What’s in Your Bucket ?

Objectification is often misunderstood.

When sex is your main objective, and what you want is what you’ll get. Objectification is your necessary bait. No hard feelings except the hard, smooth body of the man you’re about to jump.

“You know what?” H stood up and pulled off his shirt. 

I stared at him. His body was changing. He was always tall and now after some exercising and watching his food intake, he was lean, muscled, and four-packed. It took two years and both of us were becoming the better versions of ourselves. 

Never have I loved myself more. Having over twenty thousand matches across dating apps helped too. I no longer felt body shamed because men liked curvy women and MILFs were a thing. We weren’t fat or lazy or not in our primes. 

I had a hot husband. And I was his hot wife. Separate, we were hot-wingers.

The world was ours to take, ours to give. A buffet of new friends and experiences. Living life to the fullest. It was not just another day as our fires burned bright.

Every day, I try not to be typical. It was easy to be dragged back to the mundane with suburbia mentalities and family needs. I struggled to hold on to my new self. To keep my mood high and to think positively despite life’s drudgery.

Time was slipping. Every day was a second; a week an hour; a month a day. A year was passing too quickly to blink. There were many things to do before my life snuffed out. 

For one, my bucket list.

Before I yolo-ed, I didn’t think of it. There was always the retirement question of where we’d be in ten, or twenty years but there wasn’t a thought of whether we’d be happy.

Perhaps H and I were always different from the rest. Asian but not Asian living. We wanted more in life. I wanted to leave my mark. Whether it was consciously or unconsciously, I wanted to be remembered in words.

“Know what?” I asked H.

“That girls are not any different from guys. Everyone’s horny. It’s a question of degree,” He said.

“Really? I think some of the moms I know are for sure not sexual.” I replied.

“You don’t know what happens behind closed doors,” H said.

“True. Look at us.” I switched into my lingerie. Tonight was a blue babydoll gown, resting above my knees, see-through with black ribbons hugging my breasts like huge jugs of dewdrops. When I moved, my boobs touched like pendulums. Silky feel with hand-sewn dark blue flowers sneakily barely covering my large areoles. Every day was normal enough. Lingerie was the only thing now that linked me to my new way of being.

I gave all of myself to them — these hot young strangers. Poke-moning with my online friends whom I met on dating apps — trading sexy pics, sex vids, orgasms, and cummings — all of which felt awesome, a starburst high. Sharing stories, happy, sad, bad, and naughty, and innermost secrets and dreams.

It was a stress relief. The feeling of being wanted, needed, and enjoyed, and it worked both ways. He enjoyed it too. Loved it too much, letting the lust for happiness spread, and a few days later coming back for more. Were they singles or cheaters? Maybe? Maybe not. We’re all adults here. We’re all good.

So what else did I want from this new sensual adventure?

Threesome. 

Yes, it was number one on my list. Part of the hooking up experience and listening to it being told by others, I wanted to know how it felt and if could it give me what I wanted. 

The Big Bang. Explosion to the clouds and shoot right into space. The ultimate.

This act was supposed to be without restraint, lustful, and crazy. Though, I didn’t want a guy to bring any of his friends to this party. I still wanted to know who I was fucking, and they knew what I wanted and most of all, it had to be safe. 

Maybe all of this was just a fantasy. My expectations were too high. I tried asking the guys I knew. Some of them flat-out asked, “Do you want to do a threesome with me?”

“I can do with two girls,” Some replied. Or, “No. I only want to have sex with you.”

For those who had done it before. “I tried it with two more guys. My FWB called us together. It was very awkward…” he said.

“How did it happen?” I asked.

“We all got drunk first, and then took turns with her,” He said. He was texting but I could feel his pain. 

“So…I assume it was a fail?” I had to know. 

“She enjoyed it.”

Okay, not a total fail. But, maybe I was too nice. I didn’t want to put anyone in a situation they didn’t want to be in. Sex had to be consensual. Fun for everyone, and a memory worth keeping.

“If I did a mmf (male.male.female) with you, would you do a ffm (female.female.male) with me?” A guy asked.

Seemed reasonable enough but I couldn’t. “Sorry, I can’t. I don’t do women.”

“You don’t have to do her. You do me. I want both women holding my cock and taking turns to suck.”

“No.” I squinted. “The only way I’d be in a room with another woman is if I’m the Mommy Domme,” I said. I’ll explain later in [Mommy Domme].

“I’m down.” He was excited.

“You don’t know the rules yet and H gets first dips.” I grinned. Another on my list. My naughty bucket list.

“How was it like? Was it mmf or ffm?” I asked the guys who had his threesome.

“Tell me about your mmf,” I said. “I’m very straight. Keep your pants on. I ain’t doing another girl and if she touches me…” I growled inside. The cougar was acting up again. “I’d punch her.”

“Woah. Isn’t that too much?” A guy asked.

“Okay, think of it this way. If you are banging a girl and suddenly a guy appears and goes behind you and starts touching you…”

“What the fuck?” The guy said. “I’d fucking knock him down.”

