I’ve been asked by many, what I do? I write for a publishing house who wouldn’t want me to divulge their brand. My blog began as a way of self expression, later morphing into a combination of readers who write to me and my experiences. I’ve written many articles that are proof read by editors and their assistants, thus my blogs contains errors galore, but I think that gives it a homey, believable feel. I’m currently working on a novel. Because of your inquires I’ve decided to share one snippet with you. I’ve chosen this page because…well I’ll let you see for yourself. I’ll be back in a few with more adventures from the world of internet dalliances, fornication and hookups (fall has been fruitful). Until then enjoy the snippet…
The cool air moving across Amanda’s face was a welcomed relief, compared to the sweat rolling down her arms. She pedaled at moderate pace, with slow deliberate breaths. The path was dimly lit, flat and smooth, against the dark back drop of the park. The tall trees were a canopy, shielding the night sky. She made good time creating distance between her and the house she fled. She pedaled faster.
She attempted to adjust her ball cap. The bike began to wobble as she realized her hands, her legs were trembling and her heart was pounding loudly in her ears. With a deep breath Amanda steadied herself, adjusted the cap tighter. With more control she pedaled forward.
Amanda dared not look behind her fearing she would slow her progress. Just ahead she could see the red glow as it came into view. The first of three traffic signals. Not wanting to decrease her speed, she willed the light to turn green as she drew closer to the intersection. Just as she began to coast, the light signaled green, as she glided effortlessly across the brightly lit intersection that was miraculously void of vehicles.
The bike path took a western route, Amanda veered north, deciding the confines of the sidewalk would be better than the street, using the parked cars as a buffer to any oncoming traffic. It slowed her pace a little. The black hat, jacket and pants made her almost invisible to the traffic on the street, as she calmly breezed through intersections two and three.
It is the first day of fall. Things began to change. Green becomes yellow, orange, gold. Days become shorter. Evenings become cloaked in darkness. The warm begins to chill, unless you’re below the equator-then don’t read this part skip over it, doesn’t apply to you. And you, the ONE who thinks this is going to be about him. No…no Bugsy, this ain’t about you, so carry your sorrow ass on back to being a putain d’homme. You will know when it’s your turn…big bold letters I promise <giggling>.
I’ve mentioned my private parties, the shenanigans, the fun. I’ve mostly attended these soiree with a friend as a plus one or gone alone. Which by the way drives men wild for some reason. An unattached woman entering a partie de sexe gets them drooling. Well, I met this guy. Funny thing about how we met. I was stood up by a cad (I know Bugsy, it’s not about you, I’m merely making a point-chill!) decided to go out and have dinner, since I had nothing else to do. I’m sitting at the bar, sipping on a beer that the bartender had put in the ice maker just for me. This gentleman walks in, he looks forlorn, asks the bartender whatcha got in a bottle, he looks at me and says; “I’ll have what she’s having.” I tell the bartender to give the other bottle he’d slipped in the ice and put another in for me. This guy looks like he needs it.
We talk about the impending days of predicted rain, wonder if we’re really in for a monsoon, it’s already pouring rain (I love valet parking when the weather is nasty). And he opens his heart to me. He’s been away, come home to an empty house, the girlfriend has up and left. All she left him was the bed, a set of sheets, his clothes, a coffee maker and a cup. She left him a voice mail, timed to when she thought his plane would land and him headed home-his house by the way.
Here we sit. The noise level has risen as more patrons enter for that after work respite. He turns to me and asks; “Would you like to get a booth? I’d love to buy you dinner and a bottle of wine, maybe?” Why not?! I’ve been stood up at the eleventh hour by a cowardly putain d’homie, who lacked manners and maturity. (Bugsy are you still reading? I’m flattered!) We are seated by the hostess at the bartenders request, a great booth, somewhat secluded, very little crowd noise. I order lite, I don’t have much of an appetite, we end up sharing a couple of heavy appetizers, me another beer and he a top shelf scotch. To my surprise he doesn’t continue to lament about the missing girlfriend, the contents of his home, he’s truly grateful that his beloved dog was being boarded and not left alone. Awww! What a nice guy!
