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{September 12, 2011}   Suzy’s Seventh Diary Entry: The Last Train

Lipstick used to make a symbolic kiss.

Image via Wikipedia

Thank Heaven for the Last Train

So, here we are again Diary; another day, another meet. And to think we were just about to give up on meeting couples altogether. It’s always like that though, just when we decide to knock it all on the head, not just one person, but also often a whole host of people in a flurry of interest, message us. Nothing much comes of it usually, but this time we did actually get to meet.
They sent us a lovely message, acknowledging that they were probably a bit outside our age range, and understanding that we were a soft swap couple and they had no intention of pushing us outside our boundaries. Paul and Sally was a couple in their late forties. She was apparently bisexual and attractive for her years. He was a genuinely nice man, although not the sort to make me think of sex. He made me think of my daddy, even though he wasn’t that much older than me.

My daddy… I fell in love with my daddy when he left after my mother divorced him. During my late teens I shamefully realised that I fantasised about him and kept a picture of him on his wedding day in full Teddy Boy style quiff and drainpipe suit. I used to marvel over his resemblance to James Dean and thought how handsome a couple my mum and dad made on their wedding day.
I was to be reunited with my daddy many years later. He had missed my adolescence, and when he saw me, I had transformed from a gawky pre teen into a breastfeeding mother of one, who bore a striking resemblance to his ex wife. Daddy used to hit the bottle quite a bit. It was one night when he had been drinking steadily while I was visiting him with his granddaughter, that he called me over to his side. “Let Daddy give you a massage” he said.

Paul and Sally had been together for four years and were committed to each other. I chatted to Paul on msn, and established that he was very comfortable with watching me play with Sally. In fact he had never full swapped before, but Sally had once. She was a psychotherapist, which came as some relief to me, as surely she would be relatively sane and aware of the pitfalls of playing in the polyamorous arena. I was so tired of encountering mentally unstable women in the swinging scene, so far, so good.
In our chats, Paul asked me if I was comfortable kissing. It seemed important to him. I replied that I always kissed the woman. That was very much a part of the bi experience for me. Kissing another man, on the other hand, was not so easy to guarantee. I told him that that depended entirely on chemistry and my mood at the time. I didn’t entirely rule it out, which I later grew to regret.
We set a date to meet. We had to travel outside London to meet them. We noted the time of the last train home, popped my rubber knicker strap–on in my handbag and set off.
Well the evening was pleasant enough. We chatted freely with them in a quiet bar in town and they invited us back to Paul’s home to take things further. I had made a conscious decision I was not going to drink, as I wanted to stay in full control of my emotions this time. A very wise decision as it turned out.
Small talk turned into an invitation upstairs to play. After all, we were on a tight schedule and only had a few hours to play before the last train.
We all trooped into a small neat bedroom upstairs and we all somewhat awkwardly disrobed. It felt odd and quite artificial doing that. Almost as if we were some kind of sacrificial lamb… gosh no that sounds too dramatic! Anyhow, I started off (as usual) by kissing Sally. She wasn’t very responsive. Oh no, not one of those lizard kisses again…Hmm? Was she really bi? Or did she just not fancy me? I really wasn’t getting much reciprocation from this lady. She seemed to cheer up a bit when Dexter came near. I’m not surprised really. He’s quite a sexy beast. But still. It really wasn’t the idea for me to just be there to loan out my man to some other woman. I had no intention of swapping my Dexter for her man. That was not a fair trade!

I decided to up the ante and see if the lack of response was just a false start.
I went down there. (Grey pubic hair, oh dear. Keep going, keep going.) Oh dear, seemed that this lady didn’t wash before she planned to meet. The feast I was about to undertake was going to be a pungent one. I’m no fussy eater, unlike Dexter, so I stoically lapped on. The response really was not forth coming. I knew my technique wasn’t the problem. I had been validated enough in the past. Then Dexter joined me. I saw him flinch and pull a bit of a face as he started. Lucky for him I had already had the lion’s share of pungency. We continued to kiss and lap between her thighs and she began to respond. Paul came over and touched me. It didn’t feel great, but I thought I better not show my feelings. I didn’t want to hurt his. I should’ve listened to my inner voice then, in retrospect. Then what I didn’t want to happen, happened. We split up into two male/female couples. We had swapped.

Nooooooooooooooooooo!
Sally seemed to be really enjoying Dexter’s attention. She was diving in for kiss after kiss and was enjoying his manual skills. Paul had his hands inside me. He was trembling, face flustered, breathing shallowly and rapidly as he descended for the kiss. I shut my eyes tight.