“Exactly. So stop asking me to have sex with a girl.” Sometimes it takes imagery to get across. 

“Having mmf feels weird because the guy is looking at you and you at him and you don’t know where to look,” someone said.

“Awkward…” I replied.

“Yeah. But one time, as a joke, my friend and I held hands while we fucked her.” He laughed.

“Whaaatt?”

“Yeah. Did the Tower bridge.”

Okay. I had to google that. Just thinking of those words makes me blush. I wouldn’t want that on the guys. “What about taking turns?” I asked.

“That’s not a threesome,” One person said.

“Well, one can film and the other can do it, and then…you’re right…” I pondered. “What about this…I kinda like this. One guy lying down on his side and I’m giving him a blow and he is looking straight ahead. And the other guy is standing and doing mission or doggy and he can look at my parts,” I said.

“Well…that could work…” he said. “And what’s next? Cum bucket?”

“Maybe?” I grinned. 

“I love mmf threesomes,” said an American Korean guy from LA. “I used to like being the bull.”

“Tell me more,” I texted. 

“I had an older couple friend and it started when he asked me to have sex with his wife. I was surprised because they seemed like a normal, happy couple.”

“How old were they?” I asked.

“Late thirties, early forties?”

“How old were you?” I asked

“Late twenties? We went to noraebang and his wife was in a tight white T and short blue jeans skirt. She was singing and shaking her booty at me and touching me. My friend, her husband, was sitting at the back drinking and laughing at her.”

“She sat on my lap and sang her song. I told her to get off because she was rubbing on my erection and my friend said it’s okay.”

“What do you mean it’s okay?” I asked him. 

“Yeah. That’s what I said to him.” Korean guy told me. “And my friend said I could fuck her.”

“Woah…no way.” I laughed.“So did you?”

“She took off her T-panty and unzipped my pants and my cock popped out.”

“No way…” Damn. This was hot.

“She took my cock in her mouth and with her husband watching she gave me a blow job.”

“Is this your first time doing this?” I asked.

“No. I told my friend before that I’d go online to meet strangers to be the bull.”

“Ah. So he knew and so he gave his consent. So what happened after that?” I asked.

“She turned over and I fucked her from behind while she sang.”

“Oh my god! Hahahahaha!” 

“She was shouting and moaning a lot,” he said.

I was wet. Just thinking of others singing in the other rooms in the noraebang listening in while she was being fucked and someone watching. 

I had a flasher fetish, this was too hot. I didn’t want H watching but definitely, a guy or two would be fun.

“So how many more times did you do this?” I asked.

“A few months. My friend liked to film his wife having sex with another man. So, when I took her hard, he’d film us and his wife cummed a lot.”

“What did he do with the vids?” I had to know.

“He posted them on porn sites. I’ll show you one.” He did and watched my friend banging his friend’s wife and his friend coming over and his wife giving him a blow job. 

“What race was she?” I asked.

“Korean woman, and he’s Korean too from Seoul. We stopped meeting when his wife kept asking to meet me without him.”

“Oh…that’s not the deal.” I said.

“Yeah. She liked my cock too much,” He boasted. Of course, he would. He was trying to fuck me. This was when he’d make himself great.

“We met a few times and my friend told me to stop, and then they changed their numbers and I deleted her number from my phone.”

“Woah. You were okay with that?” I asked.

“It was just sex. I didn’t want that emotional baggage. The Sex was hot and fun but that’s all.”

“Yeah. Of course.” I agreed. At that time I was new to the casual sex game. Korean friend was right. It was all lust. But the journey was short and the months were long.

The roads and paths we choose in our lives. The hard choices I had to make after college, were being so far away from home, striking out on my own. I had to work. Gotta earn that money and get that visa, that residency to stay so I could go on. There wasn’t time then to think of fun. And when the family started, the choices were out of my hands. 

Maybe I understand now what my mom had said to me a long time ago when I was a child. I used to begrudge of it. Thinking how she could say something so cold and emotionless. “Having a family is an obligation.”

How could love be a job? And now it was time for me to be free again. I would never follow her steps. I would not blame my family for my clipped wings. My dream is to fly, and I will on my own.

And I know I’d be good. I’d be better than good. Carpe dium. In this threesome, I’ll remember — the rush, the tingles, the rising flush of ballooning lust and heart hammering, the gushing of pussy juices and cum. 

The explosion of minds. The mindlessness that followed. The recording of all those events that came true. 

I wanted it all. Greed. Lust. The scent of sex.

This sexual journey was still ongoing. Dreams are meant to be chased, and the cougar’s hunt isn’t over. So what if there were a few hiccups along the way? As with life, there were always ups and downs. 

In sex anyway, we roll in a good way. And the boys I’d collected are coming back cos fishes come and fishes go. The door is ringing. Someone is knocking. Because with me, when Hyeonja Time 현자타임 is over, they always cum back.