insidesuzyssoul











{July 29, 2011}   Meet Dexter

Life is funny sometimes.
It amazes me when I look back on my life and see how things used to be. At present, the majority of people in my life know me as “Dexter St Jock” or just plain Dexter for short.
This name doesn’t mean anything to my parents. They wouldn’t dream of calling me anything else but the name they gave me at birth. To this day they have no idea why friends call me Dexter. I intend to keep it that way.

For those of you who are not familiar with comedy, Dexter is a character created by the legendary Eddie Murphy.
This character is a West Indian man with great charm and an even greater member in-between his legs. Fellas, you wouldn’t want to leave your woman alone with this man!
From an early age I found this character fascinating and was determined to be just like him. I already had the package downstairs and over time I would attain the charm and gift of the gab.

Every so-called player has his own approach or technique, depending on what you want to call it.
Some guys are real smooth just like a pimp, others play the cool, mysterious type (this works a treat). Myself, I choose to keep it natural. What you see is what you get, a well-mannered guy with a twinkle in his eye. I let my mouth do all the work but I never let the conversation get sexual. I talked to women the way I would a man, as a potential friend.
For some strange reason this seemed to work. The initial opinion a woman had of me would transform immensely. I would go from being a handsome, sweet guy to being drop-dead gorgeous and sexy! It was amazing how a levelheaded conversation could sway a lady sometimes.
In such a short space of time I’ve had more sexual partners than most men have had in their entire lifetime. I’m not claiming it’s something to be proud of rather just stating a fact.
Most men, married or single, are on a mission to seek and destroy; to conquer as many women as possible before they get too old to do so.
Unfortunately, most men don’t have the know how to do just that, so can only dream of it or watch from afar with envy, as other men live out their aspirations for them.

It wasn’t always this easy for me. I wasn’t always known as Dexter: in my early teens. I was known as plain old Leeroy; the chubby cheeked boy with a constant smile on his face.
I was one of those guys who blossomed late. I wasn’t pleasing on the eye according to the girls at my secondary school. As far as they were concerned I was “ugly as fuck”, big spread nose and rubber-lips to match. At that time, mixed-race or light-skinned black boys were the fashion! Having a chocolate complexion only made my situation worse than it already was.
Most people have fond memories of secondary school, not me! All the good-looking, popular boys with bad reputations got all the female attention. I, on the other hand, got constant insults from the opposite sex.
It was odd because the girls I knew from the area I lived in didn’t share the same opinion, they didn’t really find me attractive but they never had a bad word to say about me As far as they were concerned I was as sweet as pie.
If only the girls at school felt the same way, it would have made school a lot more enjoyable to attend.

Things did improve in the last couple of years at secondary school. I began to grow into my looks and after a trip to the States, I gained a brand new air of confidence.
I visited my aunt in West Palm Beach, Florida for two months. During my stay there I was Mr. Popular!
Everybody for at least ten blocks caught wind of the Black, English kid. All the teenagers wanted to know who I was and to be associated with me.
Up to this point, my life had been very boring. I couldn’t believe the fun I was having being the centre of attention.
I didn’t trick these kids by pretending to be something I was not. I didn’t need to; they built a whole new character for me that I went along with. They’d have been stunned to know that back home in the U.K I was the butt of many jokes.
This was the best time of my life up to that point and I consequently didn’t want to go back to London but had no choice. I decided I had to figure out a way to maintain that same feeling back home.

To be honest I didn’t manage to pull it off the way I would have liked, but at least everybody around me acknowledged there was something different about me.
The girls at school began to lighten up on the insults and in due time the jokes stopped. Period.
The girls around the way began to respond differently also. I was no longer just sweet as pie; I was now attractive to boot. This was when my life changed for the better.

A new air of confidence made the difference. A couple of successful fights also helped a great deal. Sometimes being feared was just as effective as being respected.
To cut a long story short, let’s just say that I changed over time to become a nice guy with a bit of a reputation and a few ladies on his arm for effect.

Despite having a few things that most men desire, I’ve never really felt at ease with my life. I guess it’s because I’m always reminded that I could have achieved more with myself. I’m a very intelligent person but with not much to show for it. I’ve done okay for myself financially, but people around me, such as family and close friends, always expected more of me from an academic point of view.
As far as everyone was concerned, I was supposed to do great things with my life, make a difference in the world we live in, stamp my place in human history.
Yes, I have a high IQ but does that mean I have to live out your dreams for you? That was the impression I always got, that I was living for them and not myself.
The grades I got in school were never good enough for the people around me. I was more than capable of getting straight A’s but I was content with doing just enough and receiving B’s with the occasional grade A in there somewhere.
Why should I have pushed myself that extra mile? The work never interested me enough for me to have really exerted myself to that extent.
Its funny, I often wish I had heeded my parents’ advice. I should have pushed myself to the very limit, as it would have been worth it in the long run as I would have been more content with the way my life turned out.
The job I have now pays well but had I pushed myself back then, I would have given myself more opportunities rather than being stuck in a job that I don’t enjoy but can’t really afford to quit.
I shouldn’t really complain as many people are far worse off than I am, but it would have been nice to have been one of those people who looked forward to waking up and going to work.
As for me, on the other hand, I could never wait to exit the building so as to indulge myself in one of the few things I enjoyed and did well: charming the socks (or should I say tights) off women!

There is always a down side to having multiple women in your life. It could be hard to get rid of them when you wanted some ‘alone time.’
As soon as you got rid of one, another one would pop up out of nowhere. Men who have never had the experience of having numerous sex partners will probably be wondering what the problem is. Trust me; no matter who you are, everybody needs time to be by themselves so they can either ponder on previous events that have happened or plan for the future.
Having more than one clingy female didn’t help, but I couldn’t really complain, as I shouldn’t have put myself in that position. Let’s face it, in my early teens I never would have imagined that there could be pit falls to having lots of sexual partners. As far as I was concerned at the time, it was a fantasy that had no flaws. Despite all that, it didn’t stop me from seeking out new girls, sad to say, but at that time in my life I needed variety.
Like the late great rapper Big Pun once said: “I don’t discriminate, I regulate every shade of arse!”
That was me in a nut shell. I couldn’t give a damn where you came from as long as you were attractive it didn’t matter to me.

