The Real Deal

An assurance, dear readers, that all of the stories you read on this blog are true, and that the photos are of the actual person or people who fucked me at the time, and usually of the event as well - there is an occasional exception, such as the Nick story recently - this situation, in the dark on a beach track did not allow any candid snaps, but the pic is of the man himself).

MM is a voyeur who loves erotic photography, and his camera (still and HD video) is always on hand when we play. We have some amazing photo albums, with titles such as "JJ and Her Boys", and a slightly briefer one called "JJ and Her Girls".

Truth in journalism. Enjoy....

Almost a Zipless Fuck

It happened about 2 years ago. A mind-blowing experience that was the classic knee-trembler - but not because I was being fucked against a wall. A true quickie.
Nick was a young (too young - 27yo) bottle shop worker, surfie and trainee fireman. Despite my protests, MM had cajoled me into meeting him one evening, so we ducked into the local bottle shop where he worked for a quick recon. He was certainly young, but he was also tall, good looking, slim (see above) and American! A good combo really.
We had a chat, he seemed to like me, but we left without making any plans to meet.
Next day, the first of a series of text messages arrived, each one getting hotter and more urgent as the days went by. I was still very reluctant, as my rule was, and is, I don’t fuck anyone anyone under 30 years old. Young guys are prone to be unreliable, shoot off at the mouth to their mates, clumsy (or insanely shy), unsophisticated, inexperienced, and just plain.....naive.
The text messages went on and on. We either ignored them or sent back a non-committal reply. About 2 weeks after meeting Nick, one evening (I think I must have been ovulating), he caught me at a weak moment. The first text message read:
“How about we meet at the beach for a quick one...”
Next: “ I want to hold the cheeks of your bum in my hands, spread them apart and lick your arse...”
And again: “Just tell me where you want to meet and I’ll be there...”
And then: “Go on, you know you want to...”
And so on.
After a few more rounds of attempted brush-offs by us, my raging hormones and MM’s urging got the better of me. By the time I relented, I was secretly, as only a woman can be, wet with anticipation. The thought of a quickie at the beach with a young spunk was pretty fucking exciting.
My ‘mature’ side rationalised that it would be a one-off, and we would never see Nick again. A quick exciting fuck, tidy up, and we go on with our evening.
So we rang him, organised a meeting place, made a rather lame excuse to our house guest at the time about delivering some stuff to a friend, and left for the dunes. We parked at a nearby beach-side carpark, and waited. Not long. The moon was filtering soft light through the trees, and assisted by the borrowed light of the streetlights nearby, we could see as Nick got out of his car, that he had only a pair of board shorts on. No shirt, no shoes.. but with a rather large bulge in his boardies. Omigod....
My knees were actually trembling, in fact my whole body was shaking with excitement and expectation of an experience that I had not even known that I might fantasise about!
I had dressed in a soft cotton top (good for tit access), with a short loose skirt, no knickers of course - ready for breeding! MM pulled out our picnic blanket and we headed off along the track to the beach. I couldn’t wait until we actually got to the beach, so I suggested we simply put the rug down on the track. Nick, of course, was very agreeable. He was obviously as horny as hell.
Now I always like to kiss a guy before I fuck him, so I gave Nick a long, slow pash on the lips, tasting the excitement in his mouth. I wanted to stretch it out beyond a 2 minute affair, so I took my time preparing him and getting him more excited with my tongue playing with his mouth. His erection was dancing on my stomach and playing on my mind.
With my back to him, I knelt down on the blanket, and MM raised my skirt, offering me to Nick. There was just enough moonlight for MM to get a good look at the scenario (he’s such a tragic voyeur), but not enough for Nick to actually see my dark star. He started, as he promised he would, by gripping my cheeks, spreading them slowly apart, and flicking his tongue around my arsehole, and with admirable dexterity, levering his pants off at the same time. His cock emerged, already swathed in a condom...obviously a trained boy scout - ‘be prepared’.
By the time he actually managed to get naked, cunt juice was running down the inside of my thighs. I was still trembling, but now I was trembling with the urgency to have him inside me. He entered me in one smooth swift stroke. I could feel his cock so well. It was not very thick, but long, pushing against my cervix as he thrust in and out. Long, slow thrusts. Not bad for a young guy. He fucked me like a dog for several minutes. It was so good to feel his primal need inside me. He fucked me beautifully, sensuously, until he came in a muffled explosion of desire. We stayed motionless, sweaty, for a couple more minutes until he gradually withdrew.
We got dressed (or in my case rearranged my clothes), folded the blanket, and headed back to the carpark.
I gave him a goodbye kiss, and we went home.
Never saw him again. As expected......
No matter, it was an experience I would recommend to any horny woman. Absolutely hot, and I will treasure that experience for the rest of my life.
MM and I still get horny on the memory of that brief interlude. Priceless.

