Wednesday, 16 December 2015


Thank you for keeping your promise of a warm welcome, for allowing me to explore you safely, for reuniting me with old friends and for creating opportunities to make new acquaintances.

I've returned home feeling relaxed and more than a little warm and gooey on the inside.

The city of [sex and] beautiful people, from baristas to passport control officers, has left me inspired, motivated and a longing for more adventures ....

K x

Friday, 27 November 2015

That Friday Feeling

Just how far should we / can we / dare we dress down for Fridays?

Friday, 23 October 2015

Bath Time ...

I honestly can't recall the last occasion I took this much time out for myself but today I switched the phone and emails off, found some relaxing music, lit some candles and ran a bath.


Absolute heaven.

K x

Wednesday, 21 October 2015

Happy Memories

I've known S for a little over a year now. We first met down at Kestrels, on an arranged date, last summer. We spent time by the pool chatting before heading off to the dungeons for some fun.

For our second meet, he whisked me off to a hotel room for some day time play. I enjoyed the whole naughty experience of dressing for him, sneaking off to a rendezvous point and being driven away for a few hours of (not so) guilty pleasure.

We saw each other briefly last December, but socially and only long enough for me to hand over a copy of the *ahem* evidence we had recorded of our time together.

Circumstances prevented us from hooking up again until a few weeks ago, and it was great to be back in the same bed together.

Thursday, 1 October 2015

The C Word (part two)

July 2015

Almost three years to the month, I have another lump in my breast. The similarities in this and the last case are uncanny; my husband discovers the lump during morning sex, it's summer time and our annual family holiday is imminent.

This time the lump on my left boob and feels much bigger than the one I experienced before.  The discovery happens at 6.30am. I'm on the phone to the doctor's surgery at 8am sharp. By 11 o'clock I'm sitting face to face with one of the nicest doctors in our practice. Not that I'm shy on these matters, but I feel its a bonus the doctor is female and probably about my age.

She listens to my concerns and carries out the examination. She checks both breasts and discovers a smaller lump in my right breast too; one I hadn't detected. The most offending intrusion is about an inch in size. Once again, I'm being referred to the breast clinic. The earliest they can see me is ten days away; the Monday following my annual break. I have my holiday and try to switch off but during that time I often kick myself for being lapse with my self examination routine. Life at home was chaotic. My husband was poorly, my dad was in and out of hospital, my daughter was on extended school leave following her GCSE's, I had a new job to think about and I was also coming to terms with the fact a *close friend is a hospice and on borrowed time.  Checking my boobs was the last thing on my mind over the past ten weeks but I was fast realising that no matter what life throws at us, we should always make time for ourselves - however, we choose to spend it.

August 2015

We arrive at the clinic about 8.40am although the appointment isn't until 9am. Its a warm, bright day and sunlight floods through the huge glass panels that adorn the front of the building.
'This is where I brought dad for his biopsy' I tell my husband, once again making small talk to break the silence whilst we waited.

A few minutes after 9 o'clock, we're called through. A nurse goes through the same conversation and I listen intently, even though I've been here before.

My consultant breezes in through the door with a cheerful smile. I instantly take to her. She's about 5' 6", slim and has dark cropped hair. She's wearing a bright flowery dress that has a wrap-over styled top. Her black patent shoes are supported by a modest heel. She introduces herself with a firm handshake.

We go over all the details; when I discovered the lump, have I had them before, does it feel any different etc etc. The physical examination follows and she's almost certain its more cysts but the mammogram and ultrasound are still needed to be absolutely sure. There are lots of reassuring smiles and comments. I'm in good hands.

We share the next waiting room with other patients. There's an elderly woman in a wheelchair accompanied by her husband, a young girl who appears to be with her partner and another female companion and man in his forties/fifties sitting by himself.

I'm called for my mammogram and it's the same procedure as before. Each breast is pressed twice between two clear plates whilst images of my breast tissue can be taken and the nurse operating the machine gives nothing away regarding the scan. She simply asks me to put the cape back on and wait for my ultrasound.

