Women I’ve slept with Part 6 – Ep3 : All good things …

At the end of Episode 2, when I had to leave you to relieve my self, my cock had been engorged at the memory of making Geri cum in public just by talking to her, and then making her cum some more, until she almost fainted. Having played around a little with bondage games and having purchased a CB2000 chastity cage, it was inevitable that the tables would be turned – there was a debt to be settled.
(NB The link above takes to you the manufacturer of the CB2000, though it is no longer in production and has been superseded, both in the market place and in my collection, by other devices.)

Occasionally we’d go out of an evening with only one of us knowing where we were going. And so, with my cock restrained in my chastity cage, we headed for the centre of the city. I had no sense of our destination, but I was confident I was going to get teased, and teased hard. When we found ourselves at a strip club I understood Geri’s plan.

She choose a couple of seats right next to the elevated dance floor and, before we’d even enjoyed a single dance, she started stroking my inner thigh and telling me how much of a bastard I’d been to her on the train and sofa. Now it was her turn. We had a couple of drinks as a procession of dancers stripped and gyrated, all the while, Geri asking me if I liked the girl on stage, if I thought she had nice tits, whether I liked how she’d trimmed or shaved her muff, if I’d like to taste her pussy or fuck her. To say I was getting hard understates things a little – the cock cage I was wearing is designed to stop you getting an erection, and when you do, it gets quite uncomfortable. I tried to concentrate on something other than the striptease in front of us, but whenever Geri caught me looking away she’d threaten to keep me under lock and key for a week. After 4 or 5 women had displayed themselves for our pleasure on stage, I was led off to a booth with a curtain, and I was told to sit down and wait, while Geri went off to find “her new best friend”. Before long she returned with a stripper and it was obvious what was going to happen next. She drew the booth’s curtains behind her and started to dance. Obviously, in such circumstances, punters are not allowed to touch, and I couldn’t even get hard. This was torture and Geri was loving it. She was obviously enjoying the show too (I could tell that from the twinkle in her eyes and the way her erect nipples were clearly visible through her shirt) and she continued her commentary, asking me if I was enjoying the show and whether it was turning me on. Geri also gave instructions to the stripper, and before long she was completely naked, with a foot on the banquette and her heart shaped bush no more that a couple of inches from my face. My cock and balls hurt. Not serious pain, but serious discomfort and I think Geri must have guessed. As the dancer departed, Geri handed me the key to the padlock keeping me restrained so I could free myself in the Gents’ … but on the strict condition that I didn’t touch myself and saved my cum for her.

I think some weeks after that I tied her to the bed, unceremoniously shoved her vibrator up her cunt, and left her alone in the flat whilst I went out to buy some milk.
And so the games went on.

But our fun wasn’t restricted to bondage related games.
Not long before I started dating Geri, I’d started trimming my pubes, and when she eventually took me to task, she issued a threat: she’d always waxed her legs and bikini line for her boyfriends, and if I wanted to fuck her again any time soon, I’d have to let her wax me. Well what was I supposed to do? Abandon her pussy for possibly months on end? Not a chance. So she waxed all my body hair, except for my arms and pubes. It felt great once it was done (not so much whilst it was being done), and although I’ve never since had my legs waxed (and don’t really have any significant hair on my torso), my trimming turned to shaving, which as you know, Dear Reader, led to me getting a crack and sack wax on a regular basis.

