insidesuzyssoul












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.




The Wake-up Call

Mood : devastated, empty

 

Dear diary ,
Oh my god oh my god oh my god!
Tonight was the worst night of my life! We just got back from the swinging club and I think that maybe it’s over between Dexter and me. I can’t stand it, I don’t understand.
What did I do?
All I know is that I’ve just spent an hour standing next to Dexter in silence waiting for a bus, feeling like the loneliest person on the planet. Now he’s lying next to me, not saying a word as I write this.
I never thought I’d find myself in this situation with Dexter. We can usually talk about anything. But right now, it looks like I’m the last person he wants to talk to, and quite frankly, I’m amazed that he’s still here at all. I’m sitting here barely able to see the screen as I type this on my laptop; the tears are running down my face.

Maybe if I tell you what happened tonight, I may be able to see more clearly where things went wrong for me. I sure hope so; I so want this relationship to work and would do anything to keep it. At the moment it feels like it’s hanging on by a thread.

Okay, this is what happened.
We had invited two other couples along to the club, a sexy experienced black couple who were travelling down quite a distance to meet us, and another interracial age gap couple similar to us. I had been chatting to the woman from the latter couple (Dee) for quite a while online and we had developed quite a rapport. I was looking forward to meeting her in the flesh. It had taken some time to gain her trust as her man without her knowledge made the initial contact. He had chatted to me online and his conversation had quickly turned sexual. She had felt quite threatened by this, so I had spent time reassuring her that I was not going to try and steal her man, quite the opposite, I was more interested in her. Her self-esteem wasn’t great, despite being a very attractive woman and I had spent quite a few hours reassuring her through online conversations that both Dexter and I found her attractive.
We arrived at the club, which was busier than usual. I went to the ladies room to change into my rubber dress for the night. It was hard to get on, but eventually I did it.
I chatted to Dangermouse who looked pretty worse for wear. It was early in the night but she had clearly been drinking heavily. She sprayed me with silicone spray so I was all shiny while she related her story of how she hated her own body since she had been taking steroids as part of her medication for her illness. She had been seriously ill, close to death in fact, and I think that this had impacted emotionally on her very hard. It would explain her reckless, self-destructive behaviour that we would witness later on. I sauntered out of the ladies’ and basked in the attention that I received. Oh I felt good.

We spotted Dee and Jerome (Jerome looked so young! There was no attraction for me there at all!)  we tried to make them feel at home. That was hard as they were both clearly terrified. Dexter chatted away with them and did a sterling job of making them feel at home as much as possible. I was ever conscious that the other couple were due to arrive and I went outside to welcome them in. The woman was very sexy indeed. I hadn’t had the opportunity to chat to her; all the initial contact was made by her man. I hoped she found me as attractive as I found her. I didn’t really feel any way towards her man. He was a nice enough man, but didn’t make me feel like she made me feel.
My attention was seriously divided that night. So I ended up chatting to Steve and Beverly, the black couple and thought that Dexter would look after Jerome and Dee and come and join the conversation with Steve, Bev and myself when he was ready to do so. I ended up kissing Beverly and going down on her; it seemed the natural thing to do. I wondered where Dexter was. I would have loved for him to join in with me. I felt a pair of hands creep towards me. I panicked…who’s hands were they? I looked down and realised they were Steve’s. Although I didn’t really want his involvement, I thought it would have been rude of me to take them away, so I allowed him to touch me, and I returned my attention to the very gorgeous creature in front of me. I felt another pair of hands touching me from behind as I was kissing Beverly, so I ducked down to kiss elsewhere, avoiding the touch from behind. I really didn’t want this to turn into a free for all, ideally I would have been happy to just play with Beverly and Dexter.
Dexter called me to look at an attractive woman who was being fucked by some geeky dude. She was a squirter just like me. I was a little confused at the significance of this interruption. I had seen that scenario at swinging clubs a hundred times over.
He walked off.
I stopped playing with Bev and wondered where he had gone. Why was he acting so strangely? Oh well, I was here to enjoy myself and I wasn’t going to spend my time walking around looking for him. I didn’t want to restrict Dexter’s movements in the club; that would have made me look really possessive. He would find me if he needed me, I figured.

My friend Queen of Sheba introduced me to a friend of hers. He clearly wanted to play. I think she must’ve said something about my squirting because he seemed to be on a mission.  I didn’t really want to, but I had nothing else to do and I figured that if I let him touch me and made no attempt at reciprocating that would be okay. If I distanced myself from what was happening to me that would remove my burden of guilt. It was only his fingers, what was the big deal?

In previous visits to this same club before I had met Dexter, I had let countless anonymous people touch me. The strange thing was though, that although the idea was appealing, the reality of it was strangely dull. I felt removed, distanced, as if I was watching someone else being the focus of attention. I could hear myself moan and groan but couldn’t equate that with any feelings of bliss. In fact feeling anything would have been good, the best I could feel was numb.  I made noise to keep myself from being involved. I was performing, and the very point of performing is to please others. The louder I groaned, the quicker I hoped the finale of the performance would arrive.

And so I found myself in a familiar environment, in a familiar position, moaning and groaning to speed up the process. Every now and then I would bear down to achieve the much anticipated (and I think over-rated) gush. I wasn’t coming. This was no proof of orgasm.  I felt nothing. This was faking it on a dramatic level. If he thought he was doing a good job, he would end it sooner, surely? I felt uncomfortable performing. I knew deep down that it couldn’t be a healthy thing to do but I was stuck in a groove, re-enacting a familiar part in a familiar play on a familiar stage. It seemed to go on forever and I got increasingly loud as I looked towards a speedy conclusion. I looked up and saw Dexter dancing with the lady friend of the dude who had his hand inside me. At least he was having fun, I thought.
Lucky him.
Eventually the man withdrew his hand and I was free to go: job done. I had provided the prerequisite puddle on the floor to prove what a fabulous job he had done on me. If only he knew.

I found it hard to get through to Dexter. Half of the time was spent wandering around trying to find him.

In my search I couldn’t avoid noticing Dangermouse jumping onto countless naked dicks and riding away bareback. Did that woman have a death wish? And why did the men let her do that? Why did her husband let her do that too? I had really presumed that in a swinging club full of open minded adults, safe sex would have been a given. Clearly it’s better and safer not to presume.

I felt really foolish in front of our guests as they witnessed me wandering around looking for Dexter. My irritation at him grew as the night wore on. He wasn’t behaving like the Dexter I knew. He had never been like this before.  I eventually found him sitting with the interracial couple we had invited along. His face looked like thunder. I knew that he didn’t want to be there. I went to sit with him to talk to him. I asked what was wrong but he just said he was bored. I knew that was rubbish. We could sit doing nothing at home with each other and still not be bored so why should he be bored in this stimulating environment? No, I knew he was masking his true feelings, and that unwillingness to communicate honestly with me was really pissing me off. I felt totally ineffectual at dealing with the situation. If he wasn’t honest with me about the real reasons behind his mood, how could I help resolve it?
I needed the bathroom. Unthinkingly, I gave my tiny handbag to Dexter as I really had no need for it in the ladies’, and started to walk through the crowd on the dance floor towards the ladies toilet. A hand reached out and grabbed me; it belonged to the co-owner of the club who turned out to be another friend (and ex fuck-buddy) of Sheba.

“Go on, dance with me!” he demanded.
Although I needed to urinate, I thought I could hang on for the length of the average record. I didn’t see the harm in dancing. How could anyone take offence to a dance? So I danced. He didn’t try and get too close, I didn’t see the harm. My rubber skirt rode up, I was aware of not wanting to expose too much flesh in this situation, so I pulled it down sharply. Oh no! It tore. A whole handful of the skirt came off in my hand exposing a great big area of my bottom Oh dear that was most unfortunate and embarrassing. My dancing partner pointed out to me that Dexter wasn’t looking too happy. That just made me mad. How unreasonable was Dexter being? I was only dancing. I hadn’t restricted his movements in the club, and jealousy was not something I thought belonged in a swingers club. The previous irritation I had been feeling for Dexter and frustration of not knowing why he was so grumpy seemed to boil up inside of me.
“Oh its ok, that’s his issues” I said.
I could understand if he was mad with me for doing something other than dancing it just seemed so unreasonable for him to be sulking right now .The dude who had played with me before came over and started to dance behind me.
That’s when I saw Dexter get really mad, he got up and grabbed me by the arm and marched me upstairs to talk. He was clearly angry to a degree to which I’d never before witnessed. Upstairs was locked so we never did get to the bottom of the problem, and the night ended up both of us standing in silence waiting for our night bus home. And here I am crying and wondering where it all went wrong….