As time went by I accumulated many aliases, one that was used frequently was the International Playa.
I had always thought this was a slight exaggeration on my pulling power but without realising it, I had managed to lay with girls from all over the world! This wasn’t my intention, just the way it had happened.
There were girls from Brazil, Cuba, Hong Kong, Thailand, Singapore, a handful from Spain, France, Hungary, Italy, Finland, Sweden, Australia and even a white chick from South Africa! How I had pulled that off was beyond me.
It seemed I was quite the globe trotter, my friends were envious and were mystified as to how I had managed it; to be honest so was I.
I never had a game plan, I just did what I did and somehow I always ended up with a result. Whether that was through luck, charm or both, who knows?
The strange thing about this habit of pulling women was that you sometimes needed to be heartless to maintain this lifestyle and avoid any possible drama. Unfortunately for me, I don’t have it in me to be that cold to a female, hence the fact I sometimes had clingy type women on my case.

I’m the type of person who feels embarrassed for other people. If I witness someone else making a fool of themselves, I cringe; I’m not quite sure why.
Having a female beg for just a little of your time can be ego boosting the first couple of times it happens, but as you grow older and begin to mature it becomes annoying.
I would sometimes get the urge to shake these girls like rag dolls and tell them to come to their senses. There wasn’t a man living worth that much hassle, especially not me.
You’re probably wondering if I ever had a relationship anywhere between those exploits of mine. The answer to your question is yes.

I had two relationships during my peak as a so-called playa. I tried my best to make them work and believe it or not, I never strayed once while courting.
I’ll be brief, the first relationship took place when I was seventeen years old, it didn’t last very long although I thought at the time that we stood a chance.
She was stunning, the kind of woman you see in movies. Think of Halle Berry and Beyonce meshed together to make one woman.
Add a little Arab spice and long hair and there you had it: Naomi, seventeen years old and sexy as fuck! Did I forget to mention? She was also rich as hell.
Her money was never an issue with me but as far as my friends were concerned I would have been a fool to let that one slip out of my hands. The good looks and money combination was most men’s dream come true.
We appeared to be perfectly matched but that appeared to be the problem, we were too much alike so we would often clash.
These arguments were stormy to say the least. Damn this girl had a temper. What triggered these famous temper tantrums? 
My reputation.
She was insanely jealous and couldn’t deal with the fact that I had slept with a lot of girls. It didn’t help that there were girls back then scheming to get their hands on me, all because they had heard rumours about my endowment from some chick and had to find out whether or not it was true.
There were many girls that I also considered friends, girls that I had no sexual history with but as far as Naomi was concerned, any bitch I was chatting to meant trouble.
I couldn’t deal with that level of jealously, it was totally uncalled for. There were more important things to me than how good you looked or how much money you had, so we parted company.

Skip about seven years, during that time I had more women in my life, some were one-off flings, others were regular sex partners.
Over that period of time I began to calm down. I was no longer congregating with the boys for wild nights out on the pull and I kept the number of girls I saw down to a minimum. Was I maturing as an adult or just growing tired of my way of life?

One of the girls I would meet on a regular basis was a sweet Oriental girl from Hong Kong called Sam. We met through a mutual friend at a local drink up and continued to see each other for casual sex for the next five months or so.
During the time spent together, we developed feelings for each other and I decided to give a relationship a go. Why not? We were both adults.
Her previous boyfriend had been very controlling and jealous.  I guess she had become accustomed to that kind of behaviour, as my approach to relationships was totally different and this took her by surprise.
I wasn’t usually one for relationships but as far as I was then concerned I’d be damned if any woman was going to change or control me, so why should I have tried to do the same to her?
As long as we were honest with each other we could both do as we pleased. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
Initially she struggled to adapt to that much freedom, such as being able to go out clubbing with friends and not be questioned. I was not her father, so who was I to interrogate her? That was and remains my outlook.
As she adapted to this new relationship, I noticed a change in her, she suddenly began to abuse my trust.
She appeared to mistake my politeness for weakness. Suddenly she seemed to think she could order me about in front of her friends; that was a very bad idea!
Nobody talks to me like I’m a boy, not even my father. He’s well aware that I’m now a man so I would never allow another human being to undermine my status as a proud man.
Her behaviour would often lead to me giving her a tongue-lashing. I tried to drum it into her head that I was fair but no fool, so not to attempt to treat me like one.
As months went by, I began to realise why her ex-boyfriend had kept her in shackles. Clearly this girl didn’t know how to act when given freedom.
I can’t elaborate on how this relationship ended but let’s just say that it wasn’t amicable, there remains to this day a lot of bad blood between us.

So much for relationships. For these very reasons I tried to stay away from them. I thought maybe seeing a large number of women was the only way to go.
Problem was, the more women you had the more problems you got. I decided to keep the number of casual sex partners down to a minimum, just enough variety to keep me happy.
No need to be greedy, I had already been there and done that, it was now all about quality and not quantity although my standard of fuck-buddies had always been high.

As time went on, I became bored of the gals I had. I know it sounds awful but I needed more variety in my life.
My best friend Bentley was now in the position that I once found myself in: too many girls to handle.
He didn’t care though; he’s what you would call a classic playa, “the Predator”. He loves the hunt; he simply can’t help himself.
To think that when we were teenagers he used to judge me for my exploits, he thought I was immoral for what I was doing at the time.
Oh how the tables had turned! I often teased him about his once ‘holier than thou’ attitude to women. Damn, he was self-righteous back in the day!
For some reason or another he didn’t like the idea of me slowing down. It wasn’t like I didn’t have girls at my disposal; it was just that there weren’t as many as before. He would often attempt to persuade me to attend a boys’ night out on the town. I would always decline as it was no longer my scene.
I had always reassured him that my slowing down wasn’t an indication that our friendship was coming to an end. No matter what, he was my boy for life; I would always love and respect him.
That didn’t appear to be good enough for him, as far as he was concerned I was the “Pimp Daddy”, the International Playa, for me not to be the number one ladies man didn’t seem right and made him feel uncomfortable.

