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.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Weekend House Party
Last weekend the accountant and I went to a house party held by friends of ours. We had been looking forward to it for two weeks. Not just with erotic anticipation, but with some trepidation since his ex was going to be there. With another guy.
In the vanilla world this would be a big deal, but in the swinger world? Actually, it wasn't so bad. She was clearly uncomfortable, but cordial. No one suggested a four-way. No surprise there.
Like I often do, I arrived in street clothes and changed into my swinging outfit at the house. Saturday night it was a shiny, black pvc micro-minidress with a plunging neckline, thigh-high fishnets and heels. He wanted me to dress sexy and I was not about to disappoint. I wore no panties and the dress barely covered my ass so he could reach in and stroke my naked pussy whenever he wanted.
There were about a dozen rooms on three floors with something different happening in each. There was also a deck where we saw a vivid illustration of why there should be no drugs at swing parties.
We were chatting with a friendly, attractive couple and I began thinking that the four of us should get naked when they whip out the weed and start smoking. I took a hit to be sociable, the accountant said no thanks, but the other couple were puffing up a storm.
An hour later they were both out of commission. She was asleep and he couldn't get a hardon to save his life. Their loss!
We ended up in one of the larger play rooms with the beds full of people moaning and fucking. After we stipped the accountant sat on a bar stool in a corner with me standing between his legs, both of us facing the room so we could see the action.
He reached around to get my nipples and clit while I reached behind and worked his cock. We had fucked each other silly earlier in the day so we were in no rush to jump back into bed. Watching someone in being fucked hard, in the flesh, is nothing like watching porn on a screen with skinny, bored actresses and their fake boobs.
A gorgeous blonde with a lush, round figure was riding a big tattoo'd biker with her head thrown back, shouting as her orgasm approached.
We were enjoying putting on a show, too. I was standing feet wide apart, naked but for stockings and heels, my hands behind me, getting my nipples and clit worked hard. Then I turned and knelt to give him a blow job, being sure everyone got a look at his big, heavy hard-on before I took it down my throat.
I had heard of squirting before but had never seen it. Wow! The blonde's moaning and writhing was getting more desperate when she stopped and advised the biker, "I squirt, is that ok?" Like he's going to say no? A moment later she let loose a gusher accompanied by an indescribable gurgling noise emanating from her pussy lips.
It bears repeating: wow!
In the vanilla world this would be a big deal, but in the swinger world? Actually, it wasn't so bad. She was clearly uncomfortable, but cordial. No one suggested a four-way. No surprise there.
Like I often do, I arrived in street clothes and changed into my swinging outfit at the house. Saturday night it was a shiny, black pvc micro-minidress with a plunging neckline, thigh-high fishnets and heels. He wanted me to dress sexy and I was not about to disappoint. I wore no panties and the dress barely covered my ass so he could reach in and stroke my naked pussy whenever he wanted.
There were about a dozen rooms on three floors with something different happening in each. There was also a deck where we saw a vivid illustration of why there should be no drugs at swing parties.
We were chatting with a friendly, attractive couple and I began thinking that the four of us should get naked when they whip out the weed and start smoking. I took a hit to be sociable, the accountant said no thanks, but the other couple were puffing up a storm.
An hour later they were both out of commission. She was asleep and he couldn't get a hardon to save his life. Their loss!
We ended up in one of the larger play rooms with the beds full of people moaning and fucking. After we stipped the accountant sat on a bar stool in a corner with me standing between his legs, both of us facing the room so we could see the action.
He reached around to get my nipples and clit while I reached behind and worked his cock. We had fucked each other silly earlier in the day so we were in no rush to jump back into bed. Watching someone in being fucked hard, in the flesh, is nothing like watching porn on a screen with skinny, bored actresses and their fake boobs.
A gorgeous blonde with a lush, round figure was riding a big tattoo'd biker with her head thrown back, shouting as her orgasm approached.
We were enjoying putting on a show, too. I was standing feet wide apart, naked but for stockings and heels, my hands behind me, getting my nipples and clit worked hard. Then I turned and knelt to give him a blow job, being sure everyone got a look at his big, heavy hard-on before I took it down my throat.
