Archive for cum
7 Days and Counting . . .
Posted by: | CommentsThe evening will be underway before we arrive. I like this set-up. It means I can be a voyeur before I become a participant—or more like the center of attention.
I haven’t given a lot of thought to the evening, other than to schedule my spray tan for today and my waxing for Monday. I still need to decide what I’ll wear for those few moments when there’ll be clothes on my body. You have suggestions? I’ll take ‘em. I’ll probably walk the lingerie sections of the outlet mall on Friday night or Saturday.
Tank says he thinks I’m anxious. He says I’m being too heady about the whole situation. Most likely because I’ve asked him a bunch of questions, like:
“From your conversations with B4, who do you think will be there?”
“From what you’ve seen in the past, what do bi guys like from a woman?”
“How do other women usually act and behave?”
“How am I getting to and from the house?”
“Will I get to spend any time with you alone afterwards?”
“Can I see you before next Tuesday?”
I don’t feel anxious. More, I’m a person who likes to be prepared for anything that might show up in her path.
I love the anticipation. The thought of having so many men touching me, caressing me, bending me, fucking me, fondling me, eating me, biting me, sucking me, cuming on me. All while Tank watches and joins in.
I’m also bummed that Tank can’t spend the rest of the night with me alone so we can build upon the experience. Unfortunately, daily life is getting in the way. Having a teenager means being home when she goes to bed and wakes up in the morning.
On second thought, maybe I should call a girlfriend. Chances are high she’s walked in my shoes before. Wonder what wisdom she has to offer around what I’m about to experience.
Stayed tuned for more musings. Who knows how I’ll be feeling next Monday!
About Last Night
Posted by: | CommentsWe’ve met before. Back in early September. On a Saturday night. At a swing club. I was with Maestro. B3 was with a woman friend.
He says he saw me the moment I arrived. Actually, what he noticed were my legs. I was wearing a hot pink silk dress with a low cut V neckline. Extremely form fitting.
Maestro and I were seated on a sofa in the main room where the music was playing when B3 approached us. He asked if we’d like to join him and his friend at a high top table near the entrance to the couples-only room. Maestro immediately said “yes,” before even seeing his lady friend.
Maestro sat on my left, B3 on my right. He asked if it was OK to flirt with me. Before I could get my answer out, Maestro said, “Yes.” While I was getting over the shock of him not asking me, I felt a hand caressing my upper right thigh. At that moment, B3’s friend arrived at the table. I knew right away that she wasn’t Maestro’s type. She was at least three inches taller and weighed at least 25 pounds more than him. She sat on a chair to B3’s right.
In my right ear, I heard B3 say, “She’s new to swinging.”
Maestro replied, “So are we. No big deal.”
B3 responded, “So let’s go into the couples room.
To which Maestro replied, “Great.”
The next thing I knew I was being led in by B3. And my man, who I hadn’t seen in two weeks, was literally running to a love seat with this other woman. Before I even got seated on a sofa, they were making out. So, I turned to B3 and said,
“What just happened here?”
“You’ve been swapped.”
Swapped? SWAPPED? I didn’t give permission for this to happen. I thought the women controlled what took place with her partner.
“So . . . what are you expecting me to do, I asked him.
“Whatever you want. But, I’d really like a blow job, if you wouldn’t mind.”
By this time, Maestro and the other woman were on the bed. He was totally nude. She was still clothed in a black and white dress. Nothing too revealing. Maestro was eating her pussy with great zeal while she reciprocated by stroking his cock. Everyone was watching them. There had to be at least 30 voyeurs inside and outside the room.
I felt trapped. Not knowing what to do— this was only my third time at a sex club—I did as instructed. I knelt down on the floor, undid the zipper on his pants, pulled out his cock, put it in my mouth and started sucking and licking it, all the while trying to keep an eye on Maestro.
“Do you like?”
“Ohhhh, I love it.”
“How fast would you like to cum?”
“If I cum right away, then I’ll have time to recover. And being over 50, I’d like to cum at least once more tonight. So bring it on, baby.”
I obliged. After which I quickly repositioned myself back on the sofa so I could watch the action on the bed. All of a sudden, I saw Maestro position himself on top of this woman. And enter her bareback.
“Oh my God, he doesn’t have a condom on. And he’s a doctor.” I blurted out to B3. “What do I do?”
“You can do whatever you want.”
“So, I can stop him?”
“Sure.”
“How do I do that?”
By this time, the adrenaline rushing through my veins had taken over. I didn’t wait for a response. The crowd had gotten bigger. This had become a show. I got up, walked over to the bed, and very quietly whispered in Maestro’s ear:
“Get off of her. You don’t have a condom on.”
Then I knelt down next to the woman’s head and whispered in her ear, “Don’t you ever pull that shit on me again. You know better. He needs a condom.”
