MONOGAMY SUCKS, A SWINGER’S TALE, Part 1
By George Pappas, COPYRIGHT, 2010
CHAPTER 6: MY NAUGHTY NURSE
Feeling depressed about the Nellie fiasco, and I am seriously considering abandoning my swinger quest and returning to the bar scene. It couldn’t be any worse than this.
Fortunately, a woman named Pam bailed me out from another night of horny doubts and left a message on my voice mail tonight. Her message was short but to the point.
“I was just looking for some pleasure,” she said in a nasally New York accent. “I like your ad. Call me at 310 444-3232.”
When I returned her call a short time later, Pam confirmed that she was indeed looking for some no-strings fun. I had to conceal my excitement, as I didn’t want to come across as too eager and desperate, which is what I am.
“I am tired of the dating scene and I just want some fun for a change without all the emotional baggage of relationships,” she said.
Hallelujah. She must have been reading my mind.
Pam (probably not her real name) also mentioned that she works as a nurse at hospital in Santa Monica located nearby where she lives. My cock started to get hard just thinking about the possibilities. I’ve always had a thing about nurses. Maybe it’s the uniforms or the notion of being nursed, pampered and taken care of in a sexual way. Not sure really, but I do enjoy fantasizing about fucking women dressed in nurse outfits.
My fantasy typically goes something like this…
A tall blonde woman dressed in a nurse outfit saunters toward me as I lay naked in a hospital bed. “Hi,” she says with a sly smile. “It’s time to check your temperature.” She then bends down and starts sucking on my cock. Right before she deep throats me she says that I have been a good patient.
Soon I am throbbing in her mouth and feel like I am about to explode. Sensing this, my naughty nurse (still wearing her uniform top without any panties) takes my cock and sits on it, sliding my surging member into her tight shaved pussy. As we fuck, one of her assistants, a brunette with long black hair, sits on my face, her wet pussy lips rubbing against my lips and tongue. After I come hard, both ladies lick up and swallow my come.
You get the idea. I have rented a lot porno movies featuring the nasty nurses theme. I couldn’t count the number of times I jacked off to these tapes. So far it has remained only a fantasy, but Pam gave me hope tonight that I might finally realize my naughty nurse fuck fantasy.
We agreed to meet in a couple days on a Friday night. Following our phone call, my imagination was burning with naughty nurse fantasies, but I couldn’t shake my usual nervous feeling. I could be fooling myself again. Life is not porno. At least, my life is not. Well, maybe not yet.
Pam lives in a small apartment complex located near downtown Santa Monica. I must admit I wasn’t overly impressed with her looks. She is a petite Italian woman in her mid to late forties with a thin face, big dark eyes and black hair. Not as hot as she described herself on the phone. I am afraid that just may be the norm for blind fuck dates.
We sat on a couch in her living room and talked about movies and politics. She seemed nice, but I was hesitant to make a move. This is always the most awkward time for me. I am not very adept at being able to detect if a woman is attracted to me or not. Finally after several long minutes of boring small talk, the subject turned to sex. She asked me why I wasn’t married and who had hurt me in the past.
“Hurt me?” I asked.
“Well, you must have been hurt or you would be in a relationship right now,” she said smiling at me. “I am just surprised no one has snagged you. You are very handsome.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I thought about asking her about her past, but figured it was best not to go there. I just wanted to get laid. I didn’t need to know her life story, and frankly I didn’t care. All this talking was making me nervous. I just wanted to get down to it, but there was no sign from her that she was ready or if she ever would be. A few moments later, I got my answer when Pam rubbed her hands on my crotch, unzipped my pants, reached in and stroked my semi-hard cock. Then we kissed and she hungrily stuck her tongue in my mouth. I removed her white lace top and sucked on her nipples. Her skin tasted of baby powder and shampoo. The smell of her intoxicated me.
After several minutes of playing with my cock with her hands and mouth, Pam removed her dress revealing her small thin pale body and asked me to lick her. I was intrigued by her directness.
