It's probably appropriate at this point for me to introduce my best friend, Cassie, to you.
She is a pleasing combination of all that's right about being blonde with a bit of brunette sass thrown in for good measure. When I started texting her about what L and I were getting up to, her replies were on the sad side.
Marooned in the sidings of a partnership gone staid, she listened longingly (if listened is the right word to receiving a barrage of overexcited texts from me) as the enormous leap in my sexual activity with L via the swing site became apparent.
She even probably got off on it a bit, which may have been the reason when, out of the blue, an old flame tapped her up on FB, she wasn't exactly unresponsive.
However even she would probably be the first to admit that his enthusiasm to get back in touch was, even by her experienced standards, of the overly horned variety.
Her texts became increasingly extremely fruity.
"I just told him that I had to finger bash myself before I went to get waxed so I didn't come on the beautician's hands. Cum shot!"
Apart from the fact I'd never heard of the phrase 'finger bash' before that exact moment, you've got to admire the girl's style.
Her guy specialised in bringing himself to a crescendo, so to speak, by sexting Cassie over and over again.
"I've had another one," she said, referring to a pic on her phone from FB guy. "This time with cream on top."
I may puke, I wrote.
"Well I'm not puking, I'm a walking, saturated hot fucking mess. I can't handle it."
This wasn't exactly true. Moments later she texted to say she'd told him to rub his cock along her back - a virtual request as they aren't even in the same city, but cute all the same. She was very much in control of her text fuck, with just a few carefully place flicks of the finger.
"He's at work and about to cum I think, ha ha," she said.
It's not all finger bashing and fruit salad. Unfortunately Cassie is discovering that her refound beau ain't exactly Shakespeare.
"Dude I'm so bored with him already," she wrote. "This morning's conversation went like this: 'morning', 'morning', 'I'm licking your slit right now'. 'Boss is here, gotta go'. Lol"
Later on that night I sent her a text, as I was enjoying the rapt attention online once more of men in their 20s to one in his 50s who disconcertingly held up his iPhone to the screen to snap me - delete, delete!
"I am the queen of all strangers cocks," I wrote, lapping it up.
A little later she wrote "My tins. Rock." This was quickly followed by "Damn you, predictive text."
Her tins, however, were indeed hot - as L and I witnessed thanks to a grainy pic she sent through.
You know you're in Sexy Land when of an evening your best mate sends you a porno shot of their tits and you flick one back for their interest too.