Drinking from the Furry Cup

When is Good-looking TOO Good-looking?

MM had been emailing and texting Tom for months. We had put off meeting him a number of times because of our relentless social life, lack of opportunity, and a desire by me to reduce our lifestyle activities a bit. Eventually, a few weeks ago, we met Tom for a drink at a local bar. He was astoundingly good-looking . I mean film star good-looking. He was Hollywood-tall-dark-and-handsome. Tom Cruise looks with height (he is also an ex-helicopter pilot - my own Top Gun?).

Ten years younger than me, but Tom assured me he preferred older women.

Too good looking for me? Yes, but maybe not in the way you think.

Last tuesday night we invited Tom for a conjugal visit. We wined him, dined him, we all stripped off for the spa. Naked, he was magnificent: tall, great body, honed and buffed on a diet of squash, tennis, surfing and water skiing. By the time we submerged in the spa I had gotten over my awe at this dream man, and I was happy to fuck him.

Tom left the spa and frolicked in our pool at one stage, and well after he had returned to the spa, he still hadn’t made a move on me (despite MM’s urging).

Post-spa, it was getting late, we had to work the next day, and Tom was still not showing any signs of getting hot and heavy with me. I had by this stage developed a slight sore throat and headache ( a precursor to 2 days in bed to follow) so my enthusiasm for vigorous sex had diminished somewhat. Tom was dilly-dallying, undecided whether to make a move or not (he also had to work the next day).

Eventually he got dressed and left promising to come back soon to fuck me. I was thinking later, this guy is so handsome that, by his own admission, he never actually has to make the first move on a girl. So perhaps that’s what happened. He was simply waiting for me to make the first move, and I had silently resolved not to do that! Impasse...

He was in unfamiliar territory, having to chase the girl.

Or maybe he really didn’t fancy me after all?

In any event, we await another visit. Or a cancellation. I’m not concerned either way.

But it would be mighty fine to fuck this gorgeous man.

To be continued.....

Me and My Vagina

This Irish joke will no doubt offend a number of people:

“ When Paddy wakes he gets out of bed, showers, and gets ready for work. he finds his wife in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. She takes one look at him and says:
‘Mary mother of God Paddy, you look TERRIBLE!’. Paddy says:
‘But I feel great, I feel wonderful - I don’t understand’
Somewhat disturbed by this reaction, Paddy heads off to work, and when he boards the train, his old mate Sean is sitting down reading his newspaper, looks up, glances at Paddy, makes a face and says:
‘Jaysus Paddy what have yer done to yerself - you look TERRIBLE!’
‘But’, Paddy says, ‘I feel great! I really feel great’
Arriving at his office, his secretary greets him at the door, takes one look at him and says:
‘Oh my dear god Paddy what have you been doing. You look absolutely TERRIBLE! There must be something wrong with you. I’m going to make an appointment for you with your doctor, you can’t go ‘round looking like that!’
Later Paddy is ushered into his doctor’s surgery, the doctor takes one look at him and says:
‘Good Lord Paddy, come here and sit down...you look TERRIBLE!’
Paddy says: ‘I know doc everyone keeps telling me that I look terrible, but I feel GREAT. What on earth d’you think’s wrong with me?’

