Toaster (nothing about sex in this post.. calm down!)

I'm staying in my ex-wife's house this week and I'm going to have a whinge about the toaster. Yes, that's what I'm reduced to. I know you're doing that rolling-your-eyes thing but bear with me.

We got this toaster as a wedding present (I think) which is fine. You'll notice it's quite wide (or maybe long, depending on how you look at it). It's quite a lot wider than, say, a slice of bread. So it looks as though it was designed to toast two slices of bread at once. NO! It's not quite wide enough. If you put two normal-sized slices of bread in it they jam together in the middle, and when you push the lever thingy to make then go down they get all jammed together in a very disagreeable way.

When I use it, I try to imagine what the process was like for designing it. Did they deliberately create a toaster that was designed to toast something that's wide, but not quite as wide as two slices of bread placed next to each other? Why? What would that thing be? And why not give it, say, an extra inch of width while they were at it? In my mind's eye I see a meeting at the toaster company, the young edgy guys from design are showing off this new model that's designed to toast wider bread, and some been-around-the-traps executive (in my revisionist toaster fantasy it's ME) waves his hands to shut them up and tells them to widen it just a little bit more. They're struck dumb, his wisdom is so obvious, so humbling.

Or maybe it wasn't like that at all. More likely it was just all a bit haphazard, the toaster's an evolutionary backwater.

Whenever I use it I remember a phrase I once read in a novel (I googled it, no joy.. any ideas? Kingsley Amis?). The narrator works in a very undistinguished building, which is described as looking as though it was designed by 'an architect who worked with the radio on'.

On the other hand the toaster's worked fine for 14 years, which is longer than the marriage.

Airport transfer

I was chatting with Judith last night on msn and she's having a severe attack of horniness. We'd arranged to hook up on Wednesday next week but that doesn't work for her for two reasons 1) her plans for next week have changed and she's going to be out of town then, and 2) she really can't wait.

So she's going to pick me up at the airport this Sunday evening when I fly home and she's going to take me back to her place. In exhange for getting a lift home I have to fuck her senseless. Seems like a pretty good trade...

Cathy comes out

You may recall in my last installment I'd told you about 'Cathy', and how we'd had a thing for a few months that was, for me at least, a real eye-opener. A revelation. We had extremely vanilla sex. Just plain face-to-face missionary position fucking. Nothing more exotic. And certainly none of the more unusual practices I like to introduce. But it was sensational. Then, I got a little bored. We remain friends, we catch up for coffee every couple of weeks, it's nice. I haven't fucked her since May, I think.

The relentlessly vanilla nature of it was mostly my doing - I liked the vanilla stuff so much with Cathy that I just decided to stick with it. She did ask me a couple of times what else I liked, and she knew that, for example, I have sex with men when it suits me. And I knew that she looked at my profile once in a while on the site where we'd met, and it was all there in back and white. My list of 'interests'.

Then one day I noticed she'd leaked across the semi-permeable barrier between the site I'd met her on and its sister site, which is very BDSM-themed. Her profile said something like "I stumbled upon this site, just looking around..". And then one day as I was fucking her she mumbled something which I swear was "I want to be your sub", but as I wasn't 100% sure (it might have been "I just hurt my thumb", or "let's go down the pub") I filed it away.

Over the last couple of months, since we've stopped fucking, we've started talking a bit more about what we both like. Especially after she saw through my I'm-seeing-someone bullshit. One of the things I've always liked about her is that she's articulate and quite direct, and as I've told her more about what I get up to, she's opened up.

She was indeed starting to have fantasies about being bossed around. I told her that what she was thinking about wasn't unusual - in my experience it's people who are used to being in charge all the time who most feel the need to have the tables turned once in a while. And she's a very tough cookie professionally and is used to being in charge and looking after herself. I told her about my own little journey... the first time I was tied up, how incredibly liberating it can be to not feel like you have to be doing something. You have no choice but to just lie there and enjoy it. (If you're curious, it was a handsome Canadian man I met in London once. He told me to get off the tube at Earls Court and to be standing outside with my hand touching the blue telephone box at 5pm one day. I did.)

She met one guy who she thought sounded great. They'd had lots of emails back and forth, quite steamy ones, and they'd talked about fantasies and whatnot. But he was a complete dud. Big strong handsome guy, and with all the right ideas.. but a little hesitant. And I know how that can ruin the mood.