I had heard of squirting before but had never seen it. Wow! The blonde's moaning and writhing was getting more desperate when she stopped and advised the biker, "I squirt, is that ok?" Like he's going to say no? A moment later she let loose a gusher accompanied by an indescribable gurgling noise emanating from her pussy lips.
It bears repeating: wow!
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Can swingers fall in love? And if they can, what does that look like? I am falling in love with the accountant. And it's really out of character for me. I fuck people, I don't love them. So I'm in uncharted waters now.
When I first confessed this annoying infatuation here in my journal, one of my readers recommended I play with someone else, just as I normally would do. Taking his advice, I went for drinks with the scientist, just to meet, not play. Like I often do, I posted on Facebook that I was going out. Since my vanilla friends are on Facebook, I did not mention that I was meeting a fellow swinger and potential sex partner.
The accountant (who is travelling this week) posted back, "Did you have fun?" And I was torn. What to tell him? He's not my "boyfriend", so I'm not "cheating". But, by the same token, who I see is none of his business. So I told him I had a great time catching up with vanilla friends. Now I've lied to him. A sure sign I'm in love.
The accountant lives an hour and a half from me and travels alot so even if we were in a relationship, he'd never be able to give me enough sex for exclusivity to be an option. Simple logistics. So if we became "serious" I would need to play with other men when he's away. Is this how it works for swinging couples? Can I compartmentalize my life that way? If I he and I become partners, when we're in bed together it will be "making love to my man" and when I have playdates it will be "banging my fuck-buddy". Is that how it works?
I'm confused. Another sure sign I'm in love. Fuck.
When I first confessed this annoying infatuation here in my journal, one of my readers recommended I play with someone else, just as I normally would do. Taking his advice, I went for drinks with the scientist, just to meet, not play. Like I often do, I posted on Facebook that I was going out. Since my vanilla friends are on Facebook, I did not mention that I was meeting a fellow swinger and potential sex partner.
The accountant (who is travelling this week) posted back, "Did you have fun?" And I was torn. What to tell him? He's not my "boyfriend", so I'm not "cheating". But, by the same token, who I see is none of his business. So I told him I had a great time catching up with vanilla friends. Now I've lied to him. A sure sign I'm in love.
The accountant lives an hour and a half from me and travels alot so even if we were in a relationship, he'd never be able to give me enough sex for exclusivity to be an option. Simple logistics. So if we became "serious" I would need to play with other men when he's away. Is this how it works for swinging couples? Can I compartmentalize my life that way? If I he and I become partners, when we're in bed together it will be "making love to my man" and when I have playdates it will be "banging my fuck-buddy". Is that how it works?
I'm confused. Another sure sign I'm in love. Fuck.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Fresh off the vanilla bus
I met a new potential playmate last night. Someone even newer to the lifestyle than I am. Seriously, he just stepped off the Vanilla Bus. He's been on the websites for a few months but has never played, been to a m&g or met anyone in real life. I'm his first (smile).
He's an adorable, earnest scientist who, perhaps, overthinks things too much, which explains why he's taken so long to jump in to the deep end of the swing pool. His profile shows a nice young man with a monstrous cock. Yay!!
We met for drinks at a cozy pub and he asked me a million questions about the lifestyle. What happens at a house party? What's the difference between an on-prem and off-prem party? Why does everyone hate single males? We had a great time, but schedules and circumstances made play out of the question so we made tentative plans to have a more intimate encounter sometime this week.
When he walked me to my car he demonstrated just how green he is by shaking my hand (rolls eyes). Seriously. I was totally prepared to give him a bj in the back seat but his mind was clearly NOT going there and who am I to push? But I did grab him and kiss him and had to coax him to open his mouth. Wow. I thought I was in junior high again.
So I'm wondering how our upcoming play date will go. Am I going to have to give this kid a crash course in Remedial Sex Ed? I SOOO want to get my hands on that juicy cock, but does the absent-minded professor know how to use it?
Details to cummm...
He's an adorable, earnest scientist who, perhaps, overthinks things too much, which explains why he's taken so long to jump in to the deep end of the swing pool. His profile shows a nice young man with a monstrous cock. Yay!!
We met for drinks at a cozy pub and he asked me a million questions about the lifestyle. What happens at a house party? What's the difference between an on-prem and off-prem party? Why does everyone hate single males? We had a great time, but schedules and circumstances made play out of the question so we made tentative plans to have a more intimate encounter sometime this week.