Thursday evening

Hello diary. I feel a bit better now.
Things are clearer.
God, I love this man of mine. I’m feeling pretty fragile, as I know now just how close I was to losing him on Tuesday night.

Dexter invited me out to lunch at our local gastro pub. We hadn’t really managed to talk about that night’s goings on, so I was pretty nervous about what he was going to say to me. He sat down and opened his heart to me. Told me just how he felt. I had had no idea that he had been feeling like I was ignoring him!  That was odd to hear because I had felt almost the same.
I thought he would rather be with other people that night and I didn’t want to ‘cramp his style’ by hanging off of him. After all it was a swingers club; we were there to interact with others so I confused his hurt / rejected /ignored signals for aloofness.
It did confuse me, hence my building anger. It seems like I had behaved like an idiot without realising it. If only I had known that my lovely man wanted my interaction and attention! And to find out that those were his hands that I had ducked out of that time. No wonder he had felt so rejected. Baby, I didn’t know!

As he sat there and poured out all the hurt and anger that he had felt that night, I was overwhelmed with so many mixed emotions. I was scared that I could bring such vitriol and violence out of my man. I was touched that he cared enough about me to be so hurt by my seeming rejection of him. Most of all, I was grateful that he was still there, in front of me trying to sort this situation out. That emotional investment touched me. I had never met any other man who was prepared to look past my complexities and try and understand my troubled, confused behaviour in such a challenging situation. It all got a bit much for me as his obvious hurt and anger poured out. I fled to the bathroom to have a good cry on my own. He didn’t like to see me cry so I needed to get away to let the tears flow unrestricted. I just let it all pour out of me. I was so sorry that my lack of sensitivity at that club almost cost me the best relationship I have ever had. I was frustrated that I couldn’t seem to explain my motivation for behaving the way I did without looking like a fool. Why couldn’t I behave like other women? What was the problem with me? I knew the abuse I had gone through in the past held the key, but I had no idea of how to use it to unlock the padlock of confusion.

I just let the tears fall until I had none left. I knew I looked a mess but I felt safe in the knowledge that my man would look past that, so I bravely ventured back into the pub, crumpled tissues in hand, secretly praying that it wasn’t too packed with customers. Turned out it didn’t matter. All I saw was my man sitting there. He filled my whole world that day. When he looked at my swollen red face, with a look that only a man who deeply cared could muster, I knew we would get through this. I knew he understood that I would never knowingly go out to hurt him. Sometimes it’s good to show pain and sorrow. My dejected blotchy face was worth more than a hundred sorrys. We held hands across the table. I caught my breath in that pathetic way that a baby does after it has been sobbing for a while and my bottom lip quivered.

No more swinging clubs.
Something inside me told me they weren’t good for either of us. I clearly couldn’t handle being in that situation with a man that I loved. I couldn’t switch off knee jerk behaviour that stemmed directly from hardwiring from my difficult past. I couldn’t adapt. Dexter had often suggested that maybe the scene was contributing to my abuse issues and making them worse and he didn’t want to be responsible for that. I had always refuted that claim. I stubbornly maintained that I could stay on top of the situation and behave in an appropriate manner in a swinging club situation. Tuesday night had shown me just how wrong I could be. Dexter was right. I could not behave appropriately and with awareness in those situations. Oh it’s so hard to admit to being damaged. Someone please fix me.

I was young, barely 16, and I was seeing a much older, cooler man who was well loved and respected in our local community. He was an ex surfer, with the prerequisite blonde dry hair, deep tan and pale blue eyes. He ran his own seafood restaurant in the nearby seaside town and was quite the catch. I never quite understood how I had managed to catch such a man; I can’t quite remember how I was introduced to him in the first place. We didn’t date, I didn’t question that. He would just pick me up in his open top sports car and take me back to his very stylish bachelor pad at the nearby marina where we would have sex. He had a yacht moored just outside and the living room windows opened up straight onto the waterfront. This was seductive stuff. I wish I had the knowledge I have now, back then and could have seen that I was nothing more than a sexual object.
In my eyes Ronnie was my boyfriend and I was lured in by his glamorous lifestyle and his pale blue piercing eyes.
I stared up at those eyes as he lay on top of me. We had had sex three times already and now he was starting over again. Not that I was complaining, I loved making him happy. We had barely begun when there was a commotion. A big gang of men, around eight of them, walked into his house seemingly uninvited, hadn’t he locked his front door? They seemed agitated but they clearly knew Ronnie, not that Ronnie seemed pleased to see them. They burst into the bedroom; saw Ronnie and me in bed. One of the men seeing what was going on said,
‘We gonna get ourselves some of that’
I wondered what he meant.
I soon found out.
Ronnie got out of bed and went to go and speak to the men in the living room. Some of the gang leered at me, as I pulled the sheets up around my nakedness. I heard voices being raised and an argument broke out. One of the men ran into the bedroom, ran straight up to the wardrobe, opened it up and took out a suitcase. Ronnie started to shout and jump up and down to try and reach it as the man held it over his head. Ronnie was not tall, his attempts at retrieving the case were futile. Then I heard the man holding the case say:
“I’ll give you the drugs in exchange for the girl.”
The next thing I knew all the men were in the room and it was quite clear that I was some sort of drug trade-off. I froze. I didn’t know Ronnie was a drug dealer, but I suppose it explained the flash bachelor pad and yacht, the restaurant business doesn’t pull in that amount of money when I came to think about it.

Did I scream? No. Did I fight? No. Did I even protest slightly? No. I found myself in a strange state of limbo where I found myself unable to respond as man after man penetrated me and collapsed after climaxing inside me. One face blurred into the next as I stared straight up at their eyes, imploring them silently to stop. I was numb. I didn’t feel any pain or pleasure, just a deep sense of horror and fear and confusion. Why was this happening to me? Why wasn’t Ronnie doing anything to help?
I recognised the next face that loomed over me. I recognised a local man who I knew from around the way, I knew that he was due to be married in the morning. I smiled as he pushed his erect penis into my semen drenched pussy and started to pump away. I was waiting until he was about to come…
At the moment of his orgasm I sank my teeth deep into his neck and drew blood.
‘Go and explain that one to your wife in the morning when she walks down the aisle with you” I whispered.
I didn’t know if he heard me.
He swore.
“Fucking bitch! What you have to go and do that for? Watch out boys, this bitch bites!”
The rest of the men made sure they had their hands firmly over my mouth as they had their fun.
I don’t know how many times they did it. I don’t know how long it lasted.  I don’t know how I got home. I put it to the back of my head in a file labelled “stuff to ignore” and got on with my homework.
I never saw Ronnie again.




Things fall apart   

Here we are again, at the swingers club for the umpteenth time.
It’s a new venue this time, but still with the same old faces.
We’ve invited along two couples that we’ve been chatting to on msn so at least we’ve brought some variety to the mix. We thought this would be the perfect opportunity for all us to meet and maybe even play.

The club we frequent allows non-members to be invited as guests. This was in the hope that they would one day become members and then entice other people to join the club.
The first of our couples to arrive was Steve and Beverly. They were a black couple from the outskirts of London. They were very attractive, not to mention persistent. They had been chasing us for a while and had travelled a fair distance to meet us that night. They were a full swap couple as were we at the time.
The second of our guests, Jerome and Dee, arrived a few minutes afterwards. They were a couple very similar to us actually, also interracial, he black, she white and they also had an age gap like ours. She was mid thirties and he was in his early twenties. They were newbie’s to the Scene and so had little experience.
Jerome and I had quite a bit in common although he wasn’t as mature. He came across as a big child and his baby face didn’t exactly help. Dee was very attractive. I licked my lips at the prospect of playing with her. She was insecure about her size as she had told me earlier on msn. She was a size eighteen but curvy. She pulled the size off well; indeed she was quite the looker.
I knew there was no chance of me playing with her that night,
firstly because of my inability to perform in a crowd but more importantly, the two of them look petrified; much as I did the first time I attended this club. Suzy and I realised that we’d have to get them in private some other time if anything was to happen sexually between the four of us.

