[interesting]

Today, I have a date with Miranda. It's Saturday, so that means I have no professional obligations. I also don't have a girlfriend anymore (I'm still trying to figure out how that one is my fault). Possibly. I'm confused about the whole prospect. I know Sarah moved out, moved in with her ex, and they've been having sex by the truckload, so to speak. I know because her ex, Jennifer, told me, right before I fucked her in the ass, while we watched a video - on my television set - of Sarah and Jennifer fucking with a strap-on, again in the ass. In the meantime, I've been entertaining a sexual relationship with a colleague - Miranda - and she's invited me to some orgy type activity, after letting me know clearly that I was one of her boys on the side. And none of that would have happened if I hadn't travelled to Seattle for a conference where I hooked up with my own former girlfriend - Kimmie - for three amazing sexual encounters, until she realized I was with someone else back home and shot out the door.

And you wonder why I'm confused.

Last year, around the same time, I was thinking of my job, the teaching, the grading. Nowadays, I can't think of anything but sex. Sex. Sex. Sex. Pussy. Breasts. Dick. Fuck.

So far, it's been a slow day. I masturbated this morning watching an old video that Jennifer and Sarah filmed for me, a superhero fetishistic story where Batgirl and Supergirl take on each other. I was filming it at the time. It's not of very good quality, but I really wanted it bad back then. I guess I still do. After I was done with that (and it only really took a couple of minutes, to be honest), I tried to get my things organized, but half the stuff here still belongs to Sarah. It reminds me of the uncertainty of what's happening. Jennifer says we need to make up. I'm not sure I want to, not after the way she treated. Then again, how well did I treat her myself? I got her infected with some kind of fungus that killed our sex life for three whole weeks. That's an eternity for her.

The truth is, I don't even know why she left. I only know things weren't going well, and I was too caught up in having my dick in Miranda's mouth (God can she suck!) to notice it.

I meet up with Miranda just outside her place around 4 in the afternoon, and we take the bus downtown, getting there around 4:45. We quickly go to a sub and sandwich shop, all the while talking about our school woes from the week. We grab a bite to eat then head outside and sit on a park bench to down our sandwiches. She gets to talking about the details of our actual date.

"I like to be there early," she tells me.
"Where is it anyway?"
"It's just four streets from here. It's a nice, quiet place. A studio apartment, really."

I'm reminded of an activity I had last March in a large mansion, a quite passionate affair with many lovely young women, many of which I ended up fucking in a very erotic way. Again, it was because of Sarah that I got involved in that.

"What's on your mind?" Miranda asks me.
"Nothing much."

I honestly don't want to tell her, and she doesn't insist.

"Now, here's how it works," she tells me. "When we get there, you'll be assigned a letter, like from A to Z. You get the opportunity of saying if you want to be matched with a number or a letter."
"A man or a woman?"
"Exactly."

This sounds very much like the swinger party I attended last August with Brian and Bonnie.

"Now, once you're assigned someone - a number in your case, I guess - it's your job to find that person in the room."
"How does that work?"
"Anyway you want. Most people just call it out. What I like about that is that if someone calls out your number and you're not interested, you don't have to acknowledge. You can lie too."
"You can?"
"Absolutely. Some people don't like the randomness."
"Is there a consequence if you lie?"
"Not really."

She pauses, thinking of her answer.

"Though there have been instances where a 'punishment' was enacted on the fraud."
"I get what you're saying."

She smiles, and I keep wondering if I should be surprised by any of this. It doesn't even seem odd, not after all I've done. Certainly not after all I've heard my friends say they have done. It reminds that there's something I have to tell her.

"How long does it last?"
"Depends. See, I like to get there at 5:30, because I want to take a shower, pamper myself, make myself presentable."
"You always look amazing."
"I know, but I really overdo it over there."

Her eyes light up.

"Why? Do you have somewhere else to be?"
"Actually," I tell her," maybe."

She seems puzzled, urging me to explain.

"It wouldn't be before late, though," I let her know.
"Well, depends. I've seen it run up until 2AM, but by then... well, let's say it's only those that can keep going!"

She laughs as she explains, and I smile too.

"I'm usually done at midnight at most," she adds, "just because."
"I'm curious how many partners you can have in a single night?" I ask her.
"My personal record is seven."
"Seven men?"
"No. Five men and two women. One after the other too. I was so full... I mean fulfilled."

Again, her laughter is contagious. She directs the next question.

"When's your other thing?"
"Not before eleven. It's weird..."
"Tell me about it?"

I certainly don't mind - after all, Jennifer didn't tell me to keep this secret.

