What Would You Put On A Good, Sexy Playlist?

Chronicle of an Open Marriage #28

I spent the night over at Captain’s house Friday. He has one of those setups where you talk to Alexa and she turns off the lights or puts on some music. He also has Siri, which isn’t surprising in a polyamorous man.

I have Siri on my phone, but I’ve turned her off since it seemed to me that she was spying on me. Sometimes she’d say things related to a conversation I’d been having that didn’t include her. I found that disturbing. Before my disillusionment, though, I spent one amusing night trying to get her to tell me she loved me. She wouldn’t do it! I started with the question, “Siri, do you love me?” She had many funny answers and ways to get around that one. Later, I moved to the command, “Siri, tell me you love me.” But no matter how I phrased it, she made it clear that there was no way she was going to say those three words.

So when I got to Captain’s house and heard him talking to Alexa, I asked her to tell me the same same thing right away. “Alexa, tell me you love me.” Do you know what she answered? “I love you!” So easy!

It seems that these two AIs have very different personalities, just like my two husbands — the one I’ve been married to for 39 years and the one I’ve been banging on the regular for the past two months. That’s one of the nice things about ethical non-monogamy — the opportunity for variety. It’s one of the confusing things, too.

As soon as Captain and I started having sex often, I started imagining we were at least a little in love. And it’s absolutely true that I love having sex with him. I love the way he touches me, the way he talks to me, the way he makes me feel — in my heart and head and vagina. I suppose that means he’s an excellent sex partner. But is it really love? And does that even matter?

Captain and I planned to go out to dinner Friday night, and that day, Hubs took me shopping and bought me a super sexy dress to wear. I saw a funny headline the other day in this story by Lisa Martens. It was something like “My Husband Wanted An Open Relationship Until I Got Laid.” Hahahah!

Lucky for me, that hasn’t been my experience. Hubs likes the idea of me having sex with another man. He finds it a turn-on. When we have three-ways, he gives me a big smile. So on Friday when he wanted to buy me something sexy to wear on my date with Captain, I was game. And when I put it on in the dressing room, where Hubs was sitting and reviewing the options, we both thought I looked fabulous. But when it was time to wear it to Captain’s house? I got self-conscious. It was too tight! It exposed too much breast! My stomach looked bulbous!

I wanted to bring champagne to our date, which meant stopping by the grocery store, but I found I didn’t want to wear my revealing dress in public. Because although I enjoy feeling sexy in the right circumstances, I don’t like random men staring at me. That feels intrusive, even dangerous. And what might be perfectly acceptable at the Southern Decadence festival in New Orleans is definitely not okay in more buttoned-down climes.

So I pulled a coat over my outfit when I went in the store, bought the champagne, and drove over to Captain’s. When I arrived, I brought the two bottles into his kitchen. As I was unpacking the bag, I heard music coming from his bedroom. “What’s that?” I asked.

“You know.”

“No, I don’t. Who’s playing?”

“Go into the bedroom, where you can hear it better.”

I went into his bedroom where the music was louder but still couldn’t identify the musician. Captain was amazed. “It’s Kenny G,” he said, clearly believing that everyone knows Kenny G’s music. But that’s not so. I’ve heard the name, but never listened to the albums.

Later, when we were in the bedroom, I asked Alexa to play some music that I know and like, but was honestly at a loss to come up with a sexy playlist. I thought of “Sexual Healing,” which was nice, but just one song. Then “Love Shack,” which was more boppy dance music than sexy mood. Finally, what might be my favorite song of all time, “Try a Little Tenderness,” by Otis Redding. That’s two good songs. Hardly enough.

When I came home the next morning, Hubs suggested “Dark Side of the Moon” by Pink Floyd and put it on the music player, but that sounded a little too trippy to me — more intellectual and less physical.

So now I’m wondering, what would make a good, sexy playlist? Please tell me what you listen to while making love in the comments. I like blues, jazz, soul, and folk music. I need some inspiration to take advantage of the good sound system at Captain’s. Kenny G doesn’t really do it for me.

So how was our date? I wore the dress, but we didn’t go to the restaurant.

This might be a good place to mention that I have another nickname for Captain. I also call him Mr. Wizard, because this man’s stamina is truly astonishing. When we have threesomes, Hubs keeps track of how many times Captain makes love to me. On our first date, that number was five. This is someone who can cum and then maintain an erection and continue f**king. I didn’t know that was even possible until I met him. He takes Viagra, but so does my husband. The results are not similar. Captain’s cock almost seems like it’s enchanted.

I wasn’t tracking, but as I was leaving in the morning, Captain said he figured the new record was eight. This was after Hubs having me two times during the day before I went to Captain’s. It was also while Captain was trying to push the record to nine, but I couldn’t allow it. I’d already showered, had a date to babysit my granddaughter, and needed to go home not smelling of sex.

That astonishing number forced me to wonder the next day if I’d become a sex maniac. I mean, is having this much sex even allowed? Is it pathological? I don’t think so, because it feels so good and healthy. I feel energetic and awake and alive. My hair has stopped falling out. My tongue is pink, a health test I learned on a tour of Chinatown. Still, it’s so outlandish, I can’t help but wonder. I’ve never wanted this much sex before. My horniness is one consequence of opening our long, contentious, monogamous marriage. It’s like an old, well-worn dam has finally broken.

And as to Captain’s astonishing stamina? He said he’d taken a Viagra the afternoon of our date, but its effects had worn off by the next morning. “It’s you. You’re so sexy. I can’t get enough of you,” he told me.

I suppose you can imagine how that makes me feel.

What happened next? Read Chronicle of an Open Marriage #29. Find all of my stories about opening our marriage on the list below, or about sex in general on this one. Get an email whenever I publish. And have a musical day.