The rain continues, we talk about everything from politics to religion and to my view of Americans who are so hung up on monogamy. When he tells that he and the missing girlfriend attended a few parties of the swing-swap type and ventured to a club in Atlanta. At that moment, I think I stopped breathing for at least 20 seconds ,my heart beat increased to a rapid pace, my eyes must have glazed over or something and my cheeks a sweet shade of red. “What?” He asked. And begins to apologize because he thinks he’s offended me! (okay y’all stop your laughing-you know me, he doesn’t or he didn’t). Once I regained my breathe, my rate returned to normal, I took a long sip from my bottle, sat it down, looked up at him, focused my eyes on those greenish gray, long lashed dreamy eyes of his and said; “My membership is still valid, doesn’t expire until January 2017.” I could actually see his pupils move to refocus. He reach out his hand out across the table indicating that I give him mine. I did. He held my hand very tender like, almost endearing, it was kinda strange at first. Then he said, without so much a blink or taking a breathe; “I knew you were special when I entered the bar. You’ve been there? You’ve been there more than once?” Yes, yes and I added another yes just in case I’d missed a question, because by now, I’m beginning to realize that even though a few hours ago I was mistreated by someone I thought was a gentleman, an earnest person who wouldn’t waste a lady’s time with a bunch of bullshit, who had lied about his age (yes Bugsy you did-you so much as admitted you’d lied about being younger, but I suspect you’re much older than you said-much older-your barge of photos-the periobital puffiness were signs you’re trying to be something you’re not), wasted my time for weeks, it was all for this, this moment of he and I sitting in this booth discovering that we liked the club in Atlanta. That we had a lot in common. And that he, had an invite to a party this weekend to celebrate the change of the season, that he was going to send his regrets even before he’d return home to find the girlfriend gone, his furniture, cooking utensils and all gone.
It took us moment or two gather our senses. We sat in silent for a long time. The waiter came over broke the silence, asked if we’d like another drink. He quickly responded; “Yes, we’d like a glass of house champagne. We have to toast our meeting, this was fate at it’s finest. We were meant to meet.” I told him all about Bugsy, how we’d met, all the bullshit and the way he’d sloughed it off earlier, this was one of the places I’d suggested that we meet and when I’d thrown in his room, just to see…how he’d jumped right on the number 3 choice. He listened and I listened. We toasted with our champagne flutes, he took out his phone, entered a text and said; “We have just excepted the invite this weekend, it won’t interfere with your charity event, we can leave after you’re finished, I’ll drive, but if you’re not comfortable without your car, you can follow me and I’ll book 2 rooms for our stay. I want us to be FWB for a long time, I’ve waited for you forever and I’m very happy this evening has finally arrived.”
We walked through to the bar and thanked him(bartender) . We waited in the alcove for the valet to bring our cars. His came first and he refused to leave me standing there. He waited for my car to arrive, walked into the rain held the door and said; “May I text you later, to say good night?” I agreed by nodding, because I’m not sure if I’m dreaming. The last thing I want to do right now is wake up. But i wasn’t. We’re getting to know each other and it’s great! The weekend is going to be a good one. Fate.
Thank you all for reading and your wonderful emails!
I’m inspired by a few things. I am on the high floor of a magnificent hotel with a fantastic view, no sounds except the clapping of my keyboard. The bed was, is beyond dreamy, the pillows sofa yet comfortable. Arriving late last night with my Coterie, we sat and enjoyed a few lagers before retiring. With the street noise so far below I am transcended into melancholy of the past weeks. I’ve been trying with all my wit to forge a new relationship of sorts, although unconventional to the average Joe, I like doing things that are against the norm.
I’ve been open-minded, yielding, extremely giving-maybe, too giving.
If you don’t look like an adonis, why are you being so picky??? For Pete’s Sake!! You don’t run, you don’t walk, you don’t golf, you don’t play tennis…you play board games, watch movies and eat a lot of red meat!!! That takes a toll on one’s physique, not to mention other unmentionable parts. So I’m not a WF, I’m a mix of many parts, some may so exoctic. I was guileless, did not hide it! Why are you being an asshole? First you want to known what my likes and dislikes are-reason being, still not sure…for the sake of conversation; So he won’t say or do the wrong thing. Seriously? Life is ebb and flow! You be who you are, not hide behind some bullshit of meaningless crap because…If I could figure that out we’d be an item by now, I suppose. This being his transcript (not mine); he’s divorced, spends a lot of time at home, watching tv, cooking, watching tv, drinking beer, watching tv and he’s ready to find someone, to start living. Need I state the obvious here?? I’m still kicking myself for being drawn to this…this person. I sent 3 photos, all different to show my versatility and he wasn’t satisfied with those.
“Wow, they all look different! Is this 3 different people? Do you have anymore I can look at?”
Ah, no I do not. WTF!? I could have easily said; Look you aren’t the most handsome guy I’ve met, you’re not the most unattractive one either, but I thought you were a nice guy and I was looking for nice, not handsome, not over the moon knock-out gorgeous. I’m willing to bet there’s not a six or an eight pack under that t-shirt and bulky coat (in the photo you sent to me). BUT what I did say; I think we’ve come to an impasse. Why don’t you mull the photos over for a few days and get back to me. His subsequent correspondence has been directed to the TRASH BIN.
I move on…A week remaining before my trip to the outskirts of the Big Apple with my Cortier, I give it one more go. If you fall off the horse, you’ve got to get your bum up, dust it off and get back on! Right?
