Wednesday, June 15, 2005
LET'S GO TO THE SEX PARTY (Part 5)
My partner D has been watching the proceedings from close by. This is one of the things he has discovered about himself at sex parties, how much he enjoys seeing me get poked by strange men. I am glad we are on the same page about this one. Guys are funny like that, it's ok (usually) as long as they get a front row seat. If they're not there (sometimes) then it's a killing offense! I suppose there is a lot of mirroring going on, as D sees himself in the other guy who's fucking me.
For my part, I know I have always wanted to see him get poked by strange men. So our interests have really dovetailed on this score. Part of the fun of these parties is being able to watch this, it's like a substitute for porn, which we both like watching a lot.
But I had never seen my partner of nearly 15 years get fucked by another man until this past year, so it is still a new and highly fascinating experience. He has often described his sexual encounters with other men to me, usually in bath house facilities. My usual response was to turn vividly green with envy, always, and to try and find a way to be the fly on the wall at such royal events. Partly because he describes himself as being such a different guy than the one I have sex with, and I felt like I wanted to see him in that state.
Once, when he was still living in NYC, D would visit bath houses and have such a roaring good time that waves of applause would often accompany his getting off. He yells and screams and talks dirty like you wouldn't believe. Everyone in the place knew when this guy came. Who says New Yorkers are blase all the time?
He and A eye each other, D gets the distinct impression that A wants to get fucked too as he's busy fucking me. Sandwich making time. But D just isn't into that right now, he was hoping to be a bottom too, at least with the men. He and A realized at the same moment that they were both bottoms. Oh well. Anyways, D is having too much enjoyment watching me get fucked royally. He'll get his soon enough.
A finally finishes with me. I turn to him, and in my usual facetious, often sarcastic fashion, say "Well A, thanks for dropping in." There is laughter in the room at this, especially from the big woman. People aren't too preoccupied to overhear what the rest of us are up to. Too bad she's physically not my type, because her sense of humor seems right on.
Now the boys on the sofa may get some peace and quiet. They're quietly sucking each other and playing like nice guys together. I keep wanting to look at Mr. Osama and that giant-sized cock of his. Hhmmm, I start wondering if I want to do things with it, or if I should. Tempting. Why not really scare the man?
Alright, so it finally comes out. I'm a Size Queen. I like playing with guys with big dicks, and I don't care what women think they like to say about that. I am sorry, mother. But size does matter. Visually and physically. Back before I met D, I would run across guys with the special packages. Joe Orton, the murdered Brit playwright, was correct when he wrote in his diaries that guys with big dicks do tend to wear it on their faces. Hell, I know I would! Advertise your wares, baby. I never understand it when women complain how they get "objectified" by men sexually at times. Because I know I do that with men myself pretty constantly. For me, it's just part of the doggy sniffing hello-how-are-you process.
Back before I met D, when I did hook up with guys, I felt my "good dyke" credentials would be called into question. So I had to overrule my sensibility that said, "this is just an momentary lapse of reason," to spin Roger Waters around a bit. Given that, I figured at least I may as well go all the way with life if I were going to hang out with a guy. So I wanted a guy with ALL the trimmings, thank you - big dick, big wallet, good drugs, good liquor. I did take those beer ads seriously, you know, the ones that advise you to "go for all the gusto" you can get.
But Mr. Osama on the sofa,I decide I had better leave well enough alone. He might freak out at a woman making squeaks in his direction. But I keep thinking lustful fantasies....like my Guantanamo Bay ones where I'm the blonde female interrogator, and try as I will I just can't keep my Pamela Anderson-style boobies from dragging across the detainees' faces.
If I had boobs like that. Which I don't, by the way. Is this too much political incorrectness? Sorry if it is, but after all, we are at a sex party, I do believe.
But on with the Games. There is a more beautiful boy who grabs our attention. P is the most gorgeous creature at the party. Nice slim lovely body, good looks, long curly hair well down his back. He seems very shy though, very quiet, rather innocent. He has been playing touchy-feely-kissy with the Big Woman on the mattress. But no sex yet with them. I don't know how to read their little situation.
P takes a break from the woman, and while he's temporarily freed up D smiles at him and starts to suck P's dick. P seems compliant, then D passes him to me and I start sucking him. D then puts a hand around that lovely backside. He claimed later not to have thought of fucking P at that point, the idea was a bit inchaote then. But just the hand moving there triggers defensiveness in P, who starts to pull away. For a moment we think he's about to say something, anything, he is so silent. But no words come out. Did we scare him speechless? Is he just into love chat with big girls on mattresses, but no actual sex? All of this has transpired without a word, which is kind of nice, we thought. We all seemed to be on the same page. But then it slipped away.
