Thirty Dirty Questions – Question 12

Time for another episode of Thirty Dirty Questions. If you are loving this then you can catch up on my other responses here. You can also check out some other participants over at Rebel’s Notes and Marriage Sex and More

Is there anything about sex that embarrasses you, causes shame or fear of makes you nervous?

I am a squirter. I have quite openly discussed this a few times in this blog. It is an ability that I had to work on to make happen. At the time when I started squirting it was a bit of a novelty. A lot of partners, including Mr. Jones enjoyed the sensation and obvious pleasure it gave me. Over time I became more ‘adept’ and have been known to produce liters of liquid during some sessions.

I am self-conscious about the mess it creates. Although most men like the IDEA I think the reality can be confronting. Also the reactions about getting my juice in their face while they are licking me are often mixed. For a while I didn’t advertise my ‘abilities’ with new partners because I felt that they would sometimes become fixated about it and that was the only thing they wanted. After a while I realised that while I was achieving what I wanted in that regard I was sometimes missing out on oral sex.

Once a man realised that licking me was probably going to get that result he would have one of two reactions. He would love it and try to drink me up. This reaction works well for me. I felt desired and got to enjoy an activity that gives me great pleasure. The second reaction was not so good. He would politely withdraw and oral sex on me would be stopped for the rest of our time together. I would get a hand job and a fucking. Not the desired outcome.

So I changed tack. I tell people now, if you don’t like me squirting in your face then I am not sure this is going to work. It hasn’t been successful. Men lie. If there is a chance they are going to get sex they will tell a woman whatever they think she wants to hear. They will say yes to an activity and then give it a cursory glance before moving on to the thing THEY want.

As a side note I am working on toning down the squirting thing. The amount of laundry it generates is ridiculous. Just as I trained myself to respond in this way I can train myself to respond in other ways. My recent experiences with The Second Mate has led me to start exploring toys and I am finding I respond a little differently to vibration. I like it. It is giving me more power over my orgasms and it is making me more confident in asking for / taking what I want.

Friday Flashback – Sing a Song of Sixpence

Sometimes I look back over posts that I wrote on Erotic Adventures and wonder what was going through my head. This one sounded fun so I hope you all enjoy it.

Sing a song of Sixpence
The sweet voices of the choir outside drifted through the window. I added my own chorus with moans of pleasure as I sprawled over the settee in the salon gripping my lover’s hair as he licked my cunt.

A pocket full of Rye
He always brings me a gift when he visits. Tonight, it was a pocket full of tiny seed pearls which he showered over my naked breasts before bending to pleasure my nipple. 

Four and twenty naughty boys baked in a pie
One of the most delicious things in the kitchen is the sight of those naughty naked boys bent over Cook’s knee whimpering as she paddles their soft white bottoms.

When the pie was opened the birds began to sing
The scullery maid and the chamber maids stood against the wall with their skirts hitched up and their legs spread wide. With red bottoms the naughty boys kneeled in front of them licking at them until they screamed in pleasure. 

Wasn’t that a dainty dish to set before the king?
The ladies of the court were impressed by the naughty boys. The butler collared them and they crawled on their hands and knees out into Father’s feasting hall licking and sucking whenever a lady lifted her skirts and spread her legs for them.

The King was in the counting house counting out his money
Father does love feeling his gold. I haven’t watched but I have heard that he loves to fuck the scullery maid on a bed of gold coins. I prefer a softer bed. 

The Queen was in the parlour eating bread and honey
For the record the Queen bathes in milk and honey, because she thinks she is Cleopatra. Then she gets her favourite naughty boy, the one with the largest cock, to lick her dry before he fucks her pussy and then her ass with his big long cock.

The maid was in the garden hanging out the clothes
It was a beautiful sunny day. The Captain of the Guard was loitering in the garden. Not surprising really. The laundry maid had loosened her corset and her dress had slipped. As she reached up to peg the royal knickers her full round breasts peeked out of her bodice teasing the nice Captain and his men.

When down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose
The Captain of the Guard should have known better though. The laundry maid has a thing for the black slave that landed with the visiting party from Africa. When she was finished hanging out the clothes she lifted her skirts and bent over the garden wall watching the Captain and his men while her lover pleasured her with his big black cock.  

Sing A Song Of Sixpence Nursery Rhyme - Nursery Rhymes - Fun Activities For  Kids

The Travelling Boob

I have posted about #travellingboob before. It is a project that Mr Jones and I created as we travelled to some spectacular places along the Queensland Coast. #travellingboob has its own little following and it has been really fun to engage with. I am proud of my boobs and getting them out to show off has been fun. I am expecting to be officially at the end of my journey in a little over a week so #travellingboob will be a little quiet for a while. In the meantime enjoy a montage of spectacular scenery

This post is part of this week’s MMMMonday. For more MMM click on the button below

mmmMondays

All of us love a little wickedness. There is plenty to be had at Wicked Wednesday.