Then last week she met another one. Masculine guy, 50ish. Very take-charge, and apparently exactly what she wanted. They had dinner, talked a bit about what they were looking for, she fessed up to never really having done anything like that before, then off to his hotel room where he (she said) had a lot of fun telling her what to do. He was nice about it, but definitely in charge. She loved it.

Afterwards they discussed fantasies. He said to her that he really wanted to see another guy fuck her. She said "I might know someone..."

I spoke to him on the phone today, nice guy. We're going to do this next week. I think what he wants isn't just me and him telling her what to do, it's something a bit more interesting. My sense of it (and he and I need to talk more) is that he'll be in charge, he'll be directing. I love this idea. He's sitting there in an armchair (it's an expensive hotel room, he's loaded). I come in, he presents her to me. He tells me what to do and watches. I will, of course, keep you posted on this.

Cathy - vanilla and BFE

For the next week or so I'm in a different city, and I'm living in my ex-wife's house and looking after my kids while she's... away. That's all you need to know. As a result, I won't be getting up to any mischief. But for the sake of continuity I'm going to write about two situations I have going at the moment. Both interesting, in their own ways. There's Oona, and there's Cathy.

I met "Cathy" (not, of course, her real name) earlier this year. She had messaged me on a fairly vanilla adult site I'm on. The profile I have on there is pretty straightforward - there's a picture of my smiling face, then a short paragraph about what I'm looking for.

She sent me a short message along the lines of "hello there.. nice profile, care to chat?". I looked at hers. No pic (which is fine), 40ish, single, looking for a bit of adventure. A very short profile and all the better for it - as I read it I thought "she's completely on the level.." and I was excited at the prospect. I'm sick of princesses. I wrote back, then another message from her, I gave her my phone number, she called up and we arranged to meet for coffee - her work sometimes takes her near my building.

What I liked about this was that it all took about 4 or 5 days from the initial message to the coffee date. She wrote in clear coherent english sentences, she seemed to know what she was doing, when we spoke on the phone she seemed organised and sensible.

So I went to meet her for coffee. She was pretty much exactly what she had described: 40ish, nice-looking, good bod. We sat for a while and talked about ourselves - she'd told me on the phone that she'd never met anyone from online before, and I wanted to impress on her that I was disturbingly normal. We sat an hour chatting, had another coffee. We were extremely compatible. We each had careers, kids, ex-spouses; we each also had little surprises for each other. I liked her a lot.

As we finished our coffee she said "so do you want to see me again?" and I said "Yes!'', quite emphatically and without a monent's hesitation, which she thought was quite amusing. We arranged to have dinner the following night.

I picked a restaurant about 15 minutes from my place and met her there. We had an excellent meal, talking all the while (while we waited for a table I took her to a cocktail bar nearby where I demonstrated to her my technique for ordering cocktails, which involves getting chummy with the bartender and then getting him to suggest or invent something for me, based on mood and general descriptions "tall", "fruity" etc. The drink, not the bartender.)

As we finished dinner I started getting a little anxious. I assumed I had to close the deal, and it's not something I'm great at. And I was a little off-balance because I liked her almost too much. I paid the check, we stood outside, she put me out of my misery by saying "so.. back to your place?". I whisked her into a cab and took her back.

As we rode back in the cab I was thinking. She hadn't said anything on her profile about what she was into, and we hadn't really discussed it. On my profile I'd ticked quite a few boxes for things like roleplay, bondage, anal, fisting, watersports and whatnot and she hadn't said anything about any of those. Maybe she hadn't read it, or she'd forgotten what a louche and perverted old thing I said I was.

When we got to my place we walked in without my turning on any lights. My place is next to a little park which is quite brightly lit and we ended up at the open window, next to each other, leaning on the sill. She told me about a study she'd once been involved with on homeless people in my neighborhood. I put my arm around her and kissed her; she stood straighter, held me and we kissed.

Two people, dark apartment, kissing.. pretty soon we were fumbling around, exploring, getting each others' clothes off. I so love that with someone new.... I took her into my bedroom and we started fucking almost immediately. And for the next few months, that's all we did. Huh? I can hear you ask... what about the fisting, the anal sex? What about the cuffs and ropes I have in the closet?

Here's the strange thing. That first night, we fucked. It was very old-fashioned. She lay there, I was on top of her. And that's it. No doing her from behind, no getting her on top... just very old-fashioned missionary position sex.

