The_Experimentalist 36 M NYC US: Now on to the table, please.
slUtty-fUckgal 43 F London UK: Whatever you say. Gown on, Doctor?
The_Experimentalist 36 M NYC US: Just stick to the instructions. Gown on until I say off. Eyes closed. It’s better that you don’t see.
slUtty-fUckgal 43 F London UK: Lying down. Flat?
The_Experimentalist 36 M NYC US: You can leave your knees bent a little. However you feel comfortable.
slUtty-fUckgal 43 F London UK: Knees bent… Is that relevant? Can I have a towel to cover my modesty, please?
The_Experimentalist 36 M NYC US: I’m a scientist. No need for modesty blankets. You’re comfortable?
slUtty-fUckgal 43 F London UK: Very.
The_Experimentalist 36 M NYC US: Let your legs relax until they fall open.
slUtty-fUckgal 43 F London UK: Open? A natural state for them…
The_Experimentalist 36 M NYC US: Just do as you’re told, please, in order for the experiment to work, or I may have to gag you.
slUtty-fUckgal 43 F London UK: Gag? Is that necessary?
The_Experimentalist 36 M NYC US: Your legs, I can see they’re relaxed. Are you okay if I don’t wear rubber gloves? I’m allergic.
slUtty-fUckgal 43 F London UK: I’m okay with that.
The_Experimentalist 36 M NYC US: Good. Now this won’t hurt at all, but I shall be inserting something, it’s unimportant what, but it may surprise you at first. I’ll warm it up a little.
slUtty-fUckgal 43 F London UK: I’m good with surprises. Is it big?
The_Experimentalist 36 M NYC US: It’s big enough, as you can feel. Just relax. I sense some tension there.
slUtty-fUckgal 43 F London UK: I’m relaxed. Thank you. That feels good.
The_Experimentalist 36 M NYC US: That’s important.
slUtty-fUckgal 43 F London UK: For the experiment?
The_Experimentalist 36 M NYC US: Keep your eyes closed and wait. Don’t let this movement disturb you. It won’t be long. I’ve nearly finished. Just a few more investigative notes and we’re done.
slUtty-fUckgal 43 F London UK: I’m almost done too.
The_Experimentalist 36 M NYC US: Irrelevant to my research. In a moment this rhythm will change. It’s nothing to worry about. Try to stay relaxed or it may jar a little. But it may leave you a little wet.
slUtty-fUckgal 43 F London UK: I’m already a little wet.
The_Experimentalist 36 M NYC US: I’ll provide you with tissues. Just wait while I finish up.
slUtty-fUckgal 43 F London UK: Uh huh…
The_Experimentalist 36 M NYC US: And that…
slUtty-fUckgal 43 F London UK: Yes?
The_Experimentalist 36 M NYC US: That completes the process. Thank you for your contribution.
slUtty-fUckgal 43 F London UK: Thank YOU. Is that it, Doctor?
The_Experimentalist 36 M NYC US: That’s it. You may go.
slUtty-fUckgal 43 F London UK: Thank you. If there’s ever anything else I can help you with… would you like my KiK name?
The_Experimentalist 36 M NYC US: No need.
And that was that.
In a glut of “hru”, “are you there?”, “hey”, “hi”, “does anyone talk out there?” and “do you like 10in bbc?”, these guys began to stand out to her.
As rare as diamonds in a coalmine, they would swoop in, rarely stopping to engage in small talk, straight in role and, focusing mainly on the imperative, make her cum, though seemingly disinterested in this, before striding straight back out of the chatroom and into th¬e wider web without pausing to bid farewell. The_Experimentalist stood out as a maestro of the art. She hung around the chatrooms, hoping for a repeat performance, but he was never there; she suspected it was probably best that way.
Meanwhile, Megan’s research continued. She knew the rules of friends with benefits so well that they became a doctrine by which she lived, but she found herself increasingly conducting searches for “polyamory”, “roleplay”, “BDSM” and “submissive”, and this slowly led slUtty_fUckgal towards her new profile on PhetX.