She was shaved except for a little patch of hair strategically placed above her pussy lips. I stuck my tongue into her wet pussy and she tasted of citrus. So far, so good.
I tried to recall my nurse fantasies, but I couldn’t. All that was on my mind was fucking her and hoping I’d be able to perform. I tried not to worry about it, but that was easier said than done. Once performance anxiety creeps into my mind it is difficult to ignore. It can haunt me and quickly turn me impotent if I am not careful.
Pam abruptly left the couch and walked toward her bedroom beckoning me to follow. My pants were at my ankles by now and I almost stumbled trying to get up from the couch. By the time I reached her bedroom, she was lying on the bed, spread out playing with her pussy.
“Come here baby,” Pam cooed. “Lick me some more while I suck on your cock.”
I removed my clothes and lay down naked on her bed. Pam crawled on top of me and sat on my face. I felt her take my cock into her mouth as I tongued her clit.
“Oh baby, that’s so good,” she said as she took my cock out her mouth for a moment. Several times I felt on the verge of coming. Anticipating this, she grabbed and squeezed my balls holding my come back. Then she urged me to fuck her and moved to the top of the bed, spread out and waiting.
Surprisingly, Pam was as tight as an 18-year-old girl. Not something you expect from a woman in her mid forties. Maybe it was because she had never had any kids so her pussy had never been stretched and torn out of shape. It took some effort to enter her tight pussy, and when I finally did, I came inside of her in about 30 seconds. I wasn’t wearing a rubber either. I didn’t bother to stop and she didn’t ask me to. Oh well. So much for safe sex in the age of AIDS.
We looked at each other for a moment after I came. She briefly had an anxious expression on her face, but didn’t say anything about our unsafe adventure. I assumed her being a nurse that she would be more vigilant about sexual protection, but it never came up. I hate rubbers anyway so I wasn’t going to say anything. And I doubted if she would get pregnant at her age, but of course you never know so I was taking a number dumb chances with my health and future and my journey has only just began.
Pam also didn’t seem disappointed about my quick performance, but I suspect she was just being nice about it. That could have not satisfied her. Oh well.
A short time later, I fucked her a second time – also without a rubber – and came quickly on her belly. In all, I probably fucked her for a total of two minutes. I felt satisfied, drained in fact, but there was a part of me that realized my performance was pathetic. I tried not to dwell on it too much. Hell, I got my rocks off.
However, when we weren’t having sex Pam’s interest waned. She seemed restless and I could sense she wanted me out of there. Even before my come had dried, Pam said she had to work in the morning and sent me home. I figured I’d never hear from her again.
I was only fulfilling a quick sexual need for her. I was just her fuck toy and not even a very good one at that, but she obviously hadn’t been laid for a while. So many times women accuse men of just using them for sex. Now it was my turn to be used by a woman for sex. To be honest, I didn’t mind it at all. In fact, I liked it. She could use me for sex anytime. I just hope next time – if there is one – I can last a little longer.
I met Pam again this afternoon. The timing couldn’t have been better as it was a Sunday, which is always such a horny day for me. Probably because I haven’t been laid all weekend and all my come and lust is just ready to burst out my cock and balls by Sunday morning.
This time she insisted we use rubbers. Pam said she had treated a number of AIDS patients at the hospital where she worked and knew the risks.
“I don’t know what we were thinking about last time?” she said shaking her head. “I guess we got carried away. You’re clean aren’t you?”
I told her I was, but I was uncomfortable by her questions. Well, I at least I hope I am disease free. My last HIV test was a year ago and it was negative, but this was before I embarked on my sexual journey. Honestly, I could have contracted a disease from Leilani or Pam, but I doubt it. Neither seemed sexually promiscuous. Of course, I could just be fooling myself.
Pam went on to talk about her job and how she was so busy that casual sex was the only personal life she could manage.
