The Gift of Giving

I learned about Seedfinder from an overnight guest.

Our kids were at a sleepover - popcorn, a Disney movie, and sleeping bags - so my spouse and I hosted a sleepover of our own. A rather different sort. My spouse had spent an evening at this friend's place the month before, but our sleepover was her and my first time together.

The morning after, I was lying in bed alone - she'd gone to take a shower, and my spouse was cooking breakfast - when she sauntered back into the room wearing just a towel.

Perhaps I purred. She has a lovely figure, and the towel's transitory gesture toward modesty only heightened the appeal. She laughed, smiling at me. And then gestured to a framed poster we have hanging on our bedroom wall - Frazetta's "Woman with Leopard."

"It's quite the tanline," she said, tracing her finger through the air near the woman's hips. "Last night, I thought she was wearing booty shorts."

"Mmm, I can see that," I said. "We've had this print for years. Frazetta gave this woman such amazing hair, those breasts, that glorious posterior ... and huge feet. It helps me feel generous about my own work. Frazetta is a great painter, he did this professionally for years, and even he struggled with feet."

"I kind of like the feet. They make her look strong. I even like the leopard's little belly. But my favorite risqué art ..." she said, musing. "Have you ever seen the Seedfinder stuff, on Wikipedia?"

I shook my head.

"Aw, you'd like it. I like it."

Then she dropped the towel, spent a moment considering her neat pile of last night's clothes, then decided not to get dressed. She crawled back into bed with me.

We had a good fifteen minutes' tumble before my spouse shouted from the kitchen, saying that breakfast was on the table. We didn't leave the bed - we were rather busy. After another minute or two, he traipsed back to find us.

Our food was cold by the time we sat down to eat.

Which was worth it, certainly. Our smiles glowed when she hugged us goodbye. I'm a big fan of "morning after" sex. Some people prefer the thrill of discovery, those first negotiations with somebody new, but my best orgasms almost always come with practice.

Mine that morning was a nice, easy, "get up and go" orgasm - by the time I tipped over the edge, I was lounging on our mounded pillows, watching them, with my little blue vibrator in hand.

She was on her back, with her long slender legs wrapped around my spouse's hips. Her hands clutched his back. When they kissed, my view of their faces was obscured by their tangle of hair - I married a man with luxuriant tresses. When their mouths were apart, she moaned encouragingly.

I could still taste her on my lips. My spouse was pumping steadily. Even with the cheerful buzz of my vibrator and her increasingly loud exultations, I could occassionally hear the squish between her legs, reminding me how wet I'd gotten her. She'd come already - I give good head, and her first orgasm that morning came before my spouse had even finished cooking.

He was breathing harder. Very clearly close.

He tucked a hand under her rump, and with his other he stroked my calf. He nuzzled her neck, then turned my way to say "I love you." Two thrusts later, he came.

Watching him arch his back and tense between her legs helped get me there, too.

A lovely way to start the day.

She probably showered again after she got home.

After we watched her drive away - we stood in front of the house waving until she'd turned onto the next street over - we got into our car, too, and went to pick up the kids. Wonder of wonders, they were smiling and cheerful, even though it was time to leave.

"We watched Coco and it had some scary parts but it was so fun!"

"And, Mama, he got to be a musician."

It seems we all had a good time at our respective sleepovers.

#

That night, after the kids' bedtime (early, since they'd stayed up too late the night before), I looked up Seedfinder's drawings.

As best I know, humans have always made pornography. Every so often, archaeologists will announce that they've found another piece of cave art, a new etching or a tiny sculpture thousands of years old. "Perhaps a fertility goddess," the archaeologists will speculate, referencing the voluptuous curves.

Yes, perhaps. She might be a god. Or else pornography. Or maybe both - why not a god you could make love with?

An ancient Egyptian origin story has the (flexible!) supreme deity blowing himself until he comes - all plants and animals and the stars of the sky are made from his spilled seed. In an ancient Indian epic, the river Ganges assumes human form and invites another god to masturbate - his cum splashes all over her naked body. And these are myths from urban cultures, when people already wore clothes and lived in place and generally felt more possessive of their sexual partners.