The young girl comes out with her head hung low. She passes a form to one of her friends and I hear the words 'biopsy required'. She couldn't have been much more that twenty. My heart sinks. The man then returns from his mammogram. I feel just a sorry for him too. There on his own and in a predominantly female environment, but we have to remember, no-one has a get out of jail free card when it comes to cancer.

When it comes to my ultrasound I'm feeling relatively relaxed. I lay on the couch and the sonographer introduces himself. There are two female nurses in attendance too. A cold gel is squeezed from a tube on to my right breast then the left. Both lumps are detected and confirmed as cysts.
'I'll drain them now for you and once we're done you can go. You don't need to see the consultant again today'
He then asks for a 5ml and 20ml vile for the drains. Wow. 20ml? That sounds like a lot.
Going for the smallest cyst first, he pushes one side of my breast with the ultrasound camera to get a clear picture and pierces my skin on the opposite side to make the drain. It stings but its soon over.

The left breast proves a little more tricky. The sonographer is sitting on my right side anyway so has to lean over me. Again, he pushes the camera down firmly for a clear picture but the first needle, although it pierces the skin doesn't reach the cyst. He apologies profusely and asks me to turn on to my right side so my left side is more accessible. The second piercing doesn't just sting, it hurts. First one then two tears, slide down my face. The needle moving around inside me doesn't feel pleasant at all. A sharp intake of breath. The nurse asks if I'm okay. I bite my lip and nod. She rubs my arm and holds my arm to comfort me. I try to distract myself by looking at the image on screen but its all blurred due to the tears in my eyes.

Once the procedure is over, a few more tears fall, but I still try to stifle them. The nurse comforts me further and hands me tissues.
'You don't have to move until you're ready. Are you sure you feel okay?'
'Yeah, I'm okay. Just relieved the uncertainty is over and the cysts are gone.'

I blow my nose and gently rise from the bed.

'Thank you so much for everything' I say genuinely, collecting my belongings and exiting the room.

I give my husband the thumbs up. I dress and leave, feeling somewhat more cheerful.

Its only when we get home that my husband confesses to receiving a message whilst we were on our drive to the hospital.

'There's no good time to say this, but *Claire passed away this morning.'

More tears - but this time I let them flow.

K x


This blog has been inspired by the Protect Your Breasts Campaign.
You can follow them on Twitter @PYB_cancer
My thanks to @Cameron_Lincoln for bringing the campaign to my attention and for the gentle encouragement to share my story x

Monday, 28 September 2015

The C Word (part one)


Some people still can't bring themselves to say the word out loud let alone discuss it in public, yet it affects so many of us. I'm not up to date with the statistics but I know I've lost far too many loved ones over the years to the awful illness.

I think it's for this reason that I've been a long term financial supporter of Cancer Research, but about nine years ago, a school friend lost her battle with breast cancer and passed away at the tender age of 40. Since then, I have also supported breast cancer charities. Whether it's dropping a few coins in a collection box on a shop counter, buying t-shirts and pin badges or donating my unwanted bras - I give where I can.

In the summer of 2012, I discovered a lump in my right breast. I say I, it was actually my husband that noticed it. It was one of those Saturday morning cuddles that was meant to lead to sex, but when he fondled my boob he simply said 'Babe, something doesn't feel right'. I checked my breasts simultaneously for comparison then each one in turn. He was right. Something was definitely amiss.

I phoned my GP's surgery first thing on the Monday morning. I didn't give the receptionist a chance to ask whether my symptoms were urgent I just blurted it out 'I need to see a doctor, I've found a lump in my breast.'

Later that day, I'm on the examination table. The doctor confirms the lump. As he completes a referral form he tells me to ignore the word cancer in bold letters at the top. 'Its just a form, it doesn't mean you have cancer. Contact the clinic as soon as you can and get an appointment. They have to see you in the next two weeks for definite'

As soon as I get back to my car, the first thing I do is call the number on the form. I'm in for Thursday that week and extremely grateful the appointment is so soon as I was due to leave the country on an extended family holiday the following weekend.

