Trust the Process

Photo by Suzanne D. Williams on Unsplash

Earlier this year my life was running at an astounding pace. I found myself in the midst of a number of lifestyle events and smaller gatherings with lifestyle friends. All of this “peopling” eventually took its toll. My mental health began to decline and I found myself in the midst of other people having fun and feeling like I was faking it. Even worse I succumbed to that hallmark of untreated depression and began uncontrollably shouting awful, hurtful things at people I love.

It took some very firm words with myself and a lot of unpleasant reminders of a conversation with a friend who refused to get professional help even though she was doing the same things I had just been doing. Albeit on a much grander scale. I knew what I had to do but still I resisted. In the end I took the step of seeking professional help. As I write this post I am in possession of a mental health plan from my GP and have a pending appointment with a psychologist. Despite being on medication for depression for almost ten years I have never actually had a regular therapist. Lesson there; Most GPs cannot manage a mental health condition well. Second lesson; the only person who has a hope of getting your treatment sorted is yourself.

All of this has resulted in a bit of a “drought”. I wrote a short post about it here. It is strange how you can be living your life attending veritable sex-fests and still feel as if your marriage is dry. As a result of January I resisted making plans with people so that I could generate some breathing space but the drought was playing on my mind. I was a little reluctant to suggest a visit to the club. Partly because I worried that it was contradicting my need to be free of people. and partly because I didn’t want Mr Jones to feel left out but the itch for random, unencumbered sex was hard to ignore.

Fast forward to sitting on a couch in the club sipping drinks and chatting to a younger couple. It was just conversation to start with. There was something about him but he wasn’t my normal type. He was intriguing just the same. Things progressed. Turns out despite the extroverted behaviour he is shy and also the epitome of a sex servant. His wife happily watches him act out this persona. His desire to give pleasure is insatiable. He wants to touch and explore and draw the pleasure out of a woman. I can see how this is something one woman cannot provide constantly over a long period of time.

For me it was challenging to be waited on in this way. He jumped to attention to make everything comfortable for me. His attention was focussed entirely on my comfort and pleasure. It was a rare treat. Exactly what I needed at that moment. I needed to be reminded to LET people pleasure me. I needed to be reminded that I DIDN’T have to be the one who was waiting on everyone hand and foot. I was not responsible for making sure everyone had a good time even if it was at my own expense. I still felt guilt at just letting someone pleasure me. I still need to slay that demon that constantly tells me that my needs and wants are less important than everyone else’s. But this evening gave me a boost in that fight. It reminded me that I am still a Goddess to be worshipped. My energy is still unpredictable but I am feeling positive. I just need to have patience and trust in the process.


What is the Best Experience You Have Had?

Photo by Glenn Carstens-Peters on Unsplash

Meeting people through dating apps seems to be the most surreal thing to me. Trying to decide who is worthy of your conversation from a brief hello a couple of random photos and a poorly completed bio. It is impossible to meet all of them in person so there has to be some kind of selection process.

My own bio says I am looking for someone with an imagination. I kind of know why I wrote that. I was tired of being the one calling all the plays and coming up with the ideas. I just want someone who takes control and tells me where to be at. Mostly so I can brat and tell them I don’t want to but sometimes because I just don’t want the responsibility.

But we digress. I was contacted by someone whose pics were meh but something in his bio made me go let’s give this a shot. He proclaims to be an explorer recently emerged from a long term relationship that had some kinky times but no swinging or group sex. Something I can, and have worked with. I don’t mind helping someone on this pathway. Then he asked this clanger

“What is the best experience you have ever had?”

My brain spun. Mostly because I didn’t want to let him know just how experienced I was. But also because that is like asking someone who has travelled all over the world what their favourite tourist destination is. After ten plus years of travel and “tourist destinations” I can’t even remember all of them. Not because they were unforgettable. But because they kind of blur into the past. There are specific people who stand out. Mostly the people who are in more recent history. But not specific experiences.