Prior to Suzy and me reaching the venue she was all pumped up at the prospect of creating the Negro League all over again in a little corner. She had it all planned out. We would get there nice and early so we could snag the big sofa and keep it for the rest of the night.
Suzy told me that she wasn’t really interested in playing with Steve or Jerome. She just couldn’t wait to get her teeth into Beverly and Dee. I found that statement a bit odd as I was well aware of her past encounters in this club. Why would she not be bothered with Steve and Jerome? After all they weren’t bad looking and were bound to be the only other black men in the club, with the exception of an odd brutha sprinkled here and there around the venue. She acknowledged that she couldn’t just ignore Steve and Jerome but her main focus would be on the ladies.

As the night progressed, a lady who goes by the name, “Queen of Sheba” strolled over.
She and Suzy had been friends on Scene for a few years, although I had warned Suzy many times not to trust her. You’ll find out much later on why my suspicions were proven right, but for the purpose of this story so far, she hadn’t done anything wrong.
She was a large black lady and very popular. Everyone knew her. Suzy introduced her to our guests. She seemed pleased to meet some new faces. It transpired that Queen and Beverly knew each other from school.
I left Queen with Suzy, Steve and Beverly to go look for our other guest couple, as they seemed to have disappeared. I found them in the middle of the dance floor clinging onto each other for dear life. It was evident that the club scene wasn’t for them. I made sure they were okay and reassured them that I’d check on them from time to time.

The Negro League didn’t quite work out that night. The place was crammed full of couples, this night had to be one of the busiest I’d ever seen it. We kept getting separated so the Negro League kind of flopped. Oh how I wished it hadn’t. As I made my way back to the others, I noticed that Suzy and company had somehow drifted to the wall on the other side of the room.
I made my way over. Suzy was chatting with Beverly and Steve. As they appeared deep in conversation, I didn’t just butt in. I was raised with manners and that would have been considered rude behaviour.  A few minutes had passed. I noticed that I had yet to be invited into the conversation. Surely this wasn’t intentional?
I’m no cry baby, so I brushed it off.
A good ten minutes ticked by and I was still being ignored. Steve and Beverly didn’t know me so that was no big deal, but for Suzy to ignore me was something else entirely.  At this point, feeling like I had no other option, I just ignored my upbringing and jumped into the conversation.
Funny thing was, when I did that they suddenly didn’t have anything to say
“Fine!” I thought.
We were a couple, Suzy and I, not fuck buddies. Why was I being treated like one?
As I pulled myself out of the conversation, the friendly banter and laughter began again, bloody typical!
I didn’t want to cause a scene and embarrass Suzy by confronting her about her bad manners. Had I done so it would have resulted in an argument and given the circumstances, would not have been the right place or time. At this point I thought by dropping a light statement into the mix, they may choose to engage me in their conversation.
Earlier on I had noticed a scrawny looking man ogling an absolute stunner. I remember thinking to myself “Dream on bruv!”
To my amazement, as I turned to my left, there he was banging the very same stunner from behind as her husband watched on.
I turned to my right and tugged on Suzy’s top.
“Look babe!” I said.
Suzy took one look at the two banging away then looked back at me. Her look said everything: You interrupted my conversation for this?! She quickly turned back to Steve and Beverly and continued her conversation.
Beverly gave me a nervous look as she herself could now see what was going on. At that point my emotions were at boiling point. I felt so disrespected by Suzy. How dare she punk me, especially in front of our guests? However, despite simmering with inner rage, I gave her the benefit of the doubt and walked away.
Ladies, if you think I was over reacting, consider this: if the tables had been turned and I had been ignoring Suzy in the same manner, she probably would’ve slapped me and walked out in a huff. At this point in our relationship, I couldn’t receive as much as an innocent text message from another woman without her sulking for a good while and provoking an argument. Was I being unreasonable here or overreacting? I think not.

I didn’t know what to do with myself. I went to look for Jerome and Dee. When I found them they looked like they’d made themselves pretty comfortable already as Dee was giving Jerome head on one of the couches. They clearly didn’t need assistance so what was I to do now?
I returned to Suzy, and Steve and Beverly.
As I returned the inevitable was happening. Suzy’s tongue was down Beverly’s throat and Steve who was standing behind Beverly was reaching around to fondle Suzy’s lower regions. This was a swingers club after all. I went to join in but as I did, I could feel I wasn’t welcome.
On feeling my hands on her breasts, Suzy quickly squatted so she could go down on Beverly, making herself inaccessible for me.
Beverly could see the look of resentment on my face. She presumed it was directed at her for some reason, oh how wrong she was.
At this point, the simmering emotions I had held in earlier bubbled over. I nearly lost it. I saw red.  In my mind’s eye, I could see myself smashing Suzy’s head against the wall, the anger I felt was so strong.
Despite my many physical altercations of the past, I wasn’t one to hit a lady; it wasn’t part of my character. I was raised well by my parents and know for a fact they would strongly disapprove of me laying my hands on any woman. Only a coward would act in that manner and I was anything but a coward.

I needed to be alone.
I went upstairs to the empty bar area and just sat there for about twenty minutes until the rage had subsided somewhat, then went back down stairs to see if the situation had changed.
I walked in to see Queen of Sheba introducing a young black couple to Suzy, Beverly and Steve. I didn’t feel as if I’d be welcome after the last incident, so I didn’t walk over to the huddle. Instead I chatted briefly with Danger Mouse and her husband, but I was interrupted as someone rudely dragged me away.
It was the petite black girl from the couple Suzy was chatting to. Her name was Precious. She said she needed to dance with someone and that she thought I’d be the best candidate for the job. I found it odd that she would just choose me from all of the men in the room, especially in such an abrupt manner, but I thought what the hell, it’s just a dance.
Half way through the first track she looked at me and said,
“Look at what my man is doing to your woman!”
I turned around to witness her man’s entire hand thrust deep inside Suzy. Suddenly it all made sense. Precious was nothing more than a mere diversion. These people had underestimated me. If they kept on pushing me like this, the way I was feeling, they’d find out exactly why the thugs from around the way used to call me the “Angel of Death.”
I turned my head away from the offending view and kept on dancing with Precious while Suzy continued to make a scene, wailing like a fucking clown. The noise she was making made my blood boil. How dare she make such a fool of herself! I felt embarrassed to be associated with such a performing monkey.
As she continued to make a spectacle of herself, my thoughts turned to her expectations of getting sex from me later after the club. There was no way I was going to touch her. Her behaviour repulsed me. She may as well make the most of that hand inside her. We usually fucked like crazy when we got home from the club. She could forget that idea tonight.
I tried to distract myself dancing with Precious for about another fifteen minutes, then she suddenly pushed me away like I had a disease and walked over to the other side of the room.
I turned around and sure enough, this idiot’s forearm was still inside my woman.
Now, I’m not that bothered by her playing with other men but don’t do it in way that makes me look like an idiot in the process.
The worst thing anyone can do to me is to embarrass me in public, and Suzy had just managed to do that in spectacular fashion.

I bought myself a drink and slunk back upstairs to my sanctuary to have some privacy.
Twenty minutes later I went back downstairs. It wasn’t good. In fact it had got worse. To my amazement this nigger still had his arm inside Suzy. She was making a scene with all the pathetic noise she was making. Every time she moaned, I cringed.
He loved the fact that she was squirting all over the place. He thought that this proved his ability as a lover. What a fool! If only he knew that a squirter is a squirter, plain and simple. It doesn’t take much to make it happen. In fact, I knew for a fact that Suzy could fake it, make the squirt happen without an orgasm; so much for his skills. But he still stood there looking pleased with himself.

Yet again Beverly gave me a nervous look, she could see I wasn’t impressed but then neither was she.

I stood adjacent to Suzy about ten feet back. She must have known at this point that she had fucked up as she kept her eyes closed, she didn’t want to make eye contact.
I was glad she didn’t catch my glance. At this point in time I wanted no association with this woman. I was disgusted by her vulgar behaviour. She had been blanking me all night but then still allowed a complete stranger to violate her for damn near three quarters of an hour. This was the same woman who claims I’m the only man she’s ever loved. The same woman that claims that I’m the most unique and special man she’s ever met and yet she had the cheek to treat me this way. Actions speak louder than words.
I had never been so disrespected in my whole life, especially by someone that I go out of my way for.
I thought back to her earlier assertions that she only wanted to play with Beverly and Dee. She hadn’t paid Jerome and Dee any attention all evening.  She had clearly changed her mind.  It was clear that the few Negroes sprinkled about the venue would get her full attention, with one notable exception: me.