"There's this bondage bar I've been invited to. When you said we weren't exclusive Monday, I... hooked up with another girl."
"Nice!" she says, obviously thrilled and not in the least jealous. "Anyone serious?"
"No, and not anyone you know. Anyway, yesterday, after we... were done, she invited me to a party at that club."
"Damn James!" Miranda states, "you are one slick pussy-hunter!"

It's meant as a joke but that's not how I heart it. I internalize my negative feelings and ignore them for the time being.

"Maybe I could come with you?" Miranda asks.
"Sure. I don't see why not."
"And what is there going to be at that bondage party place?"
"To be honest, I'm not certain. All I know is that Jennifer - that's my friend - is going to be putting on a show for everyone."

I pause, thinking about it for a moment, before adding a detail.

"She's a pornstar."
"A pornstar? Wow! You're fucking a pornstar!"

I'm still amazed at how openly sexual Miranda actually is. Perhaps it was why I tried my hand at her last February. Maybe I felt it even back then.

"All right," she concludes. "We go to my party, we have some fun, we bail out early - say, 10:30 - then head out to your party."
"Yeah. Listen, I can't guarantee there'll be sex at the bondage place. For all I know, it's just a bar with shows."
"It's all good. Besides, let's be honest," she replies, "if I've had my fill of orgasms by 10:30, and it happens, I won't mind a quiet show later on."

I acquiesce. How many times can I climax anyway? My record is three times within a single evening, I think, and that was over several hours as well. Women are theoretically luckier that way. Men need more time to recover if they really want to climax again. Most men, anyway.

We finish downing our sandwiches and head out towards Miranda's party place.

"Tell me something," Miranda tells me as we're walking to our destination. "Do you really like me?"
"Yeah, I do. I wouldn't fuck you otherwise."

I try to make my comment shallow, but I feel like she's not satisfied with my answer, so I hazard another one.

"Miranda, I do. You're a nice, good person. You care for people."
"Thanks. I like you too."

She looks away as she continues speaking.

"It makes fucking you a lot harder, though," she confesses.
"I'm... sorry?"
"Don't be. It's nice to be with someone kind. Guys like you don't often get the girl, right?"
"Nope, we don't."

I pause for a moment, thinking of the past year.

"Well, I may be the exception..."

It's meant as a joke, and that's how Miranda takes it, thankfully.

"Do you miss your girlfriend Sarah?" she asks.
"I do. I wish I didn't, to be honest. But there's this sexual energy between us. And it's only gotten more insane as time as gone on. Miranda, you wouldn't believe the sexual things we did!"
"Oh! I believe," she told me. "That girl has some fire in her eyes."

She would know. We did have a threesome not too long ago. We're practically at the entrance when she stops.

"Remember that time there was the three of us together?"
"Of course."
"I remember she made me come three times! Three! She was so giving, and I felt bad, really. I felt like I was intruding on something sacred."
"I didn't know that."
"Don't get me wrong, James, I had lots of fun and I don't regret it but... that look she gave me afterwards."

I have to consider my words before speaking, but I say what's on my mind anyway.

"She was jealous."
"Yes, she was."
"I mean, specifically," I precise my idea, "about your... blowjob skills."
"Really?"
"That's how it felt to me. A few times after that, she really tried to emulate what you did when I..."

I don't finish my sentence. It somehow feels awkward saying it now. She understands.

"If I had anything to do with the two of you breaking up, I am so sorry," she tells me.
"The weirdest thing is, I think you did us a service."
"Really? How do you see it?"

Again, I weigh my words before speaking them out.

"There was tension between us. There's been tension since last summer. We... were invited to a retreat. There was a swinger party. She was assigned a random partner, but she cared nothing for him. She tried to go through with it anyway, but... I'd never seen her like that. Refusing to have sex. That was brand new, and it was weird."
"The guy must have been pissed."
"Yeah but... that's not the issue."
"I know."
"Anyway," I continue my story, "something snapped during that activity, and we never talked about it. We never addressed it. It festered. And... to be honest, I'm sure something else happened. I just don't know what."

Miranda places a hand on my arm.

"Listen, if you want to quit tonight, not go in... if you want to go talk to her..."
"No."

My answer is quick. There's no hesitation.

"Tonight, I do whatever I want. That's... what she told me in the letter. To have fun. To explore. Heck! That's what she told me when I was in Seattle, on the phone. She wants me to do this. Isn't that weird?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know her enough."
"Let's get inside," I finally say.

We walk up the steps and into the building. Apparently, I'm attending another swinger party. I check my pants pocket. I have eight condoms tucked inside. It should be plenty.

Just because Sarah's not here doesn't mean our commitment to health and safety doesn't stand.