Now normally if I'm doing that my mind's racing. I'm wondering what I'm going to do next, I'm thinking about wet celery, egg-beaters, I'm wondering whether she'd like to lie down naked on a cold linoleum floor while I roll hard-boiled eggs at her (I exaggerate slightly here). I'm thinking what I can do to keep it a bit challenging for her, and to keep it interesting for me.

But with Cathy, lying on top of her, fucking her... it was perfect. I'd fuck her slowly, then quickly.. I'd fuck her for a little while with my cock only in a little bit, get her talking.. then slide it all in and watch as her eyes rolled back in her head and she lost the ability to speak... she'd come, and come again. And I was doing all this with my cock.. just me and my cock. No props, no elaborate setup.

There was some freakish combination.. we had had a very strong connection for some reason anyway, but there was some other physical thing as well, our bodies (or, more specifically our genitals) fitted together in some weirdly symbiotic way, the angle was always just right, it was very comfortable.

Like most men, I get satisfaction from doing things, and seeing that they're done well. Putting up a shelf,or assembling flat pack furniture. These small things burnish our male pride. So as I was fucking Cathy and doing such a superlative job of it (she kept coming, it was like I was controlling her with my cock) I was probably incandescent with pride and fulfilment.

She told me after we'd finished that night that it was by far the best sex she'd ever had, and that she assumed it was because of some skill that I had. I had to set her straight. "Its not me", I said, "it's something about you and me.. it's us".

We hooked up every week or so for a few months. And each time it'd be the same. Sometimes we'd have dinner, sometimes we wouldn't, but we'd always end up at my place, in my bed. She lying there on her back, me on top fucking her. And it was still the same... her nickname for me was "BFE", Best Fuck Ever. I liked it so much I used it (the acronym, not the whole fucking thing) as my handle in our office football tipping competition. The people I work with guessed what the "F" stood for.

Then I went away for a while, and when I got back she went away, and when she got back I was recovering from surgery so we didn't play for a while. I have a short attention span - wait! what's that shiny object over there! - and we had a couple more tries and I ended up telling her I had started to see someone and it was getting a bit serious so I couldn't play anymore.

She was susprised but, I think, not hugely surprised. When we first talked on the phone I'd mentioned to her something I'd recently heard about the "six-week rule". A friend had advanced the hypothesis that fuck-buddy relationships only last about six weeks before you either get bored, or too attached, or one of the parties involved peels off into a relationship. We'd joked about this a few times, but in the end it was about 12 weeks. Which, when you think about it, is pretty good.

We stay in touch, and catch up for coffee once in a while. But recently things have taken a surprising turn. Which I shall write about in our next installment....

MMF

I bet you're wondering what happened to Dee. You may recall she was the charming young woman who liked to be spanked, and who is a fellow language pedant (two big plusses, for me anyway).

I had suggested to her after our first meeting that it'd be fun to have another guy along - she'd be the center of attention, that sort of thing. And she remembered that she had a once-in-a-while fuckbuddy who had mentioned to her that he was interested in that as well, so we hatched a plan...

After a couple of false starts we finally managed to get together last night, at my place. She brought him along, he seemed like a nice guy. English, early 30s. I showed them in, we were all a bit nervous. She asked if I had any alcohol. I did, funnily enough. I rarely drink, but I had a bottle of champagne in the fridge, which one of my clients had given me for christmas last year. I didn't have any glasses (someone gave me some champagne flutes.. but I put them somewhere).

We sat on the couch. Pete (that's what I'll him) and I started kissing her and touching her breasts. We played around, got her mostly naked - skirt hiked up, crotch of her panties moved aside, fingers and tongues - and then she broke a tooth.

What? How...? Well, she was pretty worked up and was thrashing about a bit, and as I leaned in to kiss her she suddenly leaned forward. Our teeth collided and I felt something hard in my mouth. My first thought was that I'd lost something - I have a crown on one of my front teeth, the result of a drunken accident when I was 20 - but as I did a quick inventory I realised that everything was all still there. She was apologising profusely. I asked her to open her mouth, and there it was.. one of her front teeth was jagged at the top, she'd lost her crown.

We stopped for a moment, took stock of the damage and decided to keep going. Pete and I made a mental note that she now had a very sharp and pointy front tooth, but everything else seemed to be ok.

I'm going to leave out most of the details of what we did from then on in (you can see it in about a million pornos) except for these two and a half things:

1) Pete had no idea that she liked being spanked. They'd played together a few times but she hadn't shared that with him. He was agreeably surprised by how enthusiastic she got when I spanked her. He reaped some of the benefits of this enthusiasm.

