Date: Mon, 22 Jan 2007 20:49:53 +0000
From: funtime danny <funtimedanny@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Danny is Horny 2: Intense sex

A lot of you seem to have had fun with the account of my encounter with
Steve. It's surprised me how much of a turn-on it is to think of guys
wanking and getting off to something you have written. So am encouraged to
write something again, much sooner than I expected. All your comments have
been making me so horny that I seem to have a constant hard-on at the
moment so may as well try and write something while I am on a role!

Nothing worth writing about has happened in last couple of days, but I
thought I might have a go at recounting something that happened about a
year ago and has had a big and lasting impact on my sexual feelings. It was
an intense sexual experience and not sure how good I will be at getting it
across. Let me know if it does anything for you at
Funtimedanny@hotmail.co.uk

Fuck, maybe I'm weird or something, but I've got a raging hard-on again
just from starting to write and thinking about what I'm going to say. It's
going to end up one- handed typing like last time!

Like I said, this happened about a year ago. I guess I am quite an average
sort of Gay guy in terms of gets me horned up. There are some guys whose
looks and demeanours turn me on more than others, but I like a wide
range. Not keen on the extremes: really, really fat or really, really
skinny and I suppose if I am honest I don't like really small cocks of
under 3-4". But otherwise pretty broad range of attraction.  Thinking about
it, its more the sex itself that turns me on rather than just the
looks. It's what actually happens between me and other guys that makes or
breaks the experience, although there are some clothes and underwear that
get me going a bit.

I also enjoy a broad range of sexual fun, at lots of different levels. The
loving but still powerful sex my partner and I have after more than ten
years is great. And we have some fun times together in threesomes and
groups. But I also enjoy horny one-to-ones with other guys like I described
with Steve. Sometimes I like going to saunas or sex parties with loads of
sex, in groups and with different guys. There's a bit of an exhibitionist
in me; especially when I am fucking someone, I like being watched by
others. And a few times I have wanked in places where I know people are
watching me and that also really turns me on. Sometimes I go mad for cock,
I just want to be on my knees sucking dick, or wanking other guys' cocks,
kissing them and so on.  Although I tend more to be a top, I sometimes like
being fucked hard -- I love that sensation when a big powerful cock is
inside you and stroking your prostate to an ecstasy that goes on much
longer than what you get just from spunking a load, good though that is. I
quite enjoy entering into a role-play that turns the other person on and
makes them wild for me, but have never particularly felt the need for a
specific role myself and I'm not into the extreme dominant or submissive
role or S and M.

So, what happened a year ago was quite unexpected. I discovered something
deep inside me that I didn't know was there. And it's had a long-term
impact on my sex life.

I was staying in London on business. I had fantasized a bit about the desk
clerk at the hotel and even dropped a hint, but I knew those sorts of
things only happened in stories. I was lying on my bed feeling horny and
stroking myself a bit, but felt like more than a wank. You know what it's
like. There are some times when wanking just doesn't feel enough. Trouble
was, it was Monday and the sex club I sometimes go to when in London wasn't
open. I didn't feel like going through the long rituals of picking someone
up in a Gay bar or standing around in the cold in the cruising area I knew
-- which was a bit unreliable anyway. There was another pub nearby, called
Central Station that is a usual Gay pub upstairs, but has an 'underground'
bar downstairs that caters for 'special interests', i.e. cruising and sex
for people with different fetishes or desires. I had been a couple of times
to their Thursday night session that was a fairly straightforward night of
cruising and group sex in the back rooms. I wasn't sure what was on on a
Monday, but decided to walk up and take a look.

I saw at the door that it was something called 'Dress Code Reduction'. You
got a reduced entry if you were dressed in a variety of things like rubber,
or leather, or as a skinhead, or in bottomless underwear. Otherwise you had
to pay the full 5 pounds.  Never been into leather, rubber etc particularly,
although I can get turned on by guys dressed in it just because of what it
says about their enjoyment of sex. Anyway I went down to the pay desk and
cloakroom. You could see through a glass window in the door that there was
a wide range of people in there: some just in underwear; one or two
completely naked; some in uniforms of one kind or another; a scattering of
leather, rubber and chains; and quite a few just in ordinary clothes. It
seemed pretty horny and accepting of a wide variety, so I decided to go in.

