The Incredible Hulk #1 (May 1962). Cover art b...

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Tuesday am
Okay, it’s the first Tuesday of the month; that can only mean one thing: swinging club!
I’m really excited about going. The first time is always the most stressful, now that’s over and done with, maybe Dexter will be able to relax and have fun at this next one.
Whatever happens, I’ll be happy. It’s being held at a new venue in the poshest part of the West End. Its dress to impress I reckon. Ooh what fun!

Wednesday am
Well, that was not quite how I expected it to be. It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t as much fun as the first time I took Dexter.
Let me explain.
We dressed up, Dexter all in black as usual, me in a halter neck red dress and heels, most unlike my usual style, but a girl has to make an effort sometimes. We looked good together.
We found the venue in a small club that had just recently been refurbished in the most exclusive part of Mayfair.
How chic. In fact, some of the club was unfinished, but it was a very aesthetically pleasing start. We signed in like old pros; Dexter managed to handle the butterflies quite well this time. We bought drinks and found a seat in the bar area. Saw my mate, Queen of Sheba. It was always good to see her.  She was so bubbly and vivacious, larger than life and always a source of great stories.
I introduced Dexter to her and we chatted for a while. She told hilarious stories of procuring herself a submissive male slave who sat beneath her generous posterior unnoticed at fetish clubs servicing her orally while she held court.
Dexter seemed much more comfortable here. I was pleased for him. I didn’t want to feel like I was dragging him into something he didn’t like, just for my sake.
As we sat drinking and chatting I spotted in the distance an old friend. This man used to be a regular fuck buddy friend of mine. We had met at this club and had kept contact ever since. He was married, but his wife didn’t play. She knew of his antics though, but felt, for cultural reasons, unable to join him in a club to play publicly. She wasn’t averse to a spot of private playing I was later to find out.
This man had the biggest dick I had ever encountered. It was a good 12 inches long but as thick as a forearm. It was quite the albatross around this man’s neck. I mean, how can a man live up to his dick when it’s such a monster with its own reputation? I soon found out that despite his gigantic endowment, it didn’t make for the best sex. Huge size has its own limitations. This was the man I had texted from Norway, telling him that I was no longer going to see him because I had met Dexter. We had had some interesting, if lurid, times together in the past, but his charms had faded into insignificance once I had found Dexter.
I waved at him.
He looked right through me.
What? That wasn’t like him. Eventually he could no longer pretend not to have noticed me and came over. I introduced him to Dexter and they shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. He was acting really odd. What was wrong with him? He eventually wandered off, and Dexter and I went for a tour around the venue. It was small, the playrooms were fairly cramped, and a wave of heat hit you, as did the smell of sex, as you walked through the door. There was that sexy lady. She was an interesting woman. Shaven headed, but extremely feminine in a floral dress (most probably with no underwear underneath.) She was curvy, almost heavy set, but she exuded an extraordinary powerful sexiness that was evident to anyone who was around her, something that no supermodel could possibly compete with her for. She was also slightly unapproachable. As much as I was attracted to her, I found her a little intimidating. She made me feel unworthy in her presence. It was not unusual to see this woman standing on a table, surrounded by men and women alike, just feeling privileged to touch and pleasure this incredibly sexy Diva. Dexter acknowledged her allure too.
In the small room all eyes were on Dexter, the women were eating him up with their eyes. I didn’t mind. I was proud.

