For the last couple of months, for reasons I’m not going into much detail about, I have lost my mojo. Actually, let’s stop right there and change that word because I hate it. Mojo? It sounds like a toy, a gadget. I have lost much more than a playful little thing. What I have lost is my shine, my spirit. If I wanted to be completely honest, I’d say I have pretty much lost my will to live. Adulting, but particularly parenting gets really, really tough sometimes.
Anyway, I’m back from the dark pit now. Not because things have become easier, my life is still too much for one person to bear. And last time I checked there’s still only one of me – despite the minimum of three voices in my head. No, I simply had to pull it together. And here’s why: I finally have two kids-free weekends, my only chance to have some proper adult fun for a long time. Can’t blow that opportunity, otherwise I’ll find myself in an even deeper, even darker pit with yet another shovel broken.
I’ve been planning this swinger club night with one of my regular FWBs for months. I’ve met him a few times now. Let’s call him Theo. (It always breaks my heart a little when I have to change their names because all their personality, all those experiences are connected to their real names and it feels like ripping part of that out by doing that. No fancy name I find for them will live up to the one their parents gave them. But I gotta do what I gotta do.)
He is Italian, tall and breathtakingly hot. I won the jackpot with him because in this case both looks and personality check out big time. We just get on like the Great Fire of London and not only have great chemistry in bed but can have a banter about the most random shit for hours. No matter how messy my mummy life is, I simply cannot say no to him and our plans.
Once the wheels are in motion, tickets bought, outfits chosen and I know there’s no turning back, the anticipation of the unknown has some unbelievable effect on me. We are texting back and forth all day and I tell him, “Q. (my husband) wanted to have a quickie last night and I told him, ‘Make sure you don’t make me cum, because I want to be super horny tomorrow’.”
Theo replies, “Yeah me too, so fucking horny. I’m at work and my cock is hard AF all day.”
I’m doing my boring chores for the rest of the day with a corrupted smile on my face. Tis gunna be epic, gurl. He also tells me that a few days ago he wanted to see the couple he usually plays with once a month but it has fallen through because they had childcare issues. Oh, that pain is way too familiar. Yet, I very selfishly cheer for his frustration.
“I’m doing stupid dishes and boring laundry and I’m dripping all day,” I reveal to tease him further.
“I can’t wait to be inside you and have a good swim,” he jokes with a laughing devil emoji.
It takes absolute forever to get ready because, of course, extra workload comes up and instead of my usual Friday early finish, I end up doing a one-hour overtime. Then the kids, one by one, dump their darn drama on me. When my eldest, who has big issues these days, goes AWOL and is still not home by 9:30 when the school event she had gone to finished at 8 pm, I go ballistic. I know I should be worrying about where she actually is and calling her friends, but I find myself only raging (at least in my head) about the fact that I might not be able to make it tonight. And then, of course, I feel like the worst, most selfish mother on the whole planet.
As much as I try to pick myself up with lines like ‘your reserves are empty, don’t beat yourself up’, ‘remember about that oxygen mask and putting it on yourself first’… Yeah, I have always been really bad at that.
“Don’t worry, no rush. We can go as late as we want,” Theo tries to calm me when I update him on the situation.
My husband holds the fort while I freak out and frantically call all her friends. “Don’t worry, she’s just having fun at one of her friend’s house, and her phone probably died.”
Quinn’s flippant positivity sometimes drives me crazy. We both know that things do go terribly wrong sometimes. As they have in the past. ‘Catastrophizing’ my therapist labelled it. But nothing he ever said could change the facts that, 1. I have every right to, and 2. If by doing so, next time I act before it’s too late, then it’s warranted, isn’t it?
I knew the teenage years were going to be tough. And this is just the beginning. Is it going to be like this for the next god knows how many years? I will not cope! Seriously! Deep inside, I know she will eventually turn up. But even then, what do I do? Do I just hug her and be glad she’s home safe or bite her head off? Or both? Or something in between?
No one tells you what to do. What if I fuck up? What if I’m not strict enough and she goes off the rails? What if I’m too strict and drive her away? My mum did everything right and yet I very nearly didn’t make it out of my teenage years. This is too big, too heavy and I’m trying to stuff it all in a small suitcase and push it under the bed because I need to live, I need to breathe. At least one lousy night a month. Please! Jesus Fucking Christ, is it too much to ask for?