I realised I had come out in jeans that I didn't really want to get spunk
or anything else on, so given the variety of dress inside, I checked them
in, together with my sweatshirt, so that I just had my trainers and socks
on, my white CKs and a light blue T-shirt. I was quite pleased with the
effect in the mirror -- I thought it made me look quite boyish and
cute. Still, it wasn't enough for the reduction -- I had to pay the full
entrance fee!

You entered directly into a bar area where people were drinking and
chatting or watching the sex videos on the various screens that were dotted
around. In one or two places guys were touching each other up a bit or
kissing, but the main sex activity took place in other parts. Off to the
left were the toilets where on a Thursday evening at least there were
sometimes quite heavy sex scenes. Off to the right was an area where lots
of smaller spaces and passages were created by cloth sheets hanging from
the ceiling. Lots of sex there. Back from these were a couple of 'back
rooms', one of which had a sling in the middle of it. All sorts went on in
these.

I got a drink and people-watched for a while. A mix. Some really good
looking guys, others more average, but looking pretty horny in their
various get-ups. When there are videos on, I always feel my eyes drawn to
them. Tonight they seemed mainly to be leather stuff, mild S and M, some
domination scenes with groups of lads pissing and fucking guys who were
pretending they were reluctant! I found I was absent mindedly stroking
myself through my CKs. Like most of the guys I was at least semi-hard most
of the time -- not sure if it was the videos or the expectation.

After a couple of drinks I started to explore the curtained area. There
were more group sessions and actual anal fucking than I remembered there
being on a Thursday. I wasn't ready to join in yet, but spent some time
cruising around. There were some hot scenes that I watched and I got out my
cock and wanked sometimes as I looked at the action.

One scene I remember was especially hot. There was a guy on his back on the
floor his legs up in the air being fucked by a guy with leather straps all
over him. It seems to me that quite often guys' cocks go limp when they are
being fucked, but this guy had a huge boner that was being wanked by
another guy kneeling next to them.  A fourth guy was crouched over the man
being fucked and getting his arse rimmed while he wanked and sucked off a
fifth guy who was fully dressed with his cock out of his jeans. There were
a couple of guys around standing back and wanking like me.  Someone came up
behind me and pushed my hand off my cock and started wanking it while I
watched the mini-orgy in front of me. I ignored the guy playing with my
dick, but enjoyed the sensations of his hand running up and down it. Then I
felt him come round, kneel on the floor and start to suck me. I looked down
briefly. An older guy in an open-collar shirt and trousers and his mouth
was hot. He was alternatively sucking me and licking my balls and under to
my arse, which I really like, so I let him enjoy himself on me while I
watched the scene in front. The guy in leather straps withdrew, ripped off
his rubber and spunked over the guy he had been fucking, just like in a
porn movie. That, though, seemed a sort of signal to end the scene and it
dissolved. I gently pulled the guy off my cock, bent down and kissed the
top of his head in thanks and moved on.

In the sling room there was a guy in the sling, with his legs up in the air
being fisted by a daddy-bear type in leather. It didn't do much for me
really, but the periodic yells of real ecstasy every time his prostrate was
rubbed was quite a turn-on,

By this time I was pretty horned up and ready to engage in some good randy
sex. I entered the back room that didn't have the sling in it and stood
against the wall. There were a couple of others stood around stroking their
cocks and watching some guys in the middle of the room who were just all
over each other. There were about six of them, all of them naked or just in
underwear or leather chaps kissing, fucking, sucking, rimming. Just moving
from one thing to another, following the sensations from one guy to
another. It was all fluid, no one doing any one thing for very long.
Someone would fuck someone for a few minutes then move his dick on to a
waiting mouth and suck another cock stuck in his face. It was all
bareback. Not for me, but fucking horny to watch. My cock was straining in
my pants that were slightly wet from the saliva that had been on it when I
had put it back inside them, but I didn't get it out and wank. Instead I
started to stroke my tits through my T-shirt with one hand while deciding
whether to approach one of the guys standing against the wall who had
smiled at me a couple of times.

Then I became aware in my peripheral vision that someone was watching me. I
turned slightly. Standing looking at me intently was a guy I had noticed
earlier in the bar and registered because he was someone whose looks,
clothes and demeanour did something for me. He looked European. Slightly
tanned aquiline face with short black hair. Slim body but his T-shirt
emphasised well-defined muscles. A firm bum encased in tight fitting jeans,
long legs. Partly what made him stand out were his clothes. Most people
were either naked, in underwear, costumed one way or another, or in old-
looking clothes. He was in perfectly tailored stuff that looked 'designer'.
>From his smart black shoes, to his body-tight dark jeans to his stretched
white T-shirt. The other reason I had noticed him before was that he exuded
confidence in the way he moved and looked. You just knew that he knew what
he wanted and would go for it and not just get so horned up that he would
go for anything. Whilst there was quite a lot of flirting and tentative
touching up in the bar area, no one thought it appropriate to do that with
him.

