BJ-gate - one controversial slut

I might be a dirty slut these days, but if there's one thing I rarely do, then it's to stick my neck out. I'm still far too keen to please people most of the time. On this occasion I decided to do otherwise and managed to stumble into much more controversy than I was expecting. Actually it all started with one of the simplest things in the world - a cock!

My friends (those of Fetish night defloration infamy) had invited me to go to a local fetish night with them. I had been horny as hell for days and the chance to play dirty and not have to travel to the capital for it sounded fantastic. However, I was aware that the venue was basically a pub and that charging people for events where they will then have sex, may legally constitute running a brothel. But apparently my friends had checked with the organiser and had, somewhat to my surprise, been told that sex was ok. We were all pretty excited to get there, especially my friend, one evil white winged angel with a whip in one arm and a vampy black-clad sub girl in the other. The venue was pretty small - one big St.Andrew's cross in the extended bar area and some spanking benches behind some curtains. The crowd was predominantly over 50, clad variously in rubber, PVC or leather, but with a good few people simply in black jeans or combats. If I'm completely honest - if you'd ignored the PVC and the 6 foot crouching rubber-clad dog man, you'd have thought you were sitting down with a regular older pub crowd. An erotic frisson there certainly wasn't. I didn't think this boded well and confirmed my expectations of a non-swinging local fetish night, but we settled down for a drink anyway, hoping for some action to happen before long.

I don't know if you've got the flavour of my friend by now, but you should know that he is always one of the first to play. He seems always horny and always up for it - literally. Perhaps it didn't help that he'd eventually read "Fetish night defloration" a couple of days previous and that my description of his "belly-wrenching monster" made him feel a little full of himself. He was sitting behind us with his big hard cock trying to escape from the superman pants. It was doing its work on my filthy mind too - it's such a beautiful cock to be fucked with and my friend's enthusiasm is totally infectious. Ah, and you know just how much I love to be led astray, especially if it's into breaking some unspoken rule. I tried to be firm and say that I certainly wasn't going to play until somebody else was at least doing some BDSM play, but he had no patience at all and under his hands in my dress my resistance was softening too. I wasn't even drinking, but my "ah, fuck it!" attitude became pretty pervasive. Before long, my breasts were out of the dress, the tight PVC dress pushed up my hips and he was kneeling in front of me, delightfully licking my pussy. People with their pints sneaked some subtle glances over their shoulders, chuckled and carried on drinking. It was pretty apparent to me that this didn't EVER normally happen, no matter what we'd been told. But seriously - you think by the time someone is licking my cunt so beautifully, I still really care that much? There was also the little devil in my mind that wanted to introduce a bit of energy into the room, hoping it would get people a bit stirred up. That's certainly what would have happened where we normally go. After a little while we switched over and I took his hard cock into my mouth, He grabbed my hair and pushed deep. I worked him for a while, my eyes watering with the effort. It was fun, but actually, it also felt weird - so after a few minutes we left it and got straightened up. He really, really did want to fuck me - and hell, so did I, but this just felt badly wrong, like putting on a sex show in your neighbourhood pub. We sat back down, still hoping for something to happen. Other than somebody coming around with free chips and one older woman being gently and silently flogged, nothing did happen. I found this so unerotic and frustrating, some little part of me did want my friend to fuck my arse hard and fast, so I could scream the place down. With what happened subsequently though, I'm glad I didn't. Eventually we gave up and left by around midnight.

Normally, I would have just put it down to experience and not gone back. But I thought given that I was new enough to fetlife, one of the kinky social networking sites, I'd actually leave some feedback. I essentially said that despite the organiser's claims I found there too little play to be going on and I'd never felt like such a pervert for giving someone a simple blow-job. Oh dear! The organiser did the right thing and opened up a discussion about whether or not people did or did not want to see sex at that particular event. In fairness, most people (except a few people who obviously found public sex acts offensive) had some pretty good reasons why it wasn't a good idea in that venue, but it certainly confirmed my impression that this just doesn't normally happen. It just goes to show that the kind of acts you eventually consider to be harmless or normal in non-vanilla company, aren't necessarily perceived as such. Each community comes with its own set of rules and conventions and perhaps pure Dionysian frenzy where anything goes isn't actually wanted or desired. And yes, before you may snap at me, I heard all that was said about legality, closing down venues for overstepping the mark, people wandering in, the space being to small for people to have a choice about whether to get involved in a scene or not etc, etc. All true, all valid. I also concede that I really don't actually understand non-sexual BDSM. However, it's been my experience time and time again, even in swinger's clubs, that so many people dissociate from the sex act in some way. They don't want to get swept up by the eroticism or their basic animal passion and be seen to do so. It's not safe, it's not nice. I'm sure many people don't even manage it in private. Myself, arrogant, show-off slut that I am - I aim for nothing less - ever. I don't always get there, but I sure as hell will try.