Modern humans have walked the earth for over a hundred thousand years - who knows how lovingly our earliest ancestors chose to worship?

The moments when I tip over the edge are often when I feel most connected to the universe. Think - backward through time, over millions of years - we owe our very existence to a long, long line of orgasms. We come from cum. Again and again, a sperm cell merged with an egg, leading to us. Letting us be here, ready to have orgasms of our own.

For much of time, erotica was surely sacred.

As far as I can tell, most modern pornography isn't intended to be sacred. But it's often lovely just the same. My spouse and I have admired sensuous nudes on many art museum's walls. We keep a private photograph collection in a bedside drawer. And we've seen our fair share of videos.

When I was younger, I thought I didn't like pornographic films. I was wrong - it turns out I'm just picky. Because the things I like - when everybody's gentle and happy and having a good time - really turn me on. No video is as good as having people right there in the room with me, but some come close.

Still, the Seedfinder drawings were a surprise. Because these are fabulous, and they aren't away on a pornographic website, ready to bedazzle (bedrizzle? beda-ah-ah-AHzzle?) paying customers - they're available to all, featured on Wikipedia! I'd only been using Wikipedia to look up things like musicians' biographies, the history of photography, the inner workings of an atom ... but it seems the site can be a lovely accompaniment to sexy fun times, too.

Who knew?

If you're the sort of person whose imagination is stirred by "How To" guides - perhaps you feel hungry while perusing cookbooks - you should gift yourself with a warm jolt of excitement by searching for "sex drawings by wikimedia user seedfinder" and finding the image titled "doublepen."

Go ahead. Click to enlarge the image. Linger a while.

I'll still be here waiting for you.

#

It's quite something, isn't it?

I only wish that two more faces were visible! I'd love to see the men mirroring her enthusiasm. As is, we'll simply have to imagine that the man beneath (that's where my spouse prefers to be) feels a shiver down his spine when their guest climbs onto the bed. He knows how much she wants to try this. They're already fucking. He smiles at her, lovingly. In her eyes he sees excitement mixed (inevitably!) with nervous worry.

Their guest rubs lubricant along the little button of her sphincter. She whimpers; he's making little circles with his thumb. He asks, "Are you ready?" When she moans "yes," he presses with his hand. As the tip of his thumb disappears from sight, its presence balloons inside her mind.

And then, and then, and then ...

After a moment's pause, with his cock in hand to get it perfectly aligned, the man on top pushes forward.

He's in.

She groans, just over her spouse's ear; her soft breasts press onto his chest; some lubricant trickles down, letting him glide more easily; he feels the tight squeeze along the frontline of his cock; another penis is inside his partner and her whole neckline's flushing red.

As she tries to relax around that second cock, it's as though her whole body has gone limp. Her spouse knows that he will have to anchor her, tether her to the world while her mind swirls. Their guest begins to move back and forth. It's all so much for her to feel. Her buttocks are spread and each tiny shift between her sweat-slicked lubed-up pulsing self sends more Oh! outward, cascading, blossoming into be here now! pleasure through her brain ...

And, once everybody's cozily ensconced, her spouse begins to rock his hips again, his hard cock stimulating both her swollen clit and the other man's penis in her ass. Three rhythms now, three sets of hips, moving, dancing, two men's (gentle!) thrusts interwoven, a (gentle!) tango inside her body...

Their evening guest holds himself on his calves for as long as he can bear - it's a lovely angle, that - and then, when he feels his legs begin to tremble, he rests a hand upon her back and says, "Hang on, I've ... let me drop down to my knees."

Both she and her spouse hold still to wait, for a moment, as their guest navigates the geometry of their tripartite connection, and she tries her best to stay relaxed. She feels her spouse's hands gently massage her legs. It does help, some.

But, limp and wet and exhausted as these past minutes have made her, she still groans with every slight shift of engorged cock inside her ass, and then she feels him, their guest, her pleasure, the weight of his whole body, near. His chest upon her back, his breath behind her neck. She senses each and every flexing of his lower belly against her rump.

His penis is hardly moving, just thickening in ringlets now, a neat trick, tensing and relaxing, and those same ringlets travel like smoke rings upward through her body until, moaning, they leave her open mouth, each "uhhnn" and "guh" from deep down past her ribs, her own voice hardly recognizable to her, sounds instead like those of an animal, the body she's let herself temporarily become ...