So I felt pretty flattered that he was obviously looking with some interest
at me. I felt butterflies in my stomach and sort of weak at the knees,
clichés I had never really felt in sexual situations before. And for some
reason I couldn't quite look directly into his eyes. It had just been a few
seconds of realising he was looking at me and I was suddenly worrying about
whether I was good enough for him; and whether my cock would perform okay
for him. I admit that I do sometimes get performance anxiety, but not at
this stage, like this. And anyway, because of the action in front of me, I
had a good firm and obvious hard on tenting out my CKs.

I found myself looking down as he approached me. I had completely forgotten
anyone else in the room. He stood in front of me, close into my body
space. I forced myself to look up and meet his eyes. They were really
bright blue and looked directly into me. I couldn't read his face at
all. Rather lamely I said

"Hi, I'm Danny."

He didn't reply, but reached out both hands and squeezed my nipples through
my T- shirt. My whole body spasmed and my cock that had gone to half-mast
jumped up to full alert. He didn't release my nipples, but squeezed again
harder. The pain became more intense than I like. But for some reason I
didn't say anything and felt compelled just to look into his eyes. He
squeezed again. I said "ouch" in a tone that was normally sufficient to
indicate to someone I was with that I didn't want it this hard and they
would withdraw. He did release the pressure slightly and for a moment I was
grateful, but then he squeezed again even harder and twisted them slightly
too. I think I screamed slightly and tried to remove his hands.

"No," he said.

Slight accent I thought fleetingly as the pain increased. But I dropped my
hands in obedience. A final excruciating twist and he suddenly let go. I
was so grateful I almost sobbed. He pulled me into him and gave me a huge
powerful hug. I clung onto him for a minute as I calmed down and then
became conscious of the lines of his body pressed against me and my
hardness grew again and pressed into him.

He pushed me gently away from him and back against the wall. I stood for a
moment, arms loosely by my side, my erection roaring for some release,
looking into his face that now seemed god-like handsome. Then his hands
came up again to my nipples, still throbbing with slight soreness from
before and he twisted them viciously. This time for some reason I gritted
my teeth. I didn't want to disappoint him so he would leave. I wanted to
have sex with this guy, real bad. But it became too much and eventually I
raised my arms and tried to push him away.

"No." He shook his head. I half let my arms fall away and the pain seemed
to go to another level where it was too bad to bear, but somehow became a
heat that could be born.

After what seemed an eternity of twisting and squeezing my nips until they
were raw, but was probably only a few moments he released me. The relief
was so intense there were tears on my face. He brought a hand up and gently
wiped them away and then hugged me again, squeezing me protectively into
him. I began to feel looked after by him as well as a bit frightened by
him. Strange mixture of feelings. I didn't want to risk whatever might
happen next, so stayed hugged up against him, pulling his body hard into
mine. I thought I felt the stirrings of a hard on through his trousers, but
wasn't sure whether I should do anything about it. Then he took his arms
from me, and used them to lever mine away from him and again gently pushed
me against the wall. I think I was trembling, but I was half-conscious that
my cock had pushed itself out of my pants and was rock hard and felt more
swollen than ever before.

He stood there looking me slowly up and down. No smile. No expression, but
each time he came to my face his eyes held mine for a few moments. I began
to relax slightly and my cock did too coming back to a normal hard state. I
was just wondering whether I should reach out and touch the outline of his
cock that was now firmly defined in his jeans when he said

"Take off your shirt."

There was definitely an accent.

"Where are you from?" I asked.

He glared at me, suddenly looking annoyed.

"Take off your shirt," he repeated firmly with a slight trace of anger.

I definitely did not want to disappoint him or make him angry and struggled
to get my T-shirt over my head as quickly as possible.

"And your pants."

I pulled them off slowly and stood there, T-shirt over my shoulder and my
damp pants in one hand. I felt really vulnerable in his full gaze and a bit
embarrassed -- ridiculous given what was going on around me. I was vaguely
conscious that a few other guys had become aware of what was going on and
were looking at us. Normally the part of me that it is a bit exhibitionist
would have been turned on, but at this moment my only concern was for
him. Everyone else was slightly out of focus.