A perfect moment

We took the glass lift back down into the hotel lobby. It was now 3.30 in the morning. Somehow the glorious threesome that I had had in mind had gone badly awry. I still fail to see how one hunky guy and two beautiful naked women in a penthouse suite overlooking St.Paul's cathedral did not translate into mind-blowing sex, but leaving had been the best thing Banshee and I could do under the circumstances. I was just tired now and confused and faintly embarrassed.

We were halfway across the lobby, when she stopped me.
"Hang on a moment!"
I must have looked vaguely uncomfortable, but she held on to my arm which was hooked under hers. She turned me, lifted her face up to mine and fastened her fierce lips on my mouth. My lips opened under hers and her teeth nipped at my bottom lip, as she held me for what felt like an age.
When she let go of me, she looked into my eyes, still holding my hand. I made a move to go, but she still held me on the spot.
"Just take it in for a second," she said."You belong here. I know you don't believe it, but you do belong here. Just take a look around and take it in."
I lifted my head and looked around: behind me the night porter was busying himself behind the reception, in front of me the last few revellers were enjoying their drinks in the overpriced hotel bar. The big glass front of the hotel reflected a multitude of sparkling lights and the illuminated outline of St. Paul's was clearly visible outside. It was a beautiful sight, a beautiful sight in a very surreal moment. Finally, I paused in myself and took it in. She kissed me again then, long and hard. I was aware of the people around us, but I kissed her back proudly. We both smiled, wrapped our arms around each other and left.

Submissive opportunities

Since my regular dom disappeared from my life with a bang back in February I haven’t really felt like playing one-on-one with anyone. Casual club play or group constellations were fine, but not becoming one man’s slut. There were just too many painful associations – and always that ounce of fear that nothing would ever be as good ever again. But ever so slowly I’ve been getting there and now I’m ready – more than ready actually. Maybe “hungry” is the best word - hungry for new experiences, for excitement and for creeping up on some boundaries! I don’t know if you believe in this stuff, but it seems to me that once you’re open to something, opportunities will arise. Well, this week I’ve been swamped by opportunities. Intriguing dominant males have been coming out of the woodwork all over the place.

My naughty friend is extraordinarily keen to have sex in public – preferably in my favourite local sex shop, which would get us both barred!!! Beautiful banshee has offered to share her current dom who’s more than keen on having two sluts at his disposal. There’s been an enquiry on Fetlife and a VERY intriguing enquiry on Swinging Heaven. The latter was simply entitled “read me” and invited me to a hotel room one evening next week. I was to wear nothing but lingerie under my coat. I would be tied, made to taste the mystery enquirer and then my slutty tastes would be met. I picked up the message just before going to bed and I’ve not had this much trouble going to sleep in a long time. Mmmm, so bad! And so unsafe! So regrettably I had to ask some more questions first.

But the one that’s really got my juices going is one that’s been developing over the past few days. Here’s somebody who clearly understands the importance of pre-session build-up and someone who’s picking up very fast on how I tick. So I’m excited! I’ve not been this excited for some time. I’ve not met him and only exchanged photos and a couple of messages, when I picked up an email from him with the following instructions yesterday:

“What I want you to do for me, is to go into the bathroom at your work. Take a photo of your face, your breast and your pussy on your phone and send it now… I will give you some more orders in the coming days…”

Did I do it? What do you think? Of course I did!!! It took me ages, half drained my phone battery, used up an inordinate amount of work time, but did it ever make me happy! All these lovely guys do of course have one thing in common, the one thing that’s going to press my buttons in just the right way – they are making me do “bad things”! And I’m loving it!!! Böses, böses Mädchen!

