Dex Dangerfield Loves Swingers, #01

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.'

F F F

"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.

F F F

"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.

"Don't go clean shaven. Women like men with a day old, stumbly beard. They think that makes men look sexy," he said with a laugh.

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At the time, with me living in Monterey Park, California, I was only about 7 miles from Los Angeles. Always working instead of partying, I haven't been invited to a party since my 21st birthday party that my mother gave me. Suddenly feeling like a grownup and a player, I was excited about attending my first, real, adult party, and a party with my father's oversexed, horny, and crazy friend, Ronald.

He gave me the address and directions along with the invitation that I had to present at the door. The pass allowed me entrance into the ballroom without having to pay the door fee. Only, surprisingly, while I impatiently waited for him on the sidewalk out front of the hotel, Ronald didn't show up for the party. Not knowing any of these people who walked in the party ahead of me, a fish out of water, I was undecided if I should go inside or not. Like Ronald, feeling out of place, I disliked going anywhere alone.

Suddenly feeling underdressed, even though I wore a sports coat, nice slacks, my blue shirt, and new shoes, some of the couples were dressed as if they were going to Oscars. Others, especially unescorted women, just as Ronald had said they would be, were dressed like whores. As if attending a wedding where I didn't know anyone, and not having anything to say, fearing that I'd be bored to death, I didn't want to sit at a table with strangers. Continuing to wait for him while hoping that he'd show, I needed Ronald to be my wingman.

The day after the affair, when I told my father that his friend invited me to a party, he rolled his eyes and sighed. Then, when I told him that he didn't show up for the event, he told me that Ronald was arrested. I didn't think he was going to tell me about his friend being arrested until I mentioned that I was supposed to go with him to a party.

I stared at my father with my mouth hanging open. Not telling him the type of party that it was, I thought it best not to tell him that it was a swingers' dance party. I didn't want him to know that I'd go to such an immorally depraved affair attended by whores, strippers, webcam models, and porn stars.

"Arrested? Ron was arrested? Arrested for what," I asked? "Was he driving drunk?"

My dad shook his head while showing me that he was upset that his friend had been arrested. I watched him rub his hands. He nodded his head while staring at the floor. Then, he looked up at me to tell me more about the arrest.

"He was charged with 34 criminal counts based on allegations levied by 23 women with some of the alleged crimes dating back to 1996. With him already pleading guilty, he'll be indicted for 12 counts of rape and additional charges of sexual assault," said my father.

I stared at him with this belief. How could a short, obese, old, ugly man be charged with 12 counts of rape? My father fell quiet while staring off in space. He looked sad. He looked troubled. He seemed embarrassed that his childhood best friend was indicted for sex crimes.

"Diagnosed with dementia, the chances of him standing trial are slim. With the long arm of the law moving fast, he's already been declared incompetent to stand trial and has been committed to a state, mental hospital in California," said my father.

I imagined being committed to a state mental hospital may be a fate much worse than being imprisoned. While remembering One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest starring Jack Nicholson as R. P. McMurphy, I wouldn't want to be committed to a state mental hospital anywhere, especially not in California. There are lots of crazy people in California, many that should be deemed as dangerous and certifiable but are still walking around free before moving to Seattle.

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Then, shocking me, my father told me who his friend really was.

"You only know him by his real name, Ronald Hyatt. Yet, he's better known as Ron Jeremy, the famous porn star," my father looked at me to watch my reaction. "Right up there with Long Dong Silver, John Holmes, Sonny Landham, John Stagliano, and Harry Reems, he was infamously legendary in his day. Everyone knew of Ron Jeremy."

I was shocked. Of course, I knew who Ron Jeremy was. Even I knew who he was. Yet, I was surprised that my father had him as a friend, his best friend. Remembering seeing old photos of him from twenty-years ago, he looked nothing like I remembered him looking like now.

Disbelieving him, thinking that he was kidding, I looked at my father as if he was crazy. Thinking of a male porn star being tall, good-looking, and muscular, someone who looked like me, how could this short, ugly, obese, old man be a porn star? What woman in her right mind, unless she was drunk or drugged, would have sex with him? Then, I thought of Bill Cosby. Maybe he drugged his victims to have sex with him.

"Even though his porn star name is Ron Jeremy, they called him, The Hedgehog," said my father with a laugh. "A fellow porn star, Bill Margold, coined that nickname because his abundant body hair reminded him of a hedgehog," said my father with a laugh.

I watched my dad grieve over his friend as if he had died instead of being committed to a mental hospital.

"Legendary in his porn star career, he's rumored to have had sex with more than 4,000 women. He's made more than 1,600 porn films from 1983 until 2021. He directed more than 200 films, wrote 50 screenplays, produced 8, and did the soundtrack for 7 of the films," he said.

I looked at my dad in shock.

"Ron Jeremy? You're kidding," I said, shaking my head. "He's Ron Jeremy? I don't believe it. I know who Ron Jeremy is. I've seen him in a porn movie once and he looked nothing like that," I said embarrassed to tell my father that I've watched more than one porn movie with him in it. "He got old," I said.

