insidesuzyssoul












printscreen of chat room #pt.wikipedia in irc....

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Men Hey!

One thing I can say about the scene is that it never ceases to amaze me.

It’s been over two years since I started to explore it, and I still manage to encounter something new, and to think I’d seen and heard it all!

In the past when we used to meet up with couples we would encounter dishonest people more often than not. For example, we like to chat on IM with potential meets so we can get to know them better and gain some kind of rapport. As long as couples were aware that we were both present they’d be as sweet as pie but as soon as they thought one of us wasn’t present (in other words, me) their whole attitude would change.

Suddenly they would want to know if Suzy met without me. Obviously she replied negatively; then they would ask why she didn’t! As if she owed them an explanation! She would tell them straight that no matter what they said, they wouldn’t be able to change her mind. 
When they realised they weren’t about to gain any ground, they’d then get cheeky and say… “The least you can do is put your cam on and get your tits out!” Charming!

It probably wouldn’t surprise you to hear that we blocked and deleted people like that from IM. We have no time for ignorant people, and to think we were dealing with adults here.  Do they really think all people are as stupid as they are?

That was a usual pattern for quite some time, although every now and then I would be the target of the attention, which felt very odd to me.

Many white couples would proposition us for the simple reason that I’m black. The female half of the couple had never been with a black guy before and figured this would be a great opportunity to fulfil a fantasy before she got too old to do so. Suzy would refer to this type of couple as Great White Hunters.

The man would often push for it more than his partner, as he would appear desperate to witness his woman get pounded by a “BIG BLACK DICK”. They never even seemed to consider that not all black men are blessed in the trouser department. Luckily for me I’m sufficient in that department, unfortunately for them they would never get the chance to find out. I’ve always been suspicious of straight men that love to see their spouse pounded by a man or group of men. This really doesn’t make sense to me. Why would anyone want the woman they loved to be treated like a booty call or even worse like a sex-crazed piece of meat? In my opinion these men must have bi-curious tendencies and are afraid of admitting it to other people or sometimes even to themselves. Surely having sex with your own partner should be more arousing than watching someone else fuck her?

As time passed leading to the present, we began to notice that the trend of cheeky couples requesting for Suzy to lend me out grew substantially. We were receiving emails from all over the world and I do mean from all over the world!

We once emailed an attractive white couple from Maida Vale who on paper looked like a good prospect. Their reply was incredible; they didn’t want to meet the both of us, just me! The man was a photographer and he wanted to snap me with his wife as he said he loved the contrast of black on white but only if Suzy wasn’t there. He even had the cheek to ask if Suzy would be okay with it. The audacity of some people!

Recently we had a couple from Finland request for me to fly over and fuck the hell out of his Mrs, imagine that? There was a time when a black man couldn’t even look at a white woman without being lynched, now we have white couples chasing us vigorously. What is the world coming to? Hitler must be turning in his grave.

Here we are in the present, with a new agenda, since our last meet with a couple didn’t go so well. Our profile now only requests single bi women but couples will still try to convince us we should consider them, especially when we go on cam in the chat room. It’s flattering sometimes to think we’re so sought after although it can also be annoying sometimes; I guess it depends on our mood really. To be honest there are some lovely people that we get along with well but even they still try every now and then even though they know their chances are slim and none. Usually Suzy goes in the chat room without me, when she does she turns her web cam on, as do many others. Naturally she gets tons of attention from single men, women and couples alike. This is to be expected as she gets the same response when she out and about in the general public domain.

When we cam together people tend to get over excited, they seem to think they’re going to see some free sex show-we are sorry it’s just not going to happen. I’m quite a shy guy so my face is never seen on cam although they always request to see me. They seem to think if I have the courage to show my face then eventually I’ll show more, for example, my dick! There’re times when I go in the chat room without Suzy, obviously I don’t turn the cam on. Most people are aware that when Dex & Suze are in the room without the cam it means it’s just me, therefore only a handful of people say hello or chat to me.

Roughly a month ago I was in the chat room with no one really chatting to me, and then suddenly I get a pm in the room (that’s a private message that only you and the person that sent it can see) from a couple called Danandanna. It was the male half of the couple. I had seen them in the room many times before but they never said much, they just tended to display pictures and receive compliments. His message said:

“How’re you doing? Haven’t seen you for a while, fancy banging Anna again?”

That was a bit surprising to me. I reassured him that he was mistaken. He quickly apologised when he realised he’d mistaken me for another black man with a similar profile name. He then asked if I would be interested anyway. I said

“Sorry my man we no longer meet couples.”

He said, “No problem, the bitch doesn’t have to know!”

I was curious as to where he was going with this, so rather than bite his head off I let him continue: He said that he was always looking for dominant men who would punish his wife. He wasn’t kidding. The pictures he had displayed in the room clearly showed that his wife was a submissive woman, judging by the bondage and the vulgar messages scrawled on her buttocks.

I said, “Sir, you have the wrong guy. I’m definitely not a Dom!” He took that on the chin, said fair enough and moved on.