It seemed Precious’ man had developed a cramp in his arm. He stopped doing what he was doing and went to find something to clear up the mess that Suzy had created on the floor.
I noted that the only other person who looked as smug as he did after that silly freak show was the Queen of Sheba. She looked very pleased with herself.
As well as looking like a fool and disrespecting herself, Suzy had lined herself up as Queen’s number one get rich scheme.

As the black Zorro cleaned up the mess, Suzy eventually plucked up the courage to look at me. She gave me the innocent ‘Oops look at what I’ve done’ look.
I walked away in disgust.

I leant against a wall and sipped at my drink. I thought to myself, how did I get involved with someone like this and how do I make her feel the pain that I feel right now? __
For all those that know me, they would tell you that I’m the most vindictive person on the planet! If you hit me, I’ll hit you back twofold and twice as hard.
All I could think was that I wanted Suzy to feel my pain tenfold. At this point I grew increasingly annoyed with myself.
I so wished that I could get wood like the rest of the guys in the venue. I began to curse myself for not having organised a pack of ED pills. If I had any, I would have overdosed on three pills and fucked every willing pussy in the room twice over. If I died in the process it would have been worth it just to see the hurt on her face. I wanted to hurt her in the same way she had hurt me.
As I stood there cursing myself, she came from behind and kissed my neck. I felt my skin crawl.
‘How dare you kiss me,’ I thought. ‘You only want to know me now that Zorro’s arm has frozen up… FUCK YOU!’
I should have said it out loud. I’m not sure why I didn’t, to be honest.

A few dudes from around the way once told me that they thought I had gone soft because I was letting certain things slide.
I tried to reassure them that that wasn’t the case but after tonight’s events, I began to think that they might have been right.
In the past no man, let alone a woman, could openly disrespect me without there being serious repercussions to deal with afterwards.
Now here I am allowing this woman to get away with damn near murder, just so I can save her the embarrassment of a public cussing. This was her domain so I spared her the indignity of being humiliated in front of her peers.

I walked away from her without saying a word and found a seat.
Suzy stood there frozen; she clearly didn’t know what to do. She was unsure whether she was about to see the legendary temper she had heard so much about.
A little fact all those reading should know; Suzy would always insist she wanted to see me at my worst, for what reason I don’t know.
I always made it very clear I didn’t want to ever revert back to that state of being, that if I went there I would have to pay a steep price as I was no longer a youth.
She didn’t seem to care about my progression or my maturity, on this night she was very close to having her wish granted.
She eventually sat on the arm of the chair in silence. Once she plucked up the courage to speak she asked me a question.
“What’s wrong?”
I could have told her the truth by saying I didn’t want to be associated with a clown, but I thought that should be saved for private. So I lied and said I was bored. She looked disappointed with my response. God knows how she would have reacted had I elected to tell her the truth.

Jerome and Dee were sitting on the couch beside me. Suzy clearly felt uncomfortable around me and asked me to hold her purse while she went to the ladies room.
As I turned to chat with our new friends, I heard Suzy yell out, “Oh no look at my dress!”
A big chunk of her rubber outfit was in her hand.
I assumed that one of the few other black men in the club, who just so happened to be the co-owner of the venue ( and a good friend of Queen of Sheba) had ripped her skirt.
Suzy would later assure me that he hadn’t. She had torn the dress herself attempting to pull it down to cover her modesty.
I turned back to chat again but Jerome had a funny look on his face. He said to me,
“I thought she was going to the ladies room”.
As I turned, to my surprise, yet again she was making a fool of herself, and in turn, me.  She was dancing with the co owner of the club, the fucking cheek of it!
She had asked me to hold her purse like some sort of manservant, so she could dance with the next man!
She must be sick in her head.
She already knew that I was in a mood because she had messed up and now she still had the balls to disrespect me?
We’d see about that.
I was waiting for her to catch my eye, but yet again she didn’t dare.
At this point I lost it. The red mist descended. There was no room for swallowing my pride any more, I needed to act.  I emptied my bottle of alcopop to use as a weapon.
I was going to bust it over his head.
I also had a vision of using it on Suzy, not that I would have actually have carried it out but the vision was satisfying.  She was the one disrespecting me, not him.
If it wasn’t for Jerome and Dee seeing just how mad I was and calming me down I would have been arrested that night for assault, not that I cared as it would have been worth it.

For years I had been trying my best to calm my temper.
To be the so-called bigger man and walk away from confrontation, fat good that does, it just makes you appear to be the weaker person in my eyes.
Where I’m from it doesn’t pay dividends to back down from beef; if people think you’re weak they will attack you.
I thought I had done well up to this point but Suzy was setting me back years with her behaviour. She had pulled me straight back into a situation that had pushed my boundaries and challenged me.
I never looked for trouble, it found me; I just dealt with it abruptly. So much for avoiding scraps.
As I said previously, I’m not one to hit a woman but Suzy was trying her damnedest to be the first.
I composed myself.
It was one thing to lie about going to the ladies room, but to have me hold her bag while she danced with another man? She clearly thought I was her bitch! We’d see who the bitch was when we left there! As my blood was boiling, I tried to convince myself the night couldn’t get any worse.
What a surprise!
The return of Zorro, he saw his opportunity to pick up where he had left off. He and the club co-owner were pressed up either side of Suzy. I’d be damned if I’d allow her to be sandwiched in front of my own eyes after a night like this.
There was only so much a man could take, surely.
I noticed how Suzy didn’t object to being sandwiched right in front of me.
In the past I’d heard horror stories of normally loving couples fighting at swingers clubs. I’d often wondered how they got to that point and why. Now I was finding out first hand.
To think I was about to be humiliated by two chicken eating niggers and a clueless bleach blonde Latino chick with issues… HELL NO! No way would I have let that happen.

The thing that hurt the most was the co-owner actually considered my feelings at one point. He asked her if it was okay for him to be dancing with her as he could see I was upset.
Her response was incredible. I won’t even write it down as it would just infuriate me.

I’d always said to Suzy not to say things she didn’t mean such as “I love you” and “You’re special”. She would always swear on her life that she meant the things that she said.
If that’s how she treated the man she loved, god knows how she would treat an enemy. Before she could anger me any more and embarrass herself further, I dragged her away from the situation.
I felt so angry, I could have killed her.

But I didn’t. Instead I took her upstairs to chat but they had locked the doors. I asked her what the fuck she thought she was playing at?
She had no answer.
Never again would any man or woman disrespect me the way Suzy did that night.
The ride home that night was uncomfortable to say the least.
She was well aware of my anger on the way home not to mention the next day.
I didn’t really vent my anger or concern till a few days later when I invited her to have lunch in a nearby bar.
I didn’t lose my cool. I calmly let her know how I was feeling that night and asked her why she had acted the way she did. I simply said: “What if I had treated you the way you treated me, that night? How would you have felt?”
After considering this for a while, Suzy burst into tears. The realization of what she had done a few nights previously had finally hit her.
I felt bad for making her cry even though I needed to get that shit off my chest. For some reason I had a serious soft spot for this woman. Despite all the drama she had brought into my life she genuinely always had good intentions. She brought out a soft side in me somehow. Even when I was blunt with her it wasn’t with the intention of hurting her feelings, unlike most of the girls who had felt my wrath in the past.
To be honest that’s a lie, I didn’t keep too many girls in my company long enough for them to do anything that would piss me off. Only a handful had the balls to provoke me, boy did they wish they hadn’t once I had dealt with them. My tongue was my weapon and my words were deadly.  I didn’t mince my words, my intention was to rip the shit out of them and that’s exactly what I did. They always seemed to mistake my politeness for weakness, I’m nobody’s fool.
With Suzy it was different.
I never meant to hurt her feelings when I raised my voice; she was too sweet for that.
All I needed to do was to make her aware of wrong doing on her part, and that’s what I did in the bar.
When she returned from the ladies room with her face all red from sobbing I was quick to console her.
She’s one of very few women I’ve ever met that could piss me off but yet bring such compassion out of me.
How she does it I don’t know, but she’s worth the effort.




Dexter on Game

Having been on the scene for a while now, I’ve come to realise that the majority of feminists have a point when they claim men think with their dicks!.
It amazes me to see how far a man will go to get in between a set of thighs.
The lies they tell and games that men play are ridiculous. Maybe I’m being harsh on my fellow brethren.
I’m no James Bond 007 agent but I’ve always had a girl or two in my life, so I have no idea what its like to scramble for pussy.
It wasn’t always like that though.