2) When she came she made more noise than I've ever heard anyone make, I was terrified the neighbors were going to call the cops. (But then again, they must have had some idea what was going on.. it's the only time I ever have music on in my place).

2a) While she was coming, I looked at Pete. (We were face to face pretty much, between her legs). We exchanged a job-well-done look and gave each other a solemn handshake. I told her this later and she thought it was hot.

Names

Just a quick administrative note. The people I talk about, I use names for them on here that aren't exactly their real names. So Sarah's not Sarah. Judith's not Judith. Oona's not Oona. And so on. I try to pick a smut-name where there's some sort of association between the person and the name, otherwise I lose track. So when I write about Sarah, for example, I have to remember what I called her. Sometimes that means going back through the blog to see what I called her before. If I were really organised I'd have a little master list somewhere. But I'm not that organised...

Back

I went over to Policeman's place last night and he fucked me, again. Afterwards he told me I had a nice back and nice legs. Which I'm trying not to take as an implied criticism of my front and my arms.

In which I spend a jolly weekend at the seaside.

I went down to Sarah's beachhouse, it's about 3 or 4 hours from the city. I went down Saturday morning, she picked me up at the station and drove me the rest of the way. I get a bit nervous when I'm out in the country. I think it's because I spent my early childhood on a farm and so rather than seeing the countryside as a scene of bucolic splendor I just see it as a threat. I'm so urban.

I'm tired so I'll just give you the highlights, in no particular order:

• we had a lovely walk along the beach, and a swim
• she had her first experience of anal sex (and she liked it ok, but i don't think it was mind-blowing for her like it was for Judith. Or Ooona for that matter.)
• This morning I fucked her and then she cooked me breakfast (I did tell her afterwards that these things, in that order, do wonders for my inner caveman)
• When her husband called - which he did twice - I was completely quiet
  
• I fisted her. Again, she liked it ok, but not rolling-her-eyes-back blown away.
• She told me that in the book she's writing, my character's "Richard". So I'm Dick. How appropriate.
• She told me that when we'd first chatted online I'd been very blunt. I'd asked her "What's your body like", and when she said "voluptuous", I immediately asked "'voluptuous' as in curvy, or as in .... big?".
• We both slept a lot

Two texts

As you no doubt recall, I'm going to spend the weekend with my married friend 'Sarah' at the beach house she and her husband have. (He's in town; he thinks she's down there working on her book, which is at least partly true.) She's down there already, I'm getting the train tomorrow and she's going to pick me up at the station. Normally I wouldn't do this, my weekends are sacrosanct, but she's married and it makes the whole thing nicely illicit.

I sent her a text today: "there's a train gets in at 1pm, i'll be on it. i'll text on the way to confirm. Do i need to bring anything? Something to read? Sunscreen? My cock?" I added the bit about my cock at the last second before hitting the send button. While it's undisputably true that we are going down there to have sex, I quite like the idea of making it even more explicit. She is, as I've told you about 25 times already, happily married.

She responded "1pm is perfect. just bring cock, i have everything else" Lovely!

I also got a text today from my friend Oona (about whom much more later) in which she said:

I know we're being just friends now so i know this question isn't allowed, but i'll ask because i'm horny and have been for days. Wanna have sex now?

Sarah seeks advice. And gets it.

Monday night I caught up with Sarah again, my lovely married friend. When we first started playing there was a strong BDSM element to it, I'd tie her up, or we'd do some sort of blackmail roleplay-type thing, but now we just fuck and talk. Then fuck and talk. Then fuck and talk. Then she goes back to her husband. It's very agreeable.

I asked her whether she'd ever been fisted, and whether she wanted to try. Based on my (admittedly limited) experience in this I think it'd be quite doable, and I suspect that if we did manage it she'd really get off on it. Also, I guess, at the back of my mind is that idea that I'd be fisting a married woman, which you do have to admit sounds pretty hot. She wasn't sure she'd be up for it.. but there's never any harm in putting it out there.

We're seeing each other on the weekend again, and she send me an email today which sent me into gales of laughter so I'm just going to have to share it with you. She'd been to the doctor (a real one, not like the roleplay doctor I was to her once) about something, and she wrote

"...and then just as I was leaving I casually asked whether there were any risks associated with vaginal fisting. He managed to keep a straight face - as did I - and he said none whatsoever, go for your life! So I'm happy to give it a go."

Brilliant! I must ask her on the weekend exactly how she managed to casually bring it up.