A few nights later, he returned to the chat room. I had displayed a picture and everyone paid me compliments, he was no exception. He said: “What a fine specimen of a dick! It looks real mean and would probably do some damage to Anna” Here we go again… I thought. “Thanks, glad you like the picture, yours isn’t bad either.”

Oh why did I say that? That’s when he got really confident.

Funny thing was, I’m not totally convinced he remembered our previous conversation, as he seemed to start from the beginning rather than recap. This time around he was a lot more forceful which was good as I relish the opportunity to tease and play games. He said, “I notice you don’t meet couples” I said, “That’s right Sir and it won’t be changing anytime soon.” I knew what he’d say next but I couldn’t resist hearing it again; this time I wanted to see how far he would go. He gave me the whole speech as to how Suzy didn’t have to know; in fact he encouraged men with partners to cheat on their partner with his wife! He said, “Read the profile it’s all there.”

Sure enough, there it was clear as day:

Seeking strong and extremely open minded Dom males Men needed who are not afraid to take control of her and more… ask Dan for details on what’s needed. Males preferred to be 30 and over and in UK, London area preferred. Discretion guaranteed for males with partners- no problem.

This man was no joke, I was wondering if I should carry the conversation on as it could get a bit deep but I had started it so therefore felt I should finish it.

He said “As long as I get what I need, you get what you need. I need to see her punished severely.”

I said “How discreet is it if you insist on pictures being taken?”

He replied “That’s not a problem. If you have tattoos I can photoshop them. I also have a range of masks and hoods that you can wear so you wont be recognised in the pictures by Suzy, the chat room or Anna.”

Huh?Now this was interesting. I was so glad I had pushed this!

I said “What do you mean by that, Sir? Why would Anna not recognise me?”

He replied ” The bitch doesn’t have a say in whom I choose to fuck and punish her.”

My jaw was wide open by this point. I learned something new everyday it seemed. How could a man do that to any woman let alone his own wife? The mind boggles.

I’ve often had elder black men tell me that no white man would ever give you something for free. “What has a white man ever done for you?” they would ask. In this case not only was this “white man” going to give me his wife for free, he was also going to give me lessons into how to cheat successfully and be dominant. Imagine that! Oh how my elders were so wrong! I doubt however, that this kind of thing would have ever happened in their youth.

He was anxious to know when I could meet with them. I knew this was coming and wasn’t sure how to get out of this game I had started. He said they were available everyday of the following week. That was the perfect escape for me as I would be having my wisdom teeth removed on the Tuesday of that week so would be out of commission for a while. When I broke the news he seemed so disappointed. I presumed he’d give up on me and accuse me of being a time waster. Not so lucky, he wanted to know when the swelling would go down, then he suggested that it didn’t matter anyhow as Anna would never see my face, so no need for me to worry about my appearance. This man was persistent. Every time I wriggled out of this game, he found a way to bring me back in…I guess that’s what I got for playing games huh?

At that point I decided to bite the bullet and end the situation abruptly… “ Sir! I’ve had a change of heart and have decided that I cannot cheat on my partner, it just doesn’t feel right.”

Some men don’t like rejection; they don’t like to think their partner isn’t desirable enough for a man like myself to stray. In an attempt to keep things sweet I told him that if I were single there wouldn’t be a problem.

He wasn’t hearing that at all. He suggested that I take his IM address so we could chat on the following Sunday night. Perhaps by then I may have had time to change my mind. I cannot lie, even though I’d been trying to squeeze my way out I was interested to hear what he had to say when he realised that it wouldn’t happen. I asked him why he couldn’t just find another. He replied that they didn’t get the opportunity to meet males often and had to compromise with meeting couples.

I said “Where’s the problem?”

He said that couples were rarely into extreme domination and couldn’t be swayed if they weren’t. With a solo male it didn’t take that much convincing. Once the man got his head around the fact that Anna wanted rough treatment, he tended to go with the flow and eventually enjoyed himself.

I asked, “Why don’t you continue to meet those same men?”

He replied that all those men were foreign! They had met them on their travels. He said that foreign men didn’t usually have the same inhibitions as English men and that they ideally wanted to find a young local man they could play with on a regular basis. I said that even if I had agreed to meet it would have hardly been regular as I had a partner, hence the couple profile. Of course that didn’t put him off at all, only spurred him on really as he said they were based in central London so it wouldn’t be hard for me to escape Suzy for a couple of hours two or three times a week.

It’s very hard for me to digest that a man would badger another man to cheat on his partner with his wife. As far as I was concerned it’s not necessary if you’re on scene, there’re so many people to choose from. If you can’t catch the interest of the person/people that you’re after then move on! There’re thousands of swingers in London alone not to mention the whole of England. What baffled me was how any attached man with a couple profile would take such a big risk by meeting a couple like this? Why would any man hand over such power to Dan? At any given time he could expose your exploits to your wife/partner and the whole chat room. Imagine the embarrassment and public humiliation! You’d have to keep him real sweet in order for him to keep his mouth shut. I wouldn’t like to be the man sitting down in the living room sweating on a Saturday night hoping that my wife/partner didn’t catch wind of what had been going on. I eagerly await our conversation on Sunday. I’m sure you can guess what will happen as can I, predictability is inevitable. At the end of it all I hope he doesn’t realise this was all a game I played out of intrigue.