The doc replies: ‘I don’t know. I’ve never come across this condition before. I’ll have to look it up.’
So he takes an enormous reference book called The Irish Thesaurus of Symptoms and Remedies off the shelf and leafs through it rapidly:
‘Let’s see - ‘feels great, looks terrible’...’feels great, looks terrible’...feels...feels...ah! here we are: ‘feels great, looks terrible’ ........... you’re a VAGINA!’”

As politically incorrect as this joke is, it expresses how I feel about my pussy at times. I know we’re supposed to worship our vaginas as friends but the relationship between me and my cunt has always been ambivalent at best.
It’s not that I don’t get a lot of joy out of my divine fulcrum. I regularly, absent-mindedly, dreamily, fiddle with it - I stroke the lips, twirl the hairs, tickle myself, occasionally rub my clit (just a little, mind) - especially when I am half-dressed or naked. I play with it in bed, in front of the television and the computer, lying in the sun, even at breakfast, to amuse myself, sometimes to amuse MM. I have never been a committed masturbator, and even the most plaintive of pleas from MM doesn’t drive me to this most ancient of pastimes. Self-pleasuring doesn’t come naturally with me because it doesn’t actually lead to much self-pleasure. No orgasm.....

At times during my cycle I become aware of my own sex odour. A musky smell that drifts lazily into my nostrils and invariably makes me aware of how horny I am. It only lasts a couple of days, and MM has to be vigilant to catch those moments, either for his own indulgence, or for the opportunity to introduce another man for my pleasure. It’s a delicate act of timing.
I have never regarded my bearded clam as being pretty or even handsome. All my adult life I had been acutely embarrassed about what I call ‘my flappy bits’. My inside cunt lips protruded grotesquely, menacingly, darkly, crudely, beyond their enclosure, and as MM and I became more active in the swinging lifestyle, I became more aware that I didn’t want to present these swollen labia to my new lovers each time.

I am now going to admit something that only 2 or 3 people in the world know: I’ve had a partial labiaplasty - removal of my inner lips. The before and after shots are shown above.

I don’t know about you, but I know what I prefer.
I can now unselfconsciously spread my legs lasciviously and provocatively for any man like the magnificent tart that I am.

About that word: ‘cunt’. I love it and loathe it.
It’s MM’s favourite word - he claims the word ‘cunt’ expresses completely the magic of my vagina: all the warmth, the wetness, the delicious smell, the unique taste, the amazing texture, and incalculable pleasure he gets out of my pussy. He loves to use the word when we’re fucking - it’s such a forbidden word, and being so, to use it is to ‘talk dirty’. Again the tart in me understands and deeply synchronises with this attitude. The loathing part probably comes from 2 places: first the catholic revulsion towards bad language, and second, when I’m feeling loving and soft rather than hot and passionate, it’s not a good or appropriate word. Overall though, it’s naughty and passionate, forbidden and sooooo hot to call a cunt a cunt. I know nothing will stop MM from using it, at the right times and the wrong times.

Late May 2007: Prague and Beyond with Pierre

Ah...Prague in spring. Magnificent.

MM and I are on a group tour of Eastern Europe with 10 others plus our young French tour leader, Pierre. It was not our intention to play with anyone necessarily while we were on the road, unless a good opportunity presented itself. I didn’t want any sexual pressure, I was on holidays ... from everything.

Of course MM is a firm believer in opportunities being arranged to present themselves!

