Filed under: SEX
I bet you’re saying, “Damn black girl…what in dee heyall?” Haha. Be easy. I told you peeking into my world was an interesting ride, just hope you like it! This week was definitely one of those chocked full of things to get done and make happen. I’m still not quite sure how hittin the swinger’s spot ended up on the list but like I said before…With the kind of dichotomic company I keep, there’s no tellin’ where I might end up from one week to the next. So long as it’s not jail or the unemployment spot I think I can deal, lol.
So Black Girl’s latest adventure worth mentioning takes her (that would be me) to the swangin swanglang’s club. Whose bright idea was this? Certainly not mine but a welcomed one at the suggestion of my flavor of the moment, B. B would be the cat I mentioned a few entries back who ‘handed me the book to the spell yet had succeeded at mastering it on me.’ Yea he’s the one that I fume on one minute and joke with the next. The one that reads this blog on the regular to keep me honest. He’s kinda one of those folks that are in your life for a specific purpose that you can’t quite figure out right away. A friend you so happen to boinky boink. You just know there’s something to learn through it all and try to remain open. Money question of the week: Would hitting the swingers joint be overstepping the friends that do friends boundry though? Maybe I’m being a little too open? Um *whistles* nat aahhh…cuz the rabbit hole always goes deeper. We cool.
Checked out the spot on a Wednesday night. It was a welcomed slow pace for me. If my memory serves me right, the first time I saw a group of people getting down my life changed forever and that was along time ago. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to see the very thing that forever tainted the frog in me! My already perverted and sometimes sexually obsessed way of thinking was ultimately pushed over the edge never to be seen the same again. Nothing has fazed me much except for that nasty two chicks one cup shyt. OMG I wouldn’t be lyin if I told you I had to clean up my own puke after that which was real nice. But back to the point….lol
This was a pretty decent upscale gig. The front area looked like a club, stripper pole in the middle of the dance floor. TV’s strategically placed around the mirrored spot played generic white ppl porn. Ha. Was never too much into that (kind). The next part of the club was right behind the general party area. It was a little quieter, deep red lighting and plush seating. We huddled it out in velvety soft chairs in the corner chatting it up. Casing the spot. That was before frisky bob wanted to go over to phase three, which would be the indoor pool and jacuzzis, cabanas, boom boom rooms and all lol. Only thing…no clothes allowed past the entry point! I so did not plan on getting undressed in any form – my panties and bra didn’t even match but I rolled wit it. We exchanged our business casual attire for towels, laughs and a locker. I couldn’t believe I was doing it but by that time I was feeling the Goose buzz and really had no objections.
We get past the point of no return and ended up taking ownership of one of three jacuzzis. Across from us was a really chunky black chick with her really tiny black man. Lol. He was standing in front of her as she sat on the edge of the tub but that didn’t cover much. There was some real shyt going on and I was trying hard not to be a kid with the point and giggle, but I couldn’t help myself at one point. Another scenario involved a guy sitting at the side of the pool watching a couple get their freak leak on across from him. He (did things to himself) watched them close before making his move to join in, upon which he got REJECTED!!! LMAO. So messed up and hella funny. The couple was like nahhh I’m cool. Imagine the horror of getting dissed like that. Haah, I’m still laughing. What a loser.
I met a chick, forget her name. I just remembered her Yves Saint Laurent thigh high boots that ended up being our topic of conversation. The boots were sick. Black with a red wedged heel. The bright color hand embroidery that traced up her shin to her thigh made them look more like art pieces. Which is probably why my eyes dripped with envy when I saw them. We chatted for a quick minute about how she’d gotten them somewhere in Europe before a short, stalky, hairy white dude approached us. Just happened he was her mate and was moving in for the kill. Uhhh no thanks. We got the hell on and did our own thing.
The experience ended up being cool though. We both digged it. I’m just wondering what will happen when flavor wants to start bringing other peeps into the equation. So long as he understands the real shyt that lives inside of Pandora’s box (at least mine anyway), I guess I have no problem with him peeking inside… just a lil. (there’s that sinister grin you love!)
I need to find a pair of those frickin boots.
1 Comment so far
Leave a comment