So how did I answer his question? Well I was very generic and said something like;

“I have had a lot of different experiences. They all have their pros and cons.”

And then I did this thing that I do that means I don’t have to expose myself. I asked him about himself.

The conversation is continuing. He hasn’t proven himself to be a complete dickhead so that is a good sign.

The Hall Pass

It is funny how you have these conversations with colleagues. You know the ones. Where they talk about something they think is cutting edge but really it is so vanilla. What is even more scary is these conversations are dangerous for me. I am almost incapable of lying. So participating in this conversation is hard. How do I say enough that I look cool without completely outing myself.

The topic of hall passes came up. I raised my eyebrows as my friend waxed lyrical about her celebrity hall pass and how delicious he was. I was a little baffled. Her nominated celebrity hall pass is Robbie Williams. I know many women find him dreamy but I cannot, for the life of me see the attraction. The second thing that baffles me is the whole concept of a hall pass. What are the chances that you will actually get into a situation that you can proposition or be propositioned by this person? And then if you do, what are the chances that they will be interested in you? Essentially it is a sexual fantasy. But somehow one that has become acceptable in mainstream water cooler conversation.

Later in the week the same group of people had a conversation about window shopping. And the old adage that it is OK to check out the talent as long as you don’t pursue it. I trod the same tightrope of not contributing while trying not to look like a complete idiot. There was a moment when I considered dropping one of those comments that made people think. But I refrained. In both of those situations my way of thinking is why lust after something you can’t have? Especially when there is usually something just as desirable that you CAN have.

Do I have a hall pass? Hell yes!!. I have one whenever I want with just about whoever I want. With the exception of a grand total of one person that I have met. Probably a few others I haven’t met yet but for the most part Mr Jones trusts my judgement. Obviously this kind of concept is something I can’t discuss around the water cooler. It is something that requires a bit more social lubricant and a different setting. I wish people could be more enlightened. I wish I didn’t have to be so careful what I say.

I certainly don’t wish for Robbie Williams in my bed though.

Monday Monday

Monday sneaks up on you. Like a jester playing a prank. One moment you are warm and comfortable in slumber and the next you are scrambling for the alarm. Tea can only soothe away the reality of the impending commute and day of noisy, demanding teenagers a little.

Memories of the weekend gone by fill your mind. The touch of a new lover. The way his complete attention was given over to your pleasure. How for once in your life you lay back like a slut and let the pleasure shudder through you. The idea of a sex slave always seemed foreign. But now it is the most appealing thing in the world.

Tea is almost gone. The clock says it is time to pack your bag. You remember that you promised yourself you would go to work early today. Five minutes counts as early right?

Almost but Not Quite

The weekend dawned full of promise. The forecast was good. Perfect boating weather. We rose early to get a good start on things. Picked up our friends and made our way to the harbour. I wore my new dress purchased by Mr Jones. He does have good taste.

The sun was shining and we enjoyed a leisurely sail to beautiful Moreton Island. As we dropped anchor we were treated to an excellent close up view of two sea turtles courting. It is always amazing how these creatures that seem so ungainly can move so nimbly and even gracefully in the water. Our friends were surprised at how quickly they could move when they chose to.

As we were travelling I chatted with a friend and organised a play date. I was excited. it was the first time I had planned a solo session for a while. It felt like time. As we prepared to launch kayaks to spend time paddling over the shallow sand flats in the hope of encountering sting rays and more turtles I picked up a stray broom and placed it in the front locker. The locker lid is heavy and has a relatively narrow lip. I didn’t place my toe properly, the gas strut was corroded and now the nail on my right big toe is split in half.

Yes it hurt. No I did not get to go kayaking. Or walking on the beach. Lots of sitting with my foot elevated. I took the opportunity to colour. Which apparently is great for your mental health.

When we returned to dry land I visited the local medical centre for a proper dressing a tetanus vaccination and an X-ray order. More visits to medical professionals. Not entirely happy about this. Not to worry I began preparing for my date.