Remembering him as a good-looking man with dark, long hair and a mustache, he was now a short, 5' 6", obese, 71-year-old man who looked insane. Yet, with him inviting me to a swingers' party, even at his elder age, he was primed and ready to have sex with more women. Nevertheless, I couldn't imagine him having sex with any woman, forced or consensual. An amount that I'm unable to wrap my head around, I couldn't believe that he's rumored to have had sex with more than 4,000 women.

'Four-thousand women. Four-thousand women,' I thought. 'Wow! When did he have the time to eat, sleep, or go to the bathroom?'

Then, I thought of Warren Beatty in the movie, Shampoo. Other than someone like him rumored to have had sex with 13,000 women or Wilt Chamberlain, rumored to have sex with 20,000 women, both handsome men, yet, who has sex with thousands of women? Why would someone want to have sex with so many women?

How could anyone have sex with that many women? What is wrong with these men having had sex with thousands of women? What is wrong with women having sex with men who have had sex with thousands of women?

Then, I remembered reading about Fidel Castrol rumored to have had sex with two women every day for 40-years. After doing the math, that translated to him having had sex with more than 31,000 women. When did he have the time to run Cuba? He must have had sex with not only mothers, but also with daughters, and granddaughters. With him a dictator who was, no doubt, a rapist, and a sexual abuser, I wondered how many of the women that he had sex with were forced and not consensual.

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Sadly, if I counted all of the women that I had sex with, including Sarah Jean giving me a hand job in the backseat of my father's car at my senior prom, I'm pathetically undersexed. I had sex with two women while in college while at a drunken party, and another woman who invited me to her apartment after work where I received my first blowjob. Instead of waiting for me to make a sexual move, all four women initiated having sex with me. Embarrassingly, I've only had sex with four women in my 27-years of life.

A bit pitiful in the romance department, I've always been busy with my studies and now with work. Not much of a drinker, and having never taken drugs, I'm not much for partying. The last party I attended was in college. Yet now that I know that my father's best friend was a famous, porn star, with him hopefully giving me plenty of insights about women, it would have been fun to attend a party with Ronald. I'm sure that Ron Jeremy could have given me lots of valuable tips on how to sexually seduce women.

Yet, since the party was a swingers' dance, I quickly discovered that I didn't have to seduce women. Women gave me the eye, flirted with me, and approached me. Unbelievably, women wanted to have sex with me as much as I wanted to have sex with them. With them all primed and ready to go, women were there for the taking.

Unable to tell that he was a famous porn star by looking at him, I had no idea that he had sex with so many women. How could anyone get and maintain that number of erections? I wondered if he took Viagra. I wondered if he took testosterone supplements.

How could any man cum that much? I wondered if he was required to use a condom. I wondered how many children he fathered?

Fortunately, a time after the AIDs epidemic, I wondered how many sexually transmitted diseases he contracted. I wondered how many sexually transmitted diseases he gave to women. Him being a porn star would be the last thing that I'd think that he was or that I'd want to be. With his wild hair and disheveled appearance, he looked more like a janitor or a homeless man than he looked like a famous, sex worker.

F F F

I arrived early, and after waiting outside an hour for Ronald to appear, I figured he forgot about attending the party with me. I tried calling his cellphone but my calls immediately went to his voicemail. I hoped he'd arrive later rather than not at all. Worried about him and nervous about attending the party alone, lost without him, I needed his guidance to not only tell me what to do but also to tell me who was who.

I stood outside of the event watching fast, imported supercars, expensive cars, and limousines pulling up to the curb, letting people out, and giving their keys to the valet. I watched beautiful women, women that I never see on the street, sexily dressed and going inside with their husbands, boyfriends, or escorts. I watched single men go in without a date, and more single women going inside while unaccompanied other than being with other single women. With no one overweight or ugly, everyone who attended the party was good-looking.

'This must be the beautiful people that everyone talked about,' I thought. 'They all are certainly beautiful, even the men.'

Just as Ron had said, allowing everything to hang out and showing a lot, the single women were all dressed like whores. While standing on the sidewalk and staring up at them climbing the flight of stairs to enter the venue, they wore very short dresses that showed their panties, that is, those who wore panties, or their naked asses. With their low-cut, revealing tops, they showed much of the tops of their bulbous, jiggling, naked breasts, and their long, sexy line of cleavages. A plastic surgeon's customer base, I wondered how many women had breast implants.

Looking as if they wore low-cut, sheer, and sexy nightgowns instead of short cocktail dresses, not hard to imagine, I imagined what many of the women looked like naked. Tempted to do so after seeing so many scantily dressed women, deciding to go inside without Ronald, I was excited about meeting some of them. Only, with me not experienced with the opposite sex, I was more than a bit intimidated. With so many beautiful and sexy women filing into this event, I was as nervous as I was sexually excited.

F F F

'Unfortunately, with him not with me to prompt me, what would I say? What would I do,' I thought? 'How could I, a common man who didn't have any money, hope to pick up a woman who was so beautiful, so sexy, and so shapely?'