He looked at me for what seemed an eternity. I just stood there, going
slightly limp and beginning that damned blushing. I desperately wanted him
to want me.  I've never been a particular body-beautiful freak and like men
in most shapes and varieties, but now, for the first time I can remember
since my insecure teens, I wanted my body to be good enough for someone. I
didn't have a six-pack, but my stomach was pretty firm, body fat pretty
minimal. I had good strong legs from long-distance running. I felt myself,
though, involuntarily tightening my abdominal muscles to try and appear as
fit as possible for him. His gaze lingered all over me, like he was
appraising a piece of furniture he might buy. Would he like the hair that
covered the top part of my chest? If he didn't at least the rest of my body
was fairly smooth except for the bush around my cock that I left full;
except where I shaved right at the base of my cock and on my balls to make
it better for anyone who sucked me. Not that I thought he was likely to do
that.

All these thoughts were going through me as I waited for some sign of
approval or rejection. He seemed to go on looking over me forever, though
it was probably not very long.

"Turn around."

I turned and faced the wall. I could feel goose pimples on my back and on
my bum and I think I started to blush even more, feeling his scrutiny.

"Okay, turn back."

I turned at looked at him, conscious now that there were a lot of people
looking at me.  I smiled tentatively at him. He didn't smile back. I
suddenly felt pathetic and then:

"Nice, very nice"

He reached out with one hand and started to stroke my balls gently.

"I like my boys to have a good body."

I don't think I have ever felt as much pride as I did at that moment. Or
love.

"But they also have to be prepared to go to the limit for me."

The stroking of my balls and the pride I had felt had brought my cock up to
full, throbbing mast again, but now the stroking was replaced by a gentle
squeezing. I knew what was going to happen. I knew the pressure would
increase and I wouldn't be able to bear it. Pressure on my balls always
creates an agony that is unbearable. I felt a panic rising. I was going to
let him down.

He stopped increasing the pressure at a level that was not too
uncomfortable and stood for a long time looking straight into my eyes. We
both knew that he was going to squeeze more and I was trembling from the
expectation that it would be excruciating and I would have to disappoint
him, push him away from me and lose him. The longer we stood there the more
my fear of letting myself and him down increased. I was beginning to hurt
from imagining what the pain was going to be like before anything had
happened.

Then it started. Very slowly, but I could not bear it. I gritted my teeth
as I felt a mixture of acute ache and sharp stabs of pain around my
balls. I really tried to hold it together. But I couldn't. After probably
less than half a minute that seemed a lifetime, I was squirming to try and
get away and began to bring my hand on to his to drag him off me. As I did
he squeezed them really really hard for a second. I literally saw stars and
screamed as he released me, grabbed my body and hugged me tight with one
hand, the other stroking my hair back from my forehead.

I buried my head in his chest. I loved him for showing me a release from
the pain and comforting me. And for allowing me to show I would go to the
limit with him.  And for showing me now how he could protect and comfort
me. I wanted to give him pleasure. I began to let my hand drop down his
back, pulled away slightly, brought my hand around and felt the enormous
bulge in his jeans. I was turning him on. I was so excited and grateful
that I could.

But he pushed me back against the wall again. But gently and I am sure it
was lovingly and for my own good and our pleasure together. Even though a
bit of me was already getting ready to be scared again.

He slowly unbuckled my belt. I looked expectantly at his bulging package,
the loosening of the belt the first stage of freeing his big cock for my
attention. And boy would I make him feel good, like none of his other boys
had made him feel.

He must have read my mind because he shook his head slowly and instead of
continuing to free his cock, he very slowly threaded out his belt until it
was in his hand. I knew what he wanted to do. I could manage this for him.

"Turn around," he said very softly. I was vaguely aware that the action of
unstrapping his belt had drawn attention and as I turned I saw quite a few
guys, most naked or with their trousers and pants round their ankles,
standing around looking at me. I didn't feel at all humiliated. I wanted to
show them how I loved this guy.  Somehow, almost in a trance, I knew what
position to take. I was a couple of feet away from the wall. Instead of
going up and leaning against it as before, I bent forward at the waist. I
was still holding my pants in one hand and I brought them up to my forehead
to provide some padding as I leaned my head against the wall, bent forward
at about 45 degrees, my bum well exposed.