Real life adventures: Dirty talk (epilogue)

Back in the car I settled into the passenger seat. It was 3 in the morning and it had been a pretty successful night. Sure, I hadn't been tied to a post and been pleasured and hurt by half a dozen people, but it would be more than a little greedy to expect that every time. Just one thing was still niggling me - the lack of an orgasm. Whilst I can cum pretty easily by myself or with a dedicated, familiar lover, in more complex or novel scenarios there is usually too much going on for me to even try. Add even a pinch of performance anxiety and you may as well forget about my orgasm. So I don't stress about it, but at the end of a big turn on night, I appreciate some kind of conclusion. So I did what I frequently do on the drive home from a club: I placed my feet on the dash board, grabbed my trusty bottle of lube and started stroking my clit. I let my mind drift off to words, sounds and images of the night. Still, I was struggling a little - caught somewhere between tiredness and the urge to cum. So I decided to talk to my husband.

"Was I bad tonight?"

Real life adventures: Dirty talk

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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...

Real life adventures: Black Man's Fan Club

There are swinging nights and then there's this: nights where we abandon any pretence of harmonious 2 couple soft swapping, full swapping and whatever else there is. There are nights when it's just about getting yourself fucked. Doesn't sound pretty? Believe me it isn't, but it's also amazing, outrageous, physically intense and exceedingly greedy.

Now, before I say any more, I should really say upfront that in many ways I'm not that comfortable venturing out with my husband on a night that's all about my pleasure and mine alone. But he will insist, and I believe him, that whilst this isn't his main kick, he gets much pleasure out of watching me have a wild time. So I won't argue and instead humbly accept his generosity (and his graciousness in passing me condom after condom after condom that night).

But I digress. Black Man's Fan Club is exactly what it says on the tin.

Real life adventures: Fetish night defloration (part 2)

I returned to the dungeon area armed with a glass of wine, ready to do some watching. I'd not really ever seen a live BDSM scene and I was hoping for some visual titillation.

A beautiful blonde girl had just been tied up to a bondage chair. She was slender, delicate, with the most perfect breasts, differentiated sharply from her defined ribcage. The chair spread her legs wide apart, her body covered only with delicate pale pink panties and some narrow wrist and ankle restraints. Exquisite. Her dom was equally appealing. He was perhaps in his late twenties, dark haired, just the right kind of toned, and wearing what can best be described as some kind of black leather breeches that left his crotch and buttocks fully exposed. His cock was already erect as he approached his girl with the kind of magic wand vibrator I'd only ever seen in S&M porn.

Real life adventures: Fetish night defloration (part 1)

I had had a bad week, in fact the most appalling week – top 3 on my list of worst weeks of my life. Going out to my first ever Fetish night with my beautiful banshee friend was supposed to help get me “back on the horse” as my darling husband put it.

I wasn’t all that sure. My body was so chronically high on adrenaline on that Saturday morning that I could barely cope with daytime London crowds and the fearful nausea just didn’t seem to want to shift. At that point even meeting my wild friend seemed like more than I could handle. So when she didn’t make it, I had the perfect excuse. At least 50% of me just wanted to go back home and hide, the other 50%... well, the other 50% is easily lured by temptation and too stubborn to be beaten. It’s also the second 50% that got egged on by my husband to go and do it anyway. He didn’t seem to care that I was anxious about being left in London by myself or that I’d never been to a club on my own. He did know that once I was there, I’d be in good hands though. I was meeting a great couple we’d swung with before. Lovely, warm, safe and fun people – just what I needed. I also knew that he would give me the most beautiful athletic fucking and that she was keen to spank my arse in the process. So in the end I’d texted them to say that I was by myself, but still wanted to come out if they could give me a lift home afterwards. The text that came back said “No worries, just pleasure.” How can a girl resist that kind of invitation?

Cunt redeemed - an ode to a beautiful banshee

I felt compelled to write a brief post to confess that I was wrong and to say thank you! Thank you, banshee girl, for restoring my faith in my love of women. You are fiercer than any man I have ever met and I'm not sure whether I desire or fear you more. Never before have I come home with battle wounds quite like this: tits scratched, arse bruised and bitten, nipples sore. Never before have I been kissed quite so wildly, with such ferocious teeth. As your slight frame held me down I knew I couldn't have shaken you off even if I'd wanted to. You worked me with a relentlessness that may be a promise of things to come. Never before has sex been so beautifully interspersed by talking, connecting, meeting. To lie naked with a friend, sip wine, talk sex, life, love and philosophy, a casual hand on each other's soft skin - perfection. To future meetings, future talks, to fucking each other senseless! Thank you!