“I don’t have time for anything else,” she said. “I am on call all the time. I also work sometimes two weeks straight without a break. I really don’t have time for relationships. Only occasional time for fun.”
She has a voracious appetite for sex. We fucked all afternoon, and at one point, as she rode me while gazing at our reflection in her closet mirror, she exclaimed, “I could fuck you forever like that!” I could sense her hungry need. I was like a drug for her — a break from her lonely, monotonous and stressful life at the hospital.
During my cock’s down time, Pam revealed her other experiences with couples and other swingers. She is the first woman I have met who admitted to actually playing with swingers and participating in a threesome. Everyone I have known before meeting Pam had either talked about swinging or fantasized about it, but it has always been in the abstract not as a real experience. She actually did it and talked about her adventures with no hesitation or shame. I am impressed and more than a little in awe of her open sexual attitude.
Frankly, swinging is still a fantasy lifestyle for me. It might as well be happening on another planet. I am still a swinger in training, but meeting a woman like Pam gives me a lot of hope that someday soon I will fulfill my fantasies.
During our next sexual encounter, Pam told me her fantasy. She didn’t know it is also mine. Pam wants to sneak me into the hospital where she works and dress me up in a patient gown. Then she described her desire to climb on top of me and fuck me on a patient gurney. I became aroused as she described her fantasy and soon after I fucked her thinking about gurneys, nurse uniforms, and the antiseptic hospital smell mingled with the raw sweat of sex and come. It was one of the best fucks of my life.
“Nurses get me hot,” I told her after I came deep inside of her.
She smiled and said, “mmm…now that I know what you like….we’ll have to try my fantasy sometime…”
I can only hope so. It would no doubt give me a whole new attitude toward hospitals, which for the most part are dreary and depressing places stinking of sickness and death. Nothing sexy about them.
Unfortunately, we never did get the chance to play out our hospital fuck fantasy, but we did meet one more time a couple of weeks later. The sex was becoming more intense, but I could sense she was also growing increasingly distant. Maybe she was bored with me or wary of something deeper developing between us.
After the recent fuck session with Pam, I made a casual sex gaffe. I told her I wanted to spend a whole weekend fucking her.
Pam gave me a strange pensive look as if I had just asked her to move in with me or get married or something. Then she looked away and said abruptly that she had to go to work. It was apparent I had made her uncomfortable.
I wanted to extend our sexual meetings into a weekend fling, but she only wanted me for an occasional fuck stud. I had crossed the line with her. Wasn’t this usually what us men complained about — women who get too emotional and confuse love and sex? But that wasn’t the case with me. I just wanted more casual sex. I guess should have stressed that to Pam as it was the last time I saw her. She didn’t return my calls after that. I was learning the hard way about the emotional landmines even involved with casual sex. Although it wasn’t my intention, another fuck fantasy had slipped out of my grasp.
MONOGAMY SUCKS, A SWINGER’S TALE, Part 1
By George Pappas, COPYRIGHT, 2010
CHAPTER 5: 900 NUMBER DATELINES — A REAL FINANCIAL HANG UP
This past month I nearly went bankrupt as a result of my temporary addiction to 900 number datelines.
Most people associate 900 numbers with phone sex, and for the most part that is what they are used for. Yet datelines for finding sex and romance are the fastest growing segment of the multi-million dollar 900 number industry. It has proved a real costly debacle for me. I squandered thousands of dollars trying to hook up with swingers through erotic phone sex dating lines. I couldn’t seem to help myself. I became obsessed with calling datelines every night and in the end it ended being nothing more than a money draining scam. Kind of like strip clubs — nothing but an expensive fantasy.
