I’m fifty-six now, only a few months short of fifty-seven years old, and the last six years have passed in a blur—a blur of sexual excess and pleasure.
But let me recap events a little. I managed three more meet-ups with Rob and John and their Uni friends before they both, and indeed some of the others, graduated. Each session was as sex filled as the last. Weekends of utter excess, and I had no idea how I could replicate them, knowing full well that I now crave group sex, or gangbangs as some of the lads refer to them. However, Rob and John solved that particular problem at the very last minute of the last weekend we spent together.
As they were about to leave, Rob casually announced that he had passed my phone number to Clive and Pete, who are a year behind at Uni, and they would happily keep entertaining me, as well as introducing new players to the scene. I pretended to be shocked; in reality, I was ecstatic. Rob gave me their numbers too.
And so it has continued year after year; new lads replace the old, and I now meet them eight times a year, approximately every six weeks, still at the house in Thrinkstone, which I now own. How much longer this arrangement will last, I have no idea. I'm not getting any younger, and the age gap is increasing each year. However, the lads don't seem to show any signs that that bothers them. It may even be a turn-on for some of them. So it is probably down to me when I want to stop. It could be a while!
As for Rob and John, John is marrying a lovely girl ten years his senior next year who, according to John, is very understanding of his voyeurism fetish. He has not elaborated on that, and I don’t see him that often. Conversely, Rob is still playing the field and, as far as I am concerned, is an opportunist. That is, every opportunity he gets, he fucks me! As Rob returns to see his parents every five or six weeks, he visits reasonably often. He pops in to say hello, he tells his parents! Rob never stays long; I think he is trying to break some record to see just how quickly he can get into my knickers! To aid him in this endeavour, I refrain from wearing any when I know he is coming to visit his parents. Going knickerless gives another kind of thrill when friends come around, too. So naughty for a respectable person like me!
Amy still supplements her income with my body. However, she quickly learned more about the sex trade and teamed up with the guys from the sex shop in Nottingham. So instead of the group sex situation that started her career, she has moved on to running a brothel. She hires me, and others, mainly students, out for half an hour at a time, with fifteen minutes to clean and tidy up before the next client. I visit Amy every fourth weekend of the month and work on Saturdays and Sundays from the first appointment at noon to the last at midnight. That’s usually twelve clients per day, with a two-hour break at tea time. Amy is making a killing off me because she keeps all the money; I'm a gifted amateur. Not a prostitute.
Now to Gaby. She has been living with me for the last three years or so. She found a new job with better money and prospects in Milton Keynes, and she had to move. With MK only five minutes down the road, I invited her to stay with me until she got settled.
Gaby was astounded by the difference between my respectable executive persona and the one she knew! Knee-length skirts, button-to-neck blouses, glasses, hair tied up or pulled back, and sensible shoes. Not at all what she was used to! She had to make some significant adjustments to how she interacted with me.
However, everything went well; I converted Ken's old study into a neat little snug, which Gaby appreciated and initially took advantage of when she wanted to invite friends around. Plus, we occasionally indulged in sexual dalliances, which was a nice benefit.
But she is still here with no sign of moving out, and has fewer and fewer friends over. Also, she has been sharing my bed every night for the last twelve months or so. Yes, for sleeping! I am not sure what is going on, but I'm not complaining. It would be nice to know her thoughts and plans, though.
As for me, I resigned from the NHS three years ago; work was getting in the way of fun, and I don't need the money. And the fun keeps on coming. Michael's words from all those years ago haunt me: 'Be careful, the more you have, the more you will need.' He was referring to pain and BDSM; however, it translates to pleasure and being fucked, too.
My student weekends and monthly forays into Amy's brothel leave too much time with no action, and I found it very frustrating. To stop the frustration from becoming overwhelming, I now go dogging five or six times a year, fine weather only! This is a great release; being raw and visceral, and never knowing what will happen, adds an edge to the sex. In the winter I go clubbing; sometimes BDSM clubs, usually straight swingers clubs.
My diary is full. Speaking of which, I continued Ken's practice of documenting my encounters. It makes for frightening reading; well, the reading part is fine and raunchy. The numbers are scary! I'm getting fucked on average 12 times a week!? Of course I'm not actually doing it that much per week, but in large numbers, infrequently. Long may I last.
This will be the end of my tale; I can't see me adding anything new. I hope you have enjoyed reading my story as much as I have enjoyed living it.