If he ever reads this I guess he will.

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Lipstick used to make a symbolic kiss.

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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.




Masturbation was depicted in 19th century Shun...

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The downside of Squirting

Another night, another meet.
Not that we had had that many with couples but this one should be successful for sure.
This meet seemed unlike the rest; this couple was as laid back and cool as they came, not at all pushy ,unlike most.
This couple’s boundaries were pretty much identical to ours. By this time we had changed our preference to soft swing/swap (for those who don’t know that term, this pretty much means that anything goes except penetration with the other couple in question).
This couple was also soft swing and very experienced, the type of people that wouldn’t dream of full swap so we didn’t have to worry about boundaries being pushed with them.
Their names were Andy and Dana. We had met them at swinging club that we attended on the first Tuesday of every month.
To be honest, they had made a futile pass at us before, but this time was different. They had noticed that we weren’t playing but just sitting back chuckling with each other.
They were standing by the bar checking us out then made their move; this time they were much more sure of themselves and were brimming with confidence. They’d be damned if they’d allow us to escape a second time.
Their straightforward approach won us over, they were polite and charming, the type of people you couldn’t help but like.

As we sat there chatting away, Suzy and Dana began to flirt. Suzy and I decided to invite them into the play area for a little innocent fun. This was most unlike us to do so, but there was something about this couple that made us feel at ease.
As we entered the play room we scanned the cramped area looking for an empty sofa to occupy, we eventually found one at the back of the confined space.
We began to play, the usual touchy feely thing, fondling and sucking on breasts. Dana had a wonderful pair of big tits, Suzy just loved them.
Quite a few people in the room wanted in on our action. One crafty dude kept sneaking a wandering hand in the mix.
Much to my surprise Andy dealt with this guy in much the same manner that I would have…harshly!
I didn’t expect that as Andy came across as a passive type of guy, but obviously not when you fuck with his woman.
Dana was unable to do away with her trousers due to the fact it was that time of the month, hence the black trousers. I doubt too may women wear white trousers when they’re on their period.
Unlike previous times, Suzy didn’t appear to be acting or pleasing, she genuinely seemed to be enjoying the moment rather than putting on a show for those who were expecting a spectacle.
This put me at great ease. This is all I had wanted really, for my woman not feel that she had to compromise.
Dana and Andy lifted up Suzy’s skirt, pulled her knickers aside and went to work with fingers and tongues.
Suzy was ecstatic; I was content with sucking on Dana’s big breasts. I’m usually not a breast man but they were nice and deserved attention.
It wasn’t long before Suzy began to wet the sofa. Dana & Andy were amazed and totally blown away with the results of their oral skills; two tongues on Suzy’s pussy equalled mess.
The more Suzy squirted the more they tucked in. They were totally infatuated with Suzy at this point; the only problem was they had left it a bit late to make their move on us as time was ticking.
Our playtime was limited. It wasn’t long before the DJ made it clear that closure on the night’s activities was nearing.

As Dana pulled down Suzy’s skirt Andy quickly suggested that we meet in at their place sometime in the near future. We thought this was a great idea so we quickly exchanged contact details.
We exchanged pleasantries and went our separate ways with a future meet in mind, it seemed both couples had found the perfect match.
As we made our way home in a cab we received a text message from Andy & Dana, the message read:

 “We just had crazy wild sex on an abandoned market stall, damn you two make us horny!”

That left a smile on our faces.
This night might end up being the last time we attended that club but at least we didn’t leave totally empty handed.

Back to tonight.  For the past two weeks we had been planning to meet Andy and Dana at their place in central London.
We had received many text messages from this couple asking if we had any special requests, our reply was simple: extra towels!
Suzy was always self-conscious of her squirting. Even though people were fascinated by it, the aftermath was no joke. In fact she had written about it on a site, where she dealt with the not so pretty side of squirting:

 I’ve been a squirter (more accurately, a gusher) for some years now. It first started spontaneously during very vanilla sex. It didn’t feel great, I was worried that I had just peed on orgasm and was on the verge of going to the GP to check myself for incontinence. 
Since then, I’ve squirted more and more, and now it’s become at times an inconvenience, as the bed is always absolutely soaked. We’ve tried towels on top of towels and plastic sheeting, but then it’s like a paddling pool. It’s not fun to splash in your bed. Don’t get me wrong, it can feel wonderful and it does make excellent lube and its great to slither around body to body once you are both covered in it, but I do think that female ejaculation is very overrated and over-hyped. It doesn’t help those women who aren’t squirters to feel good about themselves. Sisters, please   don’t feel inadequate if you don’t do it, trust me its no biggie. The downsides to squirting have to be said just to keep a balance.

1) Don’t let them fool you that it’s odourless… it smells a day later.


2) Not good if your partner shaves down there to be a squirter, it brings him out in a horrible rash!