One time at his house he introduced me the so-called joys of Internet dating. He tried to convince me that this was the way of the future.
Expensive nights out in clubs on the prowl were no longer essential to get want you wanted. The Internet provided everything.
He did a pretty good job of convincing me too. He was a member of a site much similar to Myspace but not on such a big scale. It wasn’t specifically for dating but that didn’t stop him.
His inbox was full of messages from pretty ladies wanting to meet him. His profile was well crafted; pictures of him in his flashy sports car served him well. Girls really did love cars and money after all.
Many of these girls lived abroad, Germany and Tunisia to name a few. Bentley was flash but he didn’t have a private jet at his disposal.

There was one girl that he was determined to meet; she was called Tiffany, a model from Jamaica. When I viewed the pictures on her profile, I could understand why my friend was so eager to meet her.
She was a stunner. Bentley liked the fact that my jaw dropped at the very sight of this girl’s beauty. 
At that point I was no longer sceptical of meeting people online.
Tiffany appeared to share his eagerness to meet. She said that she would be visiting London for work purposes and would love to meet up with him during her stay.
I knew my friend had pulling power but I never knew he was this good. He had already met a handful of girls in his network, but this one would end up being the prize of all prizes.

Over the next couple of days he began to receive messages from other men, some he knew and some he didn’t, warning him that he shouldn’t meet with Tiffany as she was actually born a “he”.
Bentley brushed this off as jealously. As far as he was concerned they were just jealous that he had succeeded where they had all failed.
I advised him to be cautious. Why would they have all made such an effort to inform him of this, if there were no truth behind it?  It was clear to see they had had some kind of contact with this person in the past as she appeared in all of their networks.
At that point his ears pricked up. I guess he needed to hear it from someone he held in high esteem rather than from a complete stranger or an associate that he didn’t really care for.
He wasn’t quite sure how he was going to ask such a difficult question. After all, any genuine woman would be insulted by such an insinuation that they could possibly be a man. That would definitely squash any chance of a potential meet.
Luckily for my friend he didn’t have to worry. Fortunately for him someone had posted a blog featuring stark naked full frontal pictures of Tiffany.
Yes indeed, this was a dude with very heavy equipment; the kind of tools any male porn star would be proud of!
Bentley didn’t seem too fazed by this. He said that she/he was just one person of many; there were many more fish in the sea.
I tried to tell him that this was nothing more than pure luck and if he didn’t believe me, that I would personally join a similar site to put my theory to the test.

A few days passed. This whole Internet business was the last thing on my mind; I did have a life after all!
When I had some time on my hands I thought I might as well run a search engine for similar sites. The results I came up with were unexpected. Rather than regular dating and networking sites, it gave me a list of popular swinging sites. Although these sites were much more in your face and full on than the site Bentley was a member of, the premise was all the same.
I chose the most popular site. Like most sites they claim to be totally free but once you sign up you come crashing down to earth really quickly.
In order to contact anyone you have to pay a fee. I thought why the hell not? It was not like I couldn’t afford it.
I quickly paid for a gold membership on my credit card and began to create my profile.
After witnessing the success that Bentley had had with his profile I was well aware I had to create a profile that was eye catching. I’m all about words, posing for a picture in a fancy car just wouldn’t represent my personality.
I wrote a detailed and honest profile and added a few modest pictures. Profiles without pictures often get passed by, so beware if you choose to go this route. I made my preference clear: I wanted to meet single women for no-strings-attached fun. I would also consider couples should they be interested.
I had never been in a threesome with a couple before but thought what the hell! I didn’t actually believe I’d receive that much interest anyway.
Much to my surprise it wasn’t long before I received a whole bunch of messages in my inbox. None of the people in question were my type as such, but nevertheless I had responses.
One email was from a gay male, how he figured we were a possible match was beyond me!  What I would come to find in due time was that some people don’t care what you want; they’ll force themselves on you regardless. I guess this is how it feels for women when they’re pestered by unattractive men.
As time went by I amazed myself. Was I really this appealing to the swingers of the world? It felt odd to turn away potential meets but I wasn’t going to meet just because they were chasing me.
Initially this was a quest to prove to my good friend that the Internet was no place to meet women. It had now gone way beyond that and had turned into my own little platform for meeting women.
It was hard for me to believe how addicted I had become. I had always presumed that only men who couldn’t pull in the real world wasted time with sites like this.
Here I was, a man who had had trouble getting rid of women, surfing the net engaging in this new found world of swinging.
I wasn’t focusing on the meets as such, not to say I would turn them down if the right person came along, but it seemed every person I came into contact with had a story to tell.

These people seemed to have wild sex lives, way more exciting than mine and to think that so many dudes I knew envied me for the number of women I’ve had in my time!
These people were engaging in the kind of sex you only see in porn movies. This wasn’t fantasy for them it was their reality.
I thought I’d seen and done it all but clearly not. This was my chance to sample the things that most people could only dream about.