Then texts took a worrying turn. My friend was being “pussy blocked” by a relative. Time ticked by, We had dinner and I could feel my mental health slipping. I called it at 8pm. I wasn’t ready to head out for a 40 minute drive and then return after midnight. As frustrating and disappointing as it was I finished the night with one of the most faithful of my friends and some last minute marking.

There is something about the love of a cat. They don’t make promises. They just love you when they are ready to fully commit. And then it is soft, purring, and transfixing.

Maybe next weekend will be better.

Body Count

Photo by Anne Nygård on Unsplash

How many people have I fucked? I started writing this post in the usual boring way. The story of my struggle with my body count. But that story has been told. If you want to hear it then you are most welcome to ask but honestly I have discussed it on these pages more than once. The real story is that I have avoided actually seriously calculating the body count by talking about the theories around limits and society’s feelings about sex. 

So how many people have I fucked? It is an interesting question. When I start to consider it I can list some significant people like, Johnny, Pet, Mr Fixit, JB, The Traveller, The Second Mate and The Italian. As I write this list names keep popping into my mind. And those are the ones I remember. There are always those that are not as memorable or even those that are so far in the past that time has blurred my memory. 

I will answer the question by considering the people I have fucked this year. It has been a busy couple of weeks, Mr Jones and I are on the back of the second lifestyle weekend in a few weeks. We won’t be attending another for a while so this is a slightly exaggerated figure. At New Year’s we camped for about three days at a lifestyle camp. Every night we were ‘busy”. Sometimes multiple times. The body count for that weekend was… five. Not counting little interludes of kisses, hugs, nipple caresses and small cock sucks.

We are on the back end of a lifestyle party weekend. This event is a little more civilised and more of a party than just camping group congregating by the fire at night. There is a pool and considerably more drinking. We know a lot of the people at this event so there is a lot of catching up with some people that we haven’t seen for a while. The body count for this weekend was slightly less at around four but one was a double up from New Year’s. There was also some cock sucking and nipple caressing in the pool. 

So, as of the 22 Jan the body count is at 9. There will be some repeat business in the next couple of weeks with a possibility of a new addition. We will see. I keep feeling like there could be another body lurking here but it has disappeared in the fog of tiredness. Over the course of this weekend with this prompt and the thoughts it generated has triggered me to be more slutty than usual. For one of the first times in my life I have owned my slut behaviour and flaunted it. I wanted people to see me being a slut. I wanted people to see me being slutty and they wanted to see me. 

And so here I am. Not quite out and proud but definitely getting there. 

Bringing In the New Year With a Bang – Part 2

My first post for Revelations was a diary of a New Year’s camping expedition Mr Jones and I embarked on. As promised there are further installments and this is one.

Saturday Afternoon

It had arrived. The last day of 2022. Getting back to nature meant no escaping the mid-summer sunrise that happened at 4 am. Someone forgot to close the tent flap it seems. Once that was rectified we were able to sleep until a more respectable hour of 7am. The day was lazy with not a lot happening. Some socialising. A little walk to the creek. Afternoon drinks under the shady trees in the creek bed with our feet dabbling in the water. 

The arrival of Neon Wax Man caused some excitement. I had witnessed his work several times and Mr Jones even was a subject last time we had seen him but I could never bring myself to be brave. Wax and I have a very mottled relationship. Maybe one day. This didn’t stop the enthusiasm of some of the other people at the event. 

The afternoon meandered to a close. People enjoyed the outdoor showers and bathtub, cooked dinner and readied themselves to party in the new year. I had never been to a New Year’s celebration like this one I was unsure of what to expect As the sun began to slide toward the horizon we wandered over to the main fire. The place where all the action will happen. We were a little earlier than most but there were a couple of people. I found myself in conversation with a man I had chatted (read flirted with) with a few times. Other women had told me that he was good at massage. When he offered a massage I decided to take him up on his offer. 