***
“I can’t believe I’m finally here,” I sigh with a weight of what feels like all the problems of the universe on my chest as I fall into Theo’s arms.
He has parked around the corner and got out of his car to give me a much-needed hug. After opening the car door for me he takes off his jacket and throws it onto the back seat. The short-sleeved white summer shirt he is wearing contrasts his sun-kissed Mediterranean skin beautifully and its slim cut lines hug his muscles in all the delicious places. He also has a fresh haircut that makes him look less heartthrob more fucking sex-god.
“Mmmm, I’m not sure we will make it to that club, babe. You’re looking way too hot,” I purr, stroking his thigh with long lustful strokes as we settle in the car.
“And those tits are absolutely gorgeous in that dress,” he counters, gluing his eyes onto my cleavage.
I usually don’t wear anything push-up, my boobs are already too big as they are, but I love this low cut, off-shoulder dress, and it does push my tits up and out. The huge crystal heart pendant I’ve chosen also seems to have a magnifying effect somehow. And hypnotising effect too.
“Can I?” He attempts to lower the neckline of my dress.
I quickly glance around the scarcely lit neighbourhood. It’s nearly 11 pm and it’s pitch dark around us. So, I nod and sigh a “mmm, yes, please” to let him fondle my sensitive and hard nipples. I’m usually more cautious. I have a great relationship with my neighbours and I don’t want to poison it by making them wonder whether they should tell my husband what they seem to have witnessed. And I don’t think my husband is ready to explain to dear old Margaret at number 36, what ENM meant and that he not only knows about but encourages my extramarital affairs.
I remember when years and years and years ago (darn, I’m old) my then-boyfriend had to explain to one of his football teammates that when he saw me kissing a girl at a club I was ‘not cheating’. Because well, he was fucking both of us. He told me that while we usually didn’t advertise our lifestyle he got a right kick out of that situation and how his friend looked at him and the million questions that followed.
This is different. Poor Margaret would not be so understanding and would probably get a heart attack trying to imagine what that meant exactly. I dream of the day when the world will be ready for this and I’m glad we are going towards that but sadly not quite there yet.
So, when Theo goes a bit more adventurous and his hand wanders up my fishnet stockings and into my panties to “check if I was telling the truth and was soaking wet”, I tell him, “No, not here, please.”
As he drives off – sexy arms on the wheel with bulging biceps and all – I briefly look back at the house and as much as I resent how easy it is to pull the metaphorical zip on my other life, I pull it shut and I pull it tight. I padlock it and throw away the key. For a few hours. I need this. More than ever. I wonder how others cope with this shit. Those few glasses of wine after the kids go to bed surely don’t cut it for anyone.
“I know a quiet spot, a dirt road, just off the main road,” I suggest.
“Of course you do.” Theo flashes his perfect pearly whites at me with a cunning grin.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I question with feigned annoyance.
“Do you bring all your lovers here?”
“Just shut up and drive,” I sing with my best Rhianna impersonation. He doesn’t get it. Oh, he must have been only like fifteen when that came out. “You don’t know that song?”
He shakes his head. I feel like such a naughty cougar.
“Turn left there after that bus stop.” I point to the small road that is barely visible from the large trees and overgrown shrubbery. “And for your information, I’ve never brought anyone here. I just noticed this spot on my early morning run a few weeks ago.”
The foolhardy rush between us has broken with this driving around but as soon as he stops the car, he wastes no time unzipping his jeans and we jump right back where we stopped earlier.
“Fuck, I missed that delicious curve,” I swoon, reaching over the gear stick.
A broad smile spreads on my face as I suddenly remember that after the first time we met, he left me a verification on the swinger site, saying how I was the queen of blow jobs.
“Let’s see if I’m still worthy of my BJ crown,” I mumble. I’m not sure he can hear me or if he even remembers.
