These are my personal musings about the sometimes strange and frequently wonderful world of libertine sex and the tale of my journey into it. All references to living individuals are entirely anonymised. This blog is based entirely on my opinions and experiences and makes no claims to be representative of the whole swinging community. I hope you find something here to entertain you, amuse you, titillate you and perhaps even make you think. While sex appears to pervade our culture more than ever before, I believe that even today nowhere are we as unfree and tangled up as when it comes to the full erotic enjoyment of our bodies, hearts and minds. So if I manage to provoke some thought, I'll be glad. If you use this page only to help a sneaky orgasm along the way - enjoy!

Wednesday, 28 April 2010

Real life adventures: Dirty talk

I had had to wait 2 months for my second ever fetish night and I simply couldn't wait. I was also a little cautious - having had one of the wildest nights of my life the previous time, I couldn't see how this next one could possibly live up to it. Actually, I was right to be cautious. While my trusty friends were there, the two fantastic couples who we'd all so enjoyed playing with (and who'd had all the equipment) were nowhere to be seen. But it didn't shape up as too bad a night. We had some good exhibitionist fun on a big bed in a cage in the main dungeon area. Being whipped with my friend's new assortment of whips whilst having my brains fucked out by her husband is always going to be absolutely fantastic. Being called into the cage to play with a beautiful rope-tied girl was also a sweet experience. On top of that, there were odd bits of interesting watching to be done. I'd not seen people play with electricity before and hearing static charges coming off a naked woman's skin at the merest touch was intriguing enough.

But none of these things are what I want to write about today. If that disappoints you, make a special request to me and I may reconsider. What I want to write about is my most surprising and most titillating experience of the night. Fun had been had and time was ticking by. Two o'clock came and went and I half settled on a final glass of wine and an early get away. My husband (who'd not been wanting to miss the excitement this time) and I were standing watching an attractive younger couple fucking vigorously against a table. As ever in settings where single men are present and there is no physical barrier, they were surrounded by a handful of guys, all with their cocks out, all wanking away in the vain hope they may get in on the action. It never happens. Some of these guys are of questionable quality (I know it was a "High Seas" theme, but what WAS the guy with a mackerel fisher hat thinking of???). However, there was one guy I had been eyeing up all night. Mid-thirties, just tone enough, with a bit of a rugged look to him. Not many guys can pull of a tight latex top without looking camp, especially if it's got the word "slut" written on it. He managed just fine. As the couple finished fucking, he drifted over in our direction. This was looking like a good opportunity.

Friday, 23 April 2010

Poetry: Meaning?

What do you mean when you say love?
What do you mean when you say passion?
Is it what I mean, is it something different?
How do those words shape themselves in you?
How do they fill your being?
That tug of the loins, do you feel that too?
That which brings you instant hardness and me instant wetness, is it the same?
That explosion of the heart that I have learnt to call love, does it have the same meaning to you?

Perhaps it does, perhaps it doesn't.
We are both human after all.
Can I ever really know, not having lived in your skin?
We use these words thinking we know what they mean,
yet what are they but scanty symbols of the things that make us human.

What do I mean when I say love?
What do I mean when I say passion?
I can tell you, but you may not understand.
But I can be here with you,
Feeling love, feeling passion,
And through some miracle we'll both know.

Thursday, 22 April 2010

A Bohemian Rhapsody

Ah, Banshee girl, you are a complicated creature. Spending the evening with you had been strange - never sure whether to be in awe of you or wanting to mother you. After a random and somewhat odd club night, all three of us landed in your bed - to sleep, I stress, merely to sleep. Not that I did much of that, your alarm waking me up every hour on the hour, somehow refusing to be silenced by my tired fingers. In those weary moments, my fatigued mind would not have been able to imagine the strange and beautiful day that was to follow.

It's precious to me that day, so precious that I do not even want to make it into a story. Precious in a way that only allows me to reflect glimpses of it to the world. Not even glimpses that are all about sex. You know? That kind of precious. People that are precious to me - I can see their flaws, their failings, but I never want to speak them. I want to hold them in my outstretched hands, in the width of my heart and carry them there, in their entirety. I don't want to pick them apart into good and bad, light and dark. I want to keep them whole.

So I'm holding all of our wholeness that day, you in the middle, soft between us, his holding us both ever so tenderly. You in nothing but his shirt, sitting by the window, smoking, talking about the philosophy of consciousness of all things. How beautiful you looked as you ventured out, your fitted coat over his shirt. How beautiful you looked as I thrust into you from above with a fierceness you were not expecting. How beautiful you must have looked as you thrust into me from behind with a fierceness that I was expecting. How beautiful.

I still smile as I remember how we tied him - still shy about his own submission, but braver that day than he would have been with me alone. We were kind on him I think, but he deserved that. His favourite moments of these years of adventure, lying in bed with two beautiful women in his arms. No need to possess, just to hold and treasure - pure sensuality. I think he will remember that moment on the day he dies and regard it as a memory of a life lived well. We were lying like lovers that day, not like swingers, it's quite different, adorably different. What precious moments, always over too soon...

Thursday, 8 April 2010

Literotica story contest - votes needed

My lovely readers,
Just a brief post today written from a sleeper train in lapland. Ah, the things you do for your art!

I've succumbed to vanity and submitted a story to literotica's earth day contest and of course now I would like to do well. It's a little wacky this one, but if you like it, please vote for me! You'll find "Submitting to the elements" on www.literotica.com:81/stories/contest.php/earth-day-2010

Meanwhile, I've posted the fruits of my painting trip on my sister blog www.onegirlssoul.blogspot.com