When you call these sex datelines, typically a taped recording of a woman with a sexy voice will say: “You have reached Horny Encounters, the ultimate dateline to find others like yourself looking for erotic fun.” Then the female phonebot runs down the instructions on how to join. Basically this is how it works — you can create your own voice message or verbal fuck ad or leave messages for others in their voice mailboxes. I imagined at first it would be an effective way to meet women for casual sex, but I didn’t realize datelines are a woman’s world. Women no doubt receive hundreds of messages from horny and lusty males like myself. I had little chance of breaking through the clutter as it proved a futile sex lottery. All the while, I incurred hundreds and later thousands of dollars in phone charges just to leave messages on these phone datelines. It was a broken connection indeed.
The Pleasure Line is another popular dateline that resembles a sexual match game. You dial in your sexual preferences and the system matches you with other callers who have the same sexual interests as you. I must have left a message for every woman on the Pleasure Line for weeks, but I never found a match apparently.
I also did the same on the dateline, Horny Encounters, but again nothing came of it. I grew more frustrated and impoverished with each 900 call I made. When I finally came to my senses weeks later, I was no closer to entering the mysterious world of swinging, but I was nearly $30,000 in credit card debt. Pathetic. Probably it was the desperation in my voice that scared the swingers away. Nothing is more of a turn off for a woman than a horny and desperate man even if the dateline was called Horny Encounters.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity (several weeks), I received a call back for one of my dateline ads from a woman in my neighborhood who called herself Nellie. She said she is 35, but sounded much older. Phone sex is her thing even though she has a gravely unattractive voice. She can talk the phone sex talk, though. In other words, she has no trouble talking nasty.
“My pussy is very hairy and wet,” she said, breathing (actually wheezing) heavily. “I want you to lick me. My fingers are in my pussy. You are inside my pussy. You are fucking me hard. Mmmmm…fuck me, fuck me. Your cock is so good and big. My pussy is filled all the way up…”
As her sexual arousal increased, her breathing became more labored. I thought she might pass out and hang up as she huffed and puffed her way to an orgasm. Now that she was done it was my turn. She became demanding and insisted that I come, too, but there was only one problem. I hate phone sex. I feel ridiculous when I try to do it. Phone sex is not hot enough for me, and it has always left me cold. I enjoy a good sexual conversation, but when it’s on the phone I feel too detached, and I miss the chemistry and connection you can experience when meeting and talking with someone in the flesh. I need the eye contact and physical presence of another person. I want real sex, and phone sex is a poor substitute.
“Come for me baby,” Nellie pleaded. “I want to hear you come. What does your cock look like? I want to fuck and suck it until you come. Play with your cock. Are you playing with your cock? Come for me, baby. Come for me.”
So I would pretend to come just to get her off the phone except for one recent morning when she called me right before I had to go to work. I woke up extremely horny and came all over my hand thinking about fucking her pussy that was probably old and rank, but I didn’t think of that at the time.
I went to work drained and wishing I hadn’t done it as I felt a bad case of “post-spew depression” coming on. I needed all that man spunk to get through another boring and stressful workday at the public relations firm I work at.
Tired of our phone sex sessions, I thought it was time to meet, but every time I suggested it she would ignore me or abruptly change the subject. Nellie finally relented and agreed to meet me at the Station one recent night, but she never showed up.
The next time Nellie called me I confronted her about standing me up. She said she had a family emergency and had to cancel. I told her I wasn’t into phone sex and that I wanted to meet in person, but Nellie was evasive again and said she was too busy and that it was easier to talk on the phone. I finally realized she was never going to meet me in person. So I decided I wasn’t going to answer any more of her calls. I figured she would get the clue and just stop calling me. Well, that didn’t work as she called me about 10 times in the next week typically at 3 or 4 a.m. Then she started calling my work number. I had forgotten that I had given it to her during our first phone call. It proved an embarrassing mistake. One night when she couldn’t reach me at home, she called my work phone and left several desperate messages at 4 a.m. in the morning. Undeterred, Nellie called my boss’ home phone that is listed on our company voice mail.
I found out about it a couple days later when my boss Mason Muir, a sexually frustrated married man in his late thirties, told me about Nellie calling him several times the previous Saturday morning. Fortunately, his wife and children were asleep at the time.