Her spouse holds her, holds her, holds her ...

#

Nota bene: condom-less sex, as in this image, need not mean un-safe sex. Condom-less sex could instead mean trusted sex, tested sex, assiduously planned and prepped sex.

Which is more titillating than you'd think. So many stories involve an unexpected tumble into bed, but there we were, visiting Planned Parenthood, telling the receptionist, "We're here for our STI exams."

The receptionist tilted her head, looking at me, my spouse, and our lady friend (not the woman from our sleepover, who was only interested in a few nights of light-hearted fun), then briskly handed us a set of clipboards.

While we were sitting in the waiting room, our hands casually straying to each other's shoulders, arms, we were a spectacle. Another patron's eyes caught mine, and I smiled back. I lifted my hand as though to wave, which revealed my wedding ring. Yes, he and I are married; yes, we're here with her; yes, we've been fooling around; yes, we're planning to do more. How much could an onlooker intuit from my smile? She blushed; we were called to the back.

And, in case you were curious: licking the place where two lovers meet is more fun when your tongue caresses their bare skin. Lots of geometries can work, like the time she lay with her back upon his chest, or when he sat at the edge of our bed and she straddled his legs, facing me, and, yes, those were fun, but she wasn't going to have an orgasm. Too much balancing. Most of us need to let ourselves relax to come.

We had our best luck when I lay on my back. She crawled forward until she was on her hands and knees, above me. My spouse tucked a pillow beneath my head, then fucked her from behind.

They had to keep their legs spread somewhat farther than usual in order for me to have space to fit, but it was otherwise a position with which they were well-practiced. That time, she came; moments later, so did he; next, with them lying on either side of me, I closed my eyes, thought about what I'd seen above me, and got there, too ...

#

But, right, the Seedfinder picture! The woman with two men! Please, help me remember which sort of sex I'm supposed to be talking about.

When I was younger, first blossoming into sexuality, I came across a science fiction story in one of my father's magazines - I can't for the life of me recall the author or title, and my search came up empty when I tried to find it recently. I'd certainly appreciate a nudge in the right direction if the following description stirs something in your memory.

The accompanying illustrations weren't particularly risqué - a misty nebula with stars, an endearingly phallic spacecraft - but the author had evoked a world with at least three gendered physiologies. To conceive a child, a "receptor" would facilitate within her body the simultaneous orgasms of both an "inseminator" and an "ovipositor." These people made love in all manner of groupings, seeking pleasure amongst the variegated avenues where pleasure could be found - perhaps a pair of inseminators, or two ovipositors and a receptor - but arrangements that resemble our human woman's experience above conveyed a special titillation as evolutionarily-favored copulation.

If they want to have a child, she must spend at least one evening moaning while her partners' genitalia greet inside her.

After reading that story - and experiencing many of my own early orgasms masturbating to it - clearly I was primed for this image to send my heart racing. And I hope I was able to share some of my excitement with you.

After all, the most vital ingredient for a fun, sexy time with others is a willingness to share pleasure with your partner(s).

#

And yet, the drawing that set my heart beating loudest was another of Seedfinder's other creations.

Two men's torsos alongside a kneeling woman. You can find it by searching for "bukkake 2."

The best place for a man to ejaculate is inside my mouth. After all, it's often my mouth that gets him there. My hot breath and roving tongue. Neither of us wants to lose those sensations as he tumbles over the edge. His cock pulses, I taste the sudden saltiness. He's coming.

I keep sucking. No interruption in pleasure, and he has the satisfaction of hearing me mumble congratulations around a mouthful of cock. Mmm hmmm, mmm hmmm. He might look down to see me nodding. Perhaps I'll let some of his semen spill from my lips, perhaps use a hand to cup my own breasts or clit as he shudders in release.

I am right there, with him. Feeling the contractions inside my mouth. Watching the tightening of his abdomen. My nose, smelling him. My thoughts are occupied by that closeness. There is no greater intimacy.