3) Spontaneous sex outdoors, in cinemas, in clubs, forget it! You leave telltale puddles wherever you go and can end up with wet jeans… and so can he.


4) Squirting yourself /or him in the face is an instant passion killer, it totally ruins the moment, but you both end up in a fit of giggles


5) Oral sex(receiving) can end up being a no-no, not unless your partner can breathe through his/her ears and /or is prepared to swallow and choke and splutter and burp. Hmmm, not my man. Can’t say I can blame him either. As a bi woman I’d hesitate to go down on a squirter too. 


6) I’ve said it before but … WET BED. There’s nothing more annoying than having an earth shattering shared orgasm and not being able to just collapse in a blissful heap. Sorry, if you’re a squirter you have to change the bed before you can both relax. 


7) Others expectations … On scene you can be reduced to a sum of your squirty parts. No one notices you for you… just get fixated on the ‘squirt’. At first its fun to perform, but believe me it wears off really quickly.


8) Proof that you’ve come? Well no not really. I can squirt without even coming. When you’ve been doing it as long as I have, you learn the tricks. So all you dudes out there who think it proves your fabulous lovemaking skills, sorry to burst your bubble, but squirters squirt with or without your input.


9) Makes having safe sex really, really hard…. I can’t put a condom on! And I can’t aim. When it gushes it goes everywhere. Be aware of this all you safe sex people out there.


Okay that’s enough moaning on my part. 
Now I’m trying to find the stopcock to turn the damn thing off… 
No, that’s just a plumbing joke. 
Sometimes I wish I could just put a plug in it though.


Suzy  

Back to our story:
We planned the meet around the ladies monthly cycle, due to the fact that Dana was menstrual at the club and Suzy wasn’t, we didn’t want a reverse in fortunes.
Two weeks was perfect timing. Andy & Dana were clearly excited, this time they wouldn’t be restricted by the clock or club owners, not to mention wandering stray hands.
We met them at their local pub, which just so happened to be nothing more than two minutes away from their apartment.
We ordered a few drinks, vodka and cokes if I recall correctly, I’m not a drinker myself so Suzy decided to finish my drink for me as I clearly wasn’t up to it. I’m very much a soft drinks type of guy.
After, let’s say, thirty minutes or so Andy received a phone call from a friend; this guy was clearly also a work colleague.
Andy made it clear that he couldn’t talk at that time as he was about to have some fun, it was pretty obvious that this friend was aware of his friend and his partner’s antics.
Not long after that phone call Andy suggested that we make our way upstairs to their apartment.
As we exited the pub Dana pointed out the market stall they had had sex on, we found that very amusing.
We entered the apartment block, which was thirty seconds away, and headed for the lift, they were five floors up.
As we entered their cute little apartment, Andy offered us another drink. I asked for a coke, Suzy and Dana asked for pretty much the same as they had in the pub.
They had this huge bed/sofa on their living room floor, perfect for swinging, I guess.
As we sat down with drinks in hand we began to talk about the swinging club and previous experiences we had both had.
Somehow or another the Queen of Sheba came up in the conversation. She was well known on the circuit and Andy and Dana had obviously encountered her on more than one occasion.
They found her to be charming and confessed to have played with her at a party. They were shocked to hear that we didn’t have a nice word to say for her. They wanted to know why. Their jaws dropped as I told them our little tale….

It was a weekday; I was at Suzy’s apartment about to leave for work.
Suzy had been telling me of a conversation she had had with the Queen of Sheba earlier on in the day. It appeared that Suzy had become Sheba’s new favourite person, I wondered why?

It came to pass that Sheba wanted Suzy to hold workshops for women that squirt in a coffee bar in Soho. How daft was that?
For some reason or another, Suzy seemed interested. She truly believed that she and Sheba were forming some kind of friendship.
Suzy told me that she mentioned to Sheba that she no longer played with other men; she was solely playing with other women.
Sheba replied that Suzy should not allow pressure from me to sway her from other men.
Excuse me? Suzy came up with this idea all by herself, believe me.
Suzy reassured me that she had made this all very clear to Sheba whom then retracted her statement and told Suzy that she must be having some kind of crisis within herself and had to overcome it in order to move on with her life.
I looked at Suzy with amazement,
 “Please tell me you didn’t buy that shit!”
Suzy looked at me baffled by my reaction, she was clearly thinking of what to say next. Suzy replied:
 “But babe, she’s my friend and she’s just looking out for me. There’s nothing wrong with voicing her opinion!”
Suzy clearly couldn’t see the game that Sheba was playing.
A lot of people naively seem to think that only men play games.
Suzy was reluctant to voice her next statement but didn’t really have much choice:
“Babe, how would you feel about going to Essex tonight to meet up with Sheba and her business partner? It would just be the four of us; they want to talk business. She left me this voicemail, have a listen.”
I put the phone to my ear and listened to Sheba’s words.
It was basically as Suzy had explained but something was wrong. I gave Suzy back her phone and said:
 “She’s lying.”
Suzy asked why I would say such a thing.
I replied that she was stuttering and thinking off the top of her empty head. She clearly wasn’t as smart as she thought she was. If it was nothing more than business then why were we required to travel so far, why couldn’t they simply speak to you over the phone? In fact Sheba lives in South London so why couldn’t she meet locally?
Suzy was flabbergasted by my words. She replied:
“You’re being paranoid! What’s your problem?”
I was about to give Suzy the hard truth but for some reason I held back. I felt that this time around she had to feel pain in order for her to totally understand what some people were about.
She asked again why I was being paranoid. I didn’t give a reason. I just repeated my previous statement:
 “That lady is lying; I can hear it in her voice.”
Suzy shrugged off my words and asked if I’d at least consider going, as she couldn’t go by herself. I hinted at what my true feelings were:
“Why not? It’s just business, right? You should have nothing to worry about! Surely you don’t need me to conduct business.”
Suzy looked at me puzzled. She couldn’t quite understand why my feelings were so harsh towards this lady.
I left for work, saying I’d think about it, fully knowing this trip was never going to happen.