The wait was awful. Seriously, I don't recall eating or sleeping much in those few days and I kept myself to myself. I confided in no-one and just functioned on automatic pilot.

The day of my appointment came and I booked in at reception. I don't know what was going through my mind at that stage if I'm honest as I sat and waited, but there was lots of nervous half hearted smiles and hand holding going on between me and my partner.

When I got called in to the consultation room, a nurse explained the procedure to me; consultants examination, mammogram and possibly an ultrasound. She asked me to undress my top half, pop my clothes into the basket provided and put a cape on so it opens at the front.

Following routine questions from the consultant I'm examined. Like my doctor, he confirms the lump and duly draws a cross in black marker pen where the offending lump is felt. X marks the spot.

The nurse then took me to the next waiting area for my mammogram. My husband is allowed to wait with me, but I have to go in alone. I removed the cape and stand upright against a machine. My breast was placed carefully between two clear plates; once from top to bottom and then again sideways on. The procedure was done for both breasts despite a lump only being detected on one side.

I then wait for my ultrasound. Again, I have to go alone. Thankfully it's confirmed that the lump is a harmless cyst, a fluid filled sac that can easily be drained, should I choose. Yes, of course I want it drained. If I don't, I'm going to be forever conscious of it and probably unable to detect if it ever changes.

The consultant is pleased with my decision and confesses he wouldn't have been happy if I'd have left without having it done.  He pierced the cyst with his first insertion and the whole affair was over and done with before I knew it. Painless really. A bit like having a blood test.

Before I left, I'm assured once again that the cyst is just that and perfectly harmless but I'm made aware they are likely to re-occur so regular self examination is vital so they can be treated without delay.

I thank the staff for their kind and compassionate attention and walk away relieved, hoping I don't have to go back.

Footnote: This blog has been inspired by the Protect Your Breasts Campaign.
You can follow them on Twitter @PYB-cancer

Thursday, 17 September 2015

Lessons Learned

Well, that's the first time I've had to use the report button on FabSwingers.

I started chatting with a nice guy on Monday this week and he asks if I'm interested in meeting up, having responded to my status update saying he was available all this week. We exchange a few messages, he's polite, respectful and articulate. Military. Home on leave for a week. He's a good looking guy, yes I'm interested, even though I duly note he has been on the site for eight months and has no verifications. I really do try not to judge people too much on this score, particularly if they are in the services, as time serving away will obviously impede on their leisure activities. So we continue to chat. He tells me which town he lives in and I propose we meet this morning. Yes, that's fine he replies. I ask him for his phone number and I get blanked. I can see he's logged on to his account (twice) but my message went unread.

I'm not angry, but simply frustrated that users think they can get away with this behaviour. Activity such as this, gives genuine people a bad name and I think single guys get a raw enough deal as it is.

I've met several people in the past that will only visit clubs when it's for couples only, declaring the single guy market spoil the atmosphere, are troublesome and disrespectful, because they believe they are entitled to a fuck because they've paid their entrance fee.

Hand on heart, in my five years of swinging, I've never had an issue with single guys being disrespectful or bothersome for that matter. Sure, there's often a herd (or pack as they are sometimes described) that follow players from room to room and a few guys have let their uninvited hands wander whilst I've been playing, but a polite no thank you has always been enough to make them retreat and continue watching from the side lines.

It's all about respect. Treat others as you would wish to be treated yourself. It's simple.

However, the swinging scene does not need time wasters (singles or couples alike) and I'm afraid I've had two too many recently. Hopefully by reporting him, I'll be doing everyone (including him) a favour.

K x

Wednesday, 16 September 2015

Starting Over

I'm not sure why, but I feel I need to share this post. This was the first post I'd written in a long, long time, but when the moment came to hit the publish button, I stopped myself. I just don't think the timing was right. However, I don't want the experience of my new beginning to go unshared, so here it is.....

