Posted // December 26,2007 -
Warning: Savage Love is an adult sex advice column. The contents of this article may be offensive to some people. And Utahns.
Long story short: I’m a 28-year-old woman in a long-term relationship. In the past, I’ve been a control freak by day, sex freak by night—but just for one guy, my GGG boyfriend. Recently, I realized that I’m a female cuckold! Nothing gets me hotter than the thought of my boyfriend fucking somebody else in front of me. The logical solution, of course, is to have threesomes. A bunch. My boyfriend feels like he has died and gone to heaven.
Here’s the issue: The pill makes me psycho, a diaphragm was a disaster, and something about my anatomy snaps condoms. After much trial and error, I settled on an IUD—but my gyno made me swear a blood oath before she put it in that I wouldn’t sleep around, because an IUD is a monogamist’s device. If I catch a sexually transmitted infection (STI) now, Dan, it could fuck up my whole reproductive system.
We would, of course, ask potential thirds to get tested (and get tested ourselves), but I don’t want to feel like I’m gambling with my health when we do this. How do I get the edgy sex life I want? —Suddenly Kinky & Really Eager
The only way to get the edgy sex life you want, SKARE, is to accept that edgy sex lives always involve a certain degree of risk. IUDs do not provide STI protection—nor do birth control pills, diaphragms, or having your tubes tied. And while condoms, when used correctly, offer excellent protection from the two scariest sexually transmitted infections out there—HIV and pregnancy—condoms only reduce your risk of acquiring gonorrhea, syphilis, chlamydia, HPV, herpes, and other STIs.
I’m sorry, SKARE, but there’s no such thing as risk-free sex. Hell, there’s no such thing as risk-free anything. Hamburgers, snowboarding, sex—all risky activities.
Okay, class: A life without hamburgers, snowboarding, and sex is what? A life that’s hardly worth living, Mr. Savage. So what do we do? We take reasonable steps to reduce our risks. We cook our burgers thoroughly (or, better yet, buy beef that isn’t packed with hormones, antibiotics, and E. coli); we stay in designated ski areas and/or wear avalanche beacons; we try to be selective about our sex partners and use condoms when appropriate. And we then play the odds, SKARE; we gamble. Burgers, boarding, sex—if we’ve taken reasonable precautions, the odds are in our favor.
So, SKARE, here’s what you do: Accept that acting on your fantasies—your cuckquean fantasies (only men can be cuckolds)—involves risk for you, for your boyfriend, and for your thirds. Then set about minimizing ’em. Be choosy about who you take to bed. (Someone you know, like, and trust? Yes. Amy Winehouse? No.) Use protection. (The boyfriend should use condoms with these other women.) And be vigilant about your health. (Regular checkups, STI screenings, pap smears, etc.)
And finally, SKARE, you have to accept that, even if you’re doing everything “right,” there’s still a chance that you may contract an STI; perhaps something annoying but curable (gonorrhea, pregnancy), something incurable but bearable (herpes), or something incurable and devastating (HIV). If you can’t handle the reality of contracting a sexually transmitted infection, SKARE, then you don’t just have a monogamist’s device in your twat, but a monogamist’s twat in your pants.