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It’s Bedlam in here: so it’s time to get out …

Bedlam was a place where the mad folk were placed and then laughed at by the masses. The great and the good and the unkind would walk through the ‘medical wards’ and laugh unceremoniously at the infirm and insane and unloved. I don’t want to be the sex inmate that is laughed at.

I made mistakes of that I am certain. However, being sent missives from Shocked of Hampshire or Surrey  (Alice and Schmuck respectively) I can well live without. That Schmuck could see my last post as erotic, when it was in fact a plea to him in my admittedly twisted way, speaks volumes.  No doubt his current girls and possibly previous ones (ones that I don’t  even know of) may be reading my rambling posts and I don’t want him or others to be voyeurs of my life, or to be mocked for it.

So it is that this is the final post (of this blog anyway).

Schmuck no longer communicates with me even though I have let him know I miss him (he went AWOL on Alice and Miriam too) despite saying we would still be friends and meet and keep things contentedly fluid. There we are. I am now just another notch in his fantasy bedpost. As he once said to me ‘a cock is just a cock’, well I have to dissagree and I always will as I am not built for sex like that. I take it that a ‘pussy is just a pussy’ to him and that all it ever was was ‘just sex’. I know now that I could never win at his game. When I was reticent about group sex I was being too straight ‘there are lots of whores and slags (on those sites) and they are all married’ he once said to me as I waivered on whether to try the sad group sex he so longed to try. Yet once I was experimenting and trying out the new I was told that the occassional threesome and a ‘good fuck now and then’ was OK and my desires  (as opposed to his – MFF) were somehow warped. When I told him I loved him I was told that love was ‘a car crash’ and so my authenticity and feelings were pumelled into the ground along with my self esteem. Yes it hurt and it still does.

Alice was hurt also (that is her story to tell) and if Miriam actually exsited I’m sure her heart is more than a little sore. Perhaps fat ugly (on all levels as far as I’m concerned) Kerry Bourne is the right sort of girl for Schmuck in denial of herself and her feelings, happy to be a FB or FWB. I was never that girl and never will be and I never claimed I was.

I’m sure Schmuck is wholly content now with a series of new girls or just one where he has invented a version of our affair that neatly sidesteps the reality of what was. Denial will always be a friend to Schmuck I suppose and I have to accept that I was never anymore to him than a useful construct who was only relevant when I did precisely what he wanted in the way that he did. I guess, and this is hard to acknowledge, that he never cared in any way about me and once I’d served any useful purpose he just dissapeared without trace.

I wanted an affair in the way that Joan Bakewell talks of hers (now 80 and still a magnificent woman). It was a love affair and yes of course it ended (they always do) but he and she remained friends until  his death three weeks ago, friends who could meet for lunch or occassional coffee and still smile at the adventure they had. That is how an affair should be, complete and somehow wholesome and somehow worth the lies we tell to others who we also love in our real lives. There is only an honour in an affair when it is decent and not tawdy, why betray our real lives for a just a fuck? Why do that?

I note with interest the semantics that now surround an affair. Who took the love out of it anyway? Many men want NSA sex, or Fuck Buddies or Friends With Benefits because it reduces the act of betrayal to a neat transaction that is easy to negotiate away from their real lives. I suspect that by attempting to remove the emotional tone of an affair it feels somehow less of a betrayal to their wives and children, and therefore to themselves, it doesn’t though (as the wives and the children will attest). It certainly doesn’t serve the women or mistresses well either.  Much like the porn that people view where women are are objectified pieces of meat so the language of affairs has been appropriated for men’s gain. The only sex where this is genuinely true is either one night stands, in sex clubs with strangers or with prostitutes (not high-class girls or escorts that’s just more semantic bullshit), and everyone who thinks otherwise is just lying to themselves.

So the Shmuck buck stops here. I can’t write about something that no longer exists and I’m not going to ‘make it up’ as he suggested. How very apt. He would never realise it but this was a prose poem written to him about us and for him. It was one way I could give him a gift. He never even noticed.

Goodbye my friends and no doubt a few enemies as well. I wish I could say it has been fun but that would be a fib. And as you should know by now I don’t really go in for lies.

Schmuck I loved you but I never wanted your real life or to be your wife, I just wanted to be your filthy sexy friend to have advenutures with.  I wish you had felt the same.

Passwords and lies was a prose poem written by two, then by one, then by none.