Oh there was my monster dick friend! He was trying to get his huge member into the mouth of a very pretty Eastern European looking girl. He was not succeeding. Arousal was a curse for this man. He could only receive head when limp. Either that or find someone with a huge mouth.
Dexter leaned over and nodded his acknowledgement of his fellow brethrens endowment. It was impressive to behold.
Dexter was being propositioned left right and centre, but he was having a hard time getting aroused. I thought I had best leave him to it. Maybe my presence was inhibiting him. I would give him some space.
I went to the bar to get a drink. I texted my big dick friend. Where was he? I couldn’t see him in the club. He was worth a chat at least.
He replied that he had left. Now that was very unlike him. Surely he wasn’t sulking?
A week or two later he would text me and tell me that he had been jealous of how I was around Dexter, that he never saw me look that way at him! Why should I? I had never loved him. I think that his ego could not cope with the fact that I would chose someone else over him, what use was his big dick if it didn’t get him the girl? Not that I was under any illusion that this man had any feelings of any kind for me, it was just that he was used to being the centre of his universe and I wasn’t playing the game.  Silly man! It didn’t matter how huge his manhood was, it couldn’t make me feel about him the way I felt about Dexter. Anyhow, big dick man had his lovely wife at home. What was he doing being jealous over someone he had only fucked?

I wandered over to Queen of Sheba. We stood and chatted for ages. We swapped stories about a certain man on scene called Luvyouall  who thought he was the bees-knees, but we both knew differently. This man was nothing more than a dirty opportunist, who couldn’t hold down a relationship in the ‘real world’ so had to settle for conquests on scene.
I had previously given Sheba the number of a nineteen stone muscle-bound, submissive man who I had played with in the past. He was just her type. Turns out they had linked up, but he had freaked out when he had woken up to find a slave collar around his neck. He panicked and ran. When she told me that, I almost wet myself.  Ooh poor Jeremiah!

I opened the door to see a huge, dark man standing before me. Bald,  baby face, around six foot five. To anyone who didn’t know him, he would have certainly been intimidating, but I knew better. This man was a pussycat. We had met at a swinging club where he was the bouncer and I was very bored with my companion. He gave me his number and I had called him.
Here he was, for my delectation.
He came into my room. I smiled as I noticed that he had to duck to get into the doorway and had to turn sideways to fit through the doorframe. Damn! This man was huge! He made me feel dainty in comparison, not easy when you are a good size 16, like me.
For all his bulk he seemed really nervous. He told me how he really loved the Incredible Hulk. How sweet, I thought, but then I realised he wasn’t talking about his childhood hero here, he actually thought he could emulate him as an adult. I wondered if that’s why he was so big. I wondered also if he realised that the Incredible Hulk was a fictional character?
I’ve never really been a fan of muscle men, and this man was no exception. But there was something about him that fascinated me. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was, but I was soon to find out. .
He stripped down to his underwear and stood before me waiting to see my reaction.
Well now, he was a big boy. Too big really .He didn’t really get the reaction he was waiting for as I burst out laughing. Was he really wearing a Superman thong?  I teased him and said that I bet his dick was small as he had clearly been pumping himself full of steroids to get all that bulk, and we all knew the side effects of those drugs on a man’s endowment. He looked hurt and showed me that I was wrong. He was big all over. I can’t deny that the sex was good. He absolutely loved the fact that I was a squirter and insisted on me sitting on his face despite my protestations. I didn’t want to drown him. But he seemed to love that prospect even more. The more he coughed and spluttered and choked, the more he liked it. He would tug away at his dick while he gave me orgasm after orgasm. After a while, I thought it was time to do a bit of vanilla sex, good old fashioned fucking. But no, that’s not what he wanted. He much preferred to stick to oral. I thought that was a bit odd, as most men see oral as a necessary evil before they get to penetrate; clearly not this dude! At one point when I was giving him head he asked me to stick my finger in his ass. Not a problem usually. But given the size of this man, I wasn’t sure I could reach around! I told him I was going to go one better. As he got closer to the point of no return,, I told him that I was going to organise someone to fuck him in the ass next time he came to see me. That was all he needed. That pushed him right over the brink and he reached orgasm with ferocity.
An evil plan was brewing in my head.
I had realised that his huge man was submissive, and enjoyed being told what to do. I knew I could never physically dominate him given his bulk, so I knew instinctively that  I had to dominate him mentally. I asked him as he got up to leave, what was going to happen next time we met?(by now he was calling me Mistress)
He said “Someone’s gonna fuck me in the ass Mistress”
“And who’s that going to be?” I asked.
“Don’t know Mistress, some girl with a strap on Mistress”
I slapped him.
In the face and retorted:
“Don’t be foolish bitch!  It’s going to be a man, a big strong man with a big fat dick”
(I was enjoying myself now, I was in full improvisational flow and loving the buzz it was giving me)
“But I’m not gay Mistress!”
(I could hear the panic in his voice which urged me on even more.)
“I know” I said with an evil glint in my eye. “That’s the whole point .You are going to do as you are told aren’t you, slave? Be a good slave and Mistress will reward you”.
“Yes, Mistress, I’ll be good.”