This was too much for P, who finally gets up and moves away somewhere. About ten minutes go by before we realize he's left the party. What was that all about? Surely he knows this is primarily a bisexual party for males? Or does he? D and I exchange a look, we scared him off.
TO BE CONTINUED
For my part, I know I have always wanted to see him get poked by strange men. So our interests have really dovetailed on this score. Part of the fun of these parties is being able to watch this, it's like a substitute for porn, which we both like watching a lot.
But I had never seen my partner of nearly 15 years get fucked by another man until this past year, so it is still a new and highly fascinating experience. He has often described his sexual encounters with other men to me, usually in bath house facilities. My usual response was to turn vividly green with envy, always, and to try and find a way to be the fly on the wall at such royal events. Partly because he describes himself as being such a different guy than the one I have sex with, and I felt like I wanted to see him in that state.
Once, when he was still living in NYC, D would visit bath houses and have such a roaring good time that waves of applause would often accompany his getting off. He yells and screams and talks dirty like you wouldn't believe. Everyone in the place knew when this guy came. Who says New Yorkers are blase all the time?
He and A eye each other, D gets the distinct impression that A wants to get fucked too as he's busy fucking me. Sandwich making time. But D just isn't into that right now, he was hoping to be a bottom too, at least with the men. He and A realized at the same moment that they were both bottoms. Oh well. Anyways, D is having too much enjoyment watching me get fucked royally. He'll get his soon enough.
A finally finishes with me. I turn to him, and in my usual facetious, often sarcastic fashion, say "Well A, thanks for dropping in." There is laughter in the room at this, especially from the big woman. People aren't too preoccupied to overhear what the rest of us are up to. Too bad she's physically not my type, because her sense of humor seems right on.
Now the boys on the sofa may get some peace and quiet. They're quietly sucking each other and playing like nice guys together. I keep wanting to look at Mr. Osama and that giant-sized cock of his. Hhmmm, I start wondering if I want to do things with it, or if I should. Tempting. Why not really scare the man?
Alright, so it finally comes out. I'm a Size Queen. I like playing with guys with big dicks, and I don't care what women think they like to say about that. I am sorry, mother. But size does matter. Visually and physically. Back before I met D, I would run across guys with the special packages. Joe Orton, the murdered Brit playwright, was correct when he wrote in his diaries that guys with big dicks do tend to wear it on their faces. Hell, I know I would! Advertise your wares, baby. I never understand it when women complain how they get "objectified" by men sexually at times. Because I know I do that with men myself pretty constantly. For me, it's just part of the doggy sniffing hello-how-are-you process.
Back before I met D, when I did hook up with guys, I felt my "good dyke" credentials would be called into question. So I had to overrule my sensibility that said, "this is just an momentary lapse of reason," to spin Roger Waters around a bit. Given that, I figured at least I may as well go all the way with life if I were going to hang out with a guy. So I wanted a guy with ALL the trimmings, thank you - big dick, big wallet, good drugs, good liquor. I did take those beer ads seriously, you know, the ones that advise you to "go for all the gusto" you can get.
But Mr. Osama on the sofa,I decide I had better leave well enough alone. He might freak out at a woman making squeaks in his direction. But I keep thinking lustful fantasies....like my Guantanamo Bay ones where I'm the blonde female interrogator, and try as I will I just can't keep my Pamela Anderson-style boobies from dragging across the detainees' faces.
If I had boobs like that. Which I don't, by the way. Is this too much political incorrectness? Sorry if it is, but after all, we are at a sex party, I do believe.
But on with the Games. There is a more beautiful boy who grabs our attention. P is the most gorgeous creature at the party. Nice slim lovely body, good looks, long curly hair well down his back. He seems very shy though, very quiet, rather innocent. He has been playing touchy-feely-kissy with the Big Woman on the mattress. But no sex yet with them. I don't know how to read their little situation.
P takes a break from the woman, and while he's temporarily freed up D smiles at him and starts to suck P's dick. P seems compliant, then D passes him to me and I start sucking him. D then puts a hand around that lovely backside. He claimed later not to have thought of fucking P at that point, the idea was a bit inchaote then. But just the hand moving there triggers defensiveness in P, who starts to pull away. For a moment we think he's about to say something, anything, he is so silent. But no words come out. Did we scare him speechless? Is he just into love chat with big girls on mattresses, but no actual sex? All of this has transpired without a word, which is kind of nice, we thought. We all seemed to be on the same page. But then it slipped away.
This was too much for P, who finally gets up and moves away somewhere. About ten minutes go by before we realize he's left the party. What was that all about? Surely he knows this is primarily a bisexual party for males? Or does he? D and I exchange a look, we scared him off.
TO BE CONTINUED