Mason talked with Nellie several times and I assumed they had phone sex (he wouldn’t tell me about that), but she wouldn’t stop calling. Nellie was relentless. She kept calling my boss at home and work. Once Mason said his wife answered the phone, but the person on the other end hung up. He thinks it was Nellie. Now I believe Nellie is a phone sex addict.
I felt foolish and angry at myself. My private life had suddenly merged with my professional life in a disturbing fashion. Mason had encouraged me to bring in new business referral calls, but I doubt that this is what he had in mind.
Luckily, Mason didn’t act bothered by the calls, and was even amused about Nellie, but I believe it did change the nature of our work relationship after that. He looked at me differently even though he admitted that he had engaged in phone sex in the office before. A woman randomly called Mason one time in the middle of the afternoon during work and started talking nasty to him. He must have loved it, because he talked about the incident often. I suspected he would call 900 numbers if he could get away with it without his wife finding out.
Unfortunately, Nellie wouldn’t stop calling my boss and almost got him in trouble with his wife.
“She is really weird and nasty,” Mason said to me one recent morning. “I believe that phone sex the only kind of sex she ever has.”
I knew it had gone too far. I called Nellie and confronted her about calling my boss and she hung up on me. Apparently, it worked. It was the last time either one of us heard from her.
I was relieved and swore off 900 numbers and phone sex. It has been nothing for me, but a real disappointing financial hang up.
MONOGAMY SUCKS, A SWINGER’S TALE, Part 1
By George Pappas, COPYRIGHT, 2010
CHAPTER 4: THE SQUIRTER
Sounds like a figment of some erotic fiction writer’s imagination. It’s the kind of phenomenon I’ve read about in the Penthouse Forum or in the Playboy Advisor, but I personally didn’t believe it existed until I saw a woman squirt cum juice in a porn film called “Female Cummers.” Porn films are hardly real life so a come squirting woman still seemed like erotic science fiction to me.
One night I heard a sex expert on the radio say that any woman can ejaculate and that a man just needs to know the right techniques. Of course, she was a little vague on what these so-called techniques were. I had never been with a woman, who could come like that, so obviously I hadn’t stumbled on to any of these “techniques” by accident.
Many, including a lot of my friends, still think female ejaculation is a myth. I did too until I met Vivian. She answered my ad and said she was “looking for a man to eat my pussy. My husband won’t do it.”
She described herself as a short woman in her mid forties, but she sounded much older to me over the phone. Probably it was her crusty tired voice and her hesitancy to talk about sex that gave me that notion. Although Vivian wasn’t shy about setting up the ground rules: “No intercourse. Just oral sex.” What a drag.
Even though I wasn’t aroused by her request, I was still intrigued and desperate enough to meet her. My initial fuck date foray with Leilani a few weeks before only made me more determined to meet naughty women even if Vivian’s offer didn’t sound all that promising. Still, I couldn’t turn down a chance at a blow job.
A couple nights later, I invited Vivian to my apartment. She told her husband she was visiting with some friends from work. She said we had two hours to play, but to be honest, we didn’t really need more than 10 minutes.
As I am discovering much to my chagrin, one of the main drawbacks with blind sex dates is that people lie about their looks and age. This indeed is the ugly truth. When Vivian arrived at my apartment, I felt like sending her home. I am not into granny sex. Vivian was in her late fifties and maybe even in her early sixties, but she even looked older than that. She is a short, dumpy woman, who wears thick glasses and has a homely duck like face. Her nose and mouth appear mashed together and she has an unsightly wart below her lower lip. Her curly black hair was matted to her head in clumps like some kind of ancient perm gone bad. On top of that, she wore the clothes of a much younger woman — a short skirt and black stockings – which made her appear even more absurd.
What the hell was she doing here? I didn’t want to fuck my grandmother. She looks like a female Platypus, an ancient duck like animal that I had learned about in school. That became my secret nickname for her later — Platypus.
