Squirter Converter

Another weekend, another house party. I'm exhausted!

The theme was, supposedly, "Beach Party" but few guests really adhered to it. This particular house party is extremely play-oriented. Folks only have their clothes (or costumes) on for about an hour before everyone's naked. So why spend time and effort dressing to the theme?

I went with my accountant again. The man with the gorgeous but unreliable cock. =sigh= Primavera strives to be understanding and patient. Before the party we were both excited so I tumbled him onto the couch and straddled him for some pre-game action. Twenty minutes later his penis remained inert. Even for experienced swingers like us, this is incredibly awkward. So I drove to the party horny and frustrated, contemplating the gods of desire who make us fall hopelessly in love with flawed men for their amusement.

The party was a blast. I noticed the bartender right away. Not just because he was young, tall, and hot, but because I didn't recognize him. The host of this party has a regular staff of about half a dozen guys who rotate between bartending and security through the night. Most of them are either military or firefighers. And I know them all =smile=.

They get time off duty during the night to play with the guests, too. A nice little job perk.This guy was new. He'd just gotten out of five months Ranger training with no sex. My pussy got wet just thinking about it.

Unfortunately is wasn't to be. When his shift was over two girls yanked him from behind the bar and I didn't see him again until several hours later. And by that time I was finished. There's only so much fucking Primavera can take in one night.

The first guy I fucked was my accountant. On the ride over I was brutally honest with him. The failed attempt on the couch had left me terribly frustrated. When erect, his cock is truly fabulous and I craved it. "When your cock gets hard, I want it first." He agreed, naturally. Never argue with a horny woman.

Once at the party, his penis cooperated and we fucked like crazy. Finally!! Then, our appetites whetted, we searched for new prey. He went off with a friend and I accepted our host's invitation to play. He's rather short and fat, but had the nickname "Squirter Converter" so I figured he knew what he was doing.

He did this thing with his fingers while he was fucking me from behind that made me insane. He reached around an enclosed my clit between his first and second fingers. Gently, but firmly. Then he banged me like a jack hammer, my clit sliding back and forth between his fingers. With his other hand he pinched my nipple. I totally lost my mind. During my orgasm I felt an odd sensation like I had to pee and I knew I had squirted. "The squirter converter strikes again," my host crowed. Show off!

Then there was a strange tickly feeling on my thighs. I craned my head around and saw that another guest was laying between his legs, sucking his balls from underneath. She had oceans of curly blond hair that tickled my legs. Probably his, too. Her mouth on his cock evidently inspired him because he fucked me even harder the second time. This time he flipped me on my back and put my ankles around his neck. I love that position! If the cock is just the right length it hits my g-spot perfectly. He was a little too short, but I got a great ride out of it anyway.

By the time he was done with me I was semi-conscious with bliss, splayed out on the bed with a sizable puddle of squirt spreading outward from my pussy. I couldn't have moved if the house were burning down around me. My host became concerned and went to get me some water. On the way he evidently found my date because the accountant showed up and laid down beside me. He planted little kisses on my neck and shoulders. "Are you ok?"

"Fabulous."

A peek at vanilla online dating

I was eating dinner at an outdoor cafe in an affluent neighborhood when I overheard an amusing conversation between a man and a woman who were having their first date after meeting on one of the vanilla dating sites. ("Vanilla" means non-swing, outside the lifestyle.)

Even without hearing what they were saying one could guess it was a first date by the careful way they were dressed; the man's meticulously ironed shirt, the woman's precice makeup. They were smiling a lot an fiddling with their wine glasses.

They talked about where they grew up, went to school, where they worked, how they liked their jobs. Do you have brothers and sisters? Do you have pets?

It struck me how different this was from the conversations I have with men I meet on the swing dating sites I use. On a first date the questions are...... different. Have you ever done a dp? (Double penetration.) Do you like on-prem clubs (where sex is permitted on the premises)? Are your nipples sensitive? Have you ever tried an orgy?

Swingers dress differently on a first date, too. Women tend to wear sexier dresses and higher heels. Men wear clothes that are easy to remove.

On the way home from dinner I got a text from a playmate who had a yen to tie me up and rub ice on my nipples. Yay! Dessert!

Online Swinging

Swingers personals websites are the way most swingers hook up nowadays. Back in the 90's you had to find and subscribe to underground magazines. It was a hassle. First you had to take a naughty photo. Then, have it processed by someone who wouldn't call the vice squad. Mail it in with your wittily phrased advertisement and wait weeks for it to come out in the next issue. Then wait weeks more for replies. Sheesh. It's a wonder anyone got shagged.

But now it's easy. Surf the sites and get immediate gratification. Post today and play tonight if you're lucky!

