by Abby Lee
‘You know what you were telling me about that guy you shagged and how him getting all emotional frustrated you?’ Tim said, somewhat cautiously.
‘Yes,’ I answered. ‘What about him?’
‘Well, I’ve got an idea about how you can avoid all that business and still have some fun …’ I could practically hear Tim grinning down the phone.
‘Do tell.’
‘There’s this place – a nudist spa – where people go and … you know …’ he trailed off.
I was confused. ‘No. What?’
‘They, um, well … It’s a swingers’ place. Where people go to have group sex. We could go – if you like.’
There was silence for a moment. The word ‘swinger’ echoed round my brain. I had heard the term of course, but I always associated it with the images from the TV show ‘Eurotrash’ where fat middle-aged people greased themselves up in oil and made home videos of each other. Not really an appealing thought.
I couldn’t deny that my curiosity was stoked, though, and after the disaster with the journalist, I was eager to try something new.
‘Tell me more,’ I said, still wary about what was coming next.
I heard him take a deep breath, ‘Look, I went to this place a couple of weeks ago; it’s somewhere couples go and have sex with strangers – other couples – and everyone is cool and they’re all our age. I’ve been waiting for the right moment to mention it to you. I thought maybe now would be a good time for you to try it. We don’t need to actually do anything if you don’t want to, but it would be fun to watch, don’t you think?’
I pondered on this for a moment. It was certainly a good suggestion, but there was one problem: we weren’t going out with each other.
‘It sounds interesting, Tim, but how would we fit in? We’re not together and, please take this the right way, as much as I like you I don’t really want to shag you. You’re my friend and I’d like to keep it that way.’
‘No, no, no, we wouldn’t have to shag!’ Tim exclaimed. ‘We could just go there together and if you wanted to try anything, you’d know that I’d be there to support you. And, um, if you didn’t mind me being around I could just sit in a chair and watch – making sure you were safe and everything.’
I laughed. ‘Safe, eh? Like you don’t get off on watching – I know you, Tim!’
He laughed too. ‘Yeah, OK, I wouldn’t say no to being a voyeur, it’s true. But seriously, if you’re up for going, I would be there for you, not for me. I just want you to see this place – it’s amazing.’
‘Let me think about it, OK?’ I said, half making my mind up there and then.
‘No pressure,’ Tim replied, ‘But I guarantee it’ll be an adventure if we do go.’
‘Let’s hope,’ I said, and began to fantasise about what it might be like, knowing full well that my curiosity had already gotten the better of me.
Saturday 4th June
Dear God,
I know we don’t have a close relationship, and that’s something to do with the fact that I am an atheist and I don’t believe in you, but putting that fact aside for a moment, I’d like to have a little chat.
You see, I have a bone to pick with you. It’s not about the tsunami that devastated so many lives six months ago. Nor is it about the fact that millions of people are afflicted by HIV and AIDS as a result of following the Vatican’s mindless dogma. It is not even about the way that huge parts of this planet are dying due to needless waste and selfishness on the part of its participants. No, it is about a much more important issue: I think I have become a sex fiend.
Although I do not hold you directly responsible for the issues that arise as a result of my condition, it is, I think, fair to say, that you are interfering in at least part of the process. Since it appears that you ‘move in mysterious ways’, I can only assume that you have some connection with my own particular cycle of events.
An example:
I am not a fan of the police force. This might be because I once spent 11 hours in casualty after getting my head cracked open by a particularly sadistic copper after presenting myself as a ‘threat’ when I sat down in the middle of a street on a non-violent demo. Even when I have handed out flowers to riot police as a peace offering, I have still been beaten by their truncheons and riot shields.
In my opinion, put a riot uniform on any copper and you get someone hungry for power and prone to vicious outbursts. Most policemen seem not to be the most progressive of ‘new’ men – racism, sexism and conservatism are all endemic within the force. I don’t believe the ‘it’s only one bad apple in the barrel’ view: in my opinion, they’re all representative of a pretty nasty section of society.