It had first been suggested to her by Lon_Chaney, one of a handful of nerds who lurked in a chatroom she frequented, keen to talk but unable to take it to any level beyond the intellectual, however many no-so-subtle hints they were given, and Megan was by now well equipped to give cues.
Lon was a great example of this; sex was an academic exercise for him, purely theoretical, and he collected facts about it with an obsession that was definitely interesting but decidedly unsexy. And he loved to share what he knew.
He was, he told her during an early-morning discussion about knot-tying and the merits of various rope materials, a member of an online forum and group for the fetish and BDSM community, and recommended that she join if – his exact words – “you want to take your interest any further”. This was a place, he told her, where like-minded people gathered to exchange ideas.
And so she found herself on the homepage of PhetX, staring in at the portal; it was impossible to know exactly what lay beyond without joining. And she desperately wanted to know.
About me: slUtty_fUckgal
Gender: Female
Age: 43
Sexual orientation: Straight, bi-curious
Role: Submissive
How active you are: On the edges
Looking for: Playmates/Friends
Hi,
Newbie here, so please be kind while I find my feet.
Having played online and in the real world awhile now, I find myself being drawn more and more to the Dark Side. I want to learn more and I intend, like a good little sub – which is what I believe I am – to sit and watch and learn before jumping in at the deep end.
I also want to look more closely at the bi side I’ve always known was there. This is a new venture for me but I know it’s a direction I want to travel in... I just need to find the right girls.
For now, please feel free to drop by and say hello. I’d love to hear what you have to share.
As to the rest? I’m not really sure. I’m married but with permission from my lovely husband to explore polyamory. I know that my main rule is that I will never purposely harm anyone along the way and that my family are always number one. Beyond that, I guess I’m a work in progress. Help me learn. :)
With her initial profile established, Megan waited and browsed. For someone used to the instant high of a no-registration chatroom – where an over-abundance of men to women meant that filtering through received texts was the first problem most females faced – waiting patiently was a challenge. The first blinking light showing a new message appearing in her mailbox was a hearty welcome to the clan.
Hi there.
I’m TempleBoy, a kinkster just like you and a volunteer on the PhetX meet-and-greet team. So first things first, Welcome! It’s excellent to have you on board.
It’s a wide world here, and it’s my job to offer you a little guidance as you make your way around. We want you to stay safe (very easy if you follow the suggested rules) and have fun while you explore what’s on offer.
There are some excellent groups you can join and there’s something for everyone – just use the search function in the upper right hand corner of this page. That’s the best way to meet new friends and share ideas.
You can’t search for people using age or gender, but people who share your kinks can be easily found based on location or fetish.
Uploading your photos and writings are also good ways to make new friends. These can be as private or as public as you choose – just use the privacy settings.
The answers to most questions can be found on the FAQ page, but in human terms I’m also here to help you out. Ping me a message and I promise I’ll answer it.
For now, though, I’d suggest you go take a look around. Click on a few links, see where you find yourself. Just remember that if you need help, the site team are always available.
Most of all, go enjoy and have yourself some kinky fun.
Temple_Boy
PhetX Welcome Team
15. Kindly_Meister
After Tamsin’s visit to his flat, Alasdair’s online life had relaxed into a lull. Nothing, he knew, could compete with an experience like that. It was a meal to be savoured and, like an anaconda that had gorged on a goat, he was sated. His need for now was to lie low and regroup. He focused on nurturing his body with fresh food, daily walks and a reasonably committed effort to avoid alcohol, and his soul with greater familial connection. The lid of his laptop lay closed for the most part, and, despite the temptations of his unslakeable thirst for whisky and a couple of minor falls off the wagon, he was a genuinely contented man for a month or so.
By Hattie’s birthday, even Lorna, with a little help from Lyall and subtle encouragement from her mother, had mellowed her attitude a bit and Alasdair was invited to join them all for Saturday afternoon tea, before five 10-year-old girls descended on their home for a sleepover.