First things first: renew FabSwingers membership, update status, upload new images and wait for mail. Within the first minute I had four messages from new contacts. I took a deep breath and opened each one in turn, checking profiles and verifications carefully before deciding on how to respond. More messages came in. So many one liners, deleted and blocked as appropriate. I take a quick glance through the last 100 that checked out my profile. One avatar catches my eye. He's 26, local and military. I take a closer look. He's new to the site and my filters block him from making the first move. I take the matter in hand, send a wink and open up the conversation. Five minutes later, we're talking. He's articulate, polite and friendly. Strike while the iron is hot - I propose we meet up. He's away for the weekend so I have to wait until next week to see him. I have a good feeling about this one but more on this at a later date (hopefully).

I went on to arrange two socials in a major town not too far from home.

Friday 28th August

My first date turned up in shorts and a lambretta t shirt. It's 9.30am and thankfully very quiet in the coffee shop so we can chat without the worry of anyone eavesdropping . He's a nice enough guy, pleasant, laid back and clearly a little nervous. We chat easily but after a while I confess he's not for me. We part with a smile and head off in different directions.

I have plenty of time before my next date.

I make my way directly to M&S in search of new underwear. I spend time browsing the entire department before finally selecting matching bra and briefs in a dark coral colour. The tone complements my slightly tanned skin and I'm delighted I can purchase a 34B and not my usual 36 B/C cup.
I make polite conversation with the check out assistant as she processes my card payment and bags my purchases.
She smiles and bids me a good day.

I head out into the sunshine but before I know it, I'm in Waterstones. I'm instantly seduced by the sight and smell of all the books on display. I browse the table tops and scan the wonderful array of front covers. I admire the artwork, photography, different fonts and all the gloss.  I run my hands slowly over the embossed covers.  I pick books up, I put them down.. I seriously doubt I shall ever concede to buying an e reader, I'm far too tactile and traditional not to read a proper book.

I move around the store not knowing what I'm looking for. I didn't come in for anything specific but I so rarely have chance to wander in such wonderful places on my own. I want to buy something. I ask an assistant to point me in the direction of the photography section. It's exactly where he said. Upstairs and to the right of the counter. I tilt my head sideways and read the spines. No. Nothing is jumping out at me. The next section is Art. On the bottom shelf I find a Jack Vettriano. Perfect. I've admired his work for some time. This will be a great source of inspiration, I'm sure. A last minute look before heading back downstairs and I spy a book in the music section that will make the ideal birthday gift for my husband. I leave feeling wonderfully happy.

Next stop Ann Summers. They've upped their game over the past few years but today I wasn't  inspired at all by their underwear range. I did however purchase lubricant and a vibrating cock ring. The assistant was petite, young and slender. She wore very dark lipstick and had two or three small piercings to her lips and nose. Very pretty. Also very informative with an excellent sales pitch.

Back in the shopping centre, I stop off at a shoe shop and purchase new boots for autumn/winter. Nothing too lavish or expensive but very practical.

I check the time; 11.20am. I wander towards the market square to find the meeting place with my next date. I can't find the street on which the café is located so ask a bus driver for directions. He's nice, tall, of mixed race and a feint Scouse accent. I walk away thinking 'mmm, yes I probably would' [fuck him].

I find the coffee shop tucked down a side street/ quiet lane but I'm way too early for my date. I wander further on intending to kill time but the heat and my heels get the better of me so I turn back.

I step inside the cafe and order a mineral water at the counter
The waitress offers to bring it over to me.
I'll be outside I tell her.

I sit at one of three tables in the shade and instantly dive into my bag to check my phone.
One missed call. One txt. I reply to the latter.
My drink arrives, served on a tiny tray.
I take a long sip which hits the spot immediately.
I return the missed call. I'm on the phone when my date arrives.
One glance at him and I know instantly this isn't going to go beyond this meeting.
However I smile at him as I conclude my phone conversation.

