Years ago, I worked in a call centre for a scummy bank in Melbourne, where casual hookups between colleagues on a booze-fuelled Friday evening was common. I had an exciting experience with an NZ girl on one such occasion who’s most striking characteristic was her inability to control her body odour.
Anyhow, on a non-consecutive night out, my colleague, Adam, was talking to me about one of our fellow call centre workers, Lyndel. He had spent several months enjoying her shapely body, and had on multiple times, introduced a non-bank female for dirty threesomes. Adam was like my Sri Lankan mate Dion since he was good looking, confident and free-loving, which I lacked.
Lyndel was dancing away and clearly under the influence, as we all were, but she was sexually suggestive with any males in her proximity.
“She’s had her eye on you for quite some time,” Adam casually mentioned after pointing out some of Lyndel’s more egregious dance floor behaviour.
“Me?” I replied, surprised, “But I hardly know her.”
“Perhaps you should,” Adam laughed, “Play your cards right, and you’ll not be sleeping alone tonight.”
Adam talked a good game, but he did not fully understand my awkwardness with women. I found it hard to introduce myself, let alone strike up small talk, regardless of the intoxication level.
“What has she said to you?”
“During that training session last week, you impressed Lyndel with your knowledge and understanding of the system, and she was amused when you constantly corrected the trainer.”
I was such a geek at that early stage of my career, and I had taken the time and effort to understand the bank’s system so that I could better do my job. That training session was so frustrating because the trainer had not taken the time to prepare for the workshop. As a result, I constantly interjected with questions and clarifications. At the time, I felt that my colleagues were annoyed at me for needlessly extending a pointless training session.
Because we were rebels, those of us in the all-day training session took the opportunity to nip to the pub for beers at break time. While Lyndel and Adam were part of the class, I never once noticed any interest from her.
“We haven’t had much interaction,” I noted.
“Now’s the time,” Said Adam, laughing.
“But you and her…”
“Long since finished,” He clarified, “Still friends, though.”
“Nothing specific,” Said Adam, over the din of the shit music, “We just played together when it suited.”
The late nineties gave birth to the “friends with benefits” arrangement.
“And now?” I asked.
“I’m playing with someone else.”
Indeed, Adam was. He bagged himself the leader of one of the two call centre teams. Liz was an opinionated, bossy, loud and overall objectionable blonde. Sure, she was attractive, buxom and very sexual when suitable intoxicated, but there was an underlying ugliness, most likely brought on by her resentment to her ex-husband. Why Adam was playing in that sandbox was a mystery to me, but he possessed self-esteem in multiples that I did not. He could handle that handful.
“How’s it going with Liz?” I yelled.
“I could see myself long-term with her.”
“Really?” I was stunned at this playboy’s unexpected admission.
“Yeah, why not?” He asked, turning towards me.
“I did not think of you as the ‘settling down’ type.”
Adam laughed and explained that there is an unquestionable comfort in a settled relationship that fulfils your needs. He also reiterated that he had been previously married and that while playing around was fun, he craved a more solid connection. Besides, he confessed, there was not much more sexual exploration left for him.
“Fair enough,” I replied, “So if I were to make a play on Lyndel, what should I know about her?”
“First and foremost, she up for the dick,” Adam answered, “All the time.”
“Okay, I get that,” I laughed, “But mental issues — jealousy, possessiveness etc.?”
“Well, she marches to the beat of a different drum,” Adam said diplomatically, “But that’s what makes her so effervescence.”
“Yeah, she always laughing,” I noticed.
“She also has a few ‘kinks'”.
“Oh, such as?” I asked, intrigued but also wary as my last – non-bank – girlfriend had a slew of issues.
“I shouldn’t give too much away,” Said Adam coyly.
“Well, she was in an ‘incident’ with the woman that lived next door,” Began Adam, relishing the details, “That was morally equivocal, to say the least.”
“A woman?” I asked, knowing how Adam had enjoyed FMF threesomes with Lyndel in the past.
“And the woman’s friend.”
“Shit,” I said, “Was she….?” Adam stopped me from mentioning the term but confirmed that Lyndel considered it thus. Why did Lyndel not report this violation? She secretly enjoyed it and indirectly consented while not orally assuring it.
“As a result, there are a lot of dark fantasies in Lyndel,” Adam explained, “Fantasies that with the right man could be fun to explore.”
“That, my friend, is yours to explore istanbul travesti if you decide to go down that path.”