This site I had joined had many features: blogs, sex workshops, magazines etc. One thing that caught my eye was the most popular list. As you can guess, it had categories for single women, single men, couples and even TV’s.
I would often check out the most popular women’s chart. Damn! There were some gorgeous ladies in this list but most of them were in America. It was more than likely they wouldn’t be interested in me even if they were only two blocks away but it would have been nice to have had the option to write to them even if there was even a slight possibility.
I never did check out the men’s list. I’m neither gay nor bi curious/sexual so I didn’t see the need to.
One day something hit me, maybe I should check out the competition and see what they brought to the table that made them so popular?
To my surprise I was in the top ten! I thought I must have been seeing things, but I wasn’t.
There had to be some kind of explanation for this, maybe there had been a glitch with the site or something. I thought I’d give it a couple of days to see if the site resumed to normal status.
Sure enough, a couple of days later there I still was, I had now leap-frogged into the top five, this was incredible! I had never anticipated, even in my wildest dreams, that I could be so popular, especially since I had yet to meet anyone from the site.
I had been receiving a lot of emails but presumed that others would have had ten times as much in their inbox. There were many men whom I considered to be way more attractive than myself on this site, so I thought I couldn’t be any competition.
I noticed that the guys above me were all gay with very full on profiles. These guys were no joke; they all had plenty of testimonials from other men they had met.
In fact everyone in the top ten other than me had a minimum of five testimonials from people they had actually met and had had fun with.

I guessed that was the next step, to actually take the plunge and meet somebody. I couldn’t believe how nervous the prospect of a meet made me. I had been with untold women in my short life but somehow these people intimidated the hell out of me, I was clearly a rookie amongst professionals.
My first meet was with a woman who went by the name of Karen; her handle on scene was Candygirl. She was an attractive brunette, thirty years of age living in East London.
She had messaged me a few days previously but I didn’t have the courage to agree to a date. She came across as very sexually aggressive and made sure to tell me that she would give my black cock a right seeing to when she saw me. I wasn’t sure what this meant but by swinging terms it could have meant anything.
She was married but had a single female profile. Her husband approved of her playing solo as long as he got to hear all the juicy details of her sex encounters; true sex stories made him horny apparently!  What ever floats your boat, hey?
We agreed to meet each other during the week. She had kids but they would be at school when I made my visit.
I made my way to the address she gave via public transport. As I left the bus at the appropriate stop I could feel the eagles swooping about in my stomach.
As I made a turn down her street, it got worse. If I’m totally honest, I thought I was going to shit myself for real. Any second now I was about to embarrass myself big time.
I looked around for a public toilet. I was never the type to use one of these things but my arse was about to explode, I couldn’t see one.
The only choice I had was to make my way to her house and ask to use her toilet; hardly a great first impression but I didn’t have a choice. There was no way my bowels would hold out much longer.
I made my way to door number 19. As soon as I knocked on the door it suddenly stopped; the bowel movement, the eagles suddenly disappeared! What the hell was going on?
I’m usually the epitome of cool when it comes to the opposite sex and there I stood a bag of nerves but once I reached my destination I was myself again. How odd!
I was very pleased with what I saw before me, she looked good in her pictures but way better in person. She had on a lace outfit, which didn’t leave much to the imagination but I wasn’t about to complain.
I was surprised that she opened the door dressed like that. What if the neighbours saw? It wasn’t my problem after all, that was for her and the husband to deal with.
She invited me in and led me to the living area; she quickly offered me a drink. This was all very normal, not at all what I had expected.
She came back from the kitchen with my fruit juice and sat beside me. We must have engaged in small talk for around ten minutes before she made it very clear we weren’t there to talk!
“Excuse me”
With that said she began to rub my crotch and kiss me. Her lace outfit was crotch less. I wonder why?
I didn’t waste any time laying her back and putting my tongue to work. I had nothing to be scared of at all, this was just like regular casual sex with the exception that we had met online and didn’t know each other at all.
I was down there for quite some time. She wasn’t complaining at all but wasn’t content with just a tongue. She wanted dick and I was more than willing to give it to her. I found her extremely sexy and didn’t want to waste any more time.
She led me upstairs to the bedroom, we undressed and you can guess the rest.

Usually sex with someone you have just met isn’t great, it usually takes a while to get to know their body and what makes them feel good.
In this case the sex was great, although we did have time on our hands. I arrived at her place just after 9.30 am and didn’t leave till after 2pm, so we were at it for a while.

We met a few more times after that but she suddenly began to get a little bit too personal. I saw signs of her developing feelings for me, which was out of the question. Yes I found her attractive but I had never agreed to anything more than what we had first arranged.
She asked for me to be her regular. I refused.  I didn’t think it was a good idea, as I couldn’t see anything good coming of it. I had presumed, wrongly in this instance, that this woman was an experienced swinger and didn’t allow emotions to get in the way.
I was the only guy on scene she had met more than once for sex. I didn’t see this as a problem as she was married, but I could sense trouble ahead so I bailed out with the quickness.

I managed to encounter a few more women on scene. Some were women with cuckold husbands; others were young girls looking in the wrong places for love. It seemed the scene wasn’t all what it was cracked up to be after all.
Very few women, with whom I came into contact, embodied the true spirit of swinging: the type of women who live for the moment and have no hang-ups whatsoever. The type of women that didn’t have time for emotional attachment, the kind of women that would kick you out as soon as she’d done fucking the shit out of you.

There was this one woman who fitted the profile perfectly. She was a white lady in her late thirties, from the outskirts of London who had a cuckold husband.
Her profile stated clearly that she preferred black men although men of all races were welcome as long as they were toned and well endowed. She ran an online sex store from the comforts of her home, whips, chains, dildos; the works. This was the kind of woman I had expected to meet from the very beginning.
We spoke often on the phone, we had garnered a good rapport with each other but unfortunately what I later learned unsettled me greatly.
She told me that her husband was very ill and unable to have sex. Now many people reading this would ask me what the problem was as I already knew they were a cuckold couple.
Many men from cuckold couples are more than capable of having sex, they just choose not to as they maybe submissive sexually or just voyeurs.
The fact that this man was extremely ill; he was in and out of hospital on a regular basis didn’t sit well with me. This made me wonder how she found the time to meet strangers for sex with a sick husband and three kids to look after.
Yes, this woman fitted the mould of a classic freaky swinger that I had been searching for, but I didn’t fancy shagging the shit out of a woman while her husband watched; not because he wanted to but because he didn’t have a choice.
We never did meet, it seemed sex was a definite prospect but I guess our conversations killed that possibility. That’s what I got for being a chatterbox, too much information received.