When he walked me to my car he demonstrated just how green he is by shaking my hand (rolls eyes). Seriously. I was totally prepared to give him a bj in the back seat but his mind was clearly NOT going there and who am I to push? But I did grab him and kiss him and had to coax him to open his mouth. Wow. I thought I was in junior high again.
So I'm wondering how our upcoming play date will go. Am I going to have to give this kid a crash course in Remedial Sex Ed? I SOOO want to get my hands on that juicy cock, but does the absent-minded professor know how to use it?
Details to cummm...
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
None of the candidates from my last post panned out. There was some conflict or issue with each of them. One had his sitter cancel at the last minute. One suddenly remembered he had to work early Saturday morning. Another just never replied. As one of my readers suggested, these guys may just be dabblers. They get off on the fringes of the lifestyle but can't or won't jump all the way in.
I ended up going to the club alone - one of these big, multi-storey clubs. It's been an established vanilla night spot for years but recently some swing couples arranged with the management to set aside one floor for a lifestyle meet 'n greet once a month.
You enter the same door as the general public, but you tell the doorman you're there for the "Special Meeting" and you get a wristband for entrance into the swingers floor.
The club's security staff didn't police the wristbands very well and the word got around that the pervs were on the third floor. Gradually the vanilla partiers migrated to our floor evidently expecting to see a raucous sex show.
You can tell the difference between the swingers and the regular club-goers just by looking, though. No wristband really required. Swingers tend to be older, chubbier, not so on-trend with fashion, and very sexually experienced.
The vanilla kids were all young, thin, trying really hard to look like Abercrombie models, and probably suck in bed. The girls in particular were wearing WAY too much clothing covering WAY too much skin to be swingers.
It was fascinating people-watching. The older swing crowd was talking and laughing, exchanging photos of their kids, grinding and grabbing. The younger vanilla voyeurs were lurking and staring, waiting for us perverts to start doing something shocking.
What were they expecting? Whips, leather, barn yard animals, cheese whiz? Although I didn't end up playing, it was a very entertaining evening.
I ended up going to the club alone - one of these big, multi-storey clubs. It's been an established vanilla night spot for years but recently some swing couples arranged with the management to set aside one floor for a lifestyle meet 'n greet once a month.
You enter the same door as the general public, but you tell the doorman you're there for the "Special Meeting" and you get a wristband for entrance into the swingers floor.
The club's security staff didn't police the wristbands very well and the word got around that the pervs were on the third floor. Gradually the vanilla partiers migrated to our floor evidently expecting to see a raucous sex show.
You can tell the difference between the swingers and the regular club-goers just by looking, though. No wristband really required. Swingers tend to be older, chubbier, not so on-trend with fashion, and very sexually experienced.
The vanilla kids were all young, thin, trying really hard to look like Abercrombie models, and probably suck in bed. The girls in particular were wearing WAY too much clothing covering WAY too much skin to be swingers.
It was fascinating people-watching. The older swing crowd was talking and laughing, exchanging photos of their kids, grinding and grabbing. The younger vanilla voyeurs were lurking and staring, waiting for us perverts to start doing something shocking.
What were they expecting? Whips, leather, barn yard animals, cheese whiz? Although I didn't end up playing, it was a very entertaining evening.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Decisions, decisions.....
I want to try a new swingers meet 'n greet tonight but I don't want to go alone. So I put a notice on the website that I wanted a date. So far, here are the takers.....
Perry - he's 5' 5" tall and doesn't speak English. No face pics posted on his profile, but 17 cock shots. Nice cock!
Larry - he's 6' tall and 250 pounds. Bald. Not bad looking. His profile is witty and funny. Maybe?
Barry - he's only 25 years old, a good twenty years younger than I am. He's as cute as a button, but does he have skills? I find that most men in their twenties can't find a clit with a roadmap. But then again, this is just a m&g (off-prem) not a playdate. Sex may not be part of the deal, anyway.
Gary - I've been trading emails and texts with this guy for a few months now, and I'm beginning to suspect he's a mirage. Meetings are always alluded to but never really pan out. He claims he's a fireman and has a very hectic schedule. On the plus side, he's got red hair. I've got this thing for red hair. We'll see....