Wicked Wednesday

TMI Tuesday – Take us to Your Leader

1. In what way is creativity just like sex?

There is a concept phase, a working phase and a climax with a period of basking in the delight of what you have just done. However I don’t think that creativity is like sex, it is more a part of good sex. Without creativity sex is possible but the result is very meh. Kind of like the way McDonalds burgers are food.

2. What important successes have you had in life that people just don’t know about?

Well most people in my Gemma life know very little about one of my big life achievements, raising two humans.

Most people in my Mrs Jones life don’t know about my blog / writing. I have published a novella (a long time ago) and I have written quite a body of work on these pages which a lot of people seem to enjoy. For me that is an achievement.

3. What do you like more being a leader or a follower?

In a previous job the company would send all of their front line managers to these leadership bonding / development camps. During one activity the facilitator had to pull out all of his tricks and stops to keep me in line and foil the success of the group. Apparently I automatically get people to where they need to be. Which would make me a leader.

I wouldn’t say I like being a leader all of the time. But I really hate being designated a follower when the designated leader is an idiot.

4. If you could send a message to an alien species, what would it be?

Send another virus. Covid-19 is not killing the stupid people fast enough.

5. Have you ever been happy that you lied?

No. I make a point of trying to keep lying to a minimum in my life. Although sometimes I slip up. I am never happy about it though.

Bonus: What can you do that no one else can?

Mr Jones says that I can fuck a string of guys like no one else he knows. Not sure if that is something I feel good about. For myself I am going to say that I am awesome at coming up with out of the box ideas to solve problems.

Panties to the Side

It is prompt week. The prompt that Molly has chosen is “Lyrics”. For an added challenge participants are to select a lyric from a song and create an image to go with it. The song I chose is “Standing in the Rain” from the Suicide Squad soundtrack. The lyric is

Slide your panties to the side girl I am coming in.

There is something about this statement that is just so dirty. I love the idea of someone exposing me like that to fuck me. Preferably somewhere public or semi public.

I have purchased a pair of shorts that are short with a loose crotch that are pretty accommodating for this kind of activity. For those that are interested they have been road tested and they do not get in the way of a good fucking. Inspired by the road test Mr. Jones created the following image.

I think they will be a popular piece of boat attire.

Sinful Sunday

If you want to listen to the whole song here it is

Friday Flashback – All the Fun of the Fair

It has been a while since I shared a story from my old blog. For those Australians who have experienced the joy of an agricultural show this story may be a little nostalgic. I certainly WISH this had happened to me.

“Roll up, roll up! Test your strength! Every player wins a prize!” The little man swung the hammer above his head before letting it fall onto the platform beside him. The weight shot up and rang the bell at the top of the stand.

“It’s rigged,” Steve watched with a slight smirk on his face. “The secret is in the way he hits the platform. It isn’t about being strong.” We watched for a while as people lined up and hit the platform with all their might. Even Johnno fell for it. Muscles bulging he slammed the stand but the little weight only moved halfway up the stand.  To add insult to injury the sideshow guy stepped forward and took the hammer from him and let it fall on the platform. The bell dinged as the weight shot to the top. The crowd watching laughed as Johnno’s face turned red.  

Beside me Steve chuckled with the crowd as his hand that had been draped casually around my waist, slid lower until it was resting on my ass cheek. As another person stepped up and handed their money over, he squeezed me ever so gently. My mind wandered from the suckers lined up to hand over their hard-earned cash. I turned towards him,

“Don’t make promises that you can’t keep,” I looked straight into his eyes as I pressed my body against his, rubbing my crotch against his thigh.

“Who said I was promising anything?” He pulled away from me and led me down sideshow alley.

“Let’s go in here,” he pulled me towards the Haunted House.

“It is so lame,” I protested.

“So,” his eyes challenged me.

“Whatever!” I shrugged. We stepped inside, past the fake skeleton that jiggled unconvincingly, and under the spider’s web that dangled from the ceiling. The corridor we were in took a turn to the left blocking off the light from outside and cloaking us in dimness. Fog spewed out of a fog machine in the corner making a dark little hiding spot for Steve to pull me into.  

Away from the people walking through the attraction and covered by darkness and fake fog he pressed me up against the wall and kissed me. My mouth opened to accept his tongue and his hand slid up my shirt to ease my breast out of my bra. His fingers squeezed my nipple, as I whimpered into his mouth a trickle of wetness started between my legs. He lifted his body away from mine and took my hand, pulling me back into the stream of people. I stumbled a little as I followed, still dazed by the onslaught to my senses from his hands and tongue. As we followed the rest of the twists and turns laughing at the lame attempts to scare us and the shrieks from the thirteen-year-old girls in front of us his hand rested on my arse, reminding me of how he liked to grip me there when we were fucking. All I could think about was his thick hard cock buried deep inside me grinding me into the mattress while his hands gripped my ass giving him the leverage to press himself deeper into me. 