So....we’d been travelling only a few days when, over dinner at a romantic medieval restaurant in the city centre, MM (who was using the opportunity to practice his French with Pierre), disclosed to Pierre that we are a ‘liberated couple’. Pierre apparently blushed quite deeply in the gloom of the restaurant (I was sitting at the other end of the table and had no idea what they were saying - in fact no-one else in the group did, because fortunately no-one else understood French) at the realisation of what MM was proposing. MM told me later about the conversation, and I must admit I was attracted to him. He was only 29 years old, but he had a gallic charm, he was cool, and was good looking. If he was curious about a threesome. I knew it was going to change the whole dynamics of our tour group, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do this, he was also under the age radar but, who am I to disappoint him. Going back to the concept of me being unable to say no, I was excited about the idea but didn’t want to push it as MM does.

Now when travelling with a group it can be difficult to arrange a discreet fuck with your tour leader, so it was almost good luck when we ran into Pierre alone in a coffee shop the next day. We invited ourselves up to his room. After a bottle of local red wine (not terrific - the Czech beer is much better), and the obligatory small talk, we were all feeling a little less nervous. Pierre was complaining about sore muscles so I, with MM’s urging, offered to give him a massage. He and I showered separately, and MM suggested to him that he be completely nude for the massage. MM insisted that I was at least topless. I kept my g-string on for the moment, but as the massage progressed and Pierre turned over on to his back, MM managed to dispose of that too. I kissed Pierre and slowly worked my tongue down to his uncircumsised cock. He wasn’t yet hard. It’s very common with guys on their first experience - performance anxiety.

However, I am, I must say, a pretty damn good cock-sucker, so it wasn’t soft for long. His cock was quite long, not thick.

Pierre turned out to be a very good lover. He used his slim cock well: alternating slow and long, short and fast jabs, with my legs high on his shoulders. I was having a good time. Eventually, I invited MM to join in, so we rearranged ourselves into a DP position, MM in my cunt and Pierre in my arse. Pierre claimed it was his first anal experience, but I doubt it. DP for me can be a bit too much, but the boys, particularly MM love it. MM particularly likes the extreme tightness and pressure on his cock whether he’s in my cunt or arse. When MM came inside me, Pierre couldn’t hold back and emptied into his condom in my derriere.

A couple of days later, we were at Teplice, further north in the Czech Republic, staying in a wonderful little pension in the mountains. Pierre had the only other room on the top level next to us, so when we invited him in to our room late in the evening, he said “pourquoi pas...”. This time he did not hesitate, and was ready to fuck me. He was keen and excited. I sucked his cock lovingly. He was a really gentle guy, but I had to sit on top and act like a porn star. MM fucked me doggy style, and I sucked Pierre’s cock again. He moaned...he loved it. He fucked me hard from behind with my legs spread wide. He came very soon. MM fucked me from the side so Pierre could watch his cock sliding in and out, until MM came as well. I say to Pierre that I like him, I kiss him, he dresses quickly and leaves

However, despite all the action and excitement, it didn’t feel quite right, or as satisfying as the previous time in Prague. Pierre was very keen to leave as soon as he had come. I realised that it would have been better for all if we’d only done it the once.

During the following days, in southern Poland and Slovakia, we became aware that Pierre was avoiding us. The dynamics had change dramatically. Of course, in the group we needed to be discreet, and I had been avoiding eye contact with him. I had actually become a bit smitten with him: he was young and he was a cool dude.

So it was very disappointing that he became cold and estranged from both of us for the last week of the trip to Budapest. As each day passed, I was getting increasingly tired, stressed and emotional. Also more pre-menstrual. The tension with Pierre was driving me crazy, as he paid us less and less attention. I was desperate to have a private talk with him before we said good-bye, but the opportunity never arose. On the last night we went with the group to a final dinner in Budapest. After the meal we all said our good-byes. my eyes are watering with emotion. At that moment I hated Pierre. I hated the emotional ride, the sexual pressure.

We never heard from Pierre again, even though MM sent a couple of emails to him. No response.....

We found out later that he had a girlfriend in London, even though he’d told us that he was single and hadn’t had a root in 3 months. He had told us a few fibs, so again the ‘young guy’ syndrome was proven. I prefer my men to be 35 or older. They are more mature, more experienced, and usually more honest. With Pierre we had also broken our rule about only playing with people who had made a conscious decision to do so.