His reputation was not unfounded. His hands on my back were strong but gentle. He probed my muscles finding spots that had long needed attention. I enjoyed the feeling and felt tension leaving my body. I wished that I had the discipline to find and make regular appointments with a pair of hands like this. 

“You are not asleep yet?” His voice was gentle in my ear.

I roused myself with a smile. Despite the flirting between us the massage so far had been the opposite of sexual. 

“Would you like to turn over,” There was a small smile on his face. 

With a nod I obliged. He continued with the non-sexual approach. Starting at my feet he began to work oil into the soles of my feet and heels. It is amazing how your body can respond to stimulation in this area. He continued to work his way up my claves and legs, Around me the sky began to turn orange and the cicadas began to sing. Slowly fingers began to work their way up my thighs. I kept my eyes closed absorbing the attention. Not for the first time I wished for more regular attention to my muscles. 

Then I felt his fingers running across the top of my thighs. Grazing my outer labia, teasing just a little. Without a comment or any fanfare we tripped over the line from very good vanilla to a very new experience. His skilled fingers stroked and stimulated my yoni in a way I had not experienced before. The tension that had been building between us since we had met way back in October reached a crescendo. 

As has become my habit I worked to control myself. I was conscious of not squirting all over the towels covering the massage table we were using. I worry about making laundry for other people. 

“I can feel you holding back,” His voice was deep in my ear. 

“I know,” I replied. “It is OK.”

“You don’t have to do that though,” 

I sat up and wrapped my legs around his hips pulling him closer to me. I could feel his hard cock resting against my open, wet pussy. I allowed myself to tease him a little. While he had massaged I had wrapped my fingers around his cock, exploring him. I was interested to note a piercing near his frenulum. Not a Prince Albert, something different. I haven’t ever fucked a man with a piercing before. 

His cock slipped into my wet, hungry opening. I allowed myself to be lost in the moment. It was a weird kind of feeling. I was conscious that the night hadn’t even begun. It wasn’t even properly dark. Celebrations for the evening were still to commence. But I didn’t want to cut our fun short. 

We held each other close and his cock moved inside my body. I was torn. I wanted the full experience of this cock. But something was making me hold back. The time was not right for this. I let things ebb away a little and we held each other closely as more people gathered around the fire. There would be time in the future for more exploration. Right now the excitement of New Year’s Eve was upon us. 

If you missed the first instalment you can read about it here.

X’s and Ohs

Like many things in my life I find impact play a bit hit and miss. I like the power of giving impact to willing recipients. I like a well placed spank during sex or while I am being stimulated in some way. But I am not super turned on by pain. There is some part of my brain at the moment that WANTS to engage with being submissive but I don’t know exactly where it will take me.

During our NYE shenanigans we met a couple who we hit it off with really well. turns out he likes a good spank but his general rule is quid pro quo. So if you give you have to receive. When I woke up the next morning I found this mark on my butt from my studded riding crop. Mmmmm this friendship is going to take some turns.

Sinful Sunday

Crossing Swords

In my last post I mentioned a scene where Mr Jones and another man enjoyed each other’s cocks. It wasn’t a new thing for us at all but writing about it made me consider a couple of things that I feel are worthy of a bit of discussion. Before I continue I just want to assure readers that the diary of my New Year’s weekend will continue. There is definitely more to tell but I wanted to tease this idea out a little first.

I have been a reader of KDaddy’s blog for a little while now. His insight into his bisexuality is interesting and at times revealing. Being a male interested in both genders is a complicated path to walk. When Mr Jones and I started out on our swinging journey it was very taboo for a man to express interest in interacting with another man. Over the years this attitude has softened a little and more men are comfortable enough to express interest in penises. It is documented in these pages that Mr Jones is one of the men who likes to interact with a penis.

It is often forgotten or not understood that there is a smorgasbord of activities. Not all of the activities will be to everyone’s taste. Nothing can be assumed. It is always better to ask first and have some clarity about expectations before diving in. The selection that Mr Jones takes is fondling and sucking or being sucked. He loves cum, in his mouth, on me, and in vaginas. He likes looking a cum shots in porn and watching cum drip from a newly fucked vagina. On the odd occasion mine.

