The first sincere encounter we had on our quest to turn me into the 21st century embodiment of the whore of Babylon ended up being with Mr. Martini. And it happened by accident. As I’ve previously mentioned, we were already scheduled to meet up and get drinks with another person, whose actual name I can’t even remember now so we’ll just call him Mr. Nobody.

We were headed on our way to the date when Mr. Nobody called to cancel stating his mom had just been in a car accident. While I was disappointed he definitely knew me enough to know I was a half decent person and there was no way I was going to call him a liar even though my gut told me he just got freaked out by the entire idea of being watched while fucking someone’s wife. Which is fair enough to be completely honest. This far from the first time I totally get it. How it’s a lot to ask from someone who possibly has never had a non-hetero, non-monogamous sexual experience in their life aside from maybe a random drunken threesome. I’m sure there are folks we met with after our first who definitely wish they had thought up such a rad excuse to get out of what was surely one hell of an awkward situation if you aren’t ready for or into it.

Since neither X nor myself were ever the type to step back from the edge of some new oblivion, we decided to scroll through my phone and see what trouble we could find now that Mr. Nobody bailed. The answer to our dilemma was easy and quick to arrive, in text message form. Mr. Martini was free tonight and I was going to give him a real try sooner than expected. Since we had already met up with him previously for a meet and grope, he was a safe, sane last minute option after being flaked on.

Weirdly enough, we were already within range of where he was hanging out for the night so we just swung by his bar of choice and had a couple of drinks on the back patio. While we watched the sunset blur into a mess of purple & orange, I was trying to decide whether or not he was worthy of bouncing up and down on. By the end of the second drink, it was a sure bet I was going to fuck this guy within an inch of his life.

He wasn’t especially impressive, but neither am I. As I recounted in the last entry, he was in his 50’s, fit and rather conservative looking for someone who wanted to stick his dick in me. He reminded me of the kid in high school who would sneak offensive metal shirts in his backpack to impress his friends. Shirts that if his mom knew of their existence, she’d go nuclear & send him to church camp or military school. He had long ago ditched the metal shirts because it was sensible to do so, but he still wanted a taste of the sluttery that sort of scene can bring. And at this point I just wanted someone easy to pull the band-aid off with. Someone I knew I could predict with a fair amount of accuracy.

I may be a slut, but I’m not stupid & still don’t trust new humans fully until they give me several reasons to.

As we sat watching the sun dip below the horizon, contemplating each other in own ways I heard Mr. Martini ask something, but it got lost in the roar of the crowd as someone tripped over a dog leash.

“What’d you say, babe?” I inquired.

“Have you guys been to Inferno yet?” he asked again, bright eyed with the spirits he’d been sipping on.

“Nope. What’s that?” I asked with sincere curiosity. It sounded secret by the way Mr. Martini had brought it up. And I fuckin’ love secrets.

“It’s like a swingers club or something. I haven’t checked it out yet, but something tells me you’d make a great fit there.” he chuckled as he said the last part.

I smiled and said that we’d check it out, probably when we were a little more versed in how this all worked.

Almost as if on cue, we all decide it would probably be a good idea to head back to his place to finish off the night. X & I head back to the car and followed the directions he’d given us which lead us to what I openly described to Mr. Martini as “an apartment building designed to look like double wide trailers stacked on top of each other.” We walked inside the entryway after he buzzed us up and I was immediately hit with a sense of “Oh, you gotta be bougie to live here.” Not rich, but cosplaying as it. There were signs of disrepair here and there as we walked along, but it was clear Mr. Martini was upper middle class, comfortable. “Good for Mr. Martini.” I thought to myself as we took the elevator up to his apartment. “Hopefully he doesn’t fuck like his desired pay bracket.”

Once we reached his door, we were greeted with the sounds of decent music (green flag) and the offer of freshly made martinis (green flag). I stepped inside and was in shock at how compact his place was. Clean, well decorated, but definitely restricted space wise. No biggie there, I’ve fucked in cars a lot smaller than this & it’s not like an older single guy needed much space. By his own accounts his was at his little neighborhood bar more often than not. It was just surprising given the forced opulence and openness presented by of the rest of the building. Inside his place, while smaller, the vibe was much less pretentious.

After drinks were made & small talk was had, there’s a sudden moment when all the humans in the room were wondering the same thing. We know there’s gonna be explicit activities because everyone enthusiastically consented to it before we even left the bar, but how and when to start seemed to allude everyone for a short while as we sat around in our slutty little semi-circle.