Fuck Xxx




Bounce Bounce Bounce: Schmuck is on affair strike (with me) so I rebound on someone hard (Dom he)

‘Of course we can have a pint. Just not sure I can do the whole affair thing at the moment. Too much going on. I don’t want to string you along. I’m not meeting anyone else and have no plans to….’ Schmuck to me …

Right. What this means in ‘real terms’ I don’t know? Will we ever fuck again? I don’t know. Will we be friends then?  I don’t know. Maybe at that pint I might find out. Who knows?

There have been moments of teetering towards the precipice of a complete and final goodbye but I get vertigo looking down on a total ending. I also think in this life that final goodbyes are such a waste of life. Always leave doors open if you can, always keep experience fluid whenever possible. It’s something that I have learnt, that sometimes people can remain in your lives or even come back to your life at a later date. Plus being rejected is never nice is it?

Far better to feel experience as a faded watermark on a walnut desk or in the ink of a tattoo on my arm. Always there and never forgotten. I would always have time for Schmuck but perhaps now it will be over pints and no longer over his face with my pussy (his choice:entirely his). But I refuse to become a bitter and dessicated bitch like Miss Havisham, it doesn’t suit me. Plus Schmuck will always be my first affair, for all its good and bad.

I had hoped that like Paloma Faith I would be able to hold off men for a good five months; to get some sex perspective … but I got a text when I was in town from Alpha Dominant Male and I thought I would hurt myself a little (this is not the suggested plan as briefly mentioned in the last post and that will now never come to pass).

This is the story of that half hour.

I’m in town drunk with friends saying goodbye and about to rush home, when I get a message from ADM. I’ve been ‘laid off’ sexually by Schmuck and I’m not too proud to admit that I’m feeling insecure about the situation (with all the usual why aren’t I good enough/hot enough/cool enough/smart enough questions rattling around my head). I have a bit of a ‘fuck it’ attitude sometimes. When you feel as though you’ve lost there’s nothing left to lose. When someone’s robbed from you at the beginning of time (no that’s not Schmuck) no-one can ever steal from you again.

ADM’s sitting in some uptown glossy bar, waiting in his lair hoping I might turn up. I do. I don’t like him, but he’s intelligent and interesting. He asks me to take off my knickers before I sit down for a drink at the bar. My response is no because a) I’m no regular sub b) it’s a boring request that all dom’s with no imagination request. So I don’t.

We sit and share some vintage champagne and watch the Arabs and the Russian high-class girls toy with one another. We talk for about ten minutes and then he tells me to follow him, which I do.

We go to a glassy modern office and get into the lift (he owns the whole building and company naturally) and go down to the basement. I get ushered into a huge gleaming gym. I suppose I should have been nervous but I wasn’t. I suppose I should have cared but I didn’t.

He turned the lights down low and ordered me to lie back on a semi-reclined bench press and he tied my hands behind my back,

I am facing a mirror.

Then he stands above me and asks me:

‘What are you?’ and I answer ‘You want me to say I’m a slut but I don’t think it. I’ll say it if you want but it’s not what I think.’

You see I know this game better than he and I couldn’t really care about the rules of his game, I couldn’t really care about anything at all at this precise moment in time.

I’m playing my own game with myself, if the truth is to be told.

‘No don’t say it then’ he replies.

Then he rips up my top and pulls down my skirt ; so now I’m tied and semi naked in front of the mirror. He runs his hands over my tits. Squeezes them and looks down at me.

But I don’t feel sexy. I don’t feel anything, anything at all.

He gets his cock out and pushes it into my mouth. I can’t give him good head (even if I wanted to) because I can’t move. I am just a human sex doll. There is certainly no pleasure in it for me.

Then he turns me over. Still bound-up on the bench press. He pushes his finger in my ass. And says removing his cock from my mouth so I can answer each time:

‘Do you want me to fuck you in your ass?’

‘No’ I reply.

‘Do you want me to fuck you in your pussy?’

‘No’ I reply.

To his credit (I suppose?) he doesn’t do either of these things. He just pushes his finger deeper in my ass and then starts to wank his cock right next to my face.

‘I’m going to cum on your face.’he says.

‘I don’t want you to.’ I reply.

‘Move your fucking head close to my cock.’ he demands.

‘I don’t want to.’ I reply.

Then he begins slapping my ass, really fucking hard. So much so that my body buckles with the pressure. I’m very good with physical pain, and I refuse to flinch. So, harder and harder he hits me.