Whilst at work Suzy would ring every thirty minutes or so, she was trying to find out what time I was finishing work so she and Sheba could figure out between them what trains to catch and so on.
With my workload it was impossible to give an exact time. I never left the building until my work was completed, that’s just the kind of worker I was.
Another thirty minutes went by, another phone call. This time I couldn’t hold back my true feelings, I had to let them loose.
“Babe, she’s playing you for a dummy!”
 Suzy went quiet. Eventually she piped up:
“Why would you say that?”
I replied:
“Think about it, what does the Queen of Sheba do?  She’s an escort who promises her clients a good time. Not by playing with them but by convincing them that she’ll introduce them to the wonderful world of swinging and high society. She’s nothing more than a wanna-be female pimp/madame, all she does is get friendly with women in clubs hoping that they’ll show her client a good time for free while she gets paid for simply sitting back. Do you honestly think that she’d invite us all the way to Essex without sex being on the cards? If she really is telling the truth there would be four of us present: two men and two women. What do you think they would have in store for us?”

Suzy went quiet again, this time she was digesting what I was saying. She replied:

“I hear what you’re saying, babe but I’m pretty sure that isn’t the case; even if it was they can’t make us play!”
At this point I was thinking that Suzy had to be one of the dumbest smart people on the planet! Was she really being duped by this woman’s pathetic game?
I hung up the phone, I knew at some point my temper was going to boil over if I continued to talk.
Wasn’t long before Suzy called me again:
“ Babe, what’s up? Why are you being like this? I know you’re looking out for me but you’re being really paranoid right now!”
At this point I really had to let the cat out of the bag.
“ Suzy, I’m warning you, this isn’t a threat but I have to let you know what’s going on here. I tell you what, I’ll go with you!”
 Suzy seemed stunned but she was in for an even bigger surprise with what I was about to say:
“These are my terms though: if we reach that house and enter the living area and see more than Sheba and her business partner, there will be trouble!”

Suzy asked what I meant. I replied:
“It sounds to me that she’s setting us up. It’s an old game that I have witnessed many times as a teenager. Many times a certain dude would brag about a certain freaky chick he knew. Only problem when you brag is, that sometimes you have to back up your words with actions. That would often lead to the other dudes in the room asking to meet this, so called, freaky girl in person. Should the dude bragging wish to prove this girl exists, he would have no choice but to call the girl in question and ask her to come over as soon as possible. When the girl arrives she doesn’t anticipate that there will be many other people present. Now she’s in a sticky situation: the only female amongst so many horny men.

The other men present only have one thing in mind; they want to sample the freaky stuff this dude was chatting about. It’s now down to the main man to convince the girl in question to give everyone a free sample.
In the famous words of Nate Dogg: “It aint no fun if the homeys can’t have none.”
The young lady only has two options: either pull down her panties or walk the fuck out. Unfortunately very few were smart enough to realise the latter was actually an option.
For some reason I could sense this was exactly what Sheba had in store for us and I reminded Suzy about the previous party where Sheba had used Suzy to her own ends without even Suzy realising.
That had turned out to be the worst night in our relationship, I’m sure you can recap what situation I’m talking about, my dear reader.
Many people may have thought I was jealous or unreasonable that night.
What I didn’t explain about that incident is that at the time I saw a mercenary game unfolding before my very eyes.
Unfortunately Suzy was totally oblivious to it and I hadn’t the time or opportunity to explain right then what was happening