Which brings me to the “PROFESSOR“! Not that he was or is a professor. He struck me as such when I ventured out to meet him, after several correspondences. Much older than he had claimed. Okay, so he used an old photo, we all do that from time to time. But the person I’d corresponded with was not the person I met at the coffee cafe. Grouchy about having lost his life. Was having an affair (she was Japanese, married with 2 children), they fell in love, she went home to get divorced but decided not to return…Meanwhile, he divorces his wife, she takes him to the cleaners (can you blame her?) alimony-child support and in the interim he’s laid off from his executive position, ate his nest egg keeping up the spousal support, etcetera, etectera, etectera…I took time from my busy day for this? TMI!!! He works from his apartment, that was a condo when we first began to correspond. His voluntary inventory of said apartment: a lounge chair, his work station, computer, etc., (and my personal favorite) a traditional Japanese futon (mat). Yep! That’s not a typo…a mat. If you know anything about Asian culture, you know a mat means just that! M-A-T, no elevation as in the western world. I was so stunned by the mat, it took a few minutes for the lack of other items that weren’t included in the inventory. Okay. So, you’re thinking we’re going to spend our time at my house? Seriously! NO! I waited a few minutes, made small talk about the weather, about stuff in general, finish my espresso drink, looked at my watch and said; “This has been just wonderful! I’ve enjoyed our conversation, you seem like a special guy, but I do need to head out, I’ve got more work facing me before I end my day. We’ll talk soon.”
“What’s your phone number, I can send you mine and we can keep in touch by text. Email is so impersonal, don’t you think? Besides, I’d like to call you and wish you sweet dreams at night and maybe end it with some tantalizing conversation, if you know what I mean.” <grinning his ass off>
Oh my! He’s got a plan and I’m it! I smile my best flight attendant smile, position my voice to sooth and I reply; Well, I hardly know you. We haven’t been emailing that long and we just met this one time today. Let’s see how it goes, I can always give it to you in a couple of days. He was not happy. But he had no choice in the matter. Subsequent emails have found their way to the TRASH BIN.
As I sit and enjoy the view, I remind myself that as difficult as it may seem, the universe will come full circle and I’ll once again find that special someone. But for now, enjoy the comradely with your coterie, the city, the food, the OPEN…
Dating in the first century of the 3rd millennium has its challenges. Be smart. Set limits. Avoid the cyrano-syndrome.
Thanks for being a loyal fan. Addison email@example.com
Ever want something from the past to come back and be the same, you damn well know it ain’t gonna happen. As much as you want it, you know there’s no way this is going to have a happy ending. Fairy tales are in children’s books, romance novels and the movies.
Don’t cry for me…(yeah that’s a song-it fits really well here). I’m a big girl and I walked into the place, for lunch, knowing full well life moves on, shit changes, people change-nothing stands still. Time makes change as it moves through the universe. My bad, a girl can dream…then you wake up! Hopefully when you do wake, you’re in your own bed in familiar surroundings. Not in a crowed posh restaurant, dressed Saturday casual sheik, tanned with sun-kissed highlighted hair, braided perfectly to the side. You could care less what I looked like, a lot of forethought and care went into looking just right…but I’ll get on with the events.
I followed the hostess through the maze of tables filled with equally poshly dressed diners. Making eye contact with several as I wound my way to the rear of the room toward the large windows that overlook the St John River. I lost my balance, the room took on a dim hue, when he stood to greet me. Oh my goodness! Shut the front door! This could not be the man I worship, that I would arrange my flights (flight attendant) to coincide with his days off – a major player as a Detective for the local law enforcement, former Marine MP. No freakin’ way! We use to get up at the crack of dawn (I still do by the way) to run many miles before the sunrise over the Atlantic. He was full cop, full ex Marine and a fantastic lover…more on that in a moment.
How can I put this nicely? On dating websites when they ask about your body the choices are; in shape, athletic, nicely toned, a few pounds…Let’s go with the latter. I knew it was him, without a doubt, the blue eyes, the smile, the haircut (still Marine style) and the voice-his voice always a turn on for me. I loved this man like I’ve loved no other! He called, the voice was so familar…I was going to be in town 2 weeks later. Why not? He’s newly divorced! I got excited! I mean really excited! Over the following 2 weeks leading up to my visit (business in town), I recalled all the wonderful moments…there were many and there were some not so wonderful moments.
I composed myself and greeted him with European pecks on both cheeks, avoiding his eyes, hoping he wouldn’t see my astonishment. I sat, made lots of small talk hoping to avoid the enviable conversation about reconnecting. All the while sitting and wondering behind my perfect flight attendant smile, what had happened to my guy to let himself go and go so far from the man who was? Coffee after a wonderful salad with an excellent piece of salmon, it was hard to hold back the tears. It wasn’t because he lacked the washboard abs…he was a tyrant when we were together about eating, drinking and in general a health nut! Then conversation fell on us…the us of yesterday. How do you tell a man you loved so completely that you’re worlds apart today?