It was at that point that I realised just how much pleasure I could derive from taking the Dominant role. It gave me an incredible buzz, thinking on my feet, trying to keep one step ahead in the game. I wasn’t really being serious about organising a man to fuck the Incredible Hulk. Or was I? I did make the call to a man I knew who would be more than willing to help me out. He would have been very happy to oblige, but I thought I preferred the mind fuck more than the real fuck.
The next time Incredible Hulk came to see me; he sat in his car outside my apartment for an hour before he could summon up the courage to come upstairs. I couldn’t tell if he was relieved or disappointed when he didn’t meet another man. Things fizzled out for me soon after as I got bored. I needed more mental stimulation with my sex.  So I passed him on to my good friend Sheba. And the rest is history.

Dexter sauntered out of the playroom looking pleased with himself. He went to buy us ladies a drink and came back and told me how he had been singled out by the most desired woman in the room. She was a drop dead gorgeous dark haired beauty who was sitting in a corner picking her ‘victims’. Dexter bashfully related how despite her being stunning, the fella downstairs just wasn’t going to perform on demand. To be honest, I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed on his behalf. I knew that the opportunities for him to play were far greater than they were for me at this club. The men there were not to my standard, and although some of the women were lovely, it wasn’t altogether obvious whether they would appreciate advances from another woman and to be honest, they were being kept more than busy by all the men. We left after a while. I think Dexter enjoyed himself far more than I did. It was more of a social event for me. Hmm, it was odd going to a swinging club with someone you loved.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to know how to behave in future visits. Being in love and ‘on scene’ was proving to be far more complicated than I had expected.

August 24th
In between having fun at the swinging clubs, I still find myself confused. I don’t understand why no one wants me. I’m a good person, decent cook, kind, clearly attractive, fairly intelligent, and funny at times, and of course, experienced in the bedroom. Why do I keep getting overlooked? Can’t anyone see the person beneath?
I wish things were simple. I still find myself caught up in stupid acting out behaviours, despite having periods of calm sanity. I wish I could do something about it. Dexter tries his best, but he’s too close for objectivity. I find it hard to explain about my abusive past being the cause of my irrational behaviour without seeming to be making lame excuses. I think I need professional help.

September 1st
I think I have found someone who will listen to me at last. I have had a few conversations online with one man who is an ex-psychiatrist. He didn’t say why he doesn’t practise any more, I think it’s through choice but he messaged me on the site. I’ve been having deep conversations with him and he has never mentioned sex and has listened intently and responded when I spoke about my sex addiction. He has offered to listen and advise me over dinner, so I am going to travel to his place tomorrow to give it a go. Fingers crossed that he can fix this mess I call me.
Oh God, I just called Dexter because I was excited about the potential of fixing my craziness. Maybe if I can fix me he will have me? I think that’s what I was hoping. I know that sounds dumb, but Diary, you know I can’t hide anything from you. Trouble is, Dexter doesn’t seem to share my enthusiasm. What’s a matter with this man? Gosh, his stubbornness is annoying! Can’t he see I’m trying to improve myself? He hasn’t told me not to go, he never tells me what to do, but I can hear that he really isn’t happy about my going. He keeps going on about it being an ego boost that I’m planning travelling all the way out to this man. He kept saying that dude would expect sex after I made such an effort to get to his abode. What was he going on about? It’s just dinner and a chat; this man is doing me a favour. I had no intention of sleeping with him.
I think that Dexter must be jealous.
If that is the case, good!
He’s not going to stop me.
It’s odd though, I’m sure that was disappointment I heard in his voice…