We chat. He's quietly spoken, new to the scene. There's one or two awkward silences. After half an hour or so I'm honest with him and say he's not for me. He thanks me for meeting him and for all the help and advice, shakes my hand and leaves. I breathe a sigh of relief.

I had high hopes of at least one of my dates coming up to scratch but it wasn't to be. Within the lifestyle there are several things I don't do and compromising on standards is one of them. This has never been a numbers game. There has to be an attraction, a connection and a chemistry.

I finish my water, exchange my heels for a pair of flats I had the foresight to slip in my bag before I left home and head back to the car.

It's home time. I had Friday night and a long weekend ahead of me.

Thursday, 10 September 2015

A Glimmer of Hope ...

Lost among the highs and lows of the last six days, and wondering where my next blog would come from, I've finally had time to sit and reflect on recent activities. Part of that reflection was reading over last week's blog, to remind myself where I'd started to bring you up to date.

I never ventured to a coffee shop in the finish, the reason being, I did in fact find myself a date. Well, he found me, to be fair. Tom & I had communicated briefly before, about two months ago, but as is with swinging, our other lives prevented us from meeting thus far. He responded to my status update on Fabswingers and I told him my disappointing situation.

"I don't suppose you are free to meet for a drink this afternoon, are you?" I asked
"As long as you don't mind me turning up in my work clothes ...?"

I didn't. Less than an hour later, we are sat in a pub garden, enjoying a drink and each other's company. We chatted easily and openly, about the swinging scene and we both hoped to get out of it.

Tom is a lovely guy, who dips in and out of the swinging scene as and when he has time. He prefers more intimate meets, either one on one's or a threesome and quite honestly, I'm happy with that :-)

As ever, I'll keep you posted.

K x

Friday, 4 September 2015

A False Start ...

I'm drained of energy. I've had a tough week on the back of a long, drawn out, barren summer and was simply looking for some hot, horny fun today to release a few pressure valves.

As it sometimes goes with the swinging lifestyle, my social date today cancelled on me with half and hour's notice. Of course I'm disappointed but in all honesty I'm not surprised. His ability to talk the talk was all very exciting and I will admit I got somewhat carried away at the thought of finally adding a member of the Navy to my list of uniformed conquests, but when it came down to it, he clearly couldn't walk the walk. Que sera, sera.

So where did that leave me this morning? All dressed up and nowhere to go.

By the time I got on line to advertise my late availability for a social most users had had their morning browse of the site and were already engaged in their own day to day business of work and pleasure. However, I persist with finding a new date and try to blog (this is my third attempt and all topics have been different) in between checking my messages.

FabSwingers is a terrific website but like most swinging sites, it has its fair share of users that just don't bother to read the details. Potential suitors forget to send face photos with messages, you receive winks from guys that live an unreasonable distance away and of course there are the guys that send the ubiquitous cock shots telling you where and how they'd like to shoot their load.

It can be disheartening at the best of times, but today the process has left me utterly exhausted.
I'm definitely in need fresh air and possibly more coffee so I'm off out to find a café and hopefully some company too.

Let's see what happens.

K x

Sunday, 30 August 2015

Brief Update

I'm back. It's been over three years since my last post and much has happened since then. I never moved away from the scene, I just stopped writing about my experiences. I lost my mojo - or more to the point, I lost my biggest source of motivation and encouragement.

You may remember Dark Knight, my co-author and of course, lover. It's a long story but in short, he fell in love and left the scene.  We created some terrific memories, both socially and physically and together we explored and pushed boundaries but I always knew deep down it would never last forever. I am genuinely happy that after years of being in a platonic marriage, he has at last, found true happiness.

So, what about me? you ask.

I can't really recall the end of 2012, but the year after I received an exciting invitation, which couldn't be ignored. Despite a few nerves and doubts, I embarked on the opportunity to pursue two of my other passions in life and as one project came to a close, so another one opened.

Last year couldn't have been much different as life pretty much went on hold due to ill health. Thankfully after a few months however, I was back on the road to recovery and having not played for some considerable time, I had an itch that needed scratching.........

K x