I was ridiculed by girls for quite sometime.It wasn’t until my first vacation in Florida that I lost my virginity. I was 14 years old at the time. She was a cute 15 year old Latino girl with curves to die for.
Our first time wasn’t great but the next two visits to her house while her parents were out, gave me the chance to improve.
I arrived back in good old London after two months with an air of confidence I didn’t have before. It was clear for others to see.

The rest of my teens would see me transform from a nice cuddly character to a ladies man with an unpredictable temper. I was no longer passive and walking away from confrontation… I was handling foes with a lethal combination of verbal abuse and violence. This seemed to enhance my reputation with the local girls. It seemed girls really did like bad boys after all!
As said before, I was no gangster, but just like every game of Chinese whispers, the truth becomes distorted. I didn’t ever start trouble but if it came my way I dealt with it promptly! As they say: you should never bring beef to a butcher!

The older guys I hung out with at the time were very much gangsters, not exactly Scarface, but well feared. How we became friends in the first place is a blur, but for some reason Donell and Richie had great respect for me. They taught me all about GAME :the games that men and women play with each other.
They taught me how to get a girl into bed and keep her wanting more with minimal effort but most importantly how to master the games that women play.
Women are the masters of manipulation, but they found it hard to manipulate me. I was taught thoroughly; not so much with words but with what I saw with my own eyes.The number of times I witnessed Donell and Richie mistreat women was a joke. To my astonishment these mistreated women would always come crawling back, begging to spend more time with these dudes.
Most men don’t have these astonishing powers.
Why?
Because they lie!

The best way to get what you want is to be honest. Never tell a blatant lie, if worst comes to worst you may have to bend the truth, but never fabricate a story.
This way you never have anything to hide. The old cliché  ‘The truth shall set you free,’ really applies here. If she approaches you about your sleeping with another woman, it’s none of her business. You are not a couple, after all. She shouldn’t have agreed to those booty call terms in the first place. The responsibility is placed squarely at her feet.
Now if you lie and claim she’s the only one you are seeing then you’ve already fucked up. You now have something to hide and have to keep telling more lies to cover up for silly stories that don’t make sense after a while.
Believe it or not, honesty is indeed the best policy, no matter how blunt or brutal it may appear..
My approach was slightly different. It wasn’t in me to be blatantly cruel, although I sometimes had my moments. On the whole, I was honest but fair.
I would never treat a girl like a ‘hoe’, no matter how forward she was. This approach wasn’t premeditated! It was just my way of being. .
For some reason it worked a treat. Word got around that I was this dangerous man with a gentle side.

Now I had all the girls around the way interested. They all came to the assumption that my dangerous side would give them street credibility, not to mention they would feel safe in my company. All women want to feel safe.
My ‘so called’ soft side was much in demand. They wanted a man to treat them with respect, in other words they wanted a gentleman.

It’s odd because even to this day women who chat to me think I’m different. Like I’m special or something just because I hold open doors, apologise, or ask permission to use the bathroom in their home.
That didn’t make me special, that was just my having manners. I was raised well, plain and simple.
It made me wonder what kind of dudes these women were messing with prior to meeting me.

I’ve heard the ridiculous term gentle thug thrown about a few times, how silly is that expression? But if I’m honest I guess that it best describes me.

You have no idea how much I hate the fact that Ja Rule and I share something in common…Damn!

Suzy on Game

I know I’m going to sound like a giddy teen in love here, and I apologise in advance for its soppy resonance, but I have to admit that Dexter has taught me so much about life in such a short space of time. What I first thought was harshness and judgmental sexism, I soon came to realise, through bitter life lessons, was his application of his knowledge of Game. Ultimately, he was being caring by trying to stop me making a fool of myself.

Let me explain: When I first met Dexter I thought I could fuck like a man. Why not? These were the ‘naughties’ after all, women were no longer imprisoned by society’s taboos, feminism had set us all free! Magazines like Cosmopolitan and teen mags like Sugar were extolling the virtues of liberated sexuality for women. Women could be sexually aggressive, we didn’t have to wait for Prince Charming to come knocking at our door, we could go out and knock on his door and his brother’s if we wanted to. Contraception had set us free from the fear of pregnancy and every smart woman carried condoms to protect against disease. We fucked who we liked, played as hard as men without consequence. This was the basic idea.

If women were free to go out there and indulge in the ‘zipless fuck’ as extolled by Erica Jongh, why were there so many unhappy, unfulfilled, emotionally unstable women out there? These women weren’t stupid, many women of this ilk were incredibly intelligent and highly educated. But still these same women were finding themselves at the mercy of men. Why should this be? Somehow these women, myself included at that point in time, were not finding this liberated lifestyle as easy as they thought.
I saw one man regularly. He was smart, kind, mature and good looking. I would call him up when I needed sex. We chatted, fucked and shared mutually respectful times; two adults having adult fun. I presumed he held me in fairly high regard and saw me as an intelligent, modern woman. I was soon to be taught a hard lesson never to presume.
I was out at a nightclub dancing to my favourite tunes when I saw a familiar face walk into the club. It was Freddie, my regular fuck buddy! He saw me, I smiled and expected him to walk over to me and say hello. After all we had shared such intimate times together and had chatted over many meaningful subjects late into the night. Instead of smiling or walking over to me he looked straight through me and walked right past me to greet a large group of people on the other side of the room. He had caught my eye, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen me. It was then that it dawned on me that maybe things weren’t as I thought they were. .Freddie didn’t see me as a modern intelligent feminist. He saw me as pussy and easy pussy at that. So much for liberation.

He was game playing by pretending to take an interest in me personally, in order to keep me fucking him. By engaging in what I perceived were deep conversations, he had led me to believe that he was more than just a fuck.

The one fundamental thing this experience taught me, was that it made no difference how liberated a woman may be, she cannot change the thoughts that are in men’s heads. When she thinks she is being free spirited and independent, fucking multiple men, the men are thinking that she is cheap and nasty. There are men out there who will reinforce this idea in order to keep her fucking:
“Oh baby you are so smart and free thinking, don’t ever let a man try and change you, stay the free spirit that you are! You suck the best dick aaargggh….”
..but would they tell their partners to be like this? I don’t think so! This was an example of pure game!

Before I met Dexter I had no problem with the concept of women having gangbangs if that is what they wanted to explore. Now he had filled me in on what was really going on in men’s heads, I wasn’t so sure I felt so comfortable about them. It is no coincidence that women who attend gangbangs, are never the partners of any the participants. Very few men would feel good about seeing their partner being thought of as a piece of meat, and I would seriously question the validity of the relationship of those that did.

Was it possible for a woman to ever get it right? Could a woman indulge her sexual needs without making herself vulnerable to judgment and sacrificing respect? I asked Dexter this question and he explained how it could be done.

As was with men game players, the first rule of thumb for women game players was honesty. Firstly if women were to be successful at this game they needed to be honest with themselves in three areas, and ask if they really were looking for just sex, a relationship or just even looking for attention.

Dexter related to me the numerous occasions he had witnessed women cheating on their boyfriends just in order to gain attention. The fantasy of having two men fighting over one woman was far more attractive than the reality of the situation. Women think that having men fighting over them proves their man’s love for them when what really is happening is that the men are fighting to save face, a man’s pride is at stake here.
Ladies, if your man isn’t giving you enough attention, rather than cheat, be honest. Don’t threaten him, just let him know that you no longer intend to be exclusive and that he can no longer have any demands.
If there is no commitment you can do as you please. He may be more than happy with a “no strings attached” arrangement.
If he isn’t and wants to walk away, what have you really lost? You weren’t satisfied from the start.
So that was attention seeking. Now for no strings sex or becoming a fuck buddy.