The next lady in question would open my eyes drastically. Her name was Suzy; a sexy Latino lady who also had an appetite for black men.
Unlike many other women who single out the brothas she actually requested for only West Indian men to contact her. A lot of women who are not black are ignorant to the fact that we are not all the same.
This lady was well aware that black people didn’t all come from the exact same place, that there were visible cultural differences within the race.
It was funny because initially I was sceptical about messaging her, she had a face picture on her profile, which I thought was bold and risky for any woman to do.
The picture displayed what I can only describe as a “ghetto fabulous” woman, huge hoop earrings and a scowl that exuded attitude.
Not that there is anything wrong with being ghetto fabulous, but it is not such an attractive trait for a so-called professional woman in her mid thirties. Despite this we exchanged personal IM addresses.
Our first chat online was hardly a conversation, in fact I recall nothing more than a sentence from her. She quickly invited me to view her cam.
I accepted, presuming her intention was to prove to me she was a genuine woman, but what I got was a full on web cam show.
Let’s just say all I could see was wet pussy and litres of ejaculating fluid. Was I supposed to be impressed by this?
It became pretty obvious that I wasn’t the only guy viewing the display. Unfortunately for her I had other options, unlike the other prats that were egging her on.
It wasn’t long before I stopped viewing her cam and logged out of IM without saying goodbye. I wasn’t about to pamper this woman’s ego. I’m not the type to wank over a cam show. Why should I when I have a healthy sex life? I decided I wouldn’t be saying hello to this woman anytime soon.

A couple days later, whilst I was on IM her name popped up online. I didn’t message her as I didn’t have anything to say.
After five minutes or so she messaged me to say hello. It became clear she was waiting for me to say hello first but realised it just wasn’t going to happen.
I’m sure as a genuine woman on scene, the moment your name appears on IM every man online jumps to say hello; not this nigga!
She asked me where I had disappeared to the other night. I told her that what she had been doing wasn’t my cup of tea so I logged out. I didn’t see any point in not telling the truth.
She seemed surprised by this response but nevertheless embarked on a normal conversation. We chatted for an hour or so about work and life in general. She told me she had two daughters from her previous  marriage and now that she was free she was working the circuit to find out what she had been missing whilst being married.
That was fair enough. At least I knew I had a grasp of a real human being rather than just a wet pussy on a screen. Now we were getting somewhere.
Sex is sex, but I needed to know something about the person I intended to sleep with. If you have no information then you never know what you could be getting yourself into. Although our conversation was light-hearted, I wasn’t totally convinced by this woman. The previous two women had had something for me to consider and I wasn’t sure Suzy hadn’t either; although she gave the impression she had no hang-ups.
A couple of months and many IM conversations later, as we had yet to establish whether we would ever meet, Suzy would often suggest a date and I’d always find an excuse.
Eventually Suzy asked why we had yet to exchange numbers. She suggested that we chatted on the phone, as it was easier to communicate with voice rather than words on a screen. I agreed with her that this was a valid point and I made a decision to call her later on that day. I had just finished work when I decided to call her. The phone rang a couple of times before she picked up the call. To my surprise this well-spoken woman answered the phone.
This was not what I had expected at all.  I had anticipated a feisty Latino chick with street slang; this woman was damn near posh as fuck.
Her voice so didn’t fit with the face picture she had displayed on her profile. As a young black English male, I, of all people, should have known better than to judge a book by its cover.
We had a wonderful conversation, it was like we had known each other for ages; our common love for a certain female recording artist only added to the obvious chemistry we had.
I couldn’t believe I had been such a fool to second-guess this lady. Not only was she attractive but she also had a vibe that I found irresistible. For some reason I still stalled on a meet, but eventually agreed at short notice to meet at her place after she had challenged me.
She rang me on a Sunday to say that her kids were at their father’s and I should come around if I wasn’t scared. This was a good tactic on her behalf, as I couldn’t resist proving her wrong.
I made my way to her home with two bottles of Alize in hand. Suzy greeted me at the front door looking cute as hell. I was very pleased that she had persuaded me to join her that night.
We sat down on her living room couch with a couple of drinks and proceeded to chat,  the conversation was running smoothly.  Suddenly she just grabbed my face and shoved her tongue down my throat.
This was not a bad thing at all but previously in many talks online she had repeatedly told me that she didn’t like to kiss and would rebuff any man who tried to lay his lips on her as it was too personal.
Here she was snogging my face off which I found quite odd, it wasn’t long before we were groping and sucking but believe it or not we didn’t have sex that night. For some reason it didn’t seem appropriate.
It was as if we forgotten why we had met in the first place. We had clearly made some kind of connection beyond sex and were content with chatting the whole night through.
The next morning we did eventually have sex despite the fact we were knackered from not having slept all night. A swollen penis and throbbing pussy had to be attended to.

We both had other casual sex partners but continued to see each other on a regular basis. It was pretty clear that we had put each other on the top of our fuck buddy lists.

Prior to meeting Suzy, my favourite female was a twenty-two year old lady called Ansu from Finland. She was an absolute stunner with the sweetest personality. I was now beginning to see less and less of her as my visits to Suzy’s house became more regular. Ansu didn’t really like this arrangement but couldn’t complain as she also had her own boyfriend to consider. I liked Ansu a great deal and would often go out of my way for her but the fact she had a boyfriend who was suspicious of her actions didn’t exactly help the situation.
It wasn’t like we could hook up whenever we got the urge; she had to plan carefully in order not to get caught out.

Suzy didn’t have a partner; just casual fuck buddies although I often wondered whether they all came to her house. That wouldn’t have made a good impression on her daughters if they were forced to witness different black guys whizzing in and out of their home.
She reassured me that wasn’t the case, as I was the only regular male face that came into the house. If she met anyone else it would have been at his or her pad. I didn’t want special treatment by any means but I’d be damned if I would contribute to an unstable environment. I would rather walk away before let that happen.