There is always this hesitation when other men come up against the topic of bisexuality. By enquiring about the smorgasbord they are effectively outing themselves. As I mentioned earlier there is a very real fear of being shunned or lost opportunities if an experimental male is outed to another who is determined to be straight. Many swinging men foster very masculine facades. Sometimes this is to shore up ties with the other men. Sometimes this is to impress the women in the room. I have been surprised on more than one occasion when the masculine male in the room has shown interest in a cock. Budgy Smuggler man is from this generation. So his actions were understandable. He found himself in a situation where he could explore without judgement but he still held back. Afterward he still felt a very strong need to indicate his preference was vagina. Even though we had clearly shown we don’t care.

I will never understand why men feel the pressure to assert their straightness. It seems as if they assume that a bisexual man will be interested in them even if the feeling is not reciprocated. Is it an ego thing? Do they think that they are the most attractive man in the room and of course every human will want to fuck them? I just don’t get it. Some swinging men always feel the need point out their straightness. Some even go so far as to keep distance between their dick and other dicks when in a group situation. At the event we attended there was definitely some of the typical “you keep your dick over there mate” comments. But there was also more men who were determinedly nude than women. A man seeking to look at naked females had to be very observant. Myself, a woman seeking to look at naked men was spoiled for choice.

Will we every reach a point in our community where people will just accept that everyone is different and all you have to do is ask? Will we reach a point of enlightenment where it is completely fine to say and hear no because everyone understands that there are other opportunities out there? I really don’t know but I certainly hope so.

Bringing in the New Year with a Bang!

Friday Morning

There are these distinct emotional phases of planning a trip. The first one is excitement and anticipation when it booked. Things are a long way off, the calendar is clear, the fantasy is bigger than the reality. Then there is the beginning of the work. The reality starts to get bigger than the fantasy but still it is manageable. Then about a day or so out life seems to crowd in and things get hard. Sometimes so much life happens that I wonder if I had made the right choice and if perhaps I should just cancel the whole thing. 

Despite life, despite doctors appointments, despite offspring being collected from cruises we got everything packed and on the road. The weekend stretched in front of us. Full of promise. We got ready to say goodbye to 2023.

Friday Evening

Camping is a lifestyle. It seems a simple thing and in many ways it is but setting up a campsite is hard work. It felt good to be wearing less clothes and enjoying a wine in the company of others who enjoyed all of the lifestyles that are about feeling comfortable, nudism, less fuss, camping and more fun, swinging. Already there was sexual innuendoes and attention. Already I could see that things were going to happen. 

After mingling by the fire, greeting some old friends and making some new ones I found myself on a massage table. It has been a little while since I have felt so desirable. Like I am enough, just the way I am. A chick in a pair of knickers who likes to flash her tits and wave her hair around. Budgy Smuggler Man was attentive and very enthusiastic. The massage was sensual and intense. He was very keen to get down to business. After a little while Mr Jones appeared and then I had two men focussing on me. I was able to suck cock, and be fondled to my heart’s content. 

We found ourselves a corner of the play area. Around us other people where in situations, massaging in small groups, succumbing to their desires. We forgot the rest of the people and focussed on each other. I was licked by both men. I sucked their cocks. They fucked my pussy. But the image that stands out in my mind is being positioned beside Mr Jones with Budgy Smuggler man’s cock between our mouths. For a moment there Mr Jones placed his lips on one side and I on the other. No one flinched. I waited for a few moments to see what would happen before I pushed his cock into Mr Jones’ mouth. Then it was happening. Not just two men enjoying a sexy chick but two men enjoying a sexy chick with a side of cock sucking. 

I wondered briefly what the onlookers would think. But no one said anything. For everyone it was business as usual. It was New Year’s Eve eve. There was another two and a half days before reality hit.