I had a key to his condo on the river. I’d helped him buy the furniture, purchased pieces for his birthday and Christmas. I surprised him with a new mattress set, custom-made, because of his height and his bedroom would be cramped with a king bed. It was a significant moment in our relationship. For the first time I considered becoming a wife. Big step for moi!!! My flight schedule was changed mid day. I was in Chicago and there was a flight at the jet way, being boarded and headed to his city. I waited with bated breath, hoping for one open seat…I thought my luck was with me that day. I landed, caught a cab to his place, saw his work car in his parking spot. I was so excited, I ran to the main door and quickly to the condo door. As I put the key in the knob I could hear music playing-my French themed, sexy music I loved to play. I walked in and my heart sank…on the floor were a pair of ladies heels, a skirt, his shoes, the jacket I’d given him for his birthday…on the coffee table were two coke cans, a half eaten pizza…none of things he and I would ever eat or he’d allow us to eat! I followed the hall to the rear, the door wide open to the master bedroom and there on the bed were he and her having sex, her on top, just bopping away…I told there waited to see how long it would take for him to notice another person standing in the door way, Mr. A-1 Detective. While I stood there frozen in time, that seemed like an eternity, it wasn’t what I saw that broke my heart, causing it to bleed. It was what I heard that made me want to throw up. His love for her and him saying all the same things to her, he would say to me while we made love, which later I felt was just a fuck. I turned left the room, headed to the other bathroom and threw up, careful not to soil my uniform. When I’d emptied my gut, I flushed the toilet and began running the sink water to wash my face and gargle. That got their attention. I thought it would…as I spit the mouth wash into the toilet and began to flush for the second time, he appeared in the doorway with a pair of swimming trunks that I had arbitrarily purchased, just because…His first words, well actually his several words were; this isn’t what it looked like, I know this looks bad, I can explain, I didn’t expect you and my personal favorite; “Why are you here so early? I didn’t expect you until tomorrow morning. I had a great welcome home planned for you. Now you’ve ruined the surprise I had planned!” I’m sorry! I went from zero to 100 in less than one second…It’s a blur after that…I rememeber grabbing my wheeled bag and walking out the door. I walked a couple of blocks from the building stopped and called a cab…airport crew lounge was my refuge for a few hours…I caught a flight back to my home base. Turned my phone off for 2 days. Got another phone with a second number, gave that to the airline, family and friends with a story that I was getting harassing calls-my cop friend suggested I just get a new number.
This was the first time we’d seen each other since that day-yes years have passed. I heard from a mutual friend he’d married her, she moved into the condo-no kids. And as he told me his martial gruesome story, she’d screwed around on him, with a few guys and she wasn’t shy about or discreet about it. He’d become depressed, because divorcing her would suck the life out of his saving, possibly his pension, his condo, his rental properties…so he stayed in the marriage, let himself go…was promoted to captain and now thinking about retiring to the Keys. He was renting a place down at the ocean, no longer in quaint area we once ran through those dark mornings, ate at the sidewalk diners, enjoyed life as a handsome couple (that’s what people would stop us to say).
No. It wasn’t working for me now, but I could see he was willing. I took a deep breath and I simply said: ‘I don’t think we can go back. There’s too much baggage, it would only weigh us down–weigh you down.’ He reluctantly agreed. We fielded our way through the tables, less diners, less chatter, it was a 2 hour lunch. As I waited for the valet to bring my car, he turned, hugged me, kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear; “You will always be the love of my life, I’m sorry I hurt you, everything after that day that’s happened to me I deserved. You look like a million bucks and whoever the man in your life is, he’s a very lucky guy-hope he appreciates you and loves you as you should be loved.” He turned and walked away…he didn’t look back. My heart hurt, because I man I loved so much was gone forever, even though I’d just had lunch with his spirit.
Life’s a bitch! But life goes on…
Thanks for being a loyal reader. Personal comments and questions are always welcomed. firstname.lastname@example.org
I stumbled upon an unexpected activity. It’s nothing new, it’s well-known, pretty much common knowledge, but the under tow was quite the surprise.
The everyday massage parlor in the family’s strip malls is often a cover for “HE“. Some states are so regulated that these parlors have to literally go back room. However, to the enterprising owner(s), there are ways to present a legitimate massage business and give the discriminating customer what they want. To my surprise, they aren’t seedy looking locations with the sixties style beads covering the entry to a long narrow hall with lined with rooms whose doors are covered with burlap curtains. These places, for the most part, have pleasantly furnished waiting areas, an intelligent receptionist, open spaced walkways leading to rooms with ornamental doors. The massage rooms are clean and very well-appointed, with ample linen, that has not been occupied by a previous client. Hot stones, cold stones, micro wave for hot towels and chilled bottled water.