October 2nd
Mood : crushed/defeated
Diary, don’t look at me! I’m so ashamed. Why didn’t I listen to Dexter? He called me when I was on the long train journey to get to dude’s place, clearly not happy that I had committed to this venture.
Am I such a fool?
He met me at his doorstep, a large framed, mixed race, average looking bald headed man, not ugly but certainly not my type (not that that mattered as I was there for advice).

Firstly, dinner turned out to be take-away from the local Indian. (He had earlier offered to cook dinner for me.) I should have suspected things from that point on. But I was blinded by hope, this man had promised me answers, he held the holy grail of my salvation, or so I thought.
Then he listened while I told him things about my past that I’m not prepared to share with you yet Diary, maybe later; things that led me to the inner turmoil that I am trying to deal with right now.
So after opening my heart up to a perfect stranger, hoping and expecting answers, he told me that he could only counsel me a bit at a time, I had to know that was the way counselling worked .It was done in short sessions and I would have to come back a few times in order to get to the bottom of things.
Despite my begging for answers, he pled professional responsibility and ethics as his defence and left me feeling frustrated, let down and duped.

I didn’t believe him. The truth was slowly dawning on me that I had made a bad mistake. But there I was in a strange man’s house, vulnerable, far away from home. I was now starting to wonder if this ‘ex psychiatrist’ may have been struck off for unethical practise, or maybe he just wasn’t a psychiatrist at all.
Silly, naïve me.
He asked me to choose a movie from his extensive DVD collection. I did so: Donnie Darko, I’d always wanted to watch that. He decided my choice was not suitable (huh?) and selected one for me that he thought made for better viewing.
Now I was starting to feel really uncomfortable. I had been involved with controlling men before and this didn’t sit right with me. This felt rather too familiar.
It turned out to be a boring and tedious vampire film and I sat, blindly staring at the movements on the screen, confused and uneasy and just a little scared.  While I pretended to watch the film, he snored, oblivious to my boredom and discomfort. Why was this man sleeping in my presence? Was I that insignificant?
As he slept, the more concerned I became.
I retreated into myself and started to shut down.
My old habit of self-preservation had kicked in; I could do nothing to stop it. Reality became dimmed, dreamlike. I relinquished responsibility for my actions and myself. I placed myself numbly in fates’ hands. My body was present, sitting on a sofa with a snoring, middle-aged man next to me, but my mind had taken leave. When he awoke and pressed himself against me, claiming his reward for being such a selfless philanthropist, I didn’t argue. I felt too unimportant and too ashamed to have the right to a voice. His fumblings were clumsy but mercifully brief. His climax startled me back to dingy reality. Despite my lack of presence during this soulless act, I automatically checked for the condom. It was there.
Old habits die hard.
I left, muttering empty words of gratitude (why? he didn’t deserve them) feeling violated, foolish and even more damaged than when I had first arrived. I sat in the taxi and was quiet and reflective on the long journey home.
It was at that point that it dawned on me why he wasn’t a practising psychiatrist anymore. It was then that I need Dexter more than ever, but now I doubted that he would ever want me after this. The taxi couldn’t get me back home fast enough.
Mortified, crushed, belittled, humiliated, stupidly unworthy, who would ever want someone like me? Clearly ‘psychiatrist’ had seen me coming and I had fallen straight headfirst into his pathetic, obvious trap. I must have victim stamped all over my forehead.
I need to get away.
Please hide me, world!

et cetera