Suzy’s eyes filled up in recognition of that fateful night in question.
 I continued to explain to Suzy that Sheba was the type of woman who would try and make money or gain popularity off the back of Suzy’s squirting, hence the fact that she was suddenly so interested in Suzy’s life. Sheba wanted to be the big fish but didn’t know how to go about it, she saw other women as her ticket.
She had tried, with limited success to organize sex parties and had now resorted to poaching other swing club clientele by offering her services as a coat check girl at our regular swinging club, resplendent in her obviously home made burlesque outfits.
If she could convince attractive women to jump on board her project and then pull the wool over their eyes, she could then put them in very compromising positions. For example introducing them to her hungry clients of whom she was incapable of showing a good time, she wasn’t conventionally attractive, by any means. I told Suzy that I could visualise a good five to seven men waiting for her to arrive so they could witness the water works that Sheba had promised them.
If this prediction had become a reality I would have turned into Suzy’s worst nightmare, she would have witnessed the absolute worst aspect of me.
I would have inflicted as much bodily harm on every man in the room, not to mention Sheba! Someone would have had to call the police but I wouldn’t have given a fuck!
I continued:
“To be honest I’m quite looking forward to going now as I’m sure my suspicions are true, you need to see what type of person you are dealing with here. She’s a nasty piece of work and I will fuck her up!”
This time around my words sunk in. Suzy was now concerned, the teenage game I had described seemed to hit home. I told her I had to get back to work.
“We’ll chat in a bit.”
It wasn’t long before a frantic Suzy called me back:
“You’ll never guess what text message I just received from Sheba’s so called business partner?”

Suzy went on to explain that Sheba’s business partner had sent a message to all his contacts about an orgy that was taking place that very night at his place.
It gave all the information needed such as entrance fee and directions. Was this coincidentally the same night as our ‘business meeting?’ or was something more sinister going on here?
 This man didn’t know that he had inadvertently also sent this text message to Suzy.
What a clown! If only he had grasped what he had just done! He confirmed all my suspicions for me. The funny thing was, he was oblivious to the fact that we knew of their little plan. Oops, they had seriously fucked up!
All their clients and contacts wouldn’t be pleased when they realised there wouldn’t be a show for them to witness, they would have probably ended up asking for a refund.

I could tell by Suzy’s voice she was disappointed as the realisation dawned that her so-called friend had attempted to set her up.
She was also relieved that we didn’t get to go all the way to Essex as she was well aware that I wasn’t joking about my violent intentions.
Did Sheba think I was going to sit back and watch my woman being made a fool of? Hell no! I’d be damned before I allow that to happen.
As I’ve stressed many times before to Suzy, I know “GAME” in all of its forms, regardless of how simple or complex it maybe
When you’ve surrounded yourself with the kind of people that I grew up with, it’s kind of hard to miss.
Usually when I’m in the position of proving some one wrong I can’t help but say “I told you so” but in this case it was inappropriate, Suzy didn’t need the added embarrassment.
Suzy was very upset and much like me had no intention of letting this incident just disappear.
We wanted Sheba to know that she was well aware of what she had in store for us.
I thought it would be much better to just not show up and leave Sheba “red faced”, not that black people of dark complexion can turn red but the embarrassment would be too much for her to hide.
Suzy disagreed; I wasn’t about to argue with her, I’d already done enough detective work for the day so I thought I’d  leave the conclusion in her hands.
She sent a text message to Sheba telling her she had received a message from her business partner; she wanted to know whether the contents of the message were true.
Suzy was well aware of the truth but she wanted Sheba to squirm at the fact she had been caught out.
Just as Suzy thought, Sheba took her time to reply.
The coward, she eventually replied with an answer: “Yes it is! But let me call you to explain.”
With that Suzy sent a simple message, WE ARE NOT COMING, HAVE A GOOD NIGHT.

We bumped into Sheba around three months later at the once a month swinging club. To witness this socialite of the swinging scene duck her head when we entered the room was hilarious.
Let’s just say we’ve never seen such a big woman move so quickly.

Andy and Dana shook their heads in disbelief; they found it hard to believe that a woman they knew could be capable of such a thing.
I didn’t want to dampen the mood any longer so I quickly changed the subject to something more light-hearted.
The four of us chatted along for the next few minutes, Andy was plying the ladies with drinks; at this point I didn’t see a problem with that at all. Three of them appeared to be fairly sober despite the volume of alcohol they were consuming.
Wasn’t long before the girls were kissing and groping each other; this was soft swing at its best: two women who were genuinely attracted to each other.
Both ladies undressed each other with eager anticipation at what was about to happen.
I chose to stay clothed; I wasn’t that comfortable with getting naked so quickly in front of anybody, I was very much a slow starter.
Suzy and Dana were clearly fond of each other, they were kissing passionately. As Dana came up for a breather she said out loud: “I’m such a lesbian!” We all cracked up laughing.
Andy got undressed and jumped on the bed to get tucked into the action; it was pretty obvious that Dana and Andy wanted to resume the oral tag team they had formed at the club.
Just as Suzy was about to allow the tongue games to begin, she quickly blurted out “TOWELS!”
Andy leapt up with a smile and ran into the next room.
He would return not only with towels but also with a large plastic sheet, they had clearly taken heed from those text messages they had received.