Once in side, you’re left to change, climb on the table (which by the way is automated for height adjustment). Your masseuse enters, washes her/his hands, rubs them in oil, pulls the sheet back, tucking ever so slightly around your bum and begins to palpate your back, shoulders and arms. As you begin to relax, your masseuse travels closer to your bum cheeks, firm precision slowly moves the cover and your masseuse is kneading your thighs and onto your calves. You are so relaxed! You’re brought ever so slightly out of your dreamy trance when your masseuse holds the sheet and asks you to turn over onto your back. Once you’ve settled the sheet is draped across your body covering your breast and pubic area…
This is where it gets interesting, when it’s a female masseuse and a male client. Paying extra for a “HE” is mentioned discretely and depending upon the client’s response, the masseuse keeps the sheet covering the penis or it is pushed to the side and her attention is on his penis and scrotum. Seriously, I couldn’t be a good masseuse to give “HE”. I get, too worked up when I’m stroking a man’s cock that grows and flourish under my attention. I’d have to give him a CBJ for his “HE” and masturbate while I’m doing it. Men most often than not go for the CBJ. BBBJs are rare in these places, with some men enjoy having their nipples pinched, while reaching their “HE”. Most often it’s a hand job, always a moist warm towel after.
Word of mouth via a dedicated site for these places are given ratings and the talents of the masseuse are ranted, raved about, or complained. Terms such as I’ve used here are prevalent and the site is set up by city or general area, making it easy to navigate and men to find a place to get their “HE” on a lunch break. I truly admire that about men. Taking off in the middle of day to have an orgasm on your lunch break.
Which is why, when I was told that there were men at key locations who would happily give a massage with a “HE”, I had to try it out…in the middle of the fucking day!! OMG! A wham, bam, back kneading, relax yourself and cum! No conversation, no kissie-kissie…grab your breast while he’s rubbing your clit, stroking your cunt…A warm, moist towel after and off to Starbuck’s drive-thru for my triple grande, non fat, cappuccino…
Guys if you’re interested in the name of the site…I’m all about sharing “HE”!
Thanks for being a loyal reader. Addie email@example.com
What happens to a man when he looses all lust? Historically men are the most sexual of the two. Gay men are known for their lust and ability to “allow” extra-martial affairs, open relationships, one nite out with a fling. Women, on the other hand, aren’t as pragmatic…most women. There are some who allow, and I use that word loosely, their husbands to engage in sexual intercourse with another woman, while she’s in the room and watching. Very rarely does the woman want to experience the “open” wife swap lifestyle. It’s generally the man who cautiously approaches the subject of this happy, go lucky life. He’s the one who finds the places, sets it up and coasts her ever so gentle into watching another woman give him a blow job, or him in foreplay. This is the behavior we, society, has become accustomed to. We readily accept this. It is not, however, what society wants from a woman!
Most women are afraid to tell their husbands they’d like to enjoy the swapping lifestyle. They are fearful of being judged, being rejected and scorned by their husbands. Let’s face it, if more women felt free to exhibit their inner sexuality, the rate of divorce would drop and prostitutes would be in less demand. Being sexual, being a woman is a dirty word. Men want their wives to give them blow jobs, have annal sex and in general make them feel manly. Sex makes men feel accomplished, feel like manly men. They have high sex drives and enjoy feeling their cocks getting hard. A horny man will masturbate, before he goes out for the evening, simply to take the edge off. A woman or wife on the other hand, wouldn’t think of masturbating before she left the house in order to enjoy the upcoming nite’s events a little more and definitely a little longer. Masturbation in general, for women is infrequent. It’s sex with emotional attachment or nothing at all.
Whereas, if women masturbated more, they are less likely to want emotional attached sex. Women who masturbate freely, at will, with creativity are more prone to have sex, for the sake of having sexual intercourse, as a natural part of being a woman. There are some they masturbate freely with and for their husbands. For the most part, married women who masturbate do so when they are alone and he has no idea that his wife enjoys pleasing herself, regularly. These women are not what society would call good wives, she’s not saving it for him. Which brings me to the man who has lost his lust.
There are husbands who have not had sex with their wives in years! These men may have physical ailments that don’t allow them to enjoy what men like to do. Often wives of these men are their caregivers and life has just bogged them down with doctor’s visits, medications and the inability to connect on a sexual level. Age, for men, can also be a contributing factor. He’s lost his zest! She’s never had that much interest in being sexual, performed it as a duty and now that he’s comfortable to snore the night away in his leather loungers, she happy to have the bed to herself for most of the night. But. What happens to the woman who was afraid to tell him she wanted them to add zing to their sex life, adding a nite of swinging, or a visit to a sex club? She had the missionary sex for 20 years, or more, he’s lost his manly man and has put sex on the back burner. Which as it turns out was a couple of years ago when he had missionary sex with his wife. She’s still wanting sex! She’s got a secret stash in her panty drawer of dildos that vibrate and maybe even a butt plug, nibble clamps, essential oils…How does she tell her lackluster husband she’s horny for some wild sex? She fantasizes about being fuck by a man while she sucks her husband’s cock? The kids are gone, empty nesters and all he does is watch Netflix! She’s surfed the sites and she knows there’s a vast world of sexual fun and no way to get to it, unless she goes it alone.