In that moment, my world shrinks to just the two of us. Or rather, we two expand. I swallow. I trace a finger along his thigh and feel his muscles shiver. Another suck, a lick or kiss, his belly beside my forehead.

Or, with my spouse, between my legs. A hot burst inside me. Erotic like that science fiction story that I loved - both lovers fucking her until they fill her with two types of cum. My own body reels as I think, this is how babies are made. My spouse and I made two children of our own.

And yet these men, in my nominated image, aren't coming inside her body. Not her mouth, nor between her legs. They've taken their cocks into their own hands. They masturbate, penises slicked over with her saliva. They ejaculate onto her upturned face; their prodigious cum coats much of her body.

Why?

When I suck and swallow, there is less to see. He feels it; I feel it. There's less need to put on a show. My little grin, my upturned eyes, those are for him, but even so, I often notice his mind go blank. With my hands wrapped around his cute little bum, I usher him through orgasm, hear him panting. And when I glance up, I might see that he has momentarily closed his eyes.

But these men's orgasms are clearly performative. She kneels between them, tilting her face ... after, surely ... yes, she must have ... after asking whether I would like to watch.

Seeing this image, their cum as decoration, their groans as interactive theater, it's clear to me that these three people are catering to an audience. An onlooker's pleasure as much as their own.

The four of us are doing this together. The men's breaths run ragged. Strand after strand lands across her face. I masturbate as I watch.

Earlier, our four bodies must've been entwined together. At times a cock or two inside of her, at times a cock or two in me, moments, so many moments, with three sets of lips roaming each of our bodies. A man's hand upon the other's shoulder. Perhaps I wondered, whose cock is in my mouth? Perhaps a man was wondering, whose mouth is on my cock? Or perhaps we hardly cared as we tumbled through the cascading sensations, letting our pleasures come from whichever bodies might tickle our fancy bits now, and now, and now.

Licking whatever was nearby, ready to be licked.

And she, the woman in this image, has clearly come already, earlier this evening. One orgasm or more. Do you see her slightly pursed, puffy, swollen lips? Did you notice her deep placidity? This is a woman still luminescent after a sudden swoop through the rollercoaster of a body's languid letting go. Now, yes, she kneels invitingly, but this pair of men and I duly ensured that she got to have hers first.

She reached peak fun. Saw the sights and rode the rides.

Perhaps it's odd that, in all my (many!) imagined scenarios where I have the chance to fuck a woman with a cock of my own, I rarely consider the moment of climax. But I've heard that it's fun, ejaculating on her. My spouse likes cumming on my belly, my breasts, my neck and face. He's shown me pictures that got him off: some depict a smiling woman whose partner ejaculated so much that stray strands of semen landed in her hair; the rest of his cum trickles down her cheeks; some dangles from her grin.

Sometimes a picture like this might show a woman fully clothed, but my spouse says (as I would have intuitively believed) that it's much more fun to come on a woman who's recently had an orgasm. The flush; the sweat; the glow; the gratitude and satisfaction. Her heart rate is still so high, stretching time - when your semen begins to land on her, she will experience more.

She feels so much: now your cum is speckling the bridge of her nose; now the salty taste leaks past her lips; droplets fall to her legs, her breasts. Each moment makes clear how stunningly sexy you find her, so much cum that you're both surprised; you hadn't meant to, but, yes, you're proud to see a trace of white decorate her hair. And she's still laughing, pleasured, perhaps so well pleased with the evening's fucking and being fucked that she's a sheer slip away, perhaps she reaches a hand down to strum a fingertip over her clit, sending herself reeling again, another whoosh along the ride.

Those particular sensations, I haven't given, but I have received.

As my spouse ejaculates onto my face, I might reach up, use his cum to lubricate my fingertips. They're hot moments for me, too.

And yet. Here, while our spouses come on her, I am watching, masturbating, shuddering toward orgasm as a member of the ejaculating party. And, yes, perhaps ... in that moment ... who knows how close I as spectator would get?

Perhaps, after our men have finished, their bursts finally diminuendo into drips, they will make way, spent, ready to watch in turn as I crawl forward, cradle her head in my hands and kiss her, tasting their cum upon her lips. And then, lovingly, so lovingly, I ease her back to lie upon the soft spread blankets.