He laid the plastic sheet down on the bed/sofa and the games begun as I sat back and watched.
A full twenty minutes later and I was still dressed, I have to confess that I’m a slow starter and feel odd about leaping into action. For some reason I got the bright idea in my head to record what was happening, the room wasn’t brightly lit but I thought what the hell. I pulled my mobile phone out of my pocket, loaded the camera and began to record.
The film was no longer than five minutes but my footage was pretty good. Andy and Dana had a red snake light in the room which vibrated well through the video to give it a wonderful effect.
I played the footage back to Andy; he seemed well chuffed and asked for the video to be sent via bluetooth to his laptop.
Once that was done I thought it was about time I joined in the fun, I could see I was much in demand.
I got undressed to wandering eyes. Dana and Andy seemed excited to see what I looked like naked. They appeared to be pleased with what they saw, Andy especially. Or was I seeing things?
The main reason for my reluctance to play in group situations is my incapability to get erections, for some reason my friend doesn’t rise to the occasion in front of spectators.
Andy offered yet another drink, both ladies accepted more alcohol.While he prepared the drinks I began to play with both ladies with a limp dick in hand.
Penetration was never on offer much to my relief but giving and receiving oral was expected, I was hoping the latter wouldn’t turn out to be embarrassing for me.
I kissed, sucked and stroked as usual, Dana seemed to love that, she wanted my fingers inside her but Andy returned with the much craved drinks.
As the ladies sipped on their drinks Dana began to tell us of another interracial couple they play with on regular basis.
She then put rest to what I had suspected by telling Suzy and I that Andy would often play with the male half of this couple.
The man in question according to Dana was a very attractive black man with dreadlocks; I myself don’t have dreadlocks but can now understand why Andy was so eager to see me naked.
To his credit he never attempted to touch me or try anything crafty; as he was aware I was straight.
With all tales of previous meets aside we all began to play, I still was having no luck with my friend downstairs but that wasn’t going to let that stop me from enjoying myself.
Dana and Andy were really going to work on Suzy and much to their delight they received the reward they were after.

Suzy let out one of the biggest gushes I have ever seen since I’ve known her. Andy and Dana were soaked from the waist up.
Despite this they wanted more action. I thought they would quit there but they were only just getting started.
For the next ten minutes they had Suzy squirting all over the room, sometimes as far as ten feet.
Unfortunately Suzy can’t control the direction of the fluid when she ejaculates, it just happens to land where-ever.
What Andy and Dana didn’t realize while having fun is that Suzy was hitting the television, stereo and digital display they had on their mantle piece.
Suzy’s noise level began to increase much to our host’s disapproval; they did have neighbours after all.
They didn’t dare say what they were thinking but it was written all over their faces, they kept shooting nervous looks in my direction, hoping I would encourage Suzy to keep the decibels down.
They should have thought about that before they made it their conquest to make her squirt endlessly, surely they must have anticipated that orgasms involve noise?
What I had noticed was Suzy’s behaviour. She did seem to be totally ignoring my pleas to tone it down.
She came across as dismissive and quite aggressive, that’s when I realized that Andy’s cocktails must have been pretty strong as the alcohol was definitely taking effect on Suzy’s persona.
Suzy and alcohol don’t mix well at all, some people may say I should have kept tabs on what she was drinking but she’s an adult after all, she has to take responsibility for her own actions.
At this point I realized I had to take control of the situation so I diverted the attention off Suzy and put it on myself.
I grabbed Dana and went to work with my hands and mouth.
Andy really seemed to enjoy watching Dana being pleasured just as much as she liked receiving it.
She was moaning and groaning while Andy groped her breasts from behind, at this point Suzy was merely a spectator.
Sitting back and watching isn’t Suzy’s style, wasn’t long before she jumped back into the action.
She had been receiving all night and was ready to return the favour; I knew this would be a bad idea as she was in a very aggressive mood.
Dana had a very tight pussy so the most I could manage was two fingers at one time, anything more would feel uncomfortable for her.
Suzy wasn’t to know this; especially when in a drunken state.
As I was in the middle of pleasing Dana, Suzy attempted to enter four of her fingers inside Dana.
Now Dana had six fingers inside of her, bad idea! I could see the displeasure in her face.
She quickly removed Suzy’s hand. I knew Suzy was in no state to acknowledge the discomfort she was causing and would only attempt to enter with even more fingers second time around uninvited.
With that in mind I made sure I told Suzy to just leave it be for the time being and allow my hands to do all the work.
As I plugged away at Dana her big breasts jiggled up and down, thank goodness she and Andy weren’t a full swap couple; any man with a penis more than seven and a bit inches would cause her great discomfort.
It took longer than I thought to bring her to orgasm but we got there eventually, my wrists were aching but I thoroughly enjoyed the workload.
With that, play time had come to an end. If only you could have seen the look on their faces when Andy turned the living room light on; it was classic! It was hard for them to hide their expressions; they couldn’t believe the mess they had created.
When I say the mess they created that’s exactly what I mean! They couldn’t really blame Suzy for what had happened; as they were the ones who determinedly went out of their way to make it happen.
They scanned the room looking at the damage, wet floor, wet TV, wet stereo and a pile of soaked towels.
I forgot to mention the mantle piece! They were truly entertained at the time it was happening; they took great pride in producing great squirts from Suzy’s soaking vagina.
Now reality had set in, they had to clear the mess up. Even though they were a lovely couple, I didn’t have much sympathy for them.
As they stood there trying to hide the look of amazement on their faces, they failed to remember that we had warned them way ahead of time.
Not to mention they had approached us not the other way around, they witnessed the mess that Suzy made that night in the club.
They were totally fascinated that night and wanted a private show, now they had experienced it in full, glorious technicolour, they weren’t too happy with the aftermath.
Surely they didn’t think that the fluid evaporates into thin air? Oh well.
Judging by their body language they didn’t want a second round, with that I made my excuses and told them we had to leave as it was late and we had work the next day, not that it wasn’t the truth.
Andy seemed pleased that we were about to leave, imagine that! When they were oblivious to the mess they couldn’t get enough but when the lights were on, their mood changed dramatically, out of site out of mind, it seemed.
It’s funny how things work out sometimes. It’s not like they knew Suzy was a gusher when they approached us at first but it most definitely played a part in their eagerness to meet us privately.
To think it was the very same thing, ultimately, that turned them off, is ironic. Let’s just say we never got invited back to their place for a repeat performance.
As for Suzy, she confirmed my fears the next day that she was drunk, as she didn’t have any recollection of what had taken place the night before.
We received an invite from them around two months via text message to meet up once again; this time though, not at their place but at the once a month club. I wonder why that was.