The first slap of the belt was gentle. I knew it would be. He cared for me.
He knew how to build it up so I could go to the edge for him. They were
slow in coming, but regular as a metronome. Each hit just slightly
harder. It started to feel sexy, the streak of sensation across my arse
cheeks and I found my hand stroking my powerful hard- on. The pain was
getting sharper, but my stroking was getting faster and more urgent.  I was
lost in the pain and the building climax. They were intertwined and I loved
him.

Without a pause in the rhythm he gently took my hand off my cock. It pulsed
and throbbed as another thrash came down on me, but it couldn't quite cum
and my senses began to fully realise the pain on my arse. I gritted my
teeth for a couple of swipes, but I couldn't hold it even for him and I
started to scream and turn.

He stopped hitting me. Just as I was almost facing him I felt a streak of
spunk hit my stomach and another one and another one. Some guy watching us
had just unloaded all over me. I looked into the serious face of my love
and thought I almost detected the beginning of a smile as he looked at the
spunk dripping down my stomach and on to my cock, now semi limp.

"Come with me," he said gently and held out his hand. I took it and bent to
pick up my T-shirt that had at some point slipped to the floor and my pants
that had fallen when moved my forehead from the wall.

"Just your pants. And carry them."

He led me from the back room and through the curtained area. Things were
advanced everywhere as it was getting late and I saw flesh at every turn
and heard grunts of people spunking, yells of one kind or another, the
sound of someone being spanked.  But I was largely oblivious of it until he
led me into the much brighter lights of the bar area.

The bar area was more crowded than I had expected. He dropped my arm and
told me to hold onto one of the belt loops on his trousers with my
mouth. He gently slapped the belt rhythmically from one hand to the other
as he walked very slowly right across the bar area with me bent sharply
forward, my teeth in his belt loop, following meekly behind. Although
people were variously attired and one or two part naked in the bar area, it
was obvious to all that I belonged to the man leading me and I felt
everyone was staring. I was proud. They were jealous, at least in my mind.

We seemed to take ages crossing the bar and into the toilets. The toilets
consisted of one lock up and a long metal trough urinal. It was clear
someone was getting fucked hard in the lock up. There was a guy just
finishing a piss and another one watching him attentively and wanking. My
man glared at both of them and without saying a word they looked at him,
looked at me, and left.

I wasn't sure what would happen next. I just wanted to please him. Much to
my surprise he took from his pocket some cream, made me lean over the
washbasin and rubbed it into my bruised and stinging buttocks. He was
really gentle, the cream was cooling and must have had an analgesic or
something in it because the pain reduced immediately. He rubbed my back
gently a couple of times. Then he turned me round.

"Are you mine?"

"Always," I whispered.

He started to unzip himself. This was going to be it. I found myself
licking my lips, wanting so desperately to see him at last and pleasure
him. But:

"Go and get us both a beer, I need to piss."

I started to protest. I wanted to watch him piss, or take his piss, or do
whatever would join us together. He looked stern again and shook his head.

As I turned to leave, he said

"Leave your underpants here," and he held out his hand. I gave them to him
and he gave me a 10 pound note. "Go and get the beers."

I walked back into the bar stark naked. Although there was one other naked
guy there, I felt very conspicuous, but also proud because I was with him
and he thought my body was good. I got us two beers and turned, leaning on
the bar, to face the toilets and wait for him, the exhibitionist in me
causing my cock to rise steadily again.

It seemed to be a long piss. I didn't dare take a sip of my beer, as I
wasn't sure whether that would please my love.

Eventually he came out, looking as cool and sophisticated as when I had
first spied him a couple of hours ago. His belt in was in place, his hair
combed.  Immaculate, except he was carrying my underpants a little away
from his body. They were dripping with urine.

He was the sort of person people noticed, even without what he was
carrying, so everyone in the bar began to follow him with their eyes. He
came and stood next to me, close, in my space like he had done when he
first approached me in the back room, noses a couple of inches apart.

"This is my way of marking you. Put them on."

He handed me the pants. I felt so proud that he was showing everyone with
his piss how we were together. There seemed to be a collective holding of
breath as I took them bent down and pulled the soaking pants up and over my
bum and cock and felt the damp material press into my balls and arse crack.

I straightened.

"To the next time," he said as he raised his glass.