Harry - 64 years old. Pic shows a tiny wrikled man on a sailboat with a captain's hat and giant sunglesses. Sorry, grandpa.
I'll give you all the details in my next post!
Perry - he's 5' 5" tall and doesn't speak English. No face pics posted on his profile, but 17 cock shots. Nice cock!
Larry - he's 6' tall and 250 pounds. Bald. Not bad looking. His profile is witty and funny. Maybe?
Barry - he's only 25 years old, a good twenty years younger than I am. He's as cute as a button, but does he have skills? I find that most men in their twenties can't find a clit with a roadmap. But then again, this is just a m&g (off-prem) not a playdate. Sex may not be part of the deal, anyway.
Gary - I've been trading emails and texts with this guy for a few months now, and I'm beginning to suspect he's a mirage. Meetings are always alluded to but never really pan out. He claims he's a fireman and has a very hectic schedule. On the plus side, he's got red hair. I've got this thing for red hair. We'll see....
Harry - 64 years old. Pic shows a tiny wrikled man on a sailboat with a captain's hat and giant sunglesses. Sorry, grandpa.
I'll give you all the details in my next post!
Friday, June 19, 2009
Just a little creepy....
A couple of weeks ago I had a threesome with a long-time playmate, Rob, and his friend, Chuck, another guy from the same swingers site where we met. It was great. A wonderful time was had by all.
A few days later Chuck called to say hi, did I want to hook up again? Not for a threesome with Rob (he was working that day), just with him. A one-on-one. I had to think it over. I really liked Rob better; he's funny, smart and has a wicked, sarcastic sense of humor. Chuck was OK. He hadn't really blown my mind, but I was bored and horny so I agreed.
He came to my place and it was nice. Nothing spectacular, but nice. He didn't say much. Not a brilliant conversationalist, but that's OK. We parted and I figured I'd never hear from him again. Wrong.
Since then he calls and texts me three or four times a day. "When r we gona hook up again?", "What r u doin?", "What r u wearing?", "How was ur day?", "Send me a pic of ur pussy." I reply very briefly and noncommittally. And if I don't reply right away.. "R U mad at me?", "What did I do?", "Didn't I satisfy u?"
A swingers manual would come in handy for situations like this. I could just refer him to Chapter 3: Your Playmates are Not Your Mommy, or Your Best Friends. He's a little young, so maybe he's made a common newbie error. Mistaking sex for love. Taking a few hook-ups and blowing them up in your mind into a long term relationship.
I sent him what I hope was a nice message: "Dear Chuck, Thank you for a wonderful time. Perhaps it would be best if you simply wait for me to let you know if I want to meet up again? Thanks, Primavera."
I haven't heard from him since, but it got me wondering. This guy knows where I live. I probably shouldn't have asked him to my house until I knew him better. Live and learn.
A few days later Chuck called to say hi, did I want to hook up again? Not for a threesome with Rob (he was working that day), just with him. A one-on-one. I had to think it over. I really liked Rob better; he's funny, smart and has a wicked, sarcastic sense of humor. Chuck was OK. He hadn't really blown my mind, but I was bored and horny so I agreed.
He came to my place and it was nice. Nothing spectacular, but nice. He didn't say much. Not a brilliant conversationalist, but that's OK. We parted and I figured I'd never hear from him again. Wrong.
Since then he calls and texts me three or four times a day. "When r we gona hook up again?", "What r u doin?", "What r u wearing?", "How was ur day?", "Send me a pic of ur pussy." I reply very briefly and noncommittally. And if I don't reply right away.. "R U mad at me?", "What did I do?", "Didn't I satisfy u?"
A swingers manual would come in handy for situations like this. I could just refer him to Chapter 3: Your Playmates are Not Your Mommy, or Your Best Friends. He's a little young, so maybe he's made a common newbie error. Mistaking sex for love. Taking a few hook-ups and blowing them up in your mind into a long term relationship.
I sent him what I hope was a nice message: "Dear Chuck, Thank you for a wonderful time. Perhaps it would be best if you simply wait for me to let you know if I want to meet up again? Thanks, Primavera."
I haven't heard from him since, but it got me wondering. This guy knows where I live. I probably shouldn't have asked him to my house until I knew him better. Live and learn.
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