Gentlemen, are you taking care of business? If you’ve lost your lust for sex are you depriving your wife of a life she deserves? There are just as many women on the Ashley Madison site as there are men. And if you’re not able to get is up, cunnilingus is the way to go! Get creative! Put the Netflix on pause, make your own movie, with that horny wife in the next room.
Lust is not lost, it’s there, you have to want it!
firstname.lastname@example.org I love hearing from my reader.
I attended a Fourth of July pool party, with an old friend, who didn’t want to go stag and didn’t want to be tied an actual date all night. The house was gated, valet parking and by invitation only. So, I went as a plus one. I didn’t expect to see anyone I knew, since my friend and I run in different circles. He’s mostly local. I like to travel for my fun, so this was going to be something new and certainly out of my box, so to speak.
My first clue as we entered the custom stoned, circular driveway, were the greeters at the massive double teak front door entrance. Two women dressed in very tiny bikinis, just enough material to cover their areole and even smaller strips covering their hairless pubic area. Brazilian wax job came to mind. My nipples began to harden like a horny man’s penis would watching a those tight hairless pussies masturbating. The two guys who were standing on each side of the bare ass ladies offered my friend and I a choice of champagne, apple martinis or something stronger. We both selected sizzling tall glasses of champagne and entered the house.
Inside were more scantily clad ladies and the guys inside were shirtless, with very tight slacks that left nothing to the imagination. One of the shirtless guys guided us through the living areas of the house to the backyard and the massive pool and the to die for view of the river with the bridge in the far background that allowed boat passage to the bay. The music was electric but not overly loud, allowing low-toned conversations and waffles of laughter. It was, as I said, an unknown crowd, to me. But from what I saw at first glance, had great promise of being a fun night. Brad and I found a tall table in the corner of the yard, closet to the dock. I hung my purse and my wrap from a hook under the table, reveling my halter bikini top and the low dip of my sarong showing my naval and the tiny tattoo at my bikini line.
A couple of hours into the evening the music transitioned into a French themed that gave you a swaying motion. The conversations slowly became more moans and groans. A few were in the pool, a man and a women kissing, here top at her neckline, another couple sitting on the steps to the water, her top in his hand, her hand in her bottom masturbating. At the other end were two gentlemen sitting on the edge of the pool with their feet in the water and a tall bronzed woman taking turns sucking on their cocks that were bobbling for attention when she was sucking on the other. Brad had found an older woman who was fascinated with hefty endowment. I walked over and gave him a wet full tongue kiss as he pinched my already hard nipples. His invite to join him and his new friend was tempting, but I had my eye a gentleman who was watching the couple on the chase lounge, engaged in 6-9 foreplay. His cock was staining against his swim trunks, I walked up behind him, slid his very hard cock through the leg opening and began to masturbate it. His knees became a little weak, I was stroking him to the rhythm of the music, pressing my breast and lower body against his and butt. With my free hand I began to fondle his nipple that got harder than mine. The couple on the chase lounge had changed positions-he was standing over her with his cock moving in and out of her mouth, they were completely naked. The gentleman I was stroking inched forward, kneeled down,with my hand still stroking him, he put his index and middle finger into her pussy and stroked her with the same rhythm as I stroked him. I was leaning over him, butt fully exposed. I felt my sarong drop to the ground, my bikini pulled to one side and small fingers enter my wet pussy. I rode her fingers to rhythm while I stroked the hard cock in my hand, larger hands began to tug and pinch my nipples, I quietly climaxed knowing I would cum again. When my pussy juice began to flow, I heard the woman who was finger fucking me moan with pleasure-let that cock go, I want to suck on your sweet pussy. I let the cock go, turned around to find the tall bronze woman licking her lips and smiling, the two guys she had been blowing, one was fingering her and the other was playing with my nipples. We moved to another chase, l lay on my back, she kneeled with her butt in the air and began to insert her very long and talented tongue into my wet pussy. One guy spanked her ass, kissed her ass and stuck his tongue into her pussy, she moaned with each motion. The other leaned over sucked my nipples giving me French kisses in my naval. I grabbed his throbbing cock and began to masturbate him and quickly pulled him into my mouth with him straddling the chase and fucking my mouth like a pussy.
Sucking cock makes me want to cum. I licked his head and inserted his cock deep into my throat, he moaned with delight. Just as he was about to cum I started stroking him with my hand. The other guy was still spanking the woman who was fucking my pussy with her tongue. When the cock I was stroking began to stream his precum juice the woman moved up, took him in her mouth sucking him to orgasm while she and I straddled each other with our pussy’s on each others thigh grinding our pussy’s to climax while the other guy and two more gentlemen watching stroked themselves to organism.