I'm what's called a Unicorn in the scene (a single female who is bi-comfortable) so I get lots of mail. Therefore I can be selective. It's not always easy to find quality sex despite hundreds of single male swingers out there. You need to sift meticulously to find the gems.

Here's a sample of what's in my box today. First let's look at HungOne, single male, 35. Alongside his profile are 7 pictures. I like it when guys post lots of pictures! How can I decide whether to meet you if all I can see is one fuzzy head shot circa 1996?

HungOne's seven pictures, alas, are all of his cock. A nice cock, I'll grant you, but it leaves me wondering what the rest of him looks like. Don't get me wrong, you can glean a lot of information from one cock shot. Does he shave? (A giant man-bush gets me reaching for my DELETE button fast.) Does he have a good digital camera? Can he achieve an erection? And if there's a woman in the shot with his cock, that tells you that at least one other woman found him appealing enough to fuck.

Next, let's look at SuperFly, single male, 33. Like HungOne, he has a lot of pictures, only one of which is a cock shot. Sadly, the rest of them are of him and his various vehicles. Fat man on a motorcylce, fat man in convertible, fat man on boat. I don't have anything against a man with a few pounds if he has other qualities and skills too. But I find it kinda creepy that this guy feels the need to show me all of his man toys. It's tacky.

The third message in my box is from Bond007, 45, single male. That's a red flag right there. Any guy who thinks he's James Bond is probably delusional. He's got no pictures posted at all, red flag #2. His message says that he's a "powerful" CEO from a Fortune 500 company in town on business for a few days. He is looking for nsa (no strings attached) fun. He's staying at a five star hotel. He is wealthy, "generous" and promises dinner at a nice restaurant where I may order whatever I want.

Can I get a "WTF?" from my sisters in blog land!! I'm hurriedly scanning through my profile to discover how this dipshit got the impression I was a call girl. Nope, nowhere did I write "whore" or any of its synonyms. I have a good mind do accept this guy's profile and go to the hotel. When he opens the door to his five star suite wearing the hotel-provided bathrobe that barely closes over his beer belly, I'll greet him with a supersoaker filled with blue kool-aid.

Where's the Beef?

Swinging as a couple is very new to me. Hell, I've only been swinging as a single for less than a year and navigating all the complexities of group play can still confound me. But this weekend I had a uniquely couples-related issue that threw me for a loop.

The accountant and I went to another swing house party together. As a couple. Whatever that means at a party where anyone can end up screwing anyone else. Neither of us knew very many people there. We mingled and chatted for a while, then everyone started heading to the play rooms to get naked and fuck in various combinations.

And we followed, not having found anyone to join us yet. Like most house parties, there was different kinds of action going on in different rooms. We were kind of at loose ends. No one had invited us to join them, despite our chatting with lots of people earlier in the evening.

No problem. I suggested we find a room with some empty bed space and "jump in". Putting on your own show is the best way to get people interested in joining you. And I knew my man knew how to fuck. One look at his gorgeous cock and we'd have plenty of company.

Or not.

Yep. You guessed it. Little pecker did not want to come out to play. The accountant tried to hide how mortified he was. I did my best to ignore it. And we did other things. We traded oral, we watched other couples, etc. But the accountant's massive boner failed to make an appearance.

I understand that extremely well endowed men sometimes have trouble achieving and maintaining erections. It comes with the territory. So I wasn't terribly disappointed or even surprised that this little glitch occurred. I certainly wasn't going to spit out "Hey, dude, what the fuck happened to your cock? Where's the beef, huh?"

But that's the way swing parties work. There are no guarantees. If you go into a party expecting the best damn sex of your life, you're going to be disappointed sometimes. I went to the party expecting only to have an evening in the company of sex-positive people. And I was not disappointed.

Paying attention

Much of great sex is, in my opinion, paying attention. I can't tell you how many times I've told a man how much I love having my nipples played with, sucked, licked, pinched, plucked, rolled or nibbled only to have him ignore me. I'm speaking plain English, yet the message doesn't get through. Or he'll give them a few perfunctory swipes and then leave them lonely and unloved. =Sigh=

It's like I'm talking to a wall when I explain that there is a direct nerve link from my nipples to my clit. That when they attend to my nipples my whole pussy sings. My simple directions, "Hey! I like it when you play with my nipples!" just goes in one ear and out the other.

But my new lover needs no nipple instructions at all! Imagine my surprise and delight. My sexy accountant simply pays attention to my reactions when he sucks my pink buds. He makes a mental not that I moan louder when he pinches them and rolls them between his finger and thumb. A simple matter of repeating the techniques that elicit the most dramatic response.

Now he's doing this new thing that drives me crazy. He gently holds the nipple between his teeth and shakes his head like a dog with a chew toy. He knows he's onto something when I arch my back and beg him not to stop whenever he does it.

The man knows how to pay attention.