Reminiscences

Recently MM and I went to the movies to see the R rated feature from New York called “Shortbus”. Essentially it was about a pre-orgasmic woman (her term, not mine - I prefer anorgasmic), which is a woman who is unable to experience an orgasm. So I identified with her quest. She loves sex / I love sex and have had a lot of it, but that “Big O” sensation eludes both of us. Ironically she was a sex therapist or “relationships counsellor”....yet another case of “doctor heal thyself”!

The movie skillfully explored the sexual issues of a number of people, showing how most of us, it seems, have at least one major sexual hang-up. In a very New York kind of way it delved into people’s fetishes, insecurities, fantasies, passions and their fears....and how we all get there in the end. And it doesn’t matter how you get there, but you do work it out in the end. We are all on some kind of path towards “sexual enlightenment”.

So I found myself thinking: my swingers scene is a pathway. Thinking back on my sexual youth and my many encounters, I was without any real consciousness about my actions whatsoever. I liked boy, boy liked girl, inevitably we fucked at least once, sometimes more than once, and sometimes never saw each other again. Didn’t worry about consequences... what consequences! Mummy and daddy weren’t there, didn’t see, didn’t know.

I didn’t even think twice about picking up a guy for a fuck - it was what I did. It just happened - I picked them up, they picked me up, they fucked me. I really never knew if some of my girlfriends behaved the same way or not, as I never really discussed my encounters with them, probably because I felt so guilty (the Catholic response again) or because I’m not much of a communicator anyway. It was my private business. Things happen to you along the way and...well, you just go with it.

I may have mentioned previously about the sexual harassment I received from my brother-in-law during my whole adolescent life. Under the guise of being “the big brother” he was very good at arranging to be alone with me, and took every opportunity to get his hands on my pubescent body. On one occasion, as he fondled me I clearly remember him saying:

“I’m educating you...something your father should be doing, preparing you for adult life...” etc.

I was way too young to understand what he was doing and what he was talking about, but as I got older, I began to think:

“He’s introducing me to his male friends - ‘prepared for them’ (he was actually a source of some nice men!)”

In any case I simply thought that to fuck them was what was expected of me, that was what my training was all about - I was being offered to them. So I did...fuck them all.

In another movie we saw recently: “Little Miss Sunshine”, the grandfather gives the following advice to his grandson: “fuck lots of women”. Well yes, experience life and find your sexual maturity along the way and hopefully you’ll get there in the end...well at least you’ll get it in the end - regularly!

For someone who picked up guys and fucked them as an unconscious act, I can remember just about all of my sexual conquests and I can remember many of the circumstances. I even remember the guys’ names. I didn’t do anything too outrageous: I never fucked in public toilets or masturbated in the change rooms. Just straight fucking. Not even any weird stuff either.

The so-called “weird stuff” has only happened recently with MM: I have toys to play with, I can talk freely about sex with friends, I go to couples parties and participate in mini orgies, I’ve licked a few cunts, I have my own whip, I’ve experienced DP, joined the mile high club (with MM), and so on. Nothing too outrageous...

But really what I crave is raunchy, hot fast sex which is desperate and satisfying. All the rest is window dressing.

I just wish to christ that I could have a screaming, leg-buckling, earth-shaking fucking orgasm!!! Well the kind I sometimes see at the movies anyway.