After a shirtless waiter gave me a warm cloth and dry towel. I found my date, who about to fuck the older woman, but I wanted his cock. I grabbed another champagne walked over to them, stuck my fingers in her pussy, between her very large labia. I sucked on her nipples and lightly bite them, making them hard, she moaned. I whispered in her ear, I want to lick your pussy lips, lick your clitoris while my friend fuck me. She moaned breathlessly, yes. I had her sit over my face, facing Brad, who inserted his cock into my wet pussy. He kissed her and sucked her nipples while I flicked my tongue over her clit, licking her clean-shaven pussy lips. I inserted three fingers into her hot wet pussy while I sucked her clit, Brad fucked me. She climaxed got off my face, I turned over so Brad could fuck me doggy style.
The partner swapping went on for a couple hours…it was a great Fourth of July pool party. Not bad for a local gathering.
email@example.com Write me, I love hearing from my readers.
Affirmative Spirit transcends to everything carnal.
I began this blog a few years ago because I wanted to bring openness to carnal knowledge. I got away from it, not sure how or why, and found myself entangled in the adult world of online dating and affairs of married men and women. I’ll certain continue to bring those things to light, to talk about married men who are prone to “serial affairs” versus those who seek the comfort of a woman’s body. Forget the reasons. Men are prone to have sex and to have it often. Which is why gay men are more likely to have “open relationships”. And I kinda have to agree. Are we as human beings with all this brain power meant to be with one person? I have nothing against marriage. I think it’s great for those who crave it, want it, need it. But why is it so imperative that one man dedicate his sexual needs and desires to one woman? And why is a woman considered a whore, a slut, a low-life bitch if she has a desire to be sexual with more than one man? To engage with someone other than her matrimonial spouse? It’s even sadder that society frowns upon the husband & wife that engages in swapping! For pete’s sake, they’re consenting adults, betrothed in wed “lock” if they want to spice up their sex life with swapping, why the hell not? What is wrong with that? Yet, if he tips out by himself he’s label a cheater! If she’s licked to carnal bliss by another woman or fucked by another man, she’s labeled!
Some men actually derive sensual pleasure watching their wives being pounded by another man. They also like to watch another woman lick her clitoris, pinch her nipples, kiss her with lots of tongue. These are normal everyday people with mortgages, careers, children and some with grandchildren. It is a turn on for both to watch another man insert his cock into the wife’s pussy, lick her pussy close to orgasm and the husband takes over. Or another man to finger fuck her while she sucks his cock. And in some instances, the wife taking both men, one in the pussy the other in the mouth and some others (women) like to be fucked in the ass while she’s sucking a hard cock.
I have found them to be very stable individuals. Mature individuals who know what they desire and enjoy being sexual. I for one would rather have sex with a man while his wife watches than have a clandestine affair with a married man who is stealing time for sex. Some may say that’s thrilling, but I say having a wife watch me make her husband’s cock hard with my blow job skills makes me horny and wet. Granted there are some women who’d rather watch and not engage with another woman-the shy type. Once I get in to stroking his hard cock with my mouth, as he moans with pleasure, she’s likely to finger herself because she’s wet from watching me pump the clear pre cum juice from the tip of his throbbing cock. Some wives have dildos, some will want to sit on his face and watch as I bring him to full orgasm. In those cases when he cums, she will cum his face and watch him lick me to full orgasm. And if she’s not shy, it’s a full on threesome, she’s licking me while I suck her husband’s cock or I’m licking her while she sucks…He’s fucking me while she sit’s on my face. Or on occasion, I’m being fucked in the ass while she fingers my pussy and I’m sucking on her tits. Who says being a third wheel is a bad thing??
All normal stuff, that humans enjoy doing for carnal pleasure.
I’m meeting a new couple, I plan to blog about our journey. I’ll get back to the Ashley Madison sagas when the new couple has filled their carnal cup.
Comments are most welcomed. Questions are always welcomed! You may comment or ask a question here OR you may email me firstname.lastname@example.org
And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. ~ Anaïs Nin
CHAPTER TWO – Lucy
It is an authors prerogative to make literary changes as they create words of interest on a blank sheet of paper. Lucy was originally to be chapter 3, but her story was so compelling, I couldn’t wait to share it. She sent me several emails chronicling her journey through the sites and the hungry men on Ashley Madison. I also felt a kindred with Lucy, a fellow lover of tennis.
A successful real estate broker. Educated. Philanthropic. Enjoying the fruits of her success with an upscale lifestyle, her marriage had taken a serious turn to oblivion when her husband was diagnosed with MS. First came separate bedrooms. Then came long intervals of sex to no sex for several years.
She was on AM long before the publicity hit the media. It was during the scandalous blitz that she met Joe, the social studies teacher, from NY state, a Brazilian , in her southern town. He was quite insistent, wanting her cell number to text. He wasn’t interested in a cool period of getting to know each other via email. She held him off while she got to know a couple other guys who’d shown interest. Joe was much younger, but he didn’t know that. Brenda lied about her age, by 10 years. He thought she was 4 years older.