So, dear God, it came as something of a surprise to me today when I found myself lusting after a copper. In all honesty, God, I am rather annoyed by it and I want a full explanation from the responsible parties, ie, you.
There I was minding my own business, buying my copy of the Guardian in the newsagent’s, looking forward to a hectic day of sunbathing, coffee and reading up on current events. I didn’t expect to be witness to a violent dispute between my neighbours, and I certainly didn’t expect to be checking out a policeman’s arse and wondering what his body was like under his uniform.
It began innocuously enough. A van full of police arrived, separated the brawling parties and began to take statements from everyone. My interviewer just happened to be a rather handsome thirty-something well-built man, with lively blue eyes and dark blond hair. Not that I was paying attention to his looks or anything. It was just an observation – I am very perceptive about such things.
He asked me lots of mundane questions, and apologised for the dullness of them, trying to crack some jokes to liven things up. I found myself answering him sarcastically, and he chuckled as I took the piss when he couldn’t transcribe my answers fast enough.
As we chatted about what had happened and joked about my dumb neighbours, I suddenly twigged that not only was I laughing out loud at this policeman’s jokes, but I was twirling my hair between my fingers and stroking the back of my neck. God, I was flirting with him.
When he walked over to his colleagues to check some details, I became aware that I was scoping out the wonderful curvature of his delightful bottom, too. As he conferred with them I glanced down and saw how erect my nipples had become – they were poking through the flimsy t-shirt I had quickly thrown over my bikini top like bullets. Shit, I was turned on as well.
He came back over to me and we continued chatting, and I attempted to will my nipples into a state of relaxed submission. I don’t think it worked, since his eyes darted over them more than a few times. Then I noticed his chest. His shirt was open just enough for me to idly imagine undoing the rest of the buttons and running my fingers through his hair, finding his nipples and caressing them gently. I tried not to mentally undress him any further, but it was no use: as he stood there and flirted with me, he was as good as naked in my mind’s eye, his cock as hard as the truncheon on his belt.
Dammit. He was a copper. A fascist in uniform. A powerhungry Servant Of The State. Why was I attracted to him? Why was I wondering what it would be like to kiss him? Why was I imagining ripping off his navy blue trousers and running my fingers around his balls?
Something is wrong – very wrong in my world. All I can think, God, is that, in your mysterious way of doing things, this must be part of some larger Plan of which I’m unaware. I’m sure that you have a Reason for this to happen and that your Will manifested itself in this insane attraction. It certainly can’t be explained any other way. I may be a sex fiend, but I can categorically state that I will never shag a member of an organisation that’s seen fit to club me over the head in the past. Even if he is devilishly handsome, with a cute smile and a fantastic arse.
So, with this in mind, I would like an explanation. You know, some kind of sign to give me an insight into these events. You don’t need to do anything flash like a thunderbolt or a storm, but sending me the winning lott
ery ticket or even a new gorgeous man would certainly help me understand things a little better. I like to think it would put all the disturbing recent happenings into context and restore my rational perspective on the world.
Waiting to hear from you, on my knees as always,
Abby
Tuesday 7th June
Got an odd text from Blog Boy. I’m sure he’s flirting with me. Not that I have anything against that, but surely ‘just friends’ means sexual innuendo should be avoided?
Especially since with me, it tends to lead to other things.
Sunday 12th June
When Tim and I arrived at the spa in Willesden last night, I was very nervous, even though I had downed two double whiskies to try to take the edge off my anxiety. I could see scores of people walking around in towels, and several who were just stark naked.
I don’t have an issue with nakedness, but being a nicely brought-up English girl and accustomed to British prudishness, it did seem odd to be able to see so many breasts and penises on open display.
But I soon got over it.
I suppose it helped that Tim almost immediately whipped off his clothes and strutted his stuff.
