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!

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...


  1. This is a lovely piece and bears on what we have been speaking of. x

  2. Do you mean the matter of being just the one person - caring and sexual natures integrated? Or the style of my writing?

  3. The latter, but the former is an interesting topic too x