Daddy sat behind me hands on my shoulders. I felt his firm fingers kneading and circling my tense muscles. This felt wrong. What was the matter? It was just a massage after all. Stop being silly,Suzy. Then I realised what the problem was. The sound of the television faded into the background as I focussed on the source of my anxiety. His breathing; it was odd. He was trembling. He was sounding like a man aroused! His touch wasn’t right. This wasn’t right. I got up and ran to the bathroom.

I tried to shut out the memories of Daddy and the paedophile trembling between my thighs but to no avail. It wouldn’t go away. Something had to stop. I looked across at Dexter willing him to look at me and see my obvious discomfort. Sally was keeping him far too busy, as she sucked greedily at his cock. I battled with my discomfort versus my manners. I hadn’t said that I wouldn’t do this, so how could I stop it without appearing rude?

STOP!

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at me. I made light of it.

“If you are going to do what you are doing Paul, you better get a towel before its too late!”
(Female ejaculation to the rescue; who’d have thought it?) Despite what most people imagine, it is very possible for me to ejaculate without feeling anything at all. I don’t know if that is due to abuse issues, but it can be used as a performance tool. Give the audience what they are baying for…

So there I was, 16 and finding myself making the trip to Bob’s house. Bob was a man I had met at the local bar. I looked much older than my years, could easily get in. He wasn’t terribly handsome, stocky, with a beard. He did have eyes that glinted, cold, blue eyes that drew me in.  Bob and I had an arrangement. We would party with his best mate who lived next door. They were both married. That was evident from his house, the frilly dressing gown hanging behind the door, the make up in the bathroom cabinet. So Bob, and his friend (can’t remember his name, just remember he was blonde.) and I would get on down. Do the dirty. Sometimes another man would come and sit and watch. Something didn’t feel right about him. I knew I didn’t want him touching me. He gave me the shivers. We met quite often. Once I felt unsafe and hid in the bedroom while they discussed who was going to do what to me. All I could think was I needed to get home because my mum will kill me if I don’t get home. I think I ended up offering special favours in order to procure my lift home. I think there were a few tears involved too.  
One evening we were going to ring the changes. They were going to take me somewhere. We got in the car and Bob and mate whispered conspiratorially in the front. We arrived at an apartment block. We climbed the stair,knocked on the door. The door swung open and we walked inside. There in front of me was the fattest man I had ever seen. I couldn’t get the image of Bluto from Popeye out of my head. The mixture of fear and surprise and the surreal image before me made me giggle.
“Masturbate!”
Bob and mate barked out their orders.
So I did. Thank goodness it doesn’t show when a girl isn’t aroused like it does on a bloke. I acted and performed like an Oscar winning When Harry Met Sally clone.
Good performance equalled safe trip home.
I got my ride home.
That was my last visit to Bob’s house.
 A few weeks later, the man who used to watch me, who gave me the shivers, beat me up at the pub where I met Bob. No one helped. He said he hated me because I didn’t want him. I hated him too.

So doubled over towel in place, we resumed the play.

I cursed myself for not seizing the opportunity to move over to Dexter. Somehow I felt powerless to change the order of things. I duly gave Paul the water feature he was so desperate to see. He leaned over to me and whispered in my ear, “Is it alright?”
What could I say? If I were to tell the truth his feelings would seriously have been hurt. So I pursed up my mouth and nodded my head in affirmation and hoped for quick release.

Darling Dexter saw what was going on. He introduced the idea of my strap on into the gathering. I could see that Sally was disappointed. She was more than happy with Dexter, a rubber dick could hardly compare. Black rubber dick to the rescue, I donned my manly knickers and set to work.
Needless to say, it didn’t go well. She clearly wasn’t enjoying being humped by a woman wearing a rubber dick. She was dry as a bone down there and complained of discomfort. Despite Dexter’s tireless effort to gee me on, the strap on was abandoned. The time had conveniently ticked on, and it was time to leave for the station to catch our last train. We all hurriedly dressed and left for the station. We pondered why we had been dropped off at the station a good twenty minutes before the train was due in.

Perhaps she couldn’t take that rubber dick any more.

Dexter and I both agreed, that was an experience not to be repeated.

They were lovely people, but definitely not our sort of bedfellows.

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laurahere333 says:

This story had me on the edge of my seat. At 7AM! It’s hard enough to find the right chemistry with one person, let alone another couple. Smart sexys like you and Dexter are the holy grail though. This made me think twice about my threesome in Paris. I’m reading, and you’re linked. Nice to meet you.



REBECCA DAWN says:

yikes, that did not sound like a pleasant or an enjoyable experience! Hopefully you and Dexter can find the right couple! 🙂



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