My partner and I were not seeking any polyamorous relationship, but here is the wonderful story of how it came about.
We have been together for three years and have been happy with each other in every respect, particularly when it has involved our intimacy. Early this summer, we decided to go out on a limb and try a naturist resort, something we had discussed briefly but had never tried. We did, and found the experience liberating and enjoyable, not least because everyone was so utterly friendly and unpretentious. No fancy clothes. No bling. No status symbols. No airs. Everyone was as natural (and as vulnerable in their naked state) as everyone else, so the leveling effect was something we sensed immediately and loved from the start.
What we did not know what that there was, at that resort, a strong subculture of swinging, so the moment came when, after talking to a very friendly guy in the hot tub, we were invited to visit a house he had access to on the premises where, after some chat and a beer, he showed us a chair that looked to me at first like a dentist’s chair and then a gynecologist’s chair – and then he explained that it was for doing oral sex on a woman in a position that would be comfortable for both participants. We were flabbergasted, had a good laugh, declined his offer to try it out (my partner and I first, then he and my partner). We thanked him for his hospitality, and left shaking our heads at this introduction into a world that we knew nothing about – naïve as we were.
On a vacation trip that summer, my partner and I got talking about the swinging subculture that we had been exposed to at the resort, and, surprisingly to me (I as monogamous as a guy can get – both emotionally and physically), my partner kept bringing up the subject of that subculture, the interesting people we had met, the good looking guys at the naturist venue (she didn’t have to guess how well equipped they were), and even the guy who had introduced us to that lifestyle by showing us the chair. We both laughed about the whole thing, but it never completely died as a subject of conversation during our long drives that summer. That should have been a clue.
When, late in the summer, we decided to go back to the naturist place, she met a very good looking guy in the shower area (mandatory showers before entering the pools and hot tub) and they struck up a conversation. I was already in the hot tub and waiting for her, so I was a little put off by her delay, but kept my thoughts to myself, and, when they descended the steps to the hot tub, I got to meet the guy, and we talked. I could see that she enjoyed his company and that he enjoyed hers. I found that, instead of the jealousy that might seem natural in a situation like that, I began to sense a creeping and then a growing feeling of compersion. My partner, whom I love and am very happy with, was enjoying herself immensely – and I enjoyed watching her and him and chatting with them.
We even went so far as to absent myself for stretches of time so they could spend time in the various pools talking with other people and carrying on their own exchanges. I found myself feeling really happy for her, but I gave no thought to where this could lead.
While in bed that second night, I asked my partner if she thought that interaction with our new friend might lead to something more than simple chatting. She demurred, but left no doubt that she liked the guy a great deal – and so did I. When we finally got a little more candid with one another, I suggested we have a serious talk about whether she was not in fact looking to have him as a lover – not to detract from our very solid relationship – but to add to her joy in life. Again, she demurred, but there was no doubt that that could be one outcome. We were about to leave, and so was he, but we planned to come back to the resort in four weeks. We parted with a certain degree of sadness, but with anticipation.
My partner and I needed to talk.
And we did. About everything – all dimensions of the issue, including a possible new sexual partnership.
When the three of us got together again after four weeks (my partner and our friend had communicated by email and phone several times in the interim), we, all three of us, knew that we had reached a level of mutual acceptance and shared happiness that would almost inevitably lead to intimacy between my partner and our friend.
We had dinners together, we got to know each other better, we talked and talked about every subject imaginable, we shared time in the pools with other couples (and trios), and generally deepened what was quickly becoming a bond that the three of us were cherishing and looking forward to continuing in every way possible.
When evening came, we repaired to our spacious rented quarters, had a glass of wine and played a few card games. Remember that this was a naturist (= nudist) resort, so we were completely naked all through our interactions – inside and outside our room.
The card games may sound a little juvenile in terms of initiating any kind of sex play, but they were actually a smooth and fun way to break the ice – with touching, kissing, fondling, massaging – and on into more direct sexual (not gay) play – as the “punishments” for losing. Without going to the limit of actual penetrating sex, we enjoyed our humanity in all of those ways (up to an including oral sex – protected), but the question of accepting our friend into our deepest intimacy still needed to be answered.