One sexual conquest in my past life I do remember quite well: it was about a guy I worked with: I was the sexy secretary and he was an economist. I’d regularly see him at work and we both worked out at the gym at lunch times, occasionally at the same time. Jim had a great body and so did I. We talked a lot and genuinely admired each other’s company and hot bodies. Unfortunately he was in a live-in relationship with someone else at the time. Well, all’s fair in love etc. so, at his farewell celebration (he was about to travel overseas), our relationship developed into an unspoken understanding that this was our consummation night, the night when we would finally fuck each other. We all partied together, a group from work having drinks and dinner. Oh we were all very professional! Although I was living with a girlfriend at the time, for some reason just little old me plus several boys, maybe about 8 of them, ended up back at my place. As the night wore on, one by one they left and of course Jim was the last man standing. Someone had earlier offered him a lift home, but he had declined, and that’s when I knew it would be ME. Well him and me. Throughout the night there had been a lot of intimate eye contact between us. We had flirted outrageously. God, he was gorgeous. And again I was so amazed and honoured that this beautiful hunk of a guy would choose to be with me.

I was soooo wet for him...

He stayed, and we fucked and fucked and fucked....all night.... well not quite the whole night because I knew he had to leave before dawn, and it was accepted that he had to go, and that would probably be the last time I would ever see him.

Did I feel guilty about fucking another girl’s man? Did I feel guilty about behaving so wantonly? Not in the slightest. It was inevitable. It was an unspoken understanding between two sexual beings.

I think Jim and I would have been good together. Years later I ran into him again. I was with my partner at the time and he was still with the woman he had been living with, except they were now married. And she was older than him!

It was still there though. You can’t hide the sexual attraction you have for someone, it’s always in the eyes.

Jim was a lovely man… I still wonder occasionally how he is.

Party Queen

MM and I, in conjunction with another swinging couple, had long thought that Noosa needed sexing up so we set about organising sexy parties in one of the groovy clubs in our area. We call these gigs Purrve Party (www.purrve.com) and they have become very popular in the swing community. We generally have 2 parties a year: summer and winter.

Last party was a couple of weeks ago, our third, and there were 75 hot bodies in the club, grooving away on some fantastic dance music (aided by a couple of super-sexy guy drummers), our sexy waitress, our sexy podium dancer, and some very revealing outfits. Our party theme was “sequins, sparkle, metallic”, and outfits ranged from sequin bikinis to metallic body paint with huge metallic penis - sensational.

I had prepared for the party with a new hairdo, new nails hands and feet, and the complete brazilian wax: totally smooth, hairless pussy....mmmmm nice. My outfit was a metallic blue 2-piece, very brief hot pants (no knickers) and slinky backless top which barely covered my tits. Didn’t matter, because the top came off after a couple of hours to reveal my diamante-clad nipples. I love to show off my bod, and Purrve is the perfect place to do it. And of course I love the attention from all the sexy men and women in the room. I’m really an exhibitionist at heart, and MM loves to see me ‘on display’ - it makes him very proud. The party provides an opportunity for everyone to show off their bodies proudly - its the perfect venue to show off, get down and party, flirt to your hearts content (which is always fun) and meet other really hot and sexy people who you may get to play with later!

There is a core group of regulars who have come to all three parties, some people we have played with and some we haven’t and probably never will, but strangely enough it doesn’t matter. We have all become friends because of our liberated, open ideas on relationships. Its marvelous. At the party I was thinking, I fucked three of my girlfriend’s husbands and we are all alright about it. It’s a little weird, weird because it feels perfectly OK and also because there is no animosity between us girls about it. No cat fights, no threats or jealous behavior, but rather a greater closeness, intimacy and acceptance of one another.

IS THIS THE WAY OF THE FUTURE?

MM had arranged to meet Colin at our local pub for a drink. We sat opposite him with our vodka soda’s, and as we discussed politics, his job, his history, his relationships, options trading, and the building industry I couldn’t help musing over how bizarre the situation would appear to most ‘normal’ people. Colin was a complete stranger, yet the sole purpose of meeting him at the pub was to assess whether he would be a worthy fuck-buddy for the night.