Vivian acted very nervous and kept trying to pull her skirt down to hide her bony, wrinkled legs.
“I’ve never done this before,” she said in a hushed stammering voice, smiling awkwardly and averting eye contact as much as possible. “My husband won’t do it. He won’t lick me. ” She kept pensively looking around my apartment as if she expected her husband to show up anytime.
No wonder. I wouldn’t want to lick you either, I thought. I became even more uncomfortable and was ready to tell her to leave, but a sad and hopeless look came over her face that stopped me. I figured she had pondered such a meeting for years so I couldn’t just turn her away even if it was against my better judgment.
I smiled and leaned over and surprised her with a kiss on the mouth. Bad idea. Her lips and breath tasted like sandpaper, tobacco and alcohol, and I nearly gagged. She tasted old. It was as if I could taste her decay and decrepitude. It was something more than just a case of bad breath.
Not wanting to kiss her again, I boldly reached under her skirt (she didn’t resist) and discovered she wasn’t wearing panties. I discovered that her pussy was shaved — I actually felt stubble — which is usually cause for celebration, but not this time.
We moved over to my bed and she removed her skirt. I had no more doubt about her age. Her pussy was shriveled and wrinkled. She probably hadn’t been pleasured in decades. Not exactly appetizing.
I decided to use my fingers first. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if her pussy was clean enough to lick. I stroked her clit with my index finger and plunged my thumb into her ancient pussy.
Vivian began panting, wheezing and moaning almost immediately. I was hoping I wouldn’t give her a heart attack or something and she would die in my apartment. It would just be my luck.
“Eat my pussy,” she demanded in a hoarse, cigarette ravaged voice. “I washed it real good.”
Well, it was her fantasy after all. So with much trepidation, I plunged my tongue into her wet hole expecting the worst, but surprisingly she tasted like strawberries. She must of spent hours cleaning her pussy with a whole bottle of scented soap. I vigorously licked and sucked her clit for another minute or so and then it began to happen. She moaned deeply and suddenly a stream of whitish clear fluid exploded from her pussy.
“Oh, my God, baby” she exclaimed feverishly. “Oh my God…”
Splish Splash, I thought nearly laughing aloud. I was taking a bath covered in pussy juice on a Friday night…
Vivian was a human geyser squirting everywhere. My mouth and face was covered in her love juice. Her pussy eruption also drenched my bedspread and my sheets. Her love juice tasted bittersweet. She ejaculated several more times as I continued to play with her pussy. I have to admit I was in awe of her. I knew I was witnessing a rare event in nature comparable to the eruption of a long dormant volcano, and I didn’t know what to say to her. It was a come shot I thought I’d never see in real life.
Vivian appeared as surprised as I was by her impressive come gushing display.
“I’ve never done that before,” said Vivian, her face flushed with a stunned look of ecstasy. “I’ve fantasized about going to a man’s apartment so many times, but I was afraid my husband would find out.”
I wanted to consummate our sex date with a nasty fuck, but she told me she wasn’t ready for that yet. She also refused to suck my cock. All I could do for now was eat her pussy, which left me frustrated again.
“Maybe next time,” she said, gently pushing my head back toward her pussy.
Vivian sprayed my bed and myself a couple more times before she left a little while later. I never saw her again after that night.
It was a lick, splash, thank you, ma’am encounter. I had no desire for a wet encore. Once was more than enough — even for her unique display.
Yet there was no doubt that Vivian went back to her dead marriage satisfied for the first time in years — maybe ever. I took some gratification in that. She called me several more times, sounding more desperate with each message, but I didn’t return her calls. I have done enough sexual charity work for now. Vivian is a sexually deprived woman waiting for the right time to erupt again. She is a curiosity, but I am not attracted to her at all. I am sexually dissatisfied as usual. I crave a real fiery memorable fuck with a hot lady, who doesn’t look like someone’s ancient ugly grandmother.
What the fuck? I am asking for too much?