After meeting this older woman who introduced me into the world of sex as a tenable hobby or past time, rather than an intimate encounter with a lone human, my perspective of dating began to change even more.

My curiosity led me to conduct several searches on the web to find a website similar to and others that populate a browser at the most inconvenient times. I found several, but most notable was a large online community of swingers. I signed up, and used the prowess of my emotional intelligence to craft a profile that appealed to only the best and finest swingers. At this point, I had developed one of the very best physiques, my education was that of the finest universities in the world, and my broad range of interests and studies allowed me to discuss topics from business and politics, to literature and psychology and other philosophically relevant topics relating to the universal human condition. Everything that would make me an ideal suitor. My verbal agility, and cool confidence put the most anxious couples at ease.

I immediately attracted attention on the website. My profile was well curated, carefully crafted with flattering pictures and sophisticated interests. My aim was to be the “bull” of their dreams.

One of my first encounters was with a middle to upper class couple. They owned a very successful service business in the area. Discretion, as with all these couples, or at least the ones I was interested in sleeping with, was their highest priority.

The wife was between 5″8 and 5″10, with long legs, a firm round ass, and toned throughout. Her body was chiseled, with defined abs, round glutes, and an overall well formed physique. She was curious and sophisticated, working out regularly and keeping up with the times. She had a passion that emanated. She was blonde, with an even tan, and a kind of smile that flashed as bright as lightning, only to fade as quickly as it came. The couple was around forty years of age.

I met them at their modest suburban property, which had been thoroughly gentrified, as if, rather than upgrading their estate and buying new property, they just invested in making what was initially a modest ranch home into an elaborate retreat home. They had a lavish pool and hot tub, a large fishing boat, or two. Inside was crown molding, the finest electronics, large tile and wood floors throughout, beautifully crafted cabinets with granite countertops. Their yard was large and well manicured, sitting a good half acre from the main road.

I arrived on my first visit to be greeted by the husband. Their little Chihuahua looking creature barked, or coughed and hacked, at my arrival. “Don’t mind him. He’s a little rascal, but harmless.” He shook my hand, and I stepped inside, into the orange glow of their sun room, and out of the gray fading twilight.

The husband was roughly my height, maybe an inch shorter. He had dark hair and dark eyes, and was freshly tanned, with lines etching his face. There was a youthful glow hidden beneath his drunk and possibly high exterior. His demeanor was very casual and friendly. His build was rather average, and he possessed a modest beer belly that poked gently from the bottom of his shirt. They were a good couple, although she seemed to possess more energy and zeal than him.

His wife walked in from the hallway as I stepped into the kitchen. I smiled and reached my arm out to greet her, and she stepped in for a hug and kiss on the cheek. Her legs went for miles. She walked on high heels and wore a tight fitted pair of shorts. I could tell she was slightly self conscious wearing them, and she immediately told her husband that she wanted to take them off. “But baby, you look good, and you wanna look sexy for him. Don’t they look good?” He looked at me and motioned to her, as if to coax a response. “You look amazing.” I said this with conviction, so as to assuage any insecurities she may have been feeling.

He offered me drinks, pouring me a Scotch, which is what I offered up as my drink of choice when he told me he would be taking care of the alcohol for the evening.

We stepped out on the patio and began discussing our background. He talked of his business, how they met each other, the ground rules for engagement. She was the center of attention. What she wanted, she got.

He sat on the porch, smoking his cigarettes. I noticed a large rifle sitting behind him, leaning in the corner. He mentioned it as merely a precaution, and I empathized in agreement, that you can’t be too careful with strangers.

He pulled out a bowl and took a hit, and then asked if I minded that he was smoking. “No, not all at, you’re good.” He offered me a hit. I politely refused, knowing that my nerves didn’t need additional excitation.

They complimented my body, and his wife told me how handsome I was. I returned the compliments, genuinely thanking them for surpassing my expectations.

We then proceeded to the bathroom where we prepared to go into the hot tub. I stripped naked with him. He commented on my large cock, and played with his as he talked with how he’s comfortable with his fairly average penis. His wife walked in naked. Her body was a perfect specimen. He tits were small, but still shapely for her age. They hung ever so slightly, indicating her true age, and not the age of her body, which appeared to resemble a thirty year old in her prime. He hit the bowl several more times, handed me a towel and we went outside.

