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Bite Me.

Everything happens for a reason.  Of course sometimes the reason is that I’m a bit dim and make poor decisions.  During the bored spell between Christmas and New Year I actually bothered to go through all my messages on Fab and delete the 99% that were dross, replying to the 1% that interested me. Among the messages was a 3 week old message from someone who had enclosed a face photo and basically messaged “this is me – let me know if you like it”.   It’s not a message that would normally grab the imagination but the photo was of him with a bright red parrot on his shoulder, and the tiny thumbnail on my phone led me in my terrible eyesight to see it as the weirdest ever santa hat.   I had a chuckle and messaged exactly that back, only to find the sender was online at that very moment. He told me he was free for a social drink that afternoon and in a weird coincidence I was also free and looking vaguely presentable as I was ready to go out for dinner with friends.   We agreed to meet
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Trust, But Verify

I have mentioned a few times the swinging site I used heavily for a few years.  I am still on the site, but it’s no longer my main source of a good time.  I’ve had great fun on there and I’m still a frequent visitor, but I’m no longer actively searching or sending messages to profiles that tickle my fancy.  I’m now a passive spectator, occasionally throwing my tuppence into a forum thread or replying to a message I find interesting. That makes it all the more interesting that I’ve recently had some very enjoyable meets from there, two of whom I hope to meet on a regularish basis, indeed one of whom I’ve met a couple of times already and had great fun with! One of the oddities about that particular site is the verification system.   An existing member can meet a newbie and confirm that they are a real person and turned up when they said they would, looking like the photos they had provided.   Good idea, no?   Well… as with so many good ideas sometimes the key is in the implementatio
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Love Hurts

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m lacking in grace and co-ordination.  While I’ve (thankfully) never had major injuries my life is littered with broken toes and cracked ribs and pulled muscles and concussions.  I’m almost always bruised in ways I can’t explain and even when I know exactly how I’ve come by a particular bruise the story tends to be unbelievably comedic. I met Doc many years ago on a BDSM hookup site.   He was a GP, so evenings and weekends worked as well for him as they did for me.   We chatted for a while before meeting up for coffee, where we chatted some more and laughed and he flirted heavily with me.   He asked to come straight back to mine, and (for once) freshly shaved and groomed and with fresh linens on my bed, I agreed. Back at mine, naked in bed, Doc’s Dom tendencies came to the fore.   I always have under-bed restraints on my bed, and he put them to good use, tying me extremely tightly before lying next to me and stroking my skin.   I am extremely tickli
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Smell Ya Later!

I’m terrible at reading social cues.  Truly, horribly, toe-curlingly awful at it.  As a result I have a morbid fear of outstaying my welcome, of pushing myself in where I’m not wanted.  It isn’t easy for me to give up on someone but if I sense them cooling then I try my hardest not to turn into the “I’m not gonna be IGNORED Dan” bunny-boiler stereotype.  It’s a fine line to tread though, to show continued interest without applying pressure if the other person is cooling off. K has been a FB for a number of years.   While we get on well, we both understood the limits of the relationship as FB, not FWB.   If sex is off the table then we would never meet up just to spend time together.   I enjoy his company and have nothing but love for him, but it’s entirely a sexual arrangement. I originally met K on a swinging site, through his wife.   She liked the idea of K meeting up with other women, though she didn’t want to participate.   When we all met up for a meal and a drink we got along
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What a Bummer!

When I’m asked what I’m into and what turns me on I have a tendency to lapse into a list of what I don’t like, what turns me off, what I don’t want to explore.  It’s a much shorter list, but I tend to view it as a list of non-negotiables.  No matter which site I’m currently using to get my jollies, a guy whose profile says he wants to push boundaries will always be a no from me – my boundaries are there for a reason and I’ve no desire to have them pushed. Outside of that list are the negotiables: things that don’t turn me on or that I’m not keen on or I’m nervous about, but am willing to do occasionally if a partner is very keen.   I’ve mentioned the spanking session with G, and impact play is one of those negotiables.   Another is anal. I’ve had anal in the past, but I’ve found it to be unerotic at best, painful at worst.   It’s not something that will ever get me to orgasm by itself, and most of the men I’ve slept with have lacked the patience to warm me up sufficiently that it’s
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Pay to Play

Sometimes you know at the outset the connection with someone will be amazing.  Other times it just sneaks up on you unexpectedly.  I recently decided that the swinging site I was using wasn’t getting me the results I wanted, so I reactivated my account on a hookup site and almost immediately got chatting to G, hitting it off from the very first message. We went out for a drink within a couple of days, and I liked him a huge amount.   He was smart, witty and intelligent, and we liked similar films and places and people, though we had very different tastes in art and books.   I was sorry to leave when the restaurant closed, and even as I sat on the train home he was continuing our conversations on whatsapp. On the face of it we seemed highly suited.   Both looking for regular overnight stays, both having explored BDSM pretty thoroughly before stepping back from it, neither interested in a relationship but perfectly happy with a FWB arrangement. There is a price to pay to be with G.
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No Better Than I Ought To Be

  I’m not someone who has ever been concerned for status symbols.   When I choose to meet someone, to spend my time with them and share my body with them, I don’t give a toss what brand of watch they’re wearing or what income tax bracket they fall into.   I find conspicuous consumption vulgar, rather than impressive.   When someone on one of the sites I use promises to look after me it tends to make me snort laugh: I can take care of myself and I don’t think of myself as the sort of person who would sell herself for a bit of luxury.   Everyone has a price though. Before I met B I considered staying in a hotel not advertised by Lenny Henry to be true luxury.   B was an American who flew to London frequently on business and wanted an amusing companion over dinner and a warm body in the hotel bed.   He was very open about what he wanted and what he liked, and since his preferences seemed to tally with mine it seemed a good idea to meet up.   He had some odd ideas about money, but I put
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