I was a bit slow joining him. It had just registered as my hands left my
pants that there were thick globules of his man spunk on them as well as
piss. No wonder it had taken a bit of time. I drank my beer thinking of my
man wanking his big cock and cumming all over my pants just for me.

He downed the whole pint and slammed it on the bar while I was pausing
after about half of it.

"Until next time," and he strode straight out of the bar. It took me a
moment to realise what had happened. I wanted to shout no. To run after him
or something. But I knew that would disappoint him and I wanted him to be
pleased with me. For next time.

I finished my beer and gradually people around stopped staring and started
chatting again. I could feel the cooling piss and spunk-soaked underpants
clinging to my skin.  And my cock was growing again. I needed to get my
T-shirt and I had to get off; there was so much spunk churning around in my
full balls after all this. My erection was so hard it was painful. But how
could I do it without him. The climax was meant to be with him.

I wasn't terribly surprised when three of the guys who had been in the bar
followed me into the back room. But if they thought they had a willing
bottom or slave just because of what they had seen, well fuck them. They
didn't understand.

But that wasn't what they had in mind. As I bent to pick up my T-shirt one
of them slid to the floor beneath me and started to suck on the front of my
pants, taking in the spunk and piss. The other two bent forward and started
tugging at the back of my pants and licking and sucking them.

My cock grew even further and soon they were alternating around my pants
alternatively taking in my lover's piss and spunk and sucking my arse and
cock. Their hands variously ran around my legs and my chest and my back. I
leaned back slightly, aware again of a number of people watching and
wanking. I closed my eyes as I felt my lover's spunk and piss rubbing up
and down my cock and balls and being pressed into my arse hole. That
glorious feeling when you know you are going to go for it, built really
slowly. I was on that spectacular edge of feeling just before you spunk for
ages as I felt the middle of my body being massaged with his fluids and
then, almost gently, I had an earth-shattering hugely long spunk into my
pants, my cum mixing with his to the huge satisfaction of those still
feeding on my underpants.

I kept those underpants for the next three days and spent hours wanking
with them and adding more spunk and even some of my piss to them. I inhaled
them all the time and it was almost enough to make me cream without
touching myself. I don't know what the hotel maids thought of them laid out
on the bottom of the wardrobe each day! I went back a couple of times to
the club over the next couple of days, but never saw him. And then I had to
return home from London. The pants had started to stink rather than smell
sexy, so in the end I washed them. But whenever I go to London now I try
and call in at the bar in the hope of seeing him again. And I always where
those pants, still after washing showing the faded outlines of the various
stains.

I talked to the barman briefly at the end of that evening. He said the guy
was French.  He thought his name was Pierre, and that he came in about once
a month, usually on a Monday but sometimes to the piss party on a Tuesday
and various other nights. But over a year or so now, we have not
co-incided. I hope he thinks of me sometimes still.  I can't get him out of
my head. I don't love Pierre like I love my beautiful and caring
partner. But I love him in the sense of pure desire, a pure need to be able
to satisfy him again, a pure wish to show him how far I can go for him.

I don't know whether I have got across properly both how horny and how
emotional this experience was for me. Like I said it has changed me. I
suppose if I am honest, I used to think that people who subjected
themselves to domination or pain during sex must feel inferior or be
inferior to the other person, even though I could see how horny it was
making them. Now I have much more respect and, I hope, understanding.  I've
never felt the occasion right to put myself in that position again. But I
am open- minded about it. And when I see it happening to other people I
don't think they are inferior. I envy them the chance to have such pure
desire, pure trust in the person doing things to them, and even a strong
sense of love, even if it is transitory. And it makes me hornier than ever
before.

On a less philosophical level it has also changed me because for the first
two or three months after, I was desperate to meet Pierre again. It meant I
went to the underground bar whenever I could, whatever 'specialist' sex
party was on, so I've ended up trying or watching stuff that I wouldn't
have thought of. And some of it is much sexier and randy and dirty and
great than I would have dreamed, so I have even more variety now than I
used to.

A year or so on, I am not so sure about meeting Pierre again. Maybe it
needs to be left as perfect as it felt. And it does feel as though it was
perfect, even in such seedy, raunchy surroundings. Nevertheless Pierre, in
the unlikely event that you do read Nifty and see this, drop me an email
and let me know you are alright, and we can see...It would also be great to
hear from anyone who was at Central Station that night and remembers seeing
me and whether it seemed like I remember it now.


Thanks
Danny
Funtimedanny@hotmail.co.uk