And with that ominous warning, Adam grabbed his drink and wandered over to his new squeeze, Liz. I glanced to the dance floor and watched Lyndel gyrate like a stripper. Something was alluring about Lyndel. She was a bleached blonde with big tits, although they did not cleave like a model’s, and was a well-made woman. Indeed, attractive despite the tons of foundation, she wore unnecessarily on her face. Lyndel was naturally bubbly and self-confident but appeared, on the surface, to be above my pay grade.
I found it difficult to credit that Lyndel would be interested in a geek like me, but Adam’s confidence seemed to lend credence to his assertions.
How to approach Lyndel? Well, she approached me.
As soon as the current song ended, she walked towards the bar and ordered a beer.
“How’s it going?” I asked nervously.
“Great,” Beamed Lyndel, “How’s your night?”
“Not bad…” I could not think of anything else to say.
“You were great in the workshop the other day,” Lyndel said, “You should do her job.”
“Yeah, she wasn’t great.”
“But I learned more from you than I did from her,” Gushed Lyndel, impressing me.
“Well, cheers!” I said, raising my glass to hers.
We talked longer, and I overcame my social awkwardness. Lyndel and I quickly began flirting outrageously when she enticed me on the dance floor. As this was happening, I noticed that Adam shot me an approving nod with her arm draped across Liz.
“I want to fuck!” Lyndel breathed in my ear after several dances.
So did I. There was an immediate problem; however, both of us were house sharing, and it was considered the height of bad taste to bring a sex partner home, then as it is now. There was some back and forth, and we decided, drunkenly, that our best option was to sleep in Lyndel’s car!
What alternative was there?
Lyndel, well over the legal driving limit, drove around the streets of her suburb, seeking a quiet and discreet place to get steamy. We ended up at Elwood beach, the least quiet and unobtrusive place, even late at night that could be chosen. I was too fuzzy to realise what a wrong choice it was at the time.
Climbing into the back of a Toyota Carola to enjoy some dirty sex was another terrible decision. It was almost impossible to be comfortable.
Then the shock happened.
As soon as I entered Lyndel’s dripping pussy, a man pressed his ugly head against the window. I shit my pantless pants.
“What?” Shrieked Lyndel, frightened by my reaction.
“Someone’s watching us!” I stammered.
“I don’t know,” I hissed, hastily pulling out of Lyndel, “Maybe someone looking to steal your car or a pervert.”
“Fuck,” Lyndel scrambled to put clothes on, “Shit!”
That incident ended the night.
Lyndel dropped me off at my apartment before racing off to her place. Before entering the front door, I felt like I had blown my chance.
It turns out I had not.
Over several months, Lyndel and I became close and ended up moving in together. The sex was phenomenal right from the get-go. She let me penetrate her arsehole within weeks of hooking up. Lyndel claimed she was an anal virgin, but the way she took to that act like a duck to water suggested otherwise.
We fucked publicly on many occasions, including in the car park of a cinema and on Portsea beach, among others. When one of us had to work a weekend shift in the call centre, the other would come and keep the other company. This usually led to filthy sex in the toilet or the first aid room.
One night at the pub, I surreptitiously asked Lyndel about her bi-side. She talked at length of her threesomes with Adam and her female friend and how she enjoyed them. Lyndel detailed the ‘incident’ when she was younger and admitted how she secretly wanted the exploitation without further prompting. Indeed, she occasionally exchanged texts with one of those women from that incident.
“Do you miss having sex with women? I asked.
“I love cock,” She replied, “But pussy is great when enjoyed sparingly.”
Like Adam, I had several FFM encounters in the past, and when the dynamic works, the sex between the three actors is fantastic.
“Do you have ‘options’ currently?” I asked with a hint of expectation.
“Not currently,” Lyndel said, reassuring me with a loving kiss.
“Faziah?” I asked, referring to a female Lebanese call centre colleague whom Lyndel hung out with a lot.
“In the past, yeas, but not now that she’s married.”
Faziah was the reigning female beauty of the call centre, sultry exotic and sexy. Lyndel had numerous photos of the two of them partying, so it was a logical deduction.
“There’s also a club I used to be part of.”
“A club?” I asked, “What club?”
At this reveal, I could tell Lyndel was unconformable but wanted to be transparent.
“I’m a member of this swingers club where people get together, socialise, drink together and have sex if they want.”