When the other 2 older guys became boring, she finally agreed to meet him at a Starbucks. He was handsome, he was a complete gentleman and she could see the stars in his eyes for her. They chatted for a couple of hours, she finally gave him her cell, left him there and headed home.
She heard from him every morning; a hello, or good morning accompanied with kisses emoji. Afternoons sent text of missing her smile, her eyes, accompanied with kisses emojis. Early evenings were the more of the same and nights after 9:30 were longer text with confessions of wanting, needing and more kisses emojis. This went on for over a week. Lucy was departing with a group of friends to the US Open, staying for the semis and championship matches. The text continued and doubled in its frequency. It was cute, she thought, but were becoming annoying. She would check them now and then, but he began calling when she didn’t promptly respond to his text. She muted his number, responding when it was convenient by text only.
When she returned after Labor Day, he insisted he wanted to pick her up from the airport and drive her home, by pretending to be a her Lyft driver. She refuted his offers and let his repeated calls go to voice mail. A few day went by and among the many text was an offer to take her dinner that weekend, his treat. She agreed to meet him at a place that was far from her home, after an event she was attending.
It had been 4 years since she’d had sexual contact with a man. As her event ended that warm breezy late Saturday afternoon, she sat in her car deciding if she’d drive home or meet this youngster for dinner. He texted. He wanted to change the restaurant which just happened to be closer to where she was. She agreed and headed to the place. He was there when she arrived, jumped into her car as she pulled up and wanted her to park away from the entrance. She parked half way from the door, he baulked but that didn’t stop him from leaning our the console of her car to kiss her. It was awkward and awful. Hard and full of teeth pressing against her mouth. There was nothing sensual about it.
After dinner, he wanted her to go in his car with him, she compromised and followed him to an old army fort, historical park with ammunition bunkers, open fields, benches and forest areas. They walked the paths, found a bench, sat and kissed. The hard kissing was his thing, surmised. While he was kissing deep and hard he slid his hand up her dress and played with her now very wet pussy. She could feel the heat in her belly, she wanted to cum, his fingers were moving around her clit causing her squirm. He pushed two fingers into her very wet pussy. She uncontrollably moaned as he pumped his fingers in and out of her. She’d forgotten about the hard kissing, she didn’t really care at this point, her pussy was wet, her nipples were hard as rocks and her clit was throbbing wanting to orgasm. Just as she was about to cum, he pulled out and stuck his wet fingers into her mouth. She was so turned on at this point, she sucked his fingers as he thrust them in and out of her mouth. He took her hand and laid it on his hard cock, bulging through his trousers.
They got up and began walking toward a bunker. These bunker had recessed openings that lead to the doors that were bricked shut. As soon as they were out of sight in the opening, he rammed his fingers in her pussy, bent over and grabbed her nipple with his teeth. She unbuttoned the top of her dress freed her hard nipple from her bra cup, as he bit and sucked her breast, making her wetter. She was at a point of no return. She wanted a cock in her pussy. She unzipped his trousers, cupped his hard cock and began stoking it like it was in her pussy. The clear cum juice was dripping from his cock…she opened the foiled pack, slid it his cock and licked his now sieved cock head. She turned her back to him, pulled her dress over her ass, opening her legs, she took him into her dripping wet pussy. It felt so good, having him pump her, bounce her, go deep into her. She felt a tinge of pain, but it made her want to cum, she wanted to hold off, make it last longer, but he was about to cum so they orgasm together. She felt liberated! She felt like a woman again. She felt like her old self in an instance.
She put herself back together as best she could. He went in for another hard kiss. She moved away to fix her bra and button her dress. She had finally had a cock and she was satisfied. She made an excuse, it was later than she thought and she needed to head home to feed the dog. She thanked him for dinner. Kissed him on the cheek and began walking back into breeze away from the cover of the bunker’s entrance. As they approached her car a family pulled into the parking lot. Thankful for their arrival, she popped into her car, thanked him again for dinner and lovely evening. Before she could leave the park her phone chimed an incoming text. A line of kisses emojis and words saying he’d text her later tonight.
Once home she took a long hot shower, remembering how it felt to have a cock in pussy. It still throbbed, her clit throbbed and her nipples were a happy sore. Climbing into bed, she blocked his number, went to the AM site blocked his profile, SPAMMED his email address and slept like a baby. She deleted his name and number several months later and now she masturbates remembering that evening of hot sex with a stranger she’d meet on AM. She was happy with her bite of the apple…
Next up Part Three…
Thanks for joining me, I hope you enjoyed our time together. Addie
Yup. This blog is exactly what you think it is. Vivere Marie and Nova Moriarty are here to share the process of trying to figure out this thing called dating and romance. Seriously, the hell is that?! Nova Moriarty is an author of high fantasy erotica, and this blog is the epicenter of her book news and thoughts on writing.