He grabs my hair and tries to pull my face next to his cock and I just pull away.  I’ve got the bit of resistance between my teeth. I refuse, just bloody refuse, to do what he wants, because why the fuck should I? I’m re-enacting a terrible truth for my own redemption.  As I say, I was playing my own game of oblivion.

‘Get your face near my cock’ he demands.

‘No’ I say.

Then he starts hitting me in the face. Hard. Over and over.

And I just say:’ You can fucking hospitalise me if you want but you will never get me to consent to what you want to do to me. Ever.’

Then he groans and cums over me. And it’s over.

He unties me and throws me a towel. I just feel cross as I wipe myself down and get myself dressed.

‘I’m no ordinary girl or standard sub. You need some character-free girl who just does what you want. It’s not me.’ I say to him.

And with that it is done and I leave.

We will not meet again. I am not a sub girl and I have no use for dom men. Game Over.

But at least I know now, at least I absolutely know.

Love – F xxx





Curiouser and Curiouser: I fell down the rabbit hole and found a sexy little Alice

I think I am a little like the Cheshire Cat this evening. It has been the most topsy-turvy and curious of days.

Usually, I am the Alice falling down rabbit holes (metaphorically) not knowing whether I should be shrinking or growing or who I should be meeting. To translate into simple terms for any non-Alice in Wonderland fans – it is often I who is  fitting into or joining-in-with or trying-to-figure-out the sexy stories. Today I just decided to be me. Wholly me. The honest me. The nothing-but-the-truth and I-hope-it-will-all-work-out-for-everyone-me. And I think it actually did.

I began to make friends with Alice (as I will call her).  She is small and beautiful and blonde. She has been following my blog and she got Schmucked too. Weirdly he got her to follow it.

I’m not sure why he did get her to follow me but there we are. I will ask him. Anyway he and her were together when he and I met. She got a little lacerated by him, and then this weekend, she got in touch with me.

She is erudite and quite gentle. Unlike me (being a filthy man in a woman’s body). We got to share our stories of the boy and she made me laugh talking about how he ‘made her eyes pop’ in bed. Succinctly put gorgeous girl, I thought. He’s a good hot hard fuck, I grant the him that. I always give credit, and preferably head, whenever it’s due (though he still has sex lessons to learn and cunnilingus to perfect which I am very happy to continue to tutor him in naturally…).

We swapped pictures, as we meandered through a day of texts and chatter. We buoyed each other up and I got to tell him off for letting her go, and to just say cleanly and clearly to him that I like fucking him and it’s really that simple. Outside of the time he puts in to push his cock into me, is entirely his own business. Straight up. Straight out. No need for lies and secrets and all that trouble.  And in return I will tell him if I decide to pursue other fucks (safely – naturally – as Schmuck will always be my bareback ride for as long as he can hack it) because I like to be honest.

I think it feels good to be filthy dirty and free and proper friends. The fibbing is just boring and tiring (for me anyway) and so very very complicated. Why hide yourself from people who are equally as deviant as you?  The more the merrier I say. Play nicely.

Not that Alice is deviant,  though I suspect she’s curious about adventures and giggles and may even want to get her eyes popped once more. I certainly enjoy the idea of me and her making Schmuck’s eyes pop. Altogether. All three. And I don’t  mind sharing with a hot nice girl. I am seeing Schmuck as the Charlie Sheen of the Home Counties, I know I am a whole handful for a man and he most likely needs a more feminine and innocent soul to share sexual escapades with. I think I am the ‘Bree’ in the bed, or perhaps I’m just Heidi Fleiss … ? I have said this to both of them, before you ask.

As you all know, dear readers, I am not a bashful girl. So I have asked her if she might be interested, of course I have. She’s having a think. In the meantime we will meet for some espresso martinis and giggles … I like adventures.

In the next post I will tell you what Alpha Male Dominant would like to do with/to me. I’m not sure if I should be scared and run or consider it, and try something dangerously new (and it is very very dangerous)? I plan to give all the details to Schmuck to see what he thinks. I am not very good at boundaries or knowing when something is properly suicidal (I will elucidate on my darker nights here one day if I am in the mood).  But I know Schmuck can see the boundary. I thought I would whisper the details in his ear when we fuck next, as it’s a filthy idea. With his cock deep inside me as I grind on him, it will make us cum. Hard.