The answer came the next day. The three of us slept together that night, cuddling and touching at different times during the night, and, in the morning, our friend had to go to his RV to get ready for the day, and my partner and I had our serious discussion.
Were we ready for her to have full sex with him? She hesitated; I told her that we had reached the point where we either had to accept him in a new polyamorous relationship, or disappoint him probably to the point of having him pull back. In his absence, we decided that the moment had come, especially since I saw in both of their faces and interactions that desire to consummate their growing affection. I felt very happy about that decision, not because I take inordinate pride in my compersion, but because I knew this step would bring a new kind of happiness to the woman I love more than life itself.
When he rejoined us, I informed the two of them that I was going to go for a morning stroll around the grounds (I walk miles every morning), and that I would be back in an hour or an hour and a half. I left.
When I returned, I saw two gleaming and happy faces - and did not need to ask for an explanation.
That day, our relationship entered a new phase of mutual acceptance and joy. Since that time, we have been together on many occasions and have found great pleasure in myriad ways as my partner and our friend have shared their love, and I have felt exhilaration over sharing with them as I can, and in making sure they know how happy I am for my partner, for them, and for the three of us.
How did I feel about this? I loved it and still do. Compersion is a wonderful idea, and, when applied under the right circumstances, it is deeply gratifying because it takes delight in the joy of a person one loves.
How does my partner feel about it? She is delighted. She has me. She has our new partner, whom she loves (he is totally smitten with her). I have not seen her smile as much as she does these days.
How does our new partner feel about it? He expresses deep gratitude to me for acquiescing in my partner’s sharing, for participating to an extent myself in that sharing, and for our acceptance of him.
In short, when the summer began, my wonderful partner and I had no idea that this joy would come our way. I realize we are only at the beginning, and expect bumps along the way, but this new experience – this new world – is something that we think promises to bring a whole new dimension to our living.
For that we are grateful – all three of us.
But does compersion have its limits? I hope not, but this is a first, so who knows?
Stay tuned. Time will tell.
We have been together for three years and have been happy with each other in every respect, particularly when it has involved our intimacy. Early this summer, we decided to go out on a limb and try a naturist resort, something we had discussed briefly but had never tried. We did, and found the experience liberating and enjoyable, not least because everyone was so utterly friendly and unpretentious. No fancy clothes. No bling. No status symbols. No airs. Everyone was as natural (and as vulnerable in their naked state) as everyone else, so the leveling effect was something we sensed immediately and loved from the start.
What we did not know what that there was, at that resort, a strong subculture of swinging, so the moment came when, after talking to a very friendly guy in the hot tub, we were invited to visit a house he had access to on the premises where, after some chat and a beer, he showed us a chair that looked to me at first like a dentist’s chair and then a gynecologist’s chair – and then he explained that it was for doing oral sex on a woman in a position that would be comfortable for both participants. We were flabbergasted, had a good laugh, declined his offer to try it out (my partner and I first, then he and my partner). We thanked him for his hospitality, and left shaking our heads at this introduction into a world that we knew nothing about – naïve as we were.
On a vacation trip that summer, my partner and I got talking about the swinging subculture that we had been exposed to at the resort, and, surprisingly to me (I as monogamous as a guy can get – both emotionally and physically), my partner kept bringing up the subject of that subculture, the interesting people we had met, the good looking guys at the naturist venue (she didn’t have to guess how well equipped they were), and even the guy who had introduced us to that lifestyle by showing us the chair. We both laughed about the whole thing, but it never completely died as a subject of conversation during our long drives that summer. That should have been a clue.
When, late in the summer, we decided to go back to the naturist place, she met a very good looking guy in the shower area (mandatory showers before entering the pools and hot tub) and they struck up a conversation. I was already in the hot tub and waiting for her, so I was a little put off by her delay, but kept my thoughts to myself, and, when they descended the steps to the hot tub, I got to meet the guy, and we talked. I could see that she enjoyed his company and that he enjoyed hers. I found that, instead of the jealousy that might seem natural in a situation like that, I began to sense a creeping and then a growing feeling of compersion. My partner, whom I love and am very happy with, was enjoying herself immensely – and I enjoyed watching her and him and chatting with them.