After Mr. Martini had so graciously welcomed us in, I had quickly gotten comfortable once I had my drink in hand, I sprawled out on his couch like I pay rent to exist in his little abode. X had taken a seat kitty corner from us, sat in a big comfy chair and Mr. Martini took the obvious spot for him, next to me. “Okay!” I thought to myself “so we got that much worked out, it’s a good start.” There was obviously an attraction between us, but the added pressure of being watched weighs heavy on some people even if I clearly don’t find issue with it myself…

After a few awkward moments of me pawing at my current playtoy, X got up and excused himself to go smoke a cigarette, clearly trying to give Mr. Martini a moment to feel like it’s okay to fondle and fuck me. As soon as the door closed, I pulled him into me for a long kiss and start groping at his dick through his pants, which seemed to magically disappear sometime shortly after. The pants, not his dick. That much was very there & very ready to explore from the looks of it.

A few minutes later, X snuck back in as quietly as he could & took his seat with a big grin on face just as I started to play with & jerk off Mr. Martini’s member.

Slutty side note: I can suck dick all day and fuck that a champ, but years of not having anyone who actually likes handjobs has made me a little rusty. Mr. Martini REALLY seemed to like handjobs. My apologies to him if he sees this, his dick while totally average deserved better.

The night rolled on, more martinis were poured. I distinctly remember stepping out on his patio to have a smoke break from all the sweaty sex shenanigans and noticing a grand Gothic cathedral immediately in front of us. I heard Mr. Martini step out with us & felt his hand creep around me and down between my thighs. I grinned to myself. The universe couldn’t be telling me more clearly that we’re on the right track if there was a neon sign. Casual blasphemy and excellently mixed martinis all in the same night? I couldn’t think of a better to start to our adventures.

“Put another one.” I moaned as I let my head roll back and spread my legs to give Mr. Martini easier access to my slit. Never one to stand in the way of a good orgasm, he obliged.

Before I knew it, he was four fingers deep & I was trying not to loudly cum in the general direction of a very old, very expensive golden calf in the shape of a large gothic church. I grabbed his hand to steady myself after imploding in orgasm & as I took a drag of my cigarette I thought it only polite to lick my cum off his fingers. I smiled and exhaled smoke into the cool night air as we finished our little “break”.

Cigarettes snubbed & gods offended, we shuffled back inside to finish off the evening. Another condom slapped on Mr. Martini’s dick, promptly used, abused then ripped off. Whether it was his anti-depressants or the utter awkwardness of the situation to a mostly vanilla person, this dude was not cumming anytime soon.

I haven’t really mentioned it yet because it’s hardly a fetish, cream pies are the whole biological point of sex, but I am a fan. A fan of seeing, feeling and tasting people of any gender as they cum. And as any sane adult is aware, it’s not exactly the best idea to gallivant around town sampling semen & other bodily fluids unless you wanna deal with possibly getting sick/get your partner sick…so we did what any safe, sane and consenting adults would do on this situation. I worked finger after finger into my cunt until it made a nice little fist as he watched & jerked himself off to what I can only imagine was a very interesting sight. I couldn’t help giggling to myself during & after. At how humans seek enjoyment, at how comfortable I am with everything that had happened despite it being all new experiences. At how absurdly serious I had taken existence up to this point.

After everything was said & done, sweaty and sore, I leaned again Mr. Martini and traced out constellations in the many freckles covering his arms and legs. After a quick respite, we kissed, said our goodbyes and then X & I headed home for the night. On the way home I found I wanted nothing more than to sink X’s dick as far as possible in my ass. My pussy was satisfied, but my other holes ached to be used & fucked until they were a dripping mess.

The second we got upstairs to our apartment & got into the bed, I demanded my ass receive the dicking of a lifetime. I lubed him up, climbed on top & rode that beautiful cock of his like the world was ending & this was how I wanted to go out. He exploded quickly after, drenching the inside of my tight little asshole with his cum & my carnal cravings were temporarily satiated.

We rolled over to our respective sides of the bed & while X passed out almost immediately (it really is like Ny-Quil sometimes…), I couldn’t stop my mind from going a million miles a minute. I was going over detail of the entire night in my head, burning it into my memory so even if I make it to the toothless old age of dementia, I could still regal the other walking corpses with stories of the day my life officially started in earnest.

It felt like I had made it home and best of all, I’d made it with someone who I genuinely thought was going to make a good partner for it. Sure we’d had our bad times & insanity in the past, but that was all done now, right?

Right.