Sugasm 145... get your smut here

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #146? Submit a link to your best post of the weekby emailing me directly at radicalvixenatgmaildotcom Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
Being Civil
“They couldn’t understand what the appeal of a civil union was for us.”

Clandestine Rendezvous
“He turned around to kiss me and I melted.”

Hotel Sex
“The excitement is too much for both of us”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
Sugar Bank

Editor’s Choice
You Can’t Make This Shit Up, Part 2

More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above within a week. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
Let’s Pretend…
Masturbaticon I
Our Peculiar Erotica
“Pay No Attention To That Man Behind The Curtain”
Taking Charge of Your Own Pleasure
Tease and Denial: In Defense of Subtlety
Things that make you go Mmmmmm

Sex News, Reviews & Interviews
Babygate Continues!
Vibrators of the Future

Sex Work
Pillow Humping Cam Pussy

BDSM & Fetish
Arms to the sky
Beads
brock’s Last Task
My surprise for Daddy
Naughty, Naughty…Nice
The New Pet (fiction)
A proper thank you
The Runaround.
Welcome to Kinky Sex Link

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio
Bare back HNT
HNT - Stripping for the Bath Brush - F/m Spanking Pic
Sasha Grey (NewNudeCity)

Erotic Writing and Experiences
8:55 - On My Way…
Asian massage parlors
Awakening
Brains in her cunt
The “Ex-Pat” Love [2nd. Revision]
Fantasy Friday: Lips Like Sugar
Hausfrau
In the Early Morning Darkness
Not Quite Poetry
On the Back of a Motorcycle
Release
Your first time with me

Swimwear

I got a message this morning from a guy who had an idea for me. He said "Cum on by, I work in a swimwear shop - so cum on in and try a few on in the changeroom..". I checked his profile. Late40s, no picture but sounded alright. I responded "sounds fun, do i have to buy anything, or are we just having a bit of a muck around?" I wanted to make sure I wasn't being spammed. He said it was just a bit of fun.

Well, I could hardly resist, could I? So I went there this afternoon, just after lunch. A very small shop, lots of swimwear and briefs. A guy in his (very) late 40s, who I guessed was the proprietor, and two customers. The proprietor and I exchanged a knowing look (he knew who I was, he'd seen my picture) and he dealt with his other customers.

Then we chatted a little, neither of us mentioning that we'd been messaging that morning. I said I was looking at getting some new swimwear, he gave a couple to try on and showed me a little area at the back of the shop which could be curtained off. This was the changing room. He left me for a moment. I took off my shorts, my briefs, and started to put on the swimmers. But by the time I was about halfway done getting them on I had a full hardon so it was a bit tricky.

Then he came in to see how I was doing. I won't go into the details, but it was extremely good fun. There was something very furtive about it - he kept popping his head out of the changing room to see if there were any customers, for example - which I found very appealing. He also liked that I said I couldn't come because I was fucking a woman (Judith) this evening and I need to keep my strength.

I asked him about his business (I'm like that). He said he'd owned a furniture shop but had always had a thing about swimwear and underwear, and he decided to combine business with pleasure. Business, he said, was good. I love that he'd figured out a way to monetise his hobby.

As I was walking home I got to thinking. I don't have sex with men all that often, and I worked out that I'm only really up for it if there's some transgressive element to it - someone watching, or the other guy's married, or it's in the back of a shop or something like that. (Or all three, as once happened in the back of a giftware shop in London.)

Do me.

I was fucked by a guy last night, a policeman. As keen readers will no doubt remember, I do play with guys once in a while but it'd been about a year since I was fucked last. A year! I didn't like it as much as I remembered but I feel better for it. I was starting to worry...

What made it more fun was that another guy was watching.

Trapped

I see Judith once every couple of weeks. I think she'd like it to be more often, but we each have our kids every second weekend (which in my case means I have to fly to another city - but that's another story) and our free weekends have been out of sync. Her kids live with her during the week. I quite like this.

Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy spending time with her and it's not just about sex. She's an amusing dinner companion and (unlike some of the people I have sex with) I wouldn't be ashamed to be seen with her in public.

