Dex Dangerfield Loves Swingers, #01
Introducing Ronald Hyatt, better known Ron Jeremy, the infamously, most prolific porn star, aka nicknamed The Hedgehog. Ron Jeremy introduced Dex Danger to swingers and porn stars.
After Dex attended his first swingers' dance and had sex with two porn stars, swingers and porn stars are now his thing.
Author's Note:
This story is dedicated to Dexter Dangerfield, aka Dex Danger, for allowing me to write his story about him befriending Ron Jeremy and being invited to attend his first swingers' dance.
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Dex Dangerfield Loves Swingers, #01
Back in mid-June of 2020, I met up with my father's childhood friend, Ronald Hyatt. They grew up in Queens, N. Y. Over the years, I've met him several times. Unimpressed, he's a short, obese man, with long, black, wild hair.
I didn't think much of him, but he was my father's closest and oldest friend. I tolerated his ranting and raving when he continually talked about sex and about beautiful, sexy, and shapely women. He talked about women that he never met, had never bedded, and would never bed.
With him repeating himself over and again, he talked as if he intimately knew these women. I wondered what was wrong with him. He looked a little crazy.
A typical Jewish man with a highly charged libido, I recalled him always talking to my father about sex and women. Seemingly, my father had grown accustomed to his friend's same topics of discussion. With him patient with him, as if my dad was a psychiatrist, he listened to all that Ronald had to say while nodding his head. Out of his realm, my dad didn't desire other women.
He didn't lust over having sex with this woman or with that woman. Married to the same woman, my mother for forty-five-years, he had been a faithful husband. He didn't understand his friend's preoccupation with sex and women.
Seemingly obsessed with having sex with women, that is all that Ronald talked about. I figured that he was imagining them all. As if they were real in his head, he had stories to tell about this woman and that woman, women that I didn't know and had never met.
Specifically, I thought about Gene Simmons from Kiss, another Jewish man who admitted to allegedly bedding 5,000 women. With him married to and having cheated on Shannon Tweed, I imagined the stories that he must tell. Forget about black men, Jewish men must be the horniest men on the planet. All that it takes for them to be in the mood, which they outwardly always are, is for them to wake up in the morning. They'd have sex with any woman that had hands, a mouth, breasts, a pussy, and an ass whether she's beautiful, sexy, young, ugly, fat, or old.
Astonishingly, seeming happy to see me, something he never did before, he gave me a big greeting as if I was his long-lost friend or his grandson. Again, something that he never did before, he hugged me and buried his head in my chest. Not knowing what to do, I just stood there with my arms loosely around him while patting his back as if I was Sheldon Cooper in The Big Bang and imagined him saying, 'There. There.'
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"Dexter, I'm so glad to see you. I thought that I'd have to go to my upcoming event alone. I hate going anywhere alone," he said, rambling and not making any sense. "It's depressing to go anywhere without having someone to accompany me and talk to me while watching me in action when I'm in my element," he said with pride and with a laugh.
Making me nervous, as if he was a gay man giving me the eye, he gave me a hard stare as if he admired me.
"I never thought to invite you but now that I see you, you'd be the perfect man to attend this party with me," he said, giving me that unnerving stare again.
'Party? What party,' I thought?
He took a step closer to me and leaned into me as if to tell me a secret.
"Something that your father wouldn't know how to do, with you so tall and so good-looking, I could teach you how to have sex with any woman," he whispered while taking a step back to look at me again.
I made a face that a man who looked like him could teach me anything about having sex with women, never mind having sex with any woman that I desired.
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"Do you have a big dick," he asked, reaching down to feel my much larger than average prick without waiting for me to answer?
While looking at him sideways as if I was a woman that he had just groped, I slapped his hand away while taking a step back from him. Then, as if he was knighting me with a sword, he reached in his pocket and pulled out an engraved invitation in a gold, embossed envelope. Holding out his hand as if he was a butler and the invitation was on a silver platter, he bowed his head and handed me the invitation as if he was handing me something valuable.
I accepted whatever it was and opened the envelope, withdrew the invitation, and read it. He invited me to an exclusive party in Los Angeles. Eager and excited to go, yet sad to admit, with this my first party, I've never been invited to a party. I wouldn't know anyone there.
"I've been searching for someone to go with me to this party. I've been racking my brain while trying to think of someone," said Ronald. "The invitation is for a special party next week," he said with a dirty laugh, a wink, and a thumbs up while making me wonder what kind of party it was.
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He smiled while looking me over. Then, staring up at me, he looked at me as if he wished he was as tall as me. Making me nervous especially after he felt my cock through my jeans, I wondered if he was gay. He looked at me with jealousy as if he wished that he looked like me.
Then, with him catching me off-guard, a bit nervous by his look and with his sudden attention, our interaction was more than a bit strange. In all the years that I knew him, not having much to say to me, he seldom talked to me. Even stranger, he never talked to me in the way that he talked to me now about sex, women, and attending a party with him.
He never looked at me and smiled at me in the way that he looked and smiled at me now. He smiled at me in the way that he smiled at my father. He stared at me as if we were best friends. He gazed up at me as if he was my proud father and I was his son. He looked at me as if he was about to show me how to play catch, go fishing, or teach me how to drive.
"Blessed with your father's genes, you're a good-looking man," he said, staring up at my 6' 2" frame. "This party is where you get noticed," he said slowly, shaking his index finger while nodding his head.
He pointed to the invitation that I held in my hand as if I was holding the Golden Ticket and going to Hollywood as an American Idol contestant.
"With the guestlist loaded with celebrities, this is where you go to meet someone famous who can help you with your career," he said with excited pride while waving his finger in the air.
'My career? What career,' I thought? 'I'm a lowly staff accountant working for a large office supply company. It's just a job. I can't see myself keeping track of paper clips as my career.'
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He stared down at me as if he was a gay fashion designer.
"Wear a sports coat and nice slacks, not jeans," he said. "Don't wear a tie. Instead unbutton the top two buttons of your shirt and don't wear a T-shirt. Trust me. This I know," he said, waving his finger again. "Women like seeing men's chest hairs," said Ronald.
He stared down at my feet.
"Wear dress shoes and not sneakers," said Ronald pointing to my sneakers. "There'll be a lot of sexy women at the party, and many of them will be dressed like whores. Whether she's a whore or a lady, no woman wants to be seen with a man who looks like a bum," he said with a dirty laugh. "You must dress for the occasion."
As if he was my teacher or my mentor, he continued giving me advice about women, about having sex with women, and about my appearance.