“Currently istanbul travestileri a member?” I asked, my attention fully engaged.
“Not since we got together,” Replied Lyndel, signifying a commitment to our relationship.
“What’s good about this club?”
“Sex!” Said Lyndel, stating the obvious, “Making friends. The Spa.”
“Where is this club?”
“The club’s owners hold a regular event in the city once a month, but weekend meets at their house in Cranbourne.”
The city was 12KM from my house, and Cranbourne was 40KM south-east, and it is a shithole of crime, violence, poverty and degradation. There are worse suburbs around it, but it is a god-awful place.
A perfect suburb for depravity.
“So, who do you have sex with?”
“Men, women, couples,” Replied Lyndel, casually, “Whoever I feel attracted too, on the night.”
My cock was twitching during this discussion. Lyndel was more sexually experienced than me, but in her late twenties, she actively visited swingers’ parties suggested that her hormones were raging. What was more intriguing was that Lyndel might introduce me to the swinger’s scene.
“What’s the men to women ratio like?” I asked, the nerd in me coming out.
“The owners try to balance the numbers,” Lyndel said, “A man must bring a woman to get free entry; otherwise, he has to pay an entry fee.”
“Do single women get free entry?”
“Yep, we don’t pay for entry,” Lyndel chuckled.
No, they go to these parties for free and pick the male stunt cocks or other females. So much for the ‘glass ceiling’!
“You go alone?”
“Sometimes,” Lyndel acknowledged before adding, “Often with Julie.”
Julie was another co-worker. She was very alluring but was a MILF, with a growing family. Her temper in the call centre was well known, and she was another person to avoid.
“You’ve had sex with her too?” I asked, amazed at these tumbling revelations.
“No,” Laughed Lyndel, “But I’ve seen her in action.”
“With men or women?”
“Yep.” Lyndel giggled.
“What gender do you prefer?”
“I prefer you,” Lyndel leaned in and kissed me passionately, “I love you.”
There the matter rested.
On my birthday, a year later, Lyndel was struggling with gifts. Her parents had bought us tickets to see Jerry Seinfeld live and then dinner at a Japanese restaurant. I was so sick with the flu that I can barely recall either event. Lyndel, despite her generosity, seemed unsatisfied with my birthday.
“I’m not sure I should raise this, but…”
“I was wondering if you’d like to visit the swingers club this weekend?”
Two days from now, and I had sufficiently recovered from my illness.
“To see you fuck another man?” I thundered indignantly.
“No,” She soothed, “To see what it’s like. Going as a couple, there’s no entry charge, but we must supply our alcohol.”
Lyndel explained that she had not attended a party behind my back, but she continues to subscribe to the email list and keep in touch with friends she met through the club.
“There’s a couple of friends of mine attending this weekend.”
“You fucked them?”
“In the past.”
“I’d like to catch up with them,” Lyndel said, assuaging my rampant jealousy, “And to show off my handsome, man.”
“You’ve planned this, haven’t you?”
“There’s a surprise waiting for you if you attend.”
“What sort of surprise?” I asked only to be shut down immediately.
“Will you attend?”
“Yeah, okay!” I replied, my interest thoroughly piqued.
That Saturday. Following my birthday, Lyndel drove us to the swinger’s party in Cranbourne. We arrived just after 6PM. The property was more rural than suburban, with no next-door neighbour for as far as the eye could see. Good protection from the nosey busybodies in suburbia would call the cops in a flash.
The naked couple that greeted us who ran the club were salt-of-the-earth people and were very welcoming. The wife’s kiss of Lyndel was far too familiar to be a coincidence.
“Have you fucked her?” I asked as we stashed out booze in a bin filled with ice.
“Couple of times,” Lyndel giggled.
“How was she?”
“Eats pussy like a boss.”
“Would love to see you eat some pussy,”
“Careful that you wish for.” She teased as I was led out to the entertainment deck.
The vista that greeted me was something I only fantasised about. Naked men and women cavorting, interacting, socialising, drinking together and fucking under floodlights was incredible. There was a range of body types and ages, and not everyone was attractive to me, but they exuded naked and sexually confidence. The nods and winks that Lyndel received demonstrated that she had many acquaintances / previous partners at the club.
The property was extensive with a large spa and swimming pool, although no-one was using the latter on account of the cool evening, the lights of the southern night sky twinkled without any light pollution. Lyndel led me to a quiet travesti istanbul corner of the deck and immediately began disrobing. She noticed my hesitation but reassured me we were among friends.