These days, with the advent of digital cameras, I suspect many more people are producing home made pron for their own delectation. Some of it is consentually published on amateur porn websites such as LMNB, and when it feature celebrities, some of it is leaked to the tabloids. But back when Geri and I were together, stills were still on film and movies were still on tape. My (male) flat mate at the time was definitely porn fan, and I discovered this whilst looking for Hoover bags in his absence. I didn’t find any, but I did unearth his extensive porn VHS collection. I was curious. Hell, who wouldn’t be. I played a few movies. There was some left field stuff like German dwarf porn, and some incredibly good stuff too, but Mark was also careless enough to leave a Hi8 cassette and a VHS adaptor amongst the commercial offerings. I was curious. I was shamless. I found myself watching him fuck and finger his ex girlfriend (to be accurate, he all but fisted her), whilst filming her cunt in close up full screen detail. It was horny. Very horny. I jerked off to it. I told Geri about it, and whilst she never saw the footage, she subsequently borrowed a video camera from a family member and whilst it wasn’t regular, Geri and I filmed ourselves fucking, sucking and wanking each other. Some of it was a little kinky, there was a little bondage involved, and it was most certainly graphic. I’d love to have a copy of it now, to see if the sex was as gratuitous as I remember. I hope Geri didn’t destroy the tapes, and I’d love to think that she and her husband have watched it together. Maybe it’s even out there on the internet somewhere. I have but one remaining photo of her naked, and I hope she wouldn’t object too much if I share it with you.

Having dated and fucked Geri for about 5yrs, I’m sad to say, my eye and libido started to wander. And over the next couple of years I fucked two other women, without Gerri knowing. I am not proud of this, but you shall hear my confessions about The Kiwi and Fiona in blogs yet to be written. By the time I started fucking Fiona, Geri and I were on shakey ground, and our sex life had largely dried up. We slept together, but that was about it. (The observant amateur sex therapists amongst you may start to notice echoes of my current relationship here, and although it has never particularly struck me before, you’d probably be right.) Meanwhile, Fiona and I were at it like rabbits. Knowing just how nymphomanic she was, and suspecting her favours were not exclusively shared with me, I was more than a little wary when, one day, I noticed I had peeling skin around my cock and balls. At some point during our more promiscuous years, many of us will find ourselves attending an STD clinic, and this was to result in my first visit. As has been pretty consistent with my visit to GUM departments, the first order of proceedings was the sexual history questionnaire: how many partners did I currently have, what genders were they, had I had unprotected sex with them, had the sex been manual, oral, vaginal and/or anal, and what were their first names? This last point resulted in the nurse pausing:
Nurse: You say you’ve not had sex with any men, can I just clarify – your current partner is Jerry?
Me: Ah, no, Geri, short for Geraldine. Female.
Nurse: I’ll note her down as Geraldine then, just to avoid confusion.
And then she proceeded to take test swabs from under my foreskin and within my urethra.
A few days later, the results came through and I nervously phoned the clinic. Fortunately I had no sexually transmitted diseases, internally or externally, and all I had was a common, minor, fungal infection, a bit like Athletes’ Foot

(For the record, if the infamous STD clinic penis scraping umbrella implement ever existed, medical practice had moved on, and whilst the urethral swab was not comfortable, and is stung when I pissed for a couple of days, the experience was not remotely as excruciating as mythology would have us believe.)

Not too long after that, Geri and I split up. It’s actually the only occasion when I have actively ended a relationship. The only time I’ve uttered the painfully words I think we should stop seeing each other. A mutual friend later put it to me that Geri had always been on a mission to catch a husband, and this had become increasingly apparent over the past year or so. I was probably commitment-phobic at the time, and I was having great sex with Fiona. Not a recipe for longevity in a relationship.

Our parting was shortly before my 30th birthday, and as we’d planned my birthday celebrations together, and we still naively expected to remain friends, Geri joined me and about 10 friends in a self catering cottage for a long weekend. Just as we had started, I was for some reason oblivious to what was going on, and whilst I noticed her wearing thin flouncey dresses that were extremely short with plunging neck lines, catching far too many glimpses of her be-thonged arse, and repeatedly noticing she wasn’t wearing a bra, it took another friend to point out to me that Geri was flirting with me like a whore with large debts to pay. I simply didn’t notice at the time.

Geri was one of the most sexual partners I’ve ever had, and I occasionally wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t broken up, or if it had occurred to me to make more of our mutual love of fucking before we parted company. How kinky would we have got, would we have tried a threesome, anal, fetish parties and swinging? I don’t know, but I’m absolutely certain that the guy she subsequently married must be having far better sex now that I am.

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