This is not as easy as it first appears for a woman to achieve, as a woman’s natural tendency is to seek out ‘bonding’ and form relationships with her sexual partners. I had ruminated over this situation once before and had posted an open letter on the Internet:

F*ckbuddies…you know, the modern way of no strings attached sex. In this liberated age of women being equal to men and all that, there is a growing trend for women to find themselves in a trap of their own making .Once they are there , there is no way out . 
Let me explain.
Liberated woman meets liberated man. He is horny. So is she. He doesn’t judge her for being sexually liberated and he’s just horny. So they agree to be f*ckbuddies.. And meet regularly for hot and steamy sessions of nsa sex. They are both single , neither are looking for commitment, so where’s the problem you may ask. 
Well, here’s the rub.. 
Its all good as long as the woman doesn’t develop feelings for the man. But guess what? Most women , given repeated meetings of intimacy with the same person naturally gravitate to emotional responses towards them . Its the way nature intended us to be .Its not wrong, its not weak , its just how it sometimes is. It is most women’s default setting. 
So what happens then?
Often the woman will ask the man for more. For strings. For commitment and relationship. And more often than not the man will turn her down. And he has every right to do so. Why should he change this perfect arrangement of no strings sex for one of commitment and relationship (which takes hard work). The sex is good. He has a ‘girlfriend’ experience of sex without the hassle of girlfriend . Who can blame the man for not wanting the hassle?
Then the result is the girl is left in a no win situation. If she wants to continue seeing the dude , she has to be content with just having sex with him but risk feeling used, as she has developed feelings for him. He could dump her at any time once a relationship (with girlfriend material)comes along. She can withdraw the sex and see if he still sticks around.. chances are he wont . And who can blame him? After all, strings are not what he signed up for. 
So .. what I am saying here is, girls be careful. Make sure that if you are going to embark in a f*ckbuddy relationship that you can guarantee not to develop feelings for the man. Cos if you do, you have only yourself to blame if he doesn’t agree to change the arrangement. Be careful what you wish for. 
A man doesn’t usually enter a relationship easily . He needs something to strive for . Don’t make the sex easy. Why work for it, if you can get it for free? Am I being a traitor to the feminist cause ? I don’t think so. I am seeing so many women being hurt by decisions they have made for themselves. I would just like to see women open their eyes to the reality of life and love and all of its complexities. 
Sisters, respect yourselves and others will respect you back. Your body is a gift to give that is worth so much. Make sure you give it in the right spirit. 


”Fuck buddy”status could be successfully achieved as long as the woman stuck to certain basic rules . The most crucial being clear cut boundaries, as Dexter explains:

“ If you truly are a strong woman, you don’t need a man to define you, you can do bad things all by your self. You don’t need a man for that A man doesn’t always improve your quality of life, especially if the only thing he’s good for is sex every now and then.
If sex is what you are after, if you can honestly separate your emotions from the physical act, get the sex then kick him out, only call him when you want sex. He’ll come running… trust me! Why settle down with him and allow him to bring unneeded drama? Because he’s good in bed? Come on!.
If you’re going to play the game then make sure you get only what you need. There should be no hidden extras, from either party.
If you require more than one lover then be smart and keep the number of men down, there’s no need to go crazy and try and prove you can do it like the men. Is that really something to strive for? You don’t want your business out for everyone to see, remember you can’t control what judgements people could make of you, so find out the best lovers and stick to them. Most men are shit in bed! I know women will agree with me on that front, so is it really worth you losing your self respect in pursuit of multiple, can’t be guaranteed, sexual experiences? I don’t think so. So, be selective, find the best fucks and stay emotionally distant. As for the men, it’s fine if they know of each other, but make sure they don’t know each other. You don’t want to give the men bragging rights over you.

Something that women really don’t think about is that men talk, the last thing you want is every man in town calling your phone. Never respond to a booty call, they are the result of the man bragging about his prowess with you and needing to back up his claims. If you want sex, call him.
Make sure you are firm and in charge, you’re the one with the pussy ladies, you have total control believe it or not.”

Very few women manage to get the fuck buddy thing right. It takes a very disciplined state of being (or a very busy lifestyle) to be a woman who can successfully achieve true player status. Dexter and I had come across one such woman in our many meets.
She worked in media, was absolutely no-nonsense. She met us for drinks very soon after we contacted her, and we were meeting to play a week later. She knew what she wanted, we had fun playing together and when she had had enough she dismissed us politely but brusquely saying she had a dinner engagement to go to. We knew she had enjoyed the time with us as her seriously engorged pussy bore testament, multiple orgasms do not lie, but she had had her fun and was moving on. We never heard from her again. For us this was the perfect meet, and she was a perfect example of a woman ahead of the game.

So that is how to be ahead of your game, ladies. Be honest with yourself, identify what you are really looking for, if a relationship is what you are after, then be careful of not falling into the fuck buddy trap. Being aware of game should give you tools to maintain your relationship…

One aspect of game worth mentioning here, is the paragraph principle. This is the natural tendency of men to hear what they want to hear when a woman answers a question that he has posed. A woman may give him a sentence in reply but the man’s intention will embroider and embellish the response so it turns into an entire paragraph that supports the man’s wishes. That sounds complicated, so let me simplify it with a classic example. How many times have you heard women say,” I don’t understand why (my ex /the man who I’m friends with but don’t fancy/the man in the office) wont take no for an answer? He keeps calling my phone even though he knows I’ve got a boyfriend.”.?
.The ‘pest’ is an opportunist, he is trying to see his chances of having some time with the woman. So he calls and says:
“Hi there, fancy going out for a drink sometime?”

She replies:

“Come on now, you know I’m attached”
What the man reads into this sentence is thus:

Come on now, you know I’m attached ( I’m still interested but I’m a bit tied up at the moment with this boyfriend. Check back later to see if I’ve got rid of him or fancy cheating on him. Of course I want to fuck you. )

Note that at no point in the conversation does the woman say NO. I’m not interested.

Clearly the woman thinks that this is implied in what she says and so is redundant. Unfortunately this is not the case so she is surprised to receive endless opportunistic calls from him until she eventually loses her temper and accidentally makes it clear that she isn’t interested in fucking the man, and there is no chance of it ever happening EVER.

Ladies simplify your communication with men. Be aware of the paragraph principle.

I was thankful that Dexter was such a good human being. With all his extensive knowledge of Game, if he had been a nasty character to begin with, heaven knows the trail of destruction he could have left in his wake.

I had met Dexter’s sisters on a few occasions. It was quite clear that Dexter had taught them well. I was struck by how strong and confident and no-nonsense these women were, no man was ever going to be able to penetrate their ‘game proofed exteriors.’ I wished I’d had a big brother like Dexter when I was a little girl. It would have saved me so much time and heartache.

Ladies, open your eyes to game playing It’s out there, all around you. Listen to your big brothers when they tell you how men are. Be wise, be happy, make yourself acquainted with the rules so you can choose whether to play the game or not.

Any big brothers reading this, rather than spying on or intimidating potential men in your baby sister’s life make sure you teach her what she needs to know about men so that she can make her own informed choices.



{August 18, 2011}   Mr Shy Guy

A Trust 120 SpaceCam webcam

Image via Wikipedia

Isn’t it wonderful when you see two people in love?  Dexter and Suzy clicked on receive cam icon on their computer screen and smiled at the loving couple that were looking back at them from their web cam. This couple had potential it seemed.

Suzy and Dexter’s profile attracted lots of attention. It seemed there were scores of people who wanted to meet a young black man and a mature, Latino ‘squirty’ woman. They were inundated with invitations to meet people from all over the UK and indeed the world. But very few people who had messaged them met their criteria. Ideally, they were looking for interracial couples where the man was black or black couples as Suzy’s sexual preference (clearly) was for black men. The majority of responses were from white couples, ever hoping that they would somehow find a loophole to fit the brief. One of the more common trite replies they got was.
“Oh I’m not a black man but I’ve got a n***er dick.”
As if preference was about penis size based on an urban myth! (Although Suzy was lucky as Dexter reinforced the stereotype nicely, thanks!) Suzy’s preference was much more sophisticated than that. It would take more that just a large penis to seduce Suzy.
Suzy and Dexter had embarked on the scene as a full swap* couple as they hadn’t even considered that there were any other options available to them. It was all too new to set too many boundaries. How could they know what they didn’t want to do until they had actually done it? This whole new adventure was meant to be about expanding their horizons, not limiting them. So if Suzy was going to be prepared to have full sex with another man, it was important for her (and for Dexter) for it to be with a man she was attracted to.

Suzy and Dexter looked back at the computer screen and considered if this couple would meet their criteria. Yes, they were an interracial couple. First obstacle was overcome. The lady was an attractive, bubbly brunette. Nicely curvaceous, both Dexter and Suzy preferred a woman to have a womanly figure. Yes, both Dexter and Suzy could definitely find her attractive. She seemed lovely too, extremely chatty and open minded. She even spoke of how she had a dream of opening a brothel. An unusual enterprise they thought, but mused that she would make quite a comely Madame. Her man didn’t appear much on the screen. All they could make out of him was a shoulder that ‘Madame’ was leaning on .She seemed so in love with this man. Dexter and Suzy found that knowledge comforting. She spoke of how he was shy as a person; that they were not married but he lived with her and they had been together for five years in blissful co-habitation. She joked that she loved him nearly as much as her dog, and with that she got up to take her dog for a walk. It was clear from her puppy dog eyes when she looked at Shy Guy that she loved him far more than her canine companion. Dexter left the room to make a cup of tea. Suzy continued to chat on cam with Shy Guy.