We rode on the Ferris Wheel. I hate heights but he convinced me. Once our little gondola was clear of the ground and the eyes of the crowd, he unzipped my jeans and slipped his hand inside. I forgot about the height as his fingers slid downwards. I wished I wasn’t wearing jeans as I tried to spread my legs wide, and his finger slipped down further. I didn’t even look out at the showgrounds beneath us as he finger fucked me. All I could think about was how much I wanted his cock inside me. Then we were back at the bottom. He pulled his hand out and I quickly zipped my jeans hoping no one would notice. All I wanted to do was go somewhere and fuck. I didn’t care where. I didn’t even care how many people saw us fucking. I just wanted the sweet feeling of Steve’s cock pumping into my aching cunt.

But he made me walk through all the pavilions looking at cakes and knitting and kid’s schoolwork and chickens and pigs and stupid cattle. Every time we passed a quiet alleyway I hoped he would turn down there, push my jeans down around my knees, bend me over something and fuck the life out of me. He never did. He just walked around looking at animals and making conversation with people we knew. Every time the aching need for him began to subside a little he would squeeze my ass, reminding me. As we stood, watching the woodchop he leaned down and whispered in my ear,

“I can’t wait to bury my cock in that sweet, wet cunt of yours when we get home,”

My cunt throbbed. I went into the toilets and pulled down my pants. My knickers were soaking wet. I slid my fingers down into my slit and stroked myself, but it wasn’t good enough. I wanted him. I wanted his cock.

The afternoon stretched into the evening. Everywhere I looked there were dark corners in between sideshows and around pavilions. But Steve seemed blissfully unaware as he bought me a dagwood dog and pulled me into the stands to watch the demolition derby. His hand rested on my thigh. Every now and then his finger would stroke the seam of my jeans that ran between my legs pressing it against my clit. It was agony.  

Just before the fireworks started, I turned to him and said,

“If you don’t make good on your promises and take me somewhere to fuck me RIGHT NOW, I will go home by myself.”

His eyes opened wide in mock surprise, “But the fireworks are just about to start,” he protested.

“I don’t give a flying fuck about the fucking fireworks.” My voice was hot with desire that he had been stroking all day. “I need fireworks in my pants and I need it now!”

There was a pause and I wondered if I would have to make good on my threat to leave by myself. Then without speaking he stood and led me down the stairs and around to the back of the ring where the members of the show committee were allowed to park their cars. He unzipped my jeans and pushed them down to my knees before bending me over the bonnet of his Dad’s ute. The metal was cold against my flushed cheek. The cool evening air slipped around my naked ass and teased my exposed pussy. In the darkness I heard the jingle of his belt buckle and the quiet sound of his zipper. As the first small fireworks snapped into the air his cock pressed against my ass. I could feel how hard he was, and my body responded with even more wetness. 

“You want this?” his voice whispered in my ear as he stroked my wet pussy lips with his hard, hot member. 

I ached even more for him and whimpered in response. He pressed the head of his cock against my opening. I wanted to push back against him and impale myself on him, but he held me firmly against the bonnet of the car stopping me from moving. His cock slid inside me. At that first pop of his head entering me I groaned. Then the rest of him followed slowly filling me, satisfying the aching need I had been feeling all day. When he was all the way in, he stopped. I clenched my muscles around his hardness. I could almost cum just from the feeling of him inside me, almost, but not quite. He started pumping me, slowly but increasing his rhythm as the fireworks built up behind us. 

I forgot about everything except the feeling of him inside me. He reached around and touched my swollen aching clit as his cock slid in and out of me. An orgasm exploded through me after the first stroke. He continued to stroke and pump I came again and again. I completely forgot where I was.  The fireworks got louder and faster as they neared their grand finale. I could feel the pressure building up in Steve. His breathing got heavier, and he gripped my hips as he slammed into me. His balls slapped against my clit, sending me over the edge again. As the fireworks climaxed so did Steve. I could feel his cock pulsing as he shot his cum deep inside me. He let out a long loud groan and his orgasm seemed to go forever.

He collapsed on top of me panting with pleasure and exhaustion. Around us the sound of the crowd starting to disperse brought us back to reality. He stood up and let his cock slide out of me accompanied by a dribble of his cum. In a daze I stood and pulled up my jeans just as Mr Tucker from the next farm walked by on the way to his car. I turned my head, hoping he wouldn’t notice who I was. 

“Hello there Jill,” he murmured quietly. He didn’t stop walking and my cheeks burned red. I was glad of the darkness although it was pretty obvious what we had been up to. I just had to hope he didn’t mention it to my Dad.