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.



{August 16, 2011}   On Webcams and competition

Strip poker

Image via Wikipedia

MR CATCHUP

Oh a web cam is a useful invention. For a few pounds you can plug this gadget into your computer and have oh so much fun! For the exhibitionists of this world (Suzy included at this point) it gave a great opportunity to show off to the whole cyber community. There was a certain thrill at first, a certain egotistical boost of having anonymous messages appearing on screen telling Suzy and Dexter how attractive and appealing they were. This thrill is a thin veneer though; it wears very dull over time.
With those compliments come expectation, and soon turn to insult when unfulfilled.
Not all people are impatient, however. Some others are smart and realise that forging a friendship can pay back dividends. Good things come to those that wait.
Introducing Mr Catchup.
He was a regular viewer on the Suzy and Dexter show. He became a familiar handle on the screen. He was part of a swinging couple from London. With his patience came results. Over time, trust was established and Mr Catchup had access to private chats on cam over IM once Dexter had established that they were a genuine couple. Mr Catchup was always keen to get naked, but Suzy stayed modest. There was a certain inhibition that came from seeing who was watching you especially when their arousal was clear. From being just a fan, Mr Catchup started to act besotted. Although Suzy was uncomfortable with this knowledge, she felt safe, as Dexter was there to support her. Mr Catchup’s partner always seemed to be sleeping (this is often an excuse used by single men pretending to have partners, but not in his case as they could see her sleeping.) Suzy and Dexter wondered why she never came to chat.
A date was set to meet.
The couples met in a busy London pub, not a good choice it turned out, and as the music was so loud they struggled to hear each other above the din. They decided to retire to Mr Catchup’s nearby apartment to continue the conversation.
The subject came around to experience on scene.
Suzy spoke of how she had had two years of experience when she had first met Dexter and introduced him into the lifestyle He was initially reticent and understandably apprehensive about it, but soon grew to be comfortable with the idea. After all, Dexter was by no means a virgin before meeting Suzy; he was quite the ladies man. Performing in front of an audience just took a bit of adjusting to. And although Suzy was older than him, he made up for that by being precociously mature for his years. Dexter was also the type of man who accepts a person for who they are when he meets them. If he had had a problem with Suzy being a swinger, he wouldn’t have stuck around. Suzy loved his non-judgemental attitude.

Mr Catchup listened attentively while Suzy told her tale. He watched her transfixed as she stroked Dexter’s arm and snuggled up close. Mr Catchup’s lady was the talkative one now from being someone so quiet on cam, she had turned out to have quite a tale to tell. She told of threesomes, foursomes, outdoor romps and mile high club adventures. She was quite the naughty lady it appeared. How deceptive can appearances be! It looked like butter wouldn’t melt in this ladies mouth. She had had more than butter in that pretty mouth of hers. As Suzy and Dexter listened open mouthed to her tale, they sensed a growing unease coming from Mr Catchup After all; none of these lurid tales involved him. And he was determined to catch up, as he told them, quite unashamedly. He related how he had a fixed agenda for the next three years in which he had to accomplish all those things that she had experienced, prior to meeting him. Did his woman have a choice? This made Dexter and Suzy feel most uncomfortable, but as they were new to the scene they had no fixed expectations. It was clear Mr Catchup and his partner expected some kind of live show from Suzy and Dexter, coyly asking if they would play a game of strip poker. They agreed to this, but the cards never materialised. Things grew more uncomfortable until Suzy and Dexter decided to call it a day in the wee small hours and slipped away into the waiting cab.
Snuggling up in bed with Dexter, a text message tone cut through the sleepy dawn air. Suzy opened it and it read:
Thanks for a lovely evening. You made us so horny we had to touch ourselves before we could get to sleep. Xx

Dexter and Suzy wondered why they didn’t touch each other. Suzy sleepily reached for Dexter’s stiffening member and slipped it inside her moist softness as they drifted off to sleep.




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.

.




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

Image via Wikipedia

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.
Hard.
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.
Pm
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!



{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