Can a person ever truly know what their partner is really like? It appeared to Suzy that Shy Guy had metamorphosed into Sly Guy. Was this really the same man that ‘Madame’ had spoken of so highly as being the faithful, shy, respectful, committed, stay-in–the–background type of man? Here he was, at the keyboard, proposing that he and Suzy should meet, just the two of them. This man was not shy in the slightest! Suzy was taken aback at his advances and was shocked at how he had taken the slightest opportunity of his woman not being present to proposition her. It was puzzling. Suzy thought the scene was about being honest to your partner about your sexual attraction for others. This man had thrown deceit into the mix. Suzy retorted with what she thought was a reasonable question.
“How would that be fair on Dexter and your partner?”
Of course this was meant to be a rhetorical question. What Suzy thought she had projected by saying this, is:
“I’m shocked by your attempt at deceit. Take others feelings into consideration. Of course I don’t want to meet you alone!”
Unfortunately, because of the paragraph principle* * that most men (and indeed some women!) operate under, what he heard was
“I haven’t discounted that idea, but I am uncomfortable with it at the moment .Try again later.”

Dexter returned with the tea. Shy Guy, clearly panicked by Dexter’s arrival, assumed his off camera position. Suzy recounted her tale. They watched as ‘Madame’ returned from walking her second love of her life, blissfully unaware of her Shy Guy’s true colours. Dexter and Suzy were left feeling strangely burdened.
What was the etiquette in these situations? Should they tell her? Of course they shouldn’t. She would never believe them. Dopamine*** wouldn’t allow it

The following evening, ‘Madame’ appeared on IM again and requested a cam-to-cam session. Suzy and Dexter obliged. After all, they did find her company very pleasant .She was so warm and open. This time she was on her own. She chatted away for a long time exchanging pleasantries and making Suzy and Dexter laugh with her wit and charm. She liked a few glasses of wine it seemed, and grew steadily more and more intoxicated and relaxed as the night wore on. Suzy and Dexter were flattered by ‘Madame’s’ compliments and it wasn’t long before ‘things’ started to look up for Suzy, and for Madame who clearly was enjoying watching while Suzy gave Dexter slow sensual head on cam. This was fun. Madame typed away, barking out more and more excited instructions, telling them just how much she was enjoying the show and looking forward to turning cyber into reality. Dexter finished off by pounding Suzy enthusiastically from behind to the delight of Madame who masturbated frenetically until they all exploded in mutual ecstasy.
All in all, it was a rather pleasant way to spend an evening at home.

Suzy and Dexter received an email from ‘Madame’ the following day.
Sorry, we won’t be able to meet. I told my man I was on cam with you two last night and he got very upset with me. Really, really sorry. Xx

Talk about double standards! So they weren’t ever going to meet because Mr Shy Guy was upset at his woman engaging in a spot of cyber sex with Dexter and Suzy? So what about the very real life sex Shy Guy was trying to arrange with Suzy? ‘Madame’ was honest with her man, she played by the rules and this was her reward? I wonder if her email would have been any different if she had known her Shy Guy was really Sly Guy in disguise.

*Full swap: term in which swinging partners consent to have full penetrative sex with another couple. Suits fully straight couples where the intention is m/f interaction; either in the same room in front of their partner or separate rooms.  Oral./touching /kissing optional extras. As opposed to
Soft swap : boundaries usually established beforehand by the couples involved. Can range from same room own partner sex (voyeuristic) to bi women play only while men watch, to oral and manual in what ever combination but no penetrative male/female sex except with own partners.

**Paragraph principle: this is the main difference in the way men hear women’s reactions to propositions. A man will fill in the gaps between the words to suit his own interests if the woman isn’t clearly stating her intention.

***Dopamine: a chemical secreted by the brain when the person is in a state of arousal/infatuation. This chemical has two functions, 1) it makes us feel giddy and ‘in love’ helping the initial bonding, mating process, but 2) also stops us from being able to see the bigger picture, giving us emotional tunnel vision, leaving the infatuated victim with a clear case of the heart ruling the head.




November 10th
Mood:  amused

Well, our first meet didn’t exactly turn out the way we anticipated! Don’t know whether it was a mistake to agree to meet or not. I think if anything, we met out of curiosity, as it was our first meeting as a couple.
I suppose, if I’m honest, I had no intention of playing with Mr Catch-up. He was far too hairy for me and brown (Asian), not black which doesn’t really do it for me. His lady, well she was a lovely person, but just didn’t ring my bell, if you know what I mean .The chemistry just wasn’t there for me, nor for Dexter. I must admit that I inwardly raised a few eyebrows at the lady’s stories, they were quite outrageous and it was hard to look at her and imagine her in those situations. A more unlikely minx you couldn’t wish to find.
The trouble was, they clearly liked us. Well HE did, at any rate. It turned out after talking to her, that she had been very upset with him for spending his nights chatting on webcam with us. It wasn’t just tiredness that was making her sleep, but aggravation. I don’t blame her really. If Dexter had spent that much time drooling over another woman on webcam night after night, I would be pissed too! Jealousy doesn’t just evaporate because you have chosen to live the swinging lifestyle. Common decency and common sense should prevail really, and I’d say sensitivity to your partner’s feelings is paramount.
It’s flattering to know that someone finds you attractive. It is all too easy to get carried away and not realise that you may be hurting either your partner or their partner in the process. It is bit of a minefield, this swinging malarkey; you have to be careful where you step.
I must admit though, it was a lot of fun teasing him. Both Dexter and I could see how gagging he was to see some sex. We weren’t about to give it up, and just chatted away like we do. Poor love. They’ve sent us an email asking us to dinner and back to theirs for a sex board game session. We politely declined. It’s not fair to tease forever. (And to be honest, it gets boring too!)

November 20th
Hello dear diary. It’s me again. I hope you don’t mind me sharing my innermost thoughts with you. It helps me sort my head out when it’s feeling a bit fuzzy. It seems like there are a lot of people who write their diaries online in the form of blogs. This blog phenomenon has really taken off. I’ve been browsing blogs on the swinger site that we belong to and have encountered a few really personal ones. I’m not so sure it’s a good idea to expose your innermost thoughts and feelings to the whole cyber community, although it retains a certain voyeuristic fascination for the reader. There’s something odd about reading deeply personal comments of people you will never know or meet. As for you, diary, I’ve never shared with you what lurks in Suzy’s past. One day if I’m feeling generous, I may share it with you. But for now, I’ll tell you what’s lined up  for Suzy’s future.

We messaged this London couple called Marlon and Vivienne, on the site we belong to.  We didn’t expect a reply really, but we got one very quickly. At first we were a bit dubious about them as the profile read more like a single man’s profile. The only pictures were those of a very good looking young black man, they looked liked professional shots. We emailed one another and a photo of Vivienne was sent. It wasn’t a professional shot like Marlon’s (he is an aspiring model) but was a fuzzy shot taken on a web cam. It’s clearly a genuine picture. She looks attractive, blonde with pretty blue eyes. We’ve set a date to meet. I’ll let you know how it goes.