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Diary
Mood: nervous, intrigued
Hey Diary. These are my first tentative words scribbled on your virgin pages. I’ve just turned 32 and have started my social life over after a messy divorce. Have lived a little, loved a little but now I’m out to have fun, fun, FUN! It does feel a bit odd, being like a teenager at this point in my life. I’m certainly a bit out of practice. Okay, strike that, I’m a lot out of practice.
I have made a conscious decision that I am of an age where I no longer have to apologise for or feel ashamed of having sexual urges. After the lack of physical attention I suffered over the last few years, I intend to put my newly found libido into practise. One thing I have noticed is that I have developed an intense physical attraction for black men. I’m not sure why this is, but when I walk into a club or pub, it’s like I have a Polaroid filter on my eyes. I just don’t see men who aren’t black. I’ve decided to do something about my bi-curious side too. Well, in for a penny…
I’ve kind of jumped in at the deep end. I have joined an adult contacts website (ooh aren’t I naughty?) and have placed an advert to meet men, bi women and couples, and have so far met quite a few fellas; some good, most average and a few bad (The first man I met sweated profusely through nerves and gave me a razor as a parting gift, I ask you!) I’ve met a few girls too, but no one whom I’d want to meet again. (Well not on that level anyhow.)  Most of them end up becoming friends and turning to me for advice. Do I look like an agony aunt to you? Seems that most of the women I meet need a good friend not a good shag! Oh well.

There is one man though who has turned my head a little. He intrigues me. His name is Dexter, and we have been chatting online for a while now. Well, I say chatting; it involved a bit of ‘camming’ too. Not that that impressed him.  He seems different to all the rest somehow. In fact, this one is making it hard for me to meet him. Most men can’t wait to meet. This one keeps making excuses. How odd!  Doesn’t he fancy me? He did contact me first after all, so he must do, surely?  Just makes me want him more. I’ve only seen his picture on IM; he’s a good looking, West Indian black man, young though. He’s only 25. Oh god, am I doing the ‘toy boy’ thing?  I can’t stand the concept of that.  It seems wrong to objectify a man to a mere sexual object. But I certainly wouldn’t mind fucking him that’s for sure. Why won’t he let me? Oh Dexter, just say you’ll meet me. What is it about this man that is getting to me? There are so many others, what’s wrong with me?  I won’t let him get under my skin, that’s not what I’m here for.
Keep reminding yourself Suzy, keep it light, this is about fun. And fun doesn’t involve feelings.
There are plenty more fish in the sea. Just catch an easier one.

June 11th .10am
Mood: excited
Hey Diary, it’s me again.
For some reason, I couldn’t stop dreaming about Dexter last night, it’s always the ones you can’t have that you want isn’t it? But guess what? We have actually spoken. He called me yesterday evening while I was in the bath and we chatted like we had known each other forever. It turns out his star sign is very compatible with mine and he loves s0ul music too! We had an instant rapport. I didn’t want the conversation to end but I was getting all wrinkly and needed to wash before the water went cold. I need to meet this man! He makes my head tingle (as well as the other bits.)
June 20th
Dexter has been calling me everyday. We chat like long lost soul mates, most times throughout the night.  But he’s still being funny about actually meeting me. I think I’m going to have to push this one…

Sunday June 25th
Well I have just called him and laid down the gauntlet. I challenged him to come and see me. I left him no excuse as the kids are off with their dad and my flat is empty and I’m horny and he’s a man and I’m a woman.
What was there to consider?
It worked. He’s coming!

June 26th 12pm
Mood: smug
Ooh what a night we had. What a lovely man! He came to see me with not one, but two bottles of fruit liqueur, because he didn’t know which one I preferred. How considerate! Well I had been telling him over our chats online that I wouldn’t kiss him because that was too intimate. I must have confused the poor man, because as soon as I saw him I pushed him onto the bed and kissed him for all my life was worth.
It had been a very long time since I had kissed anyone. Don’t think it was particularly good kissing. It was needy, and probably a bit rough. Don’t want him thinking I have feelings for him, do I? Probably just as well that it was rough. I don’t want to appear vulnerable. Well, we didn’t actually have full sex. We played around a bit,  I gave him head and kissed a lot, but the main thing was the conversation. Oh that man makes me feel alive again.
He stayed the night. The kids were at their dad’s so I thought why not? Was lovely sleeping cuddled up next to him, it’s been a long time since I had company all through the night. Do you know what, it just felt right. I have to admit, the falling asleep next to someone and cuddling up and waking up with someone special is something I do miss. Being single can make you feel lonely at times.
This morning we went for a walk in the park and somehow we ended up holding hands. Now that was odd. I don’t do kissing, but I certainly don’t hold hands! But it felt good and seemed right.
We even ignored the glare of a middle-aged black woman who kissed her teeth and shook her head to see us together in the park. What’s wrong with us being an interracial couple? Oh did I just say that? Think that may be wishful thinking on my behalf.
SUZY, WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?! YOU DON’T DO RELATIONSHIPS REMEMBER?
When we came home from the park, we chatted some more. (I could talk to this man and never run out of things to say.) Then he said he had to go.
I felt my heart sink. I followed him out on to the landing and just couldn’t help myself. I grabbed him and kissed him again, unzipped his fly and gave him head right there on the landing. Without any words being spoken, we went back into my apartment and had the most amazing sex.
Something odd happened. As he was riding me, I felt my awareness heighten, my world darken and a wave of bliss overtake me. It was like I could feel what he was feeling and he could feel my feelings too. It was at once scary and exhilarating, blissful and intoxicating. Then I realised it was also incredibly intimate.
NO INTIMACY ALLOWED! TERMINATE AT ONCE!
Brakes were applied. The feeling fled as quickly as it had washed over me. I cannot afford to open myself up to anyone yet; not even someone like Dexter.