“What, what? He asked if I was clean and I said ‘yes.’”
“I don’t care what he asked you—or how you responded. Don’t you dare do this to my man again. If you don’t know the rules, you need to ask B3 to tell them to you.”
By this time, Maestro was fully clothed. I escorted him out of the couples room, through the main area where the music was playing, into a small and dingy private room. Once inside, I locked the door. In a soft, very controlled voice, I said:
“What the hell did you just do?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what came over me.”
“You of all people. You’re a doctor. You should know better.”
“I know. I know. I’m sooooo sorry.”
“Well, sorry doesn’t make up for any disease you may just have been exposed to. And what am I supposed to do? We haven’t had sex in two weeks. Do you really think I’m going to play with you now?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“I think you need to do a lot of thinking. You don’t even know if she’s on birth control.”
We left soon afterwards. The drive back to my place was eerily silent. Not like any 40-minute drive we’d ever had before. Maestro slept a few hours before sneeking off before dawn the next morning. It was to be the last time we ever slept in the same bed. Only I didn’t know that at the time.
Whew. Back to last night with B3. We met at Applebee’s at 6 o’clock for cocktails. Only there wasn’t a seat to be had at the bar or at a table. B3 greeted me with that fact. No smile. Just a gruff:
“It’s too busy here.”
“Yes, it certainly looks that way. What would you like to do?”
“Let’s go talk outside.”
“OK. Uhmmm . . . I don’t know of any other place with a bar around here that won’t be packed. It’s spring break and the dinner hour. How about Starbucks? It’s two miles away.”
“Fine. Just fine.”
Huh. He didn’t sound fine. When we got to Starbucks, he didn’t order a thing. Not even a bottle of water. All I heard was, “I hate this place.”
But I wasn’t about to leave. I walked outdoors and took a table in a corner. And proceeded to tell him my version of that fateful night many months ago, as a backdrop to the conversation we were about to have. I also told him about my swing partners. I learned he’d just broken up with his partner—for the second time. And old girlfriend. Not the woman I’d met.
Within minutes I knew he’d lost interest. That was just fine with me. I wasn’t the same person he’d met—and he looked nothing like the guy I remembered sucking off that night. He’d gained at least 20 pounds. And he still hadn’t smiled. From the moment he saw me at Applebee’s, he looked angry—and his tone of voice sounded even angrier.
We parted ways in less than an hour. How interesting. I’d come full circle. A little older— and a hell of a lot smarter about swinging.
Surprise, Surprise
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What to pack . . . what to pack. Boston Boy had his fetishes. Thigh high nylons. Spiked heels. A bustier. Such traditional lingerie. I preferred more unique items, like the low cut, form-fitting easy-on, easy-off dresses that I’d been purchasing for my sex club outings with Maestro. And that’s exactly what went into my bag. Along with a pair of five-inch high sandals that showed off my legs and my beautifully manicured toes—and my anal vibrating beads.
We’d met through JDate and had been chatting on-and-off for almost half a year. Things heated up when he’d learned I’d embraced swinging.
I want to walk into your hotel room. Shut the door behind me. Push you in the corner. Drop to my knees and start to lick and suck on you. Hands roaming between your legs. Feeling your clit swell in my hands and I’ll get hard feeling you get wet. I want to finger you like crazy. Have you tasted yourself?
Mmmm. Yes. I taste good.
Then I’ll tell you how hot and wet you are and how dirty it is that our first meeting is like this. But it’s a major turn on.
That I’m a bad girl?
Yes. Very bad and naughty. Totally bad.
So if I’m naughty, what does that mean????
That I’m naughty as well and it’s a major turn on. I just want to make you moan and go crazy.
So what happens to naughty girls?
They get to play with naughty boys unless you want me to take you over my knee. Do you like watching a man cum?
Absolutely.
Good. Where would you want me to cum? Tear off the condom and spray it all over you?
I’d love to cum in your mouth. Then kiss you. We can snowball. But I do want my cock in your ass at some point. Ohhhh my cock feels so good right now. I want to see how you react when my cock slowly enters you for the first time.
I got stuck in Cleveland of all places on my way to Boston. Unexpected snowstorm. With high winds. So I texted Boston Boy to tell him I’d been delayed and got an immediate response.
Something’s come up.
What do you mean?
I got an assignment yesterday. Need to be in Chicago on Tuesday.
Are you serious?
Yes. Need a rain check.
Poof. Just like that, I was now batting 0-7. Damn.
Welcome to Randi Buckmen's adventures in intimacy—beyond the world of sex. Hear how I’m embracing the possibilities of what can be while remaining a “good girl” in the public’s eye. How did I go from being celibate for three years—and wearing flannel pj's to bed with socks when I was married—to where I am today?