Nice arse, I caught myself thinking as I checked out his physique, faintly remembering how I squeezed it tightly when we fucked each other many years back.
I was a little more self-conscious than Tim, though, and I tucked the complimentary towel I was handed on entry to the spa as tightly as I could round my breasts before joining him for a stroll around the place.
The ground floor had a handful of jacuzzis, a couple of steam rooms, a small swimming pool and a sauna, plus plenty of communal showers. I noticed a flight of stairs leading to another floor.
‘What’s up there?’ I asked Tim.
He grinned at me. ‘Wait till later; I’ll show you then.’
My interest piqued, we settled down into some lounge chairs opposite a spa pool and watched the place begin to fill up with people.
I was surprised how many young twenty-something couples were there, blending in with the thirty-something crowd who were in the majority; I had thought Tim and I might be the youngest – I was wrong. Everywhere I looked were handsome guys and fit girls; things were certainly looking up.
After a while, Tim coaxed me to join him in a jacuzzi, then leapt in bollock-naked, leaving me on the edge feeling like a twit and still clutching the towel. I had to take the plunge at some point, so I threw it off and stepped into the warm water, noticing everyone eyeing my body as I did so, making me self-conscious.
There were four other couples in the water with us, all naked too. Tim and I just sat there and smiled cheesily; everyone else was more talkative.
After a few minutes’ cooking in the overheated water, I noticed two of the couples getting very friendly, the girls laughing out loud together. Suddenly they began kissing, their partners egging them on. Tim quickly shot me a knowing look: I told you so.
I beamed at him and then stared, along with everyone else, as the girls shifted so that they could each straddle their own partners whilst continuing to snog.
I began to throb between my legs as I saw the guys reach out to their partners and fondle their tits; I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Before I knew it, the two couples had become a mish-mash of hands, mouths and breasts, the girls rubbing themselves against the guys whilst they kissed passionately. God, it was hot.
Then one of the girls pulled back, whispering in the other girl’s ear as she smiled at her. They both nodded to each other, and with that they stood up and began to get out of the jacuzzi, with the guys following – their erect cocks at full mast.
I couldn’t help but stare. Tim pulled me out of my daze, saying softly, ‘Let’s follow them; I want to show you what happens next.’
Stunned, I got out of the water with him, grabbing my towel and his hand and we made our way up the flight of stairs I had seen earlier. We just caught sight of the two couples from the jacuzzi disappearing into a small room off a central hallway.
I could see there were lots of doors leading off the hallway – at least five or six. The door of the room the two couples had gone into was firmly shut, however. I was a little disappointed – I was very curious about what might be going on behind that door.
‘This is where it happens,’ Tim said, and gestured down the hallway at all the doors.
‘What happens?’ I asked, half knowing how he would answer.
‘The playing,’ he whispered. ‘If we hang here, we may get to see something – often they leave the door open for people to watch, or join in.’
I nodded, as if this was the most normal thing to do in all the world: stand in a hallway in a nudist spa and wait for couples to have sex so that we might watch them.
I was filled with fear at the prospect, yet I was also transfixed. The thought that I might get to see some real live action was enough to stop me from fleeing into the night in total embarrassment. Tim held my hand protectively, and let me know that I was safe.
We didn’t have to wait long. We heard some noises at the end of the corridor and quietly made our way to a small room, poking our heads round the door.
I couldn’t believe what I saw.
On top of a wide bunk was a girl on her knees getting fucked by a guy doggy-style. In front of her, a bloke was shoving a cock into her mouth. To her side was a man busily jerking himself off.
They all looked up as Tim and I peeked into the room. My heart raced and I felt myself blush.
‘Join us!’ said the guy getting a blow job. ‘Come in.’
I looked at Tim and he saw the terror in my face.
‘Thanks, we’re just going to watch – if that’s OK,’ Tim said, and I suddenly felt reassured: he was looking out for me.