Jane was there too, alone this time, having been drafted in to whisk Maidie and Emily away for the night and cut down on the potential for chaos in the household. It was the first time she had crossed paths with Alasdair in months and he was looking fresher than she’d seen him in a while, as she informed him immediately.
Their greeting was, as ever, heartfelt, and the afternoon was laid-back and pleasant. As Hattie’s friends began to arrive and their parents stayed to chat, the bubbly started to flow, although Alasdair abstained and Jane stopped at two glasses of red.
“I know I’m not driving, but this afternoon-drinking malarkey knocks me for six nowadays and I suspect I have a long evening ahead of me entertaining these two lovely young things,” Jane told him, scooping her granddaughters up as she spoke.
“Never thought I’d see the day,” he replied. “You need any help tonight? Seriously, I’d be happy to – love to, if I’m honest – and, although I’ll need to consult my social secretary, I do believe there’s a gap in my diary this evening.”
The two little girls cheered their uninhibited joy at the suggestion of a night being spoilt by not just one but two grandparents, already imagining an almighty, sugar-crazed evening of movie-watching and general indulgence. Jane looked over at Lorna, who stood chatting to a couple as they quaffed and laughed by the kitchen door.
“I’ll need to check with your mum and dad,” she said. “I’d hate to risk your thrill cells exploding without having warned them it might happen. But in theory, yes, that sounds like a wonderful offer.”
Alasdair mouthed a silent thank-you and gave the girls a hug. He wasn’t entirely sure what had caused the recent, never explicitly mentioned ban on his coming there, but he was truly grateful for the new chance and he intended to make it up to them all.
Maybe it was the convivial atmosphere of the afternoon, perhaps a gradual understanding that Alasdair’s addictions were no threat to her family, but Lorna welcomed the idea. In truth, she was worried about her mother, who had seemed down lately – most unusual for her – and she knew how much Alasdair always cheered her up.
The girls were right. What followed was sheer kiddy decadence. Catching a taxi into town, they had gone for pizza, followed by a 3D film at the cinema, and had then come home via the newsagent, where each girl bought a comic – no educational content, the only selection criterion being the appeal of the free gift bagged up and taped to the front.
By the time they got home to Jane’s and bathed, using the cola-scented liquid soap Alasdair had picked up along the way, they were happy to be tucked up under a blanket on the fold-out sofa that converted into a double bed, propped up in front of a few cartoons before lights out. They watched one more in the dark, by the end of which they were both fast asleep.
Turning off the screen and leaving the door ajar, Alasdair went into the kitchen, where Jane sat, a large measure of something amber-coloured in a crystal whisky glass in front of her.
“It’s okay, you know. You can have a drink, I won’t tell. I just wasn’t sure if you’d want one. I’m assuming this glowing complexion, picture-of-health nonsense – and you really do look superb, Alasdair – I’m assuming it comes at a cost?”
“You never were one to mince words, young lady. Yes. Yes, you’re right, but the rewards are worth it for a day like today. We are good, you know, aren’t we? I mean with the girls?”
“Yes,” she said, her face deadpan. “We would, I think, have made magnificent parents... oh... wait a minute... Unless I’m mistaken, we already did.”
They laughed, and he nodded towards the freshly opened bottle that stood on the ebony kitchen surface. Jane poured him a stiff one and topped up her own.
“It’s bloody hard, isn’t it, this life business. Kept thinking it would get easier...”
“We do okay,” she smiled at him across the table. “So, seriously, let’s not pretend I don’t know about the... various issues you’ve been having. What are you doing, Alasdair? What’s going on in your life? You know I’m here if you need me, right?”
“I know. I know, lassie. It’s a lonely business, though, and I’m a stubborn old man. I’ve got a handle on the drink… mostly… ach, as much as I can do without giving in to all that AA preaching fervour. There has to be a middle way...”
“This ‘old’ business will have to stop for a start. If you’re old, I must be, and I was reading just a few days ago how 60 is the new 40, which was recently declared the new 30, although that seriously can’t be true.
“You getting out much? Keeping... how I hate this expression... yourself busy?”