We even went so far as to absent myself for stretches of time so they could spend time in the various pools talking with other people and carrying on their own exchanges. I found myself feeling really happy for her, but I gave no thought to where this could lead.
While in bed that second night, I asked my partner if she thought that interaction with our new friend might lead to something more than simple chatting. She demurred, but left no doubt that she liked the guy a great deal – and so did I. When we finally got a little more candid with one another, I suggested we have a serious talk about whether she was not in fact looking to have him as a lover – not to detract from our very solid relationship – but to add to her joy in life. Again, she demurred, but there was no doubt that that could be one outcome. We were about to leave, and so was he, but we planned to come back to the resort in four weeks. We parted with a certain degree of sadness, but with anticipation.
My partner and I needed to talk.
And we did. About everything – all dimensions of the issue, including a possible new sexual partnership.
When the three of us got together again after four weeks (my partner and our friend had communicated by email and phone several times in the interim), we, all three of us, knew that we had reached a level of mutual acceptance and shared happiness that would almost inevitably lead to intimacy between my partner and our friend.
We had dinners together, we got to know each other better, we talked and talked about every subject imaginable, we shared time in the pools with other couples (and trios), and generally deepened what was quickly becoming a bond that the three of us were cherishing and looking forward to continuing in every way possible.
When evening came, we repaired to our spacious rented quarters, had a glass of wine and played a few card games. Remember that this was a naturist (= nudist) resort, so we were completely naked all through our interactions – inside and outside our room.
The card games may sound a little juvenile in terms of initiating any kind of sex play, but they were actually a smooth and fun way to break the ice – with touching, kissing, fondling, massaging – and on into more direct sexual (not gay) play – as the “punishments” for losing. Without going to the limit of actual penetrating sex, we enjoyed our humanity in all of those ways (up to an including oral sex – protected), but the question of accepting our friend into our deepest intimacy still needed to be answered.
The answer came the next day. The three of us slept together that night, cuddling and touching at different times during the night, and, in the morning, our friend had to go to his RV to get ready for the day, and my partner and I had our serious discussion.
Were we ready for her to have full sex with him? She hesitated; I told her that we had reached the point where we either had to accept him in a new polyamorous relationship, or disappoint him probably to the point of having him pull back. In his absence, we decided that the moment had come, especially since I saw in both of their faces and interactions that desire to consummate their growing affection. I felt very happy about that decision, not because I take inordinate pride in my compersion, but because I knew this step would bring a new kind of happiness to the woman I love more than life itself.
When he rejoined us, I informed the two of them that I was going to go for a morning stroll around the grounds (I walk miles every morning), and that I would be back in an hour or an hour and a half. I left.
When I returned, I saw two gleaming and happy faces - and did not need to ask for an explanation.
That day, our relationship entered a new phase of mutual acceptance and joy. Since that time, we have been together on many occasions and have found great pleasure in myriad ways as my partner and our friend have shared their love, and I have felt exhilaration over sharing with them as I can, and in making sure they know how happy I am for my partner, for them, and for the three of us.
How did I feel about this? I loved it and still do. Compersion is a wonderful idea, and, when applied under the right circumstances, it is deeply gratifying because it takes delight in the joy of a person one loves.
How does my partner feel about it? She is delighted. She has me. She has our new partner, whom she loves (he is totally smitten with her). I have not seen her smile as much as she does these days.
How does our new partner feel about it? He expresses deep gratitude to me for acquiescing in my partner’s sharing, for participating to an extent myself in that sharing, and for our acceptance of him.
In short, when the summer began, my wonderful partner and I had no idea that this joy would come our way. I realize we are only at the beginning, and expect bumps along the way, but this new experience – this new world – is something that we think promises to bring a whole new dimension to our living.
For that we are grateful – all three of us.
But does compersion have its limits? I hope not, but this is a first, so who knows?
Stay tuned. Time will tell.