The girl stopped sucking cock for a minute and turned to look at me. ‘You’re cute,’ she said and grinned. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to play?’ She gave the penis in front of her a little lick and its owner groaned loudly.
I giggled nervously. ‘No, thank you. I am a voyeur tonight, and it looks like you have everything in hand.’
She smiled at me and then resumed what she was doing, the men carried on merrily too.
Tim and I stood there for a while. We watched her climax and then climax again, and the guy stroking himself exploded all over her back. All the while I was aware of the thud-thud pulsing between my legs, as I watched and heard the passion in the room.
Tim touched my arm and hissed, ‘Let’s have a look around – there’s more to see. I think you’re going to like it.’
I nodded and we left the foursome to continue their antics.
Tim led me to another set of stairs and gestured that we should go up.
‘What’s this?’ I asked, slightly apprehensive again.
‘This,’ he said somewhat proudly, ‘is where the action really happens.’
I must have looked petrified, because he put his arm round me, ‘You’re going to like it, I promise.’ And with that, he led me up the stairs.
The first thing I noticed was the heat: it spilled down the stairwell and as we approached the open-plan room it hit me full in the face. I could smell sex in the air and as I brushed my hand against a wall to steady myself in the darkness, I found it was dripping with moisture. The air was literally thick with passion.
We let our eyes adjust to the dim light and as shapes began to take focus, I scanned the room for detail.
Four couches filled the space, each with two or three naked couples sitting on them. In the centre of the room, two couples were straddling each other on the floor.
At first I couldn’t make out what they were doing, but it soon became clear.
I could see four or five hand jobs, three blow jobs, two guys eating pussy, two couples fucking cowgirl-style, two couples fucking doggy-style and two couples on one couch all playing with each other – the boys and girls changing partners from time to time.
I couldn’t help but stare. Thank God
it was so dark in there, my eyes were on stalks.
So this is what swinging is all about then. Now I get it. Now I understand. The couples get off on watching – and being watched – by other couples. I began to hear – and see – orgasm after orgasm and I felt myself getting even wetter. I wondered what it would feel like to be part of the mass of bodies surrounding me.
Tim fetched me out of my erotic daydream. ‘Here, let’s sit,’ he said and motioned to a spot next to one of the couches.
I looked at him in confusion – why move? He nodded behind me, and I saw a group of guys, dicks in hand, watching the action. Quickly, I joined him on the floor, not wanting to spoil their view or their wank.
We sat there for some time and just gazed. I don’t think I have ever seen – or heard or smelt for that matter – anything as sexy as what I could see before me. I was drenched.
Tim leaned over to me and whispered in my ear. ‘Was I right? Do you like it?’
‘I love it,’ I said. ‘It’s so fucking erotic. Wow.’
He grinned at me. ‘Is it turning you on?’ he asked and then whispered even more softly in my ear. ‘Is it making you wet?’
My pussy tingled as he spoke and a part of me just wanted to lean over him, slide my hands around his penis and fuck him hard, but I knew it wasn’t a good idea. As if he read my mind, Tim said, ‘I’ve got a fucking boner; wish I could do something about it, but with us being friends and all, it’d be a bad idea.’ He shrugged and I nodded in response.
‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘I brought you here to see what it’s like; we can both go and wank ourselves silly on our own later – we shouldn’t complicate things by acting on impulse now.’ Again, I nodded and was pleased that he could show that restraint. I, on the other hand, just wanted a cock in me and could barely think straight for all my horniness.
I tried to focus and turned to watch a youngish, stunning couple who were busy shagging in front of us.
It was wonderful to watch two people be so free with their sexuality; sharing their pleasure in front of others. As the guy fucked his girlfriend from behind he caught me staring at him and beamed at me. I smiled back and as he fixed his eyes on mine, he pumped her harder. She began to climax and he winked at me. I suddenly felt part of his pleasure – of their pleasure – and I found myself wondering what it might be like, were I to experience that close up rather than from afar.