Suzanne Portnoy

It’s rare that a holiday actually exceeds my expectations, but then, Cap D’Adge is no ordinary place. A purpose built naturist village 45 minutes outside Montpelier, at times it felt like being in a naked version of The Prisoner whilst at other times it was like a scene out of Caligula. Imagine naked senior citizens riding bicycles alongside naked twenty-something hotties straight out of an Abercrombie and Fitch catalogue. Imagine sitting down on a beach surrounded by hundreds of naked people. Then imagine fucking your partner on the same beach whilst fifty men hover around you, hoping to get sloppy seconds.

Sitting in my kitchen now, thinking back on the last three days, I can’t quite believe that I really did manage to gush for the first time, by a perfect stranger who’s face I only saw when I took off my blindfold in a sex club full of hundreds of beautiful people. Or that I sucked off the most gorgeous, tall, dark and handsome french man through a gloryhole. ‘Hi,’ he said when I passed him in one of the many narrow corriders in the club.

‘Hi,’ I said back, not having the faintest idea who he was.

‘You don’t remember me,’ he said.

‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t.’

‘You sucked me off in the dark room,’ he said.

‘Oh, right. Maybe,’ I laughed.

‘Anyway,’ he said. ‘Thank you!’

A good holiday can live or die by the group of people one is with. Of the six people in my group, I knew two - my swinging partner of almost four years and a guy I fucked once at the Gatwick Hilton when my flight was delayed for 6 hours. The rest were perfect strangers, although after our first night together we all were the best of friends, having sucked and fucked each other. I demonstrated my vibrating anal beads. One of the guys brought out his double ended dildo. One of the girls showed us the toy that makes her gush like a hose that has been turned on full. It was an original first night.

The rest of the weekend was spent lying on the beach, entertaining the beach crowd in the afternoon - me with my deep throat blowjobs and the girls by fucking and sucking off as many guys as they could handle. Then it was back to our villa to get changed into our most glamorous, sexy clothes for the evening. Late dinners were followed by very late nights. ‘Ah… ze anglais,’ said one French men in the sex club. ‘They are ze crazy ones!’

I wouldn’t be surprised if the residents are talking about us right now. What a weekend!

Timing is everything.  Last night I finally consummated the relationship with the hunky American guy at a swinger’s party in Southeast London.  It was not the ideal place to have sex but at least during the long drive down there, I got to spend some quality time with him.   He wasn’t in the best of moods, having had a heated phone call only a couple of hours earlier with his ex-girlfriend, a famous porn star.  He had told me about her during our first and only coffee together but had made it sound like ancient history.  As it turned out, it was still working itself out and not very happily from the sound of it either. 

That set off alarm bells in my head.  I’ve been a rebound girl once before and it was a terrible experience.  So, with that in mind, I forgot about thinking of him as a possible bf and concentrated instead on just having fun.  I’m not easily intimidated but then I’ve never dated a guy who has dated a famous porn star and I couldn’t help wondering whether I’d make the grade.

As it turned out, the party was pretty dismal but he did the gentlemanly thing and gave me some world class cunnilingus.  After a half hour there we drove back to mine and had a horny time trying out all the furniture in my kitchen.  He had an incredibly good body - 6′ something and all hard muscles, broad shoulders, beautiful rounded ass and a gorgeous cock.   And he could fuck too, although I wished we’d had all night and not the hour left in his diary until he had to relieve the babysitter of her duties.  I’ve lost count of the number of men I know operating on such tight schedules! 

Who knows what will happen next.  He has all the qualities to be a keeper but only time will tell.  Timing really is everything.  I get the feeling his porn star girlfriend isn’t gone for good.  Besides, he’s off on another business trip this week and I’m heading into a full-on promo schedule for ‘Not So Invisible.’  Today I went into Books Etc. and signed about twenty copies that were in their Valentine’s Day promotion.   It’s all good.

I arrived at the airport at 4pm for my flight just over 2 hours later. I was about eighth in the queue, just behind two hunky late-twenty-something guys and in front of a slim, tall single woman who looked in her early thirties.

‘The flight’s not leaving until 4am,’ I heard her say.

That made me look up from starring at my passport. ‘Did you say 4am,’ I turned to her and said.

‘Yeh,’ she said. ‘Somebody had a heart attack on the way in to London and they had to divert the plane. I hear they’re putting us up in the Hilton next door until 2am or something.’

‘Great,’ I said and turned to the guys in front of me. There’s nothing like a crisis to bring a bunch of people together. ‘Guys, we’re not leaving until 4am.’

By the time I got to the front of the queue we were all talking like long-lost friends. That didn’t change the fact that it was only 4pm and 4am seemed a long way away. Too long, I thought, to be spending it all by myself, especially with a free hotel room just a short distance away.

I spent a long time in duty free browsing, had some dinner at the airport, before strolling casually over to the Hilton where I found the two guys from the check-in queue.

They were sitting in the bar, nursing a pint each. ‘Mind if I join you?’ I said.

‘Go right ahead,’ they both replied in unison and I sunk down into an comfy armchair and ordered a ludricously expensive glass of red wine.

We started chatting while I scrawled through the names on my phone until I came to A, my long time swinging partner, who spent a lot of time in Brighton, a stone’s throw from the airport.

‘Hey, honey,’ I said. ‘I’m stuck in Gatwick for the next twelve hours. Where are you?’

‘London,’ he said.

‘Damn,’ I replied. ‘That’s a real shame. I’ve got a free hotel room too. You don’t know anyone near Gatwick, do you?’

‘Ummm,’ he said. ‘Probably. Let me think about that.’

Twenty minutes later I had a number and by midnight, T’s big, hard cock was banging away in my pussy. He was my type too - in his fifties and slim with a shaven head and a nice 8″ dick that seemed to be permanently hard.

‘We’ve met before,’ he said as he was fucking me from behind.

‘Have we?’ I said. ‘I don’t remember.’

‘In the Tower,’ he said.

‘Oh, THAT night,’ I said, remembering a very late night swinging party that I’d attended with A a few year’s earlier. Only we’d arrived too late and all the guests had gone except T and a couple of other guys that were on a bed together giving this woman a really good fucking. I guess T was one of the guys though I couldn’t remember him.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And now I know why A loves fucking you so much. You’re fantastic.’

‘Thanks,’ I said while moving into position on the bed so he could take me from on top. Then he bent down to kiss me and I felt him get harder inside me.

‘I want to get on top,’ I said and we reversed position so that he was on the bottom. I started to grind on his cock, feeling him sliding in and out of me until I could feel my orgasm building. I came and then pulled out of him and moved down his body.

I took him in my mouth, sliding my tongue up and down the shaft and circling his cock with my mouth.

‘You love that,’ he said. ‘I read your book. Am I going to be in your next one?’

That made me feel a bit weird. I hate men thinking I only have sex for research purposes. I don’t. I was with T because I was stuck at the airport and he lived in West Sussex. I had time to fill and he was there.

I ignored his question and carried on sucking. ‘I’m going to come,’ he said and then I felt his warm spunk hit the back of my throat. I swallowed it down and sat up. I looked at my watch. It was 1.30am. ‘Good timing,’ I said.

We both got off the bed and started to get dressed.

We kissed goodbye in the hotel lounge and I made my way back to the airport. Sitting in the waiting area, about to board my plane, I texted A.

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘T was perfect. See you in the New Year.’

‘Glad I could help,’ he texted back. ‘Enjoy your holiday.’

Boy, I love my pals.