Fairy tales and puppy dog’s tails:the truth as I find it

First up – thanks to The Hook for the good wishes. Life has a way of manifesting what it wants. It has. It wasn’t what I wanted. Of course not, I’m a sadist in the world of sex after all…

Fairy tales are just that.

I have been reading Susan Sontag in a prologue to the work of Don Mccullin (one of my favourite photographers) in it she says: ‘I would insist that anyone who is perennially surprised that depravity exists, who continues to experience dissillusionment (even incredulity) when confronted with evidence of what humankind are capable of inflicting in the way of gruesome, hands on cruelties upon other humans, has not reached moral or psychological adulthood.’

And so it is that I move from being a black and white girl into the grey. I am trying very hard to grow myself up. Incredibly hard.

It’s been a pretty grey time of late, for me.

So he’s a liar. In his own words as I was doubled-up sobbing in a hotel room he said:’I lie to my wife, I lie to my children, I lie to you. It’s what I do.’

Oh …

I have been crushed by the lies and freed at the same time. At least I no longer think I am a crazy girl, all the times I felt there were lies I discovered I was right indeed to think as I did. I have been traded in for a girl who is ugly and fat and illiterate in a moment when it just turned him on, he trawls the affairs website yet denied it when I knew it was him (another girl shopped him to me), and I have felt more than hollow and worthless despite trying and trying again to jump through hoops he has set me, because I have wanted to be ‘good enough’. All to no avail. Of course to no avail. I haven’t the patience here to list it all; the details and the nonsense. Frankly as we say in England – I can’t be arsed.

I still desire him as a fuck, I still like him but I can never trust him again. So we keep in touch in a random way and I wonder if we will ever fuck again. The irony is that he now has an almost NSA fuck available (as my heart has gone out of it if not my friendship) which he always wanted. There we are. It makes me little sad as I’m not a ‘bad’ person, far from it.

I know, from ‘real life’ that I’m desirable. There is Planner Boy a cute and clever fellow from ‘real life’ who calls Schmuck ‘Madman’ – he doesn’t know what the problem is or why a man wouldn’t rate me as a lover and friend. He makes me smile and remembers me even when he is in Miami and I am in London. There is the Dominant Alpha Male, a billionaire and a player who has let me know in no uncertain terms that he plans to ‘have me’, sexy in its own way except he says almost precisely the same things to me as Schmuck. I have let him know this. He says I promote that,that I know sexually what I like and that of course I should ‘Ice him (Schmuck) out’ and I say ‘Only because you want to fuck me and have me all to yourself’. I am used to rich men who feel they are entitled and it pisses me off. They piss me off. They think they can have anything. But some things cannot be bought. I still miss Schmuck. I know I shouldn’t but I do.

So here I am. Older … a little more cynical and created in the image that Schmuck wanted of me (but he’s bored of that now I guess…) and feeling a little like Frankenstein – geared up for a sex he has opened me up to but not knowing where to go with it, or what to do with it.

In the absence of my own words I will quote to you what others have recently said to me.

In the meantime I wonder what the future holds. I’m afraid I no longer have the answers.

‘Always remember that I love you and that you are surrounded by people who love you. You’re amazing and beautiful.  Remember that. ‘ Tall Girl

‘I forgot how cute you are until I saw you again. Madman – forget him. He fucks you up emotionally. Can I kiss you?’ Planner Boy.

‘When I get back from my business trip I want to have you.’ Alpha Male Dominant.

‘It’s your body and your life.’ Sassy Girl

‘I don’t think Schmuck will ever be the lover that you want him to be or the friend you deserve. It’s not simply the lack of exclusivity. He lied about you and slagged you off to another woman and then lied to you about that as well. He doesn’t deserve you. He’s such a fool.’ Lady Penelope.

F xxx





An End Of Year Review: It was the best of times and the worst of times …

It’s good to review your situation, as Fagin once so winningly sang. So I thought I would do it for Schmuck and I of course. Especially as we are entering the season of goodwill. I do hope Santa’s sack will be bulging for me, even if I have to wait until next year to see his baubles again. Though they looked mighty fine last week in my own version of Lapland. The lapping was good.

So the Worst Moments For Me Were:

1) First threesome. Too much, too fast, with the wrong girl. Sitting on the bed and fiddling with my shoes and ending the evening in tears on a train station with the station guard propping me up. He was kind at least.