June 30th
I can’t stop talking to Dexter. We call each other and talk about so many things. There’s something about this man’s openness and non-judgemental attitude that allows me to open my heart. I’m not sure how he feels about that (I hope he feels some way about it) and yes, I am seeing other men-quite a few actually. None of them compare with Dexter, but because I can’t allow myself feelings (I’m so scared of being hurt again) I find myself throwing stories of these encounters in Dexter’s face, all in the name of honesty. If I’m brutally honest I suppose I’m looking for a reaction. I definitely feel a bit weird when he tells me stuff about the other girls he sees. Par for the course, I suppose. Actually ‘a bit weird’ is an understatement, but I’m not allowed to feel anyway about it, because we aren’t a couple; I suppose we are what you call ‘fuck buddies’ or ‘friends with benefits’. Unfortunately my head hasn’t managed to communicate this to my guts, as I can’t deny they wrench and twist and turn every time he talks about other girls. Even the mere mention of a text received gets my blood boiling.
I feel so let down by my emotions; they keep ambushing me. I try to keep it hidden, but I know Dexter’s seen the mask slip a few times. There isn’t a day goes by when we don’t talk long into the wee small hours though. The dawn chorus alerts us to the fact that the night has slipped us by.
Am I wrong to hope there could be something more to this? Am I being greedy or worse; am I deluded?
July 2nd
I’m really afraid.
I find myself reaching for my little black book of telephone numbers when I’m feeling down; either that or going online and finding new willing men to keep me company. I can’t expect Dexter to be there all the time. (Oh I wish!) That’s too much to ask of a friend with benefits. I am so needy though. Just making that call or planning a meet seems to be the fix that I crave, because quite frankly the sexual event that follows usually is unremarkable and leaves me feeling even more empty and alone.
I’m scared. I think I may be a nymphomaniac.

July 25th
Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why did I do that?
Just came back from another meet.  I can’t fault the man really. Sex was good, he treated me well, but I just feel rubbish again.
To be honest, I’d have done anything to be with Dexter. But he was with that other woman. Bitch.
July 26th
Aaarrgh! I’m so fed up of men telling me that I’m lucky!
Whenever I go online to chat to potential meets, I can’t help bringing up the fact that I feel I have a problem with sex, even though I’m aware that this may result in my appearing to be vulnerable. I have to admit to you diary, this behaviour feels compulsive. It’s not fun; I’m not in control. I so thought a man would understand me when I tell him that a sex addiction isn’t nice. But they all seem to think that it’s all gravy. No one is listening to me when I say I feel numb. I can’t really tell Dexter about this, I don’t want to scare him away.

August 20th

Mood : Overwhelmed /despairing
Well apologies, diary for being so scarce these last few weeks. I’ve been in complete turmoil and just didn’t want to write. As you know, I’ve been seeing other men, trying to get this Dexter man out of my head. Trouble is, no one comes close. We still chat to each other almost incessantly, and have been seeing quite a bit of each other. But he’s not looking for a relationship and nor am I (let’s face it, who would want me?) So he sees other women (ouch that hurts) and I see other men. Trouble is, I am just going through the motions. I don’t want to see them. I want to see him. But I don’t want to tell Dexter that. He’s not going to want to hear that, surely? But I yearn for him it hurts so badly.
I think I have failed on my journey to have emotionless sex.
Diary please put your fingers in your ears. I don’t want you to hear this next bit.
I have feelings for Dexter, deep, deep feelings. I think he is the ‘one’ But how can I even begin to expect him to feel the same? After all he is seven years younger than me, and from a different culture. He’s told me he doesn’t want a relationship many times. But we can’t stop talking to each other. Isn’t that what a relationship is? Are we both in denial? This feels like love to me. I feel like I am going crazy. I will have to confront him soon otherwise I think my head and heart will explode. At times I feel angry and resentful towards him .How dare he break down my protective walls that were guarding me and keeping me safe? But then I realise this man has been nothing short of wonderful towards me. How could I be so horrid? They were my issues clearly. I wrote a poem. Well it just sort of fell out of me. Don’t laugh. Be kind.
Strong
As soon as I’m strong
I’ll be moving on
As soon as I’m strong
I’ll be gone.
Thought I was tough, ‘cause I was hard and strong
Could do the dirty like a man,
Chew ‘em up, spit ‘em out, and move along
But I was wrong
To stop the hurt I built stone walls, built them high
‘Cause my heart was bleeding bad, had to stop the flow
Tell my heart not to cry, I’ll get by
I lived a lie
Cause these walls though high and strong
Blocked out all feeling that came along
Not just the pain, not just the sorrow
But all the love I may find tomorrow

My heart the Sleeping Beauty castle
My soul the dormant life within
My pain and fear the thicket of thorns
Won’t let anybody in
My confidence, Prince Charming
He will heal me with his kiss
Cut down the thorns with courageous sword
To let in the love I’ve missed.
So be careful what you say to me
And be very sure how you feel
‘Cause I won’t be here forever
Once my heart’s had time to heal.

Well it’s not Wordsworth, but I was proud of it.
I wonder if he’ll notice the vague threat at the end?
Will he care?
Oh I do hope so.

September 4th
Mood: apprehensive/ tentative
I’ve been considering suggesting going to a swinging club to Dexter. I’ve had the membership card sitting around for a while for this couples only club that I have been to a few times in the past. It will be strange for me to take someone there whom I really care about (okay, love). The only other times I had been there, was with men I really didn’t mind handing over (does that sound horrid?)
One particular woman (whom I would call Curly Haired Woman) would look forward to my coming to the club because she knew she could rely on me to bring a black man to the party. There aren’t too many black men that go to swingers clubs. Good job I got my kicks from being an exhibitionist, because quite frankly, it wasn’t really rich pickings on the men front. The women weren’t bad on the whole, but the men … well, let’s just say it was fitting that they sold Viagra at the door.

September 8th
Mood: blah
I have spoken to Dex about the club. He’s not as keen as I thought he’d be. I cast my memory back to the first time I took the plunge to go and have to admit that I was shitting myself too. I think he may eventually come round to the idea.