“I’m busy enough. It’s not that. Do you ever... are there things you find you regret? I never did, but I find myself more and more raking over cold dead coals. The chances I missed, the things I fucked up. And yet here I stand, where many brave fellow travellers have fallen along the wayside… you and me, Jane, we’re still standing.”
“Not merely standing, but marching on. Drink to that?”
Their first toast, as was by now a tradition, was to their children; granddaughters followed; and then a drink to those who had fallen by the wayside.
“That include exes?” she asked.
“Let’s make this to the ones we wish the best for. For me, I guess that’s Lexi. Tough time they’re having over there. She needs all the luck we can send; they both deserve it. The next one can be for the ones who passed through causing more havoc.”
“To the havoc-wreakers! That would – I’m guessing – mean Ella’s up there at the top of the list for you?”
“You know...” Alasdair paused.
“I know, I know... she’s not for talking about. I just like to give you the chance, just in case you’re ever ready to share. Oh, and of course, I’m great when it comes to opening up old wounds. My husband used to say I had a rare talent for it.”
“Ah, those havoc-wreakers leave such delightful scars. No. It’s not that I don’t trust you enough to share, Jane. More that I don’t trust myself to talk about it, without raving off on some bitter rant. It’s more than six months since I even heard from her, and three years, more maybe, since she went back, and yet just thinking about her, even hearing her name – it’s not got easier at all. At least sometimes it feels that way.
“I fucked it all up, pissed up and fucked up, and she didn’t care less. She ran away and left me wallowing in a pool of my own shit. And that about sums us up. Soulmates? Total car crash.”
“For what it’s worth, I always quite liked her. I mean, I could see how you two clicked – anyone could – but she was always going to go back to South Africa; you must’ve known that. Her kids were grown up, for sure, but look at us – we know more than anyone that four, 14 or 40, you still want to give them as much as they’ll take of us in their lives. I was surprised she stayed as long as she did. It’s a testament to the strength of you two.
“Added to which – and please don’t thwack me, but her dress sense was truly atrocious. Very colonial in style. I mean, she was gorgeous, but I kept wanti
ng to give her a complete makeover. So she doesn’t keep in touch?” Jane took the last gulp of her drink, gesturing to Alasdair, with a shrug, that perhaps one more for the road was in order.
It was.
“Not lately. And, ach, honestly, there was no point. She wanted a nice, smooth, sorted-out ending to something that left me in bits – bitter and in bits – and it was never going to happen. The whole thing ripped the civilised part of me into shreds and, though sober and straight I’d have the strength to reply politely, in the wee hours it was hard, so hard that I realised this glossy coating of civility was turning me into a complete dick. I was continuing to damage us both. For what? For the sake of her peace of mind that she had done the right thing at every step of the way?
“This way, with no contact at all, I remain the arsehole here and she gets to baby-wipe the blood from her hands, go back home and live on like none of it ever happened. That’s what they call closure, I guess.”
“Ah, closure,” Jane nodded at him with an exaggerated understanding. “I’ve always been a fan of the voodoo-doll-and-pin approach myself. If it’s over, there’s no need for anything but what feels right, and that generally is a great big hunk of space, movies, some good books and a few cocktail evenings with old friends. That said, I find nowadays that if you avoid getting too close – no strings attached, I believe they call it – a rejection doesn’t hurt anywhere near as badly.”
“Which brings us to the tall, laid-back American... Henry?”
“Frank, as I’ve no doubt you well know.”
“Ah yes. Frank. Where does he fit on that meandering path of yours? He’s still based in London? Lyall says he’s been around longer than the others.”
“He has, he has. I like him. He’s… he’s easy, I suppose, and for me right now, easy works. Low maintenance. But I keep waiting for it to fuck out… for me to stop fancying him… for him to not fancy me. For one of us to want something more, and if that happens, hell, Alasdair, that’s it for me. Jumping on to the celibate train, big time.
“Mmm, sorry… There are not many people left I can talk to about sex at our age without them shuddering.”
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