My nervousness led me to drink copious bottles of beer while Lyndel was far more relaxed, having been here many times before. She conversed with lots of familiar faces, both men and women, while naked. My cock twitched each time a man or women would casually caress one of Lyndel’s breasts or kiss her sensuously.
Lyndel was in her element, that much was clear, and it was certain that she missed this scene. I was conflicted about how I felt. On the one hand, Lyndel seemed committed to our relationship, but on the other, I thought I could not meet her needs that she needed the swinger’s club to compensate. In the end, I was misguided; this swinger’s club enhanced our sex life by opening possibilities and opportunities to the wildest and dirtiest sexual experiences imaginable.
Only in Melbourne.
At this swinger’s club meeting, I witnessed the most erotic scene ever involving a pregnant woman being pleasured by four men, one of whom was her husband. This took place in the rumpus room. A large tarpaulin was laid on the floor with an inflatable splash pool in the centre. There was a pile of towels close by accompanied by several bottles of baby oil.
The lady in question was the centre of attention. She knelt in the splash pool while the four men were gently and sensuously massaging in the baby oil across her growing body. I placed her pregnancy well over half the way, and she was loving the feeling of having eight hands caress her skin.
The pregnant lady had a significant and appreciative audience in various stages of arousal. None more so than me. My cock grew hard as soon as we entered the room, and I was very self-conscious, nervously glancing at the viewers.
Once she was fully oiled, the pregnant lady began sucking on each cock in turn for several minutes. When not receiving a blow job, the other men slid their cocks over her skin, anywhere including her shoulders, the back of her neck, her arms, her breasts and, of course, her bulging belly.
It was such an erotic sight!
When the pregnant lady got on her hands and knees, she took one oily cock in her mouth and the second in her cunt. The other men rubbed their cocks across her back while waiting their turn.
After maybe ten minutes of being spit roasted by four men, she did something completely unexpected. She let them DP her. One man sat in the splash pool; she took him in the pussy, while the second man straddled her and took her anus. The two remaining stuck cocks were alternately receiving a blow job and a hand job.
There was an audible gasp of appreciation from the crowd. Given her condition, it was amazing she could or should do this sex act.
Eventually, the stunt cocks blew their loads across the pregnant lady’s bulging stomach. She gleefully rubbed ropes of boiling sperm across her belly. Each time one of the males exploded, the appreciative audience clapped.
I thought it was a bizarre reaction, like passengers clapping after arriving at their destination on the plane. Still, it was an impressive show.
The husband was the last to come, and he filled his pregnant wife’s mouth with his load. She enthusiastically swallowed his deposit and cleaned up his deflating cock.
A minute or so later, the four males surrounded the pregnant lady, and they unleashed yellow streams of urine across her body. She furiously smashed her clit as the warm liquid cascaded across her sexy body. There was an audible gasp of surprise from the audience, and none of them expected this final act of filth.
The pregnant lady quickly orgasmed and enthusiastically played with the pool of urine until the combined stream ended. Again, there was applause when the men helped her to her feet; she bowed. After accepting a towel from her husband, they walked off and left the three stunt cocks to clean up.
“Oh, I see that you’re ready?” Observed Lyndel, following that climactic conclusion.
I was rock hard after that show, adrenaline coursing through my veins, and I asked Lyndel what I was ready for.
She led me into a room, a sort of utility room attached to the side of the house with one occupant, a skinny dark-hair woman, many years older than us but undeniably attractive. She was introduced as Holly and wore a silver bra and matching panties. The two women kissed and hugged, and it was clear that there had been several hookups between these two beauties.
“You two ready for fun?” Asked Holly, producing a pair of handcuffs.
“Do you need to go to the toilet?” Asked Lyndel with a widening smile and taking the proffered cuffs.
“I’m busting,” Was the reply.
Lyndel walked towards Holly, who turned around, revealing a genuinely awful tattoo that spoiled the upper half of her back.
The two kissed lustily before Lyndel cuffed Holly’s hands behind her back and removed the bra. Turning her around, Lyndel dropped to her knees and deftly removed Holly panties. Tattoos aside, Holly was a stunning body for her age which I would put 40-ish, whereas Lyndel and I were in our late twenties at the time. Holly has a gorgeous pair of c-cup breasts with a bit of sag that was topped with tiny erect pink nipples.