September 14th
Mood: apprehensive
He’s agreed to go. It’s funny, now he’s agreed, all I can think about are all the bad experiences I’ve had there in the past. I’m nervous that now I have such a vested interest in this man that I could blow it all by introducing him to something that is, after all, completely unnecessary and potentially dangerous to a burgeoning relationship. Is this wishful thinking? Am I crazy to want him to go to a swinging club with me? I have to ask myself about my motivations here? I think I have a need for him to see me at my worst, and by that I mean that I want him to see me at the most freaky that I have been. I think it is a test, for him and for me. If he sees me that way and accepts it, then that will make me feel safe? I’m not sure. I don’t even know if my wild, attention seeking behaviour at those clubs in the past was even an indication of the real me? Maybe it was symptomatic of how I was feeling at the time? Who knows?

I can’t stop thinking about one time when I was at the club with my regular escort at the time, and I was in a huddle, playing with a very attractive blonde, stripper-type woman. She seemed to be enjoying my advances and was encouraging it by being very vocal and moaning very loudly, perhaps a little too loudly, in retrospect. Four or five men surrounded the both of us, all of them were masturbating as they watched this bisexual female display and occasionally voiced their approval of the spectacle. She kissed me. It was very rough. I didn’t mind that too much. I could understand passion. She kept on laughing in between kisses and gropes. I found that a bit unnerving. There was something not quite right about this woman. She pulled my bra to one side as her mouth encircled my nipple. She licked and nuzzled, I relaxed into the embrace and then suddenly, a sharp pain pierced my languidness.
I screamed.
Instinctively my hand came up to slap away the source of the pain and it connected with her face. The bitch had bitten me! She laughed maniacally and walked away.
I stuffed my breasts back into the safety of my bra, buttoned up my white cotton shirt and ran to the bathroom. As soon as I reached the mirror, I burst into tears as I saw a growing ooze of blood staining my shirt as I bled from my nipple .I got my coat, collected my escort for the night and went straight home.
It had been a long time since I had felt that vulnerable.
But I still went back the next time. I just made sure I avoided playing with crazy blonde vampires in future.
Please don’t let anything like that happen when I go with Dexter. I’d feel sorry for anyone who dared to try and inflict pain on me if Dexter was there!

September 15th
Mood: pensive

I’m still not sure about this swinging club thing. I’ve been thinking back at the past experiences I’ve had there. I’ve never been with someone I had true feelings for. I suppose that’s the nature of true swinging. Trouble is, because I am a ‘squirter’, I get an awful lot of attention once the word gets around. And I thrive on attention. You might think that’s not a problem. The concept of performing for others arouses me, but that’s just the problem. If I go with Dexter, how would he feel about me performing? I don’t think he’d take too kindly to it. In fact, I know he wouldn’t. We’ve done too much work together on me sorting out my ‘pleasing’ issues that I know that he’d see my performing as regressive. He knows about my past. He could not justify supporting me or joining me in any venture that would encourage me to fall back into old damaging patterns of behaviour. I have a gut instinct that I will revert back to the comfort zone of exhibitionism once I enter that familiar place and face the seduction of people’s expectations. The urge to please others in that environment is so overwhelming. I’m not sure I will know how to behave if I consciously restrict it. Have I ever REALLY been myself at that place? I think to be honest I have always protected myself by going there as an alter ego.

The orgasms I have when ‘performing’ for others in that environment are always muted. They never feel like real ones. I always feel strangely disconnected from them, like that is the goal that every one wants me to reach because of the visible gratification of the ‘squirt’. This female ejaculation thing can be a bit of an albatross around my neck. I wish all women did it. I wish I wasn’t singled out so much and treated like a sideshow freak. But at the same time, I have to admit that it does gratify my ego. The more I think about this, the more it seems to me that I don’t feel real feelings in that situation, because I am not in touch with the real me. It’s like I shut down the real Suzy and put on the mask of Suzy Squirt, the exhibitionist swinger as soon as I enter the doors of the club. I must admit, I feel really anxious about this, but I won’t know how things will be until I go.
Well, it won’t be long till I find out. The big event is tomorrow night.

September 17th
Mood: Relieved
We went, we came, (excuse the pun)and we survived. Thank God. Now maybe that’s over, I can stop holding my breath and worrying so much. Dexter suffered a little from ‘newbie’ syndrome. It’s very difficult to get an erection on cue in a swingers club. Dexter thinks too much. He did manage it later on as the place was emptying out, and he fucked me nicely from behind. And guess what? I felt it! The orgasm was full and real and intense. Maybe I can be me when I’m with Dexter? Maybe the alter ego can be left outside the club in future? I don’t need her any more.
Anyhow, the best part of the night by far was getting home. We were both so fired up. I knew he was going to fuck the life out of me when we got back, and he did! I left puddles on the stairs, on the landing and again in bed. Ooh that alone was worth going to the club for!
Roll on next month and next adventure!



{July 29, 2011}   Hello world, are you there?

This is a true story, only the names and places have been changed to spare blushes and protect identities.

This blog was started off as a personal journal, a means of self-reflection for my own sanity. Then I met a wonderful man and realised that the story we had between us was bigger than the both of us. Partly self-reflective and partly story telling, we share our intimate thoughts with you in order for you to grasp the bigger story written in these posts.

Dedicated to those young people on the brink of adulthood, especially those young people who have been through tough times/ abuse and are seeking empathy and trying to make sense of it all. This story is for all adults who tire of empty, cheap thrills, who are brave enough to start to search within rather than further afield. This is dedicated to the cyber generation who misguidedly seek real emotion and friendship in ‘Cyberland.’ This goes out to all you modern ladies who feel cheated being the ‘friend with benefits’; there is a way forward.
Dedicated to any of you have loved and lost and never thought you would dare to take that risk again. This story is for you.

This is, most of all, a contemporary love story. But don’t expect any roses or candlelit dinners…

And have I mentioned swinging? There may be a bit of that too.
So snuggle down in a nice comfortable chair, kick off your prude shoes, open your mind and heart and indulge.



et cetera