But the sex is fantastic, and that's the real reason we have what we have. "And what, exactly, is so fantastic about it?", I can hear you asking. Well, as I wrote in an earlier post there's something incredibly sexy about Judith. She has olive-y skin and nature's blessed her with a body that just screams out fuck me. She's not athletic, but definitely not fat either. What makes her so sexy, I think, is that her body fat's distributed very evenly. Not really a tummy, no chunky thighs, just a lovely softening of all the contours of her body. It's like she's wearing a thin wetsuit. (Male readers may recall the episode of Get Smart where Max and 99 are in a submarine and 99's wearing a wetsuit. She then climbs up the ladder into the tower; the camera shoots her from behind. I was 16 when I saw it, I nearly came in my pants.)

She's very verbal during sex and likes me to be too. It's not usually something I'm all that comfortable with (I get embarassed, I think) but with her I'm so horny and so engaged that I can turn off my self-censor and just go with it. I think for both of us (and certainly for me) what's so fun about the way we have sex is that we do achieve that state of just being completely in the act itself, the fucking's all that matters, everything else gets pushed aside. And as a result, when we're done there's that lovely feeling that you've somehow left your body. Too often I feel like I'm an observer in my own life rather than a participant - but when Judith and I are fucking I'm all there.

So far so good. But this weekend, neither of us has kids. We've texted back and forth this week to figure out a time to 'catch up' and we're going for Saturday night. Dinner, maybe a movie, then sex and a sleepover. What could possibly be wrong with that, I can hear you ask?

I love all that. And I really like sleepovers, I love having a warm body next to me when I wake up (and not just because of the sexual possibilities, I actually do like the closeness). But usually when I stay at her place I have to be up early the next morning to go to work, and that suits me.

I'm a morning person, and when I wake up it's a brand new day. And if it's a weekend I'm already making plans. I don't have many free weekends (every second weekend I'm a father-of-four) and I guard my free time jealously. So when I say making plans, those plans may involve lying around watching football on television, or playing piano or just doing nothing.

So what'll happen Sunday morning is that I'll wake up about 7 with her. We may or may not have sex. But I'll start watching the clock. We'll go out for breakfast. I'll be thinking it's 9 oclock already.. the day's slipping between my fingers... then it'll be 10 or 11. I'll feel bad for thinking this, of course, and guilty. As we're having breakfast and coffee, as we're talking, I'll be looking for an elegant way to make an exit. Every bite of breakfast, every sip of coffee, I'm going to be looking for that exit.

Meanie

I got this message from a guy around my age:

Hi mate, I see your bi-curious, however you have women and couples on you TO DO LIST. I can be a quiet sub, if you like, or a team player, If interested, thanks then, cheers

I thought I should at least respond, so I went back with this:

sorry mate, not my cup of tea

I like the whole 'mate' thing, by the way. Especially in this context. Sure we have sex with other men, but we're still manly. D'oh. He then asked:

thats cool, but why the bi-curious thing on your profile. Cheers.

My response?

i do have sex with men. i just meant that you're not my cup of tea. sorry for the confusion

Rhonda (ctd)

Lovely evening. Dinner, sex, sleepover. Thanks for asking...

I just got a text from Rhonda (not her real name, of course). "Looking forward to seeing you and dirty fun. FINALLY we get to play."

Let me explain. I met her a few months ago, she was part of a couple. They had sent me a message on a site I'm on (same as Runaround girl) saying that they were looking for a bi guy for a threesome, and when we chatted it turned out that they were only about a mile from where I live. He sounded like a bit of a dick but she sounded nice. So I went over.

He showed me around their house, pointing things out and telling me how much everything had cost. At one point he said to me "What's the most expensive domestic sound system in the world?" and I just shrugged. He told me, and showed me. He was, of course, not a tall man.

They were in a dom/sub relationship, which I was kind of curious about. I quite like dom/sub stuff but just as a bit of fun (and even then, I don't like all the bullshit around it, people being called 'Sir', or that horrible convention with capitalising pronouns).

He got her to suck my cock for a while and got all very dramatic about how I wasn't allowed to come, and that if i did come I'd never be coming back and whatnot. I wasn't at all stressed, I very rarely come from that. Predictably he got bored after a while and switched us around.

After a little while I got a bit sick of him and figured I'd seen enough so I said I was going. That was it. I do remember quite liking her - I'm not sure why, we just seemed to click. He was a dick.

Anyway, a month or so later I got a text from her. She'd left him and was living a couple of hours north of the City and wanted to know if I was keen to catch up. She came to the city once in a while. We had lunch a couple of times, and it was fun. It was kind of like a date (we hardly knew each other) except that we'd seen each other naked and had gone down on each other.... I was recovering from surgery so there was nothing other than lunch.

She's coming over tonight. Should be interesting...