I’d like to point out here that I’m not a size queen. My husband is. The first time we met, he was Quinn’s choice. So, he isn’t small. No wonder, no one else can deepthroat him. No wonder, he thinks I’m the best. But it’s not just the technique. I’ve seen girls with the best tricks bringing on nothing but a bored expression in men. I don’t have a ‘technique’ per se, I just genuinely enjoy it. Every lick, every nibble, every silky smooth embrace of my lips around his hard shaft, every time my throat tenses up to form that tight ring around the head of his cock – I love it. And most girl seem to be repetitive, rushing towards the finish line. I don’t.
After enjoying his taste and that unusual but sexy right curve for long, lustful minutes, I tell him to slide over to the passenger seat. He does so with a bit of difficulty because of his height, and we push the seat fully back. This gives me plenty of space to kneel in front of him.
“I thought you were gonna ride me,” he groans disappointedly.
“No, not yet. I’m enjoying this too much,” I tease, running my nails up and down his naked legs. He throws his head back as I nibble on his sensitive flesh and playfully bite into his soft, smooth thigh.
“You’re so delicious,” I purr with a wicked glint capable of momentarily stealing the show from the bright cerulean moonlight.
He looks down into my eyes watching me mark and own more and more of his body with playful hickies and quickly disappearing bite marks – deliberately avoiding his twitching, rogue beast. His lips slur something inarticulate – words of protest perhaps, but his mind is blank, he’s completely at my mercy.
“You want me to touch you, don’t you?” I torment him by running the tip my tongue on the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock. His eyes are wide, his breathing shallow and ragged.
“Soon… But first…” I breathe out every syllable in a slow, calculated way to scour at his sanity. My nails subtly claw at his deliciously clean shaven balls.
“Mmmm so nice and smoooooth, good boy,” I interject.
“Always, baby,” he replies with a prideful pout on his gorgeous puffy lips.
“Mmm… So, before giving all my attention to this fucking irresistible cock of yours,” I rub it slowly a few times for emphasis, “first… I want to bite you really hard.”
A guttural growl anchors itself halfway in his throat as he throws his head back further. His lips twitch into another inaudible objection. But before he could form the word, I seal his mouth with my palm. “Shhh, I won’t go too hard. Just testing how much you can take.”
“Fuck,” he grunts as I sink my teeth into the soft flesh of his inner thigh. At the same time, I stroke his cock to lessen the sting. The sweet, spine-tingling affair of pleasure and pain.
“Well done,” I thrill, running my fingertips over the fresh bite mark. I cover him with lots of gentle kisses and more playful nibbles. When I tell him, “Just one more big one,” he turns into a cute, whimpering mess. I fucking get off on the wild twitching of his cock as I rub it every time I threaten to hurt him but stop short of going too deep.
“Ready?” I torment him further as I find the perfect spot where his thigh meets the sensitive cushion of his butt.
“Fuck, fuck, you are nuts,” he gasps for air trying to stop me with his arms flying towards me in defence. I promptly disarm them and secure them with a strong grip around his wrists.
“Stop fighting me! Last one, I promise.”
I go very slow but very hard, enjoying the pliant, squishy sensation between my teeth. The trapped animal cries escaping his lungs drill deep into my mind taking it on a flight through several layers of reality. If there is a dom version of subspace, then this is it. And we are just scratching the surface yet. The sadistic bitch is still on a leash. A very short one.
“Good boy. I fucking love this. It makes me so wet.”
“Does it?” he rasps, finally opening his eyes after seemingly endless minutes. Am I only imagining that there is a new lost puppy glint in their hazel hues?
“Shhssss , I show you just how much.” Knowing full well what he anticipates my next move to be, I shamelessly toy with him a bit more. I dip my fingers into the ocean of my nectar and make him taste me. I finger his sexy puffy lips, my body slowly rising to meet his, my lips joining his.
“Fuck. This is so hot,” he exhales heavily between our soft lingering kisses. I slide my middle finger into his mouth while I trace my index one with the tip of my tongue purring. Isn’t it so ironic that as much as words get me off, this is my favourite part, when we are reduced to these basic one-word sentences?
“Are you going to sit on my cock now, you naughty girl?” he growls loudly, biting into my finger to catch and hold my attention.
Ok, these longer sentences are just as good. “Oh, I don’t know. Should I?” I giggle. “You want me to sit on your cock, Theo?”