December 2nd
Mood: comme- ci comme ca

Hello diary. It’s me again. I know you’ve been waiting patiently to find out how it went with Marlon and Vivienne. Where shall I begin?
We met in a club for a drink. I must learn to choose more suitable venues. It was not the best place to meet strangers. The music was too loud and there were not enough places to sit. Any way I digress. We spotted them as soon as we walked in the door of the club. She was looking pretty and confident, as if she had been meeting strangers for drinks all her life. He, on the other hand, was a totally different kettle of fish. He looked terrified. For all his height and good looks, this man looked more like a small boy about to confront the school bully. We greeted each other and got in the drinks. Dexter spoke to Marlon and tried to calm him down. This dude was shaking. Were we that intimidating? One drink later, we decided to decamp and find another more suitable place to chat. We ended up at a nearby gay bar. It was friendly and had free seats and the music wasn’t too loud. I was proud to be in the company of two West Indian men who were open minded enough to be able to thumb their noses at the homophobic stereotype that follows them. And we all know that black men do go down, don’t we girls?
Vivienne was lovely. While not exactly my perfect choice of woman physically, she had a charm and elegance that came from her being French. She also had a really naughty twinkle in her eye that I was keen to explore further. The DJ started playing cheesy 80s disco classics, I couldn’t resist the urge to get up and bop around on the dance floor. Vivienne joined me and we left the boys to chat football while us girls strutted our diva stuff and flirted with each other.
Our men were clearly causing a bit of a stir in the bar. Viv and I both giggled at the fact that all the gay men in the room were lusting after our very straight handsome men. They’d better watch out in the men’s room.
We got chatting and Vivienne told me how much she loved her man and that she had come over from France to live with him. They had recently moved in together and she had agreed to experiment sexually with him as part of a loving couple. Not unlike us really, I thought. Things were looking positive. We ambled back over to the table where our men were still talking football. It turns out that Marlon used to play semi-professionally, but now was working as a model. That explained his profile pictures.
The bar was closing and Marlon invited us back to their flat. A bus ride and a long walk up a steep hill later (I carried Vivienne piggy back all the way up the hill as her high heels were killing her) we were welcomed into their home.

It was a cold evening, and the heating was not working too well. Dexter sat with his back against the radiator trying to keep the chill off of his back. Marlon sat with his laptop on his knee as they chatted about the scene and whom they had met. Marlon made me feel very uncomfortable as he brazenly showed us messages he had received from single women wanting to meet him (as a single man). Viv was making tea, and she didn’t seem too bothered by Marlon’s insensitivity. Oh well, different strokes for different folks, I suppose.  I couldn’t help wondering if he had planned to meet these women or indeed, if he had already. The chat started to become a little stilted and I could sense Marlon’s growing unease. Dexter in comparison was as cool as a cucumber. He was cold, in fact. He was behaving as if he had done this all his life! I wondered why he wasn’t nervous like I was. Viv came in with the tea and I decided it was time to start off the proceedings. So I kissed her. It wasn’t quite as I expected. She had the strangest way of kissing, like a kitten, or a lizard, she had a pointed flicking tongue that darted in and out of my mouth. I’m more of a plunger type kisser, so I’m not sure if our styles matched! But, still it had the boys’ attention.
I looked around as I ventured under Viv’s top to discover some saucy French underwear, and saw Marlon grinning away like a kid in a candy shop. Well, we fumbled a bit, and ended up naked. I ended up with my head buried in Viv’s pussy and my arse sticking up in the air. Dex couldn’t resist himself and plunged his fingers into my pussy. Marlon asked Dex if he could touch too, and he asked my permission as well. That was respectful. Or maybe he was just scared; perhaps a bit of both. He got to see the squirt. That was clearly on the agenda for him that night.
It was at that point that things took a bit of a turn. We ended up swapping for the first time. Viv went down on Dexter and Marlon went to work on my pussy with his hands. That’s when I first felt it. It was an odd sort of feeling. Like a vague echo that I couldn’t quite hear. Even though Dexter was right there in front of me, I felt terribly alone. I didn’t mind watching Viv give Dexter head.

But I did mind the noises he was making. They were my noises

It’s hard to explain it. Every time I heard him moan, my heart lurched. I couldn’t concentrate on what Marlon was doing to me. In fact, I felt absolutely nothing at all. I’m ashamed to say that I pretended to enjoy what he was doing to me because I knew how anxious he was about the whole meeting. Here I was with a drop dead gorgeous young man, with my wonderful partner and a sexy woman next to me, and all I wanted to do was go home. I knew Dexter and I would have to talk about this.
We had set out to full swap. We enjoyed the socialising with this couple. We found them both very attractive. They were in a secure relationship .So why didn’t it feel right? Both Dexter and Marlon realised that the little man downstairs wasn’t going to stand to attention so they both aborted their missions. Dexter and I watched as Marlon and Vivienne attempted to fuck. It just wasn’t happening. There comes a certain time when it’s not worth struggling and you have to accept defeat. We had reached that point and we said our goodbyes and caught a cab home. We parted on friendly terms and spoke of escorting them to a swingers club sometime in the future.

This meeting has made me consider many things. The main thing being, I don’t think I want to be fucked by other men. I find that an odd concept. Anyone who knew me a few months ago would laugh if I had told him or her that. I had a reputation on the scene as a greedy girl; the more cocks the merrier.
Was this me being a pleaser? Am I deciding this to make Dexter feel more at ease? No, I don’t think that is the case. I certainly hope it isn’t. I just don’t feel the way I used to. A girl’s allowed to change her mind isn’t she? All I know is that I didn’t like that feeling of being alone that hit me when we swapped. I just wanted to take Dexter home and cuddle.

.




Diary 3
November 30th
Mood: Ecstatic

Oh my god, oh my god oh my god!
He loves me!   HE REALLY LOVES ME!
Forgive me, diary, I just had to shout it out over the rooftops.
Sorry…I’m getting ahead of myself here, let me explain. I went away with my best friend to Norway for a few weeks. I needed the head space after that last ‘shrink’ incident. Although I knew I would miss Dexter like crazy, (bless that man, he never gave up on me, even after I made that stupid mistake) I knew that I needed time and space to sort my head out. My friend has a country house away from all civilization, nothing but trees, lakes and mosquitoes. She invited me away for a break. I think she could see that I needed it. Poor woman, she’s been getting it all, instead of you, dear diary. Of course I took my mobile phone with me and Dexter and I text messaged each other as much as we could. I also used that time to clear up all the loose ends with the other men I had been seeing.  All of them unceremoniously dumped by text. Only one seemed bothered. He tried using humour to deflect his true feelings.
“What! You’re dumping me, from Norway? But I’m pregnant with your baby!” Nice try dude. Like I cared!

I used the time away to read and reflect. Although part of me was angry with myself for being so far away from Dexter. I longed to see him and hear his throaty laugh. I needed to see his wide smile that lit up a dark room. I longed to feel his gentle kisses. I sorely missed our heated debates that would go on long into the night and end up being resolved when the birds started to sing in the morning. And yes, my pussy throbbed at the memories of our times spent locked together in passionate embraces. The sex I had with Dexter made sex with other men pointless. No one could ever come close.

I knew that when I returned to London I had to come clean with Dexter  about my true feelings for him. I had to know if it was reciprocated. It appeared to be, in his actions and the way he looked at me, but I needed to hear it coming out of his mouth.
I knew I had to ask him if he loved me.

When I got back from Norway, I almost didn’t need to ask. He held me close on the doorstep, rocked back and forth, for about half an hour, muttering
‘Don’t ever go away again’ over and over.
That touching gesture made me cry. But I wiped the tears away; Dexter doesn’t like to see me cry.
When we finally made it inside my apartment, I gritted my teeth and knew I had to confront my worst fear… the fear of being rejected by someone I loved.
So I asked him.
“Dexter do you love me? Think very carefully about your answer because it will affect us from here onwards.”

(If he said no, I had decided I had to move on)

I saw his face flicker as he thought through carefully what he was going to say. I inwardly flinched as I anticipated the worst.
“Yes, I guess I do.”

And that was how DexterandSuz came to pass.

November 12th
Mood: content / contemplative

Well it’s official. We are a couple. Beyond my wildest dreams, I couldn’t have wished for a better thing to happen to me. We have both deleted our individual profiles on the Internet and set up a joint one as DexterandSuz. Since we met on scene, we thought we might as well continue on scene. Dexter’s not the sort of person who wants the person he fell in love with to change, although since meeting Dexter I have felt myself changing for the better, emotionally. He knows all about my sexual history, and I know his.
Nothing is taboo except dishonesty.
There’s one thing I have learnt since meeting Dex, and that is that it is always better to be truthful, no matter how hard you think it’s going to be. Once the truth is out, that’s as hard as it will get. So, neither of us are going to deny that we are attracted to other people sexually. As long as it stays open and honest, I don’t see any problems. I’m not sexually jealous, I’m emotionally jealous, I think.
The scene is far too entertaining to give up anyhow. Some say it’s addictive.  I wonder if I’ll feel any different now, though. I’m curious to know how it will change my behaviour. Will I feel jealous if I see him with another woman?

Will he be hurt if he sees me with another man? How will he react seeing me with another woman? I’m a little anxious as to what he would think if he saw me in full flow in a club situation now we are established as a proper couple and I can be open about my love for him. I’m sure I shall find out.  There’s a whole new world out there to explore together. I just can’t wait to get started.



{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.




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!



et cetera