-shift. You refusing your non-sexual responsibilities is functionally the same as a crew member being seasick or getting injured, so you'd be off-shift. Crew rosters are planned around these contingencies.

FWIW, line handling is generally just keeping the sheets "dressed," that is neat and out of the way. It's a great job for neat freaks and people who don't want to trip their way into a head injury.