2) Being refused entry to a hotel and when I finally got in being given the manager’s card who said he would help me in any way in the future. Not a good day at the sex office.

3) Double-dealing at the start of our affair. Gemima Smith showing me girl solidarity and shopping Schmuck to me. That fucked with my trust, I find that hard to deal with.

4) Feeling I have had to deal with the  rebound of his last affair. I’m me and I’m sound for all my Italian passions. It can feel as though I am judged by that and I have done nothing wrong. I also know I can never be as beguiling to him as M was, that hurts. I never  got pursued. I never got that rating. Being held at arm’s lenght. Having to be patient.

5) Watching him kiss and fuck Tall Girl. Not easy that.

And The Best

1) Good, hot, exciting sex with Schmuck. Frottage, watching, pearl necklaces, anal, kissing, touching, licking, sucking, 69.

2) Good, hot exciting sex with Schmuck and Tall Girl.

3) Knowing I’m alright really.

4) Learning and thinking I can trust him now.

5) Being free to try new things with him.

6) Being exclsusive with him. And being OK with that.

7) Liking him as a person. Genuinely.

8) Having nice feelings. And liking them.

In a swift summary, I wanted an affair with a man that could meet me in my mind and in my body, I wanted a man that I like, I wanted a man who seems to be able to handle me. So far the shoe fits. I’m curious about what lies in store for 2013.

Let’s see …. Fx


Does it take a gay man to open a straight girl’s eyes?

Very short this one.

I spent a heavenly hour with my beautiful gay hairdresser recently. He tames my locks and takes no prisoners on the honesty front. That’s why I like him. That’s why I like gay men. You can talk filth and you can talk feelings and they tell you like it is.

He’s asked me if I’m hiding from myself. He’s asked me what it is I want. He’s asked me what I’m getting out of the Schmuck shinding. He said, quite rightly, that I don’t want to just be a ‘booty call’. He’s allowed me to think about me, instead of everyone else. My desires. my physical and urgent needs. And they are urgent and I am intense. And I make no apology for that. I tire of feeling that I should. I like recipricocity.

I have a head full of questions, not at all quelled by a girl we wanted to come play with us who just said it was her desire to get me jealous (when I had been open about my sensitiviy to fucking in a threesome) by fucking Schmuck in front of me before she got her first girl on girl experience supplied to her by me. It made me mad. What princess does she think she is? Why is everyone so selfish when all I want to do is sexy explore with people who are kind and cool and frisky all at once?

I know some cool people…they seem ever more appealing. You know who you are.

I just have a head full of questions now and a pussy that is aching to be fucked.

What’s a girl to do?!?!?

F x

Step IntoThe Sensual World: good sex isn’t just about sex

Hello everyone. This very short post isn’t about fucking. Sorry.

Fear not, my life is such that there will always be filth to write about. There will be more of that, no doubt.

This post  is about sensuality, and how I literally feel the world.

It’s my belief that if you are open to experience you can derive deep pleasure from both the everyday and the depraved. I’m ultra-sensitive. I love scent and touch and taste. Be open to experience and you will be rewarded. Feeling is believing …

A delicious dessert wine drunk with foie gras, a bloody steak served with searing and salty chips and bearnaise, vintage Krug and oysters, simple salty fish and chips by the sea. These are just a few of my favourite things to eat. I’m very open to feeling pleasure.

I love to watch rainbows or feel a cold wind on my face; to bask in front of a sleepy fire and stretch my limbs when I wake. I remember getting lost in the Deep Blue in Thailand and swimming with rays and jewel coloured fish – I was hook line and sinkered. Enraptured and lost like the little mermaid I wanted to live under the sea with the corals. I have been intoxicated by diamonds and garnets and rubies and emeralds that have glowed on my skin, revelling in the glittering embellishments. I have walked through a forest in the depths of winter, sound muffled with snow on the back of a black horse that was all my own – alone and content in the silence with the world bleached white that no-one else bothered to witness.  I have cried reading Ted Hughes ‘Birthday Letters’ and been delighted by the beat of We Are Augustines. I have sat dumbfounded looking at Rothko or Da Vinci’s drawings. I have felt the Italian sun sear my bones and the Mediterrean sea absolve my sins. I like to … feel.

I suppose that is what I wish for you all to do – immerse yourself in the everyday. Give yourself to it. It makes everything feel so … delicious.

Happy weekend. ‘F’ xxx