I’ll continue with more stories in another post…


I’m at Edgehill cafe. This is my first genuine journal entry in several years. It feels… strange. Strangely familiar, like an old friend.

I will be journaling much more. The past couple years I’ve devoted myself to worldly pursuits. To acting without thinking. This was in genuine interest to see how my life would develop when impulse is the fundamental driver in my decisions. I used steroids for the past couple years, and achieved an amazing physique. In the process I began dating, mostly to ameliorate the raging libido that developed, but also to allay the fundamental feeling of loneliness that has been a salient feature all my life. Books and a personal relationship with myself, being tabled during this period, were not an option to cope. As a result, dating and women became a source of comfort. Working out, something I’ve always committed to in earnest discipline, became a way to tame and structure my otherwise wild desires.

The online dating scene opened my world to strangers. I met many people. Many lonely people. Many hurt people, without strong relationships in their life, looking for a way to fill their self-denied sadness, like myself.

One of the first women I openly had sex with without discretion was a retired WWF/WWE wrestler. That’s right. She’s now in a rock band, and pursues a host of other entrepreneurial ventures, such as photography and crafts and other makeshift enterprises. I believe she was 34 or 36. Her body was exquisite, something out of a fitness magazine, with fake tits and a voice that was strong and assertive, but tired at the same time, like it experienced a lifetime of abuse. There were high walls with her. She loved my innocence. Her and I made love many times. Her insecurities poured through after our 3rd encounter, receiving texts from her that she’s not just some piece of meat for me to fuck, which was never my intention. I love people, and I am genuinely am interested in bonding with them. However, I know that such encounters are fleeting, and my genuine affection, while it may bring out the vulnerabilities in the hardest of people, wants nothing more than to connect. I recognize that most times I am being used by these women.

That encounter turned dating into a promiscuous enterprise, where finding a significant other seemed an uphill task, with endless email exchanges that turn into a rote routine. The more routinized the email exchanges, the more routinized the phone conversations and dinner conversations, the more emotionally unattached I became, and this seemed to have a positive affect in getting a woman’s attention.

Soon, sex became a priority, and enduring relationships seemed something of an impossibility. I utilized the shotgun approach, dividing women amongst two groups, either a 1 or a 0, which indicate my sexual interest. I reached out to all the ones, like casting a net upon a school of the best fish. Many got through, but even if one or two a week was interested, these relationships became common sexual encounters. I would have sex 3, 4, 5, 6 times a week with different women. In a single 24 hour period I managed to have sex with five separate women. Three in the same night, and two the next day.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I was still convinced that sex was the gateway to a meaningful connection. It created the vulnerability for a relationship to exist, or so I thought, as I browsed these strangers.

I went on a date with one woman who was older. She was barely a one, but her sexualized interests peaked by curiosity, so I decided to go on a date. We met at a local brewery, and she had nothing but a water. I chose an IPA, which at the time I liked, but looking back, it’s such a bitter beverage to consume when conducting an interview. Or, a date.

The woman told me about herself, and we exchanged pleasantries. She soon told me about her career as a sex therapist, and expanded on her services and experience in the field. Soon thereafter, she confessed that she wanted to have sex with me. This made me happy. However, she added that there was a caveat. She was in a relationship. I was taken aback, and slightly offended initially, but I listened as she explained that her significant other liked watching her sleep with other men. In fact, he liked being humiliated by other men. She wanted a “bull”, or a highly attractive, fit, intelligent, and aggressive man to fuck her while he watched on in submission. This whole scenario came out of left field, and while my curiosity was perked, my moral conscience was in conflict, and the whole thing didn’t exactly sit comfortably with me. We left it open, and said our goodbyes, but the idea that there were couples out there that were willing to invite me into their bedroom so that the wife or girlfriend could fulfill her fantasy with a man she dreamed of, while their man watched on, was something that was strangely enticing.

It opened the door to unknown possibilities, and soon I would taste them all.

And they would be bitter sweet.

I’ll continue my story with a later post.