As it turned out, he was friendly, good-looking, the right age, fit and healthy, and in need of ‘relief’ - it had apparently been a long time between roots for Colin, and he declared that he was quite attracted to me. So, all positives, off we went, back home for what has become the usual routine: drinks, love-nest tour, fill spa, nude up all, together in spa, hands wander, hands wander further, kissy-kissy, nipple sucking with tit-fondling, cock-sucking followed by cunt-licking (egalitarian), towel off, to the bed for extended fucking in all kinds of positions, dunk in the pool to cool off.

Love it...

It was all over in 5 hours. Meet, drink, root, bye-bye. Bizarre, huh? But is this the way of the future...? Will it be considered normal in the future to meet your friends for drinks and take them home for a fuck rather than having dinner with polite conversation and afterwards going home separately? We think so..

Eventually though, with Colin pumping away a my pussy, I had to fake an orgasm. First time sex with anyone is usually a bit of a disappointment. I’m certainly improving my fake orgasm skills, although lately I have surprised myself as my pussy has become really really wet while being fucked. I take a lot of ‘encouraging’. It takes a lot of good fucking but lately I can get squishy wet, really wet - not particularly juicy - just wet. Its a good sign - I think by body is slowly unblocking/unlocking her secret barrier. Of course MM is delighted. The wetter the better. He likes it sloppy....but more importantly, for me to have a real screamer of an orgasm would be the fulfilment of his most ardent desire.

The swing scene is not unlike the experience of going out as a young girl, all dolled up and dressed for breeding, girl meets boy, boy seduces girl, girl takes boy home and they fuck. Perhaps never to meet again: the classic ‘one night stand’. The swing scene is a little more organised or even civilised? I have had several one night stands, usually with someone I knew or was vaguely acquainted with. I remember this one time, I went out with a few of my work colleagues to see a band In the group was a very straight, Sensible Guy I worked with who I had sensed was becoming attracted to me. Taking discreet peeks out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him talking to another co-worker - a bit of a casanova. I think he may have suggested to Sensible Guy that I was a bit of a tart and that I’d be a pushover to get into bed that night. Well, of course I was..a tart and a pushover. SG asked me to dance, and I thought my dreams had come true. It always surprised me when really attractive guys took an interest in me as I never considered myself a classic beauty - great bod but a freckly face kid all the same. After the first dance I was smitten. He came home with me and he fucked me with his uncircumcised cock (my first one), so intriguing at the time. And next morning we went our separate ways. I had little to do with him after that. Sensible Guy just didn’t seem interested anymore. I strongly suspect he lost the bet! The experience left me feeling like a bit of a tart that time. However I was oblivious to any gossip. Perhaps I was too busy to notice, so I just moved on to the next experience. Not without guilt or shame though, just moved on quickly. I was sharing a house with a girlfriend at the time who was in fact a gorgeous looking tart, someone with whom I could share some of my stories (she heard us rooting anyway!). I told nobody else about bedroom acrobatics with SG.

We have adopted the ‘swinging lifestyle’ as an extra to our normal daily life. It doesn’t dominate our life, but acts as a deliciously exciting addition, to be indulged in occasionally. It’s a luxury that we can afford, largely because we have such a strong relationship. We always play together, and we avoid any jealousy issues by doing so. It is also hugely exciting to watch my husband fucking another woman, and MM absolutely loves to see a nice man with his cock buried deep inside me. I become a ‘sexual goddess’ in his eyes!

Our philosophy now is that our approach to human sexuality is the way of the future. In the brief period that we have been playing with other couples and single guys, we’ve noticed a huge increase in the number of people on the websites devoted to the swinging lifestyle. We no longer have to go looking for sexual partners - there is a constant flow of potentials approaching us through the websites we subscribe to. Bring ‘em on!

The people we meet for the primary purpose of fucking are always interesting, often very attractive, good company, and best of all, we can be totally free and open in what we say, what we do, and how we behave with them. The normal social rules of behaviour are set aside. It is often said that sexual fantasies are usually better than the reality, but our experiences have been generally better than the fantasy.

To be able to unashamedly share our bodies with others is incredibly liberating and satisfying.