Our lips meet again as he hands me a condom as a reply.
Oh, shit, I almost forgot about that.
I might be the biggest slut on this side of town but I’m useless when it comes to condoms. And I tell him that. I rip the foil as his fingertips join mine.
“Let’s do it together,” he suggests through ragged breaths.
I always hated this part but as we roll it down, taking turns rubbing his cock as we go – it’s fucking erotic. The anticipation to feel him inside me has me in bits as I run a finger up and down following his prominent veins feeling his fast heartbeat in every heavy throb.
I straddle him and get ready for rodeo time, but he pulls my lips apart and fingers me roughly. “I fucking love how horny and wet you are,” he whispers into my ear before lifting me by my hip bone, helping me get comfortable on him.
“Fuck, you fill me up so nice and deep. It feels amazing. I could stay like this for the rest of my life,” I thrill, as I slide up and down on his delicious length.
I grind my hips onto him unhurriedly – this is just the appetizer after all – while I continue to purr into his ear, “Mmm, yeah, this night is going to be epic, whatever happens.”
“In the worst case, we lock ourselves in one of the rooms and I fuck you all night.” Him and his sweet promises…
“Mmmm, yeah, you never had the chance to show me what you’re capable of yet.”
He is said to be an all-nighter who prefers to have at least three long rounds but so far we never had the chance to try that. The first time we met, my husband kicked him out just after an hour or so because he was tired. The second time the kids were a nightmare and my son woke up twice, ruining the night. Tonight, no one can disturb us. I take that as a worst-case scenario any night.
We go very slow, taking our sweet time. I want to enjoy every blissful moment. Like a rollercoaster, going around and around in a loop on the very top before turning onto the hair-raising drop, we are stuck there. For someone who thought that she left the seedy, uncomfortable car affairs in her youth, I find this extremely enjoyable.
I peel the top buttons of his shirt open and let my fingers wander on his chest. “We might have to take this off. You’re looking too smart, babe. I’ve sent you the dress code for the event, haven’t I, you naughty boy?”
I grind my hips onto him, trying to dictate the unrushed pace but with every minute he’s getting more impatient. His fingers sunk into my lower back, he keeps bouncing me up and down in a faster rhythm. You’d think when one is on top she dictates the rhythm. Apparently, not with him. He is on top even when he’s underneath me. He’s using my body for his own pleasure the way he wants and I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t my preference.
When he frees my boobs and treats them as his last meal on Earth, that rollercoaster carriage starts its freefall pretty fast.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, no, I don’t want to cum yet!” I cry out as he slams my body onto his again and again. Unbeknownst to me, that becomes my motto for the night and I will find myself saying that so many times that it would be impossible to add up. For him, there’s no turning back from that dive.
I continue to cry out, “No, no!” but I’m unable to articulate that I really want him to stop because he’s hammering my knee into the hard plastic block of the middle console. But it doesn’t even matter. I don’t ever feel pain when we are here. But I will regret this…
***
On the journey to the club, we talk about absolutely everything. My new car, my old one, how it was fucked. He seems to know a lot about cars and I find out his brother is a mechanic and he likes helping out in his garage. Then I tell him about my daughter and learn that he has a niece who is the same age and they are very close. Therefore he knows exactly what I’m going through, he knows the challenges I’m facing. God, can this guy be any more awesome? And every once in a while, he sneaks in a comment about how fantastic I look and how much he cannot wait to take me into one of the lockable rooms and fuck me long and hard and proper. Is it weird that whereas I really want to find another couple and some girlie action that is probably what I’m still looking forward the most too?
We drive past the club to park behind. No queue outside, it looks dead. Who cares? All the better. Let’s go in.
My stomach is in my throat as we step through the door into yet another unknown realm. This is not my first club experience, but they are all so different. You never know what you will get. I have learned a long time ago how to block all that out, how to put one foot in front of the other and just walk. And I’m the luckiest woman alive because I have Theo. Our fingers fuse together tightly as I hand my phone with the ticket barcodes to the attendant .
***
As to what happened in the club… Even now, weeks later my head is still spinning trying to remember and understand all of that. It will be difficult to find the words to describe the madness of that night but I will try. Try I will.