TMI Tuesday – Long Showers and Lasagne

Image by Engin Akyurt from Pixabay

1. Shower or bath?

Water was an issue when I was a child. We lived on a farm and relied on rainwater and a bore for our water so long showers and deep baths were totally out of the question. That has imprinted on me. To this day I cannot do long showers or deep baths. I do treat myself to a long bath but probably only about once a month and I feel guilty about it almost every time. .

As an aside living on the yacht means VERY short showers. That means when we hit a marina a good long shower is one of the top priorities.

2. Are you a good cook? And if so, what’s your specialty?

I consider myself to be a good cook. Although I would qualify that by saying I am a good basic cook. I am excellent at putting together balanced meals from the vegetables in the fridge with minimal fuss. I don’t do elaborate meals with fancy garnishes, but the food that comes out of my kitchen will nourish you. The dish I cook that gets the whole family going is lasagna. True to form it comes complete with hidden vegetables but this removes the need for a side salad.

3. Is there anything you regret not doing?

Not really. My wedding is a big regret in my life because I let my mother control it far too much. I don’t know how I wanted it exactly which is probably why she was able to take control. But I look at weddings of friends and I am envious that they have their dream day while I feel like I had her day.

4. Who was the nicest person you worked for?

My current Mathematics Academic Leader is one of the most amazing generous patient people I have ever met. Even when he is correcting you it feels like a hug.

5. Do you play an instrument?

Presently I would say no. As a child I learned the piano and was reasonably proficient. These days I have so many other things in my life I don’t have the discipline to practice enough to restore the skill.

Bonus: Do you dream?

In vivid technicolor yes. About all sorts of things. Including sex dreams about men that are taboo.

Craving

I have a craving. A craving for a man who is starving.

I have the food he is starving for.

At first there will be restraint. I will display what he wants, and he will take a taste. One finger dipped in juice. He knows he cannot have more.

Yet.

He will put his face close to me and inhale the aroma of my offering. His mouth will water, and his fingers will explore but he knows he cannot have more.

Yet.

He moves closer and takes his first taste. A long slow lick. His whole body shudders with desire. But he cannot have more.

Yet.

I spread my legs wider. My fingers dip into my dripping wet cunt and then trace the path I want his tongue to follow. His eyes follow eagerly. I notice his hand is around his manhood moving slowly. He is almost ready. Eagerly he follows my fingers with his tongue. A deep groan vibrates through him.

Or is that me?

He grips my thighs desperately holding back. The ache to consume and be consumed grows. My fingers cradle the back of his head. His breath is hot against me. I wait. Each tentative stroke of his tongue sending a cacophony of pleasure through me.

And then it is time.

I can wait no longer. My fingers curl into his hair. I press his head against me. He obeys. He buries his face into me, gulping as he tries to drink my juice. His breath comes in short sharp bursts. I am lost in sensation. My head falls back, and the room fills with my cries of pleasure until I can take no more. I press his forehead away from me and he leans back on his heels breathing heavily. Droplets of my pleasure coat his chin. We grin at each other, and I reach for his cock. My craving is satisfied.

For now.

Image by Bogdan Ch from Pixabay
mmmMondays

Wicked Wednesday

Raising a Unicorn

When May tweeted this 4Thoughts prompt I was chuffed that she thought I would have something valuable to add. I don’t consider myself a kinkster per se but some friends have convinced me recently that the delineation between kink and swinging is old fashioned and not valid. If it isn’t vanilla it is kink. Bearing that in mind my kink is non-monogamy with some other sprinkles added when the mood takes me. Mr Jones and I have been non-monogamous for more than ten years. I would consider us successful so logically it would seem we are in a good position to give advice.

Not really. Well, maybe, if a specific person asked a specific question about their specific set of circumstances, then we might chat with them but general advice for people starting out? It is too broad. There are too many variables. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to write something profound and life changing but it all just came out sounding like I was a mother giving a lecture to her child. Besides there are any number of websites, podcasts, blogs, videos and other sources of information out there. Who am I to add more to that?

Something that HAS happened that I feel is a bit more unique is my experience as a parent. I want to preface the next five hundred words or so by saying that I am not a parenting expert. I am just telling my story.

Mr Jones and I have never shoved our lifestyle in our children’s faces but we have not hidden it either. For most of their teenage lives they have been aware at some level that some of our friends are more than just dinner and games night companions. As they got older that level of knowledge got deeper. Gemma Jones has been an identity in our household since we named a boat after her about eight years ago. No questions were asked that couldn’t be answered honestly and matter of factly. Assumptions were probably made but I did my best to make sure there were no completely wild ones.

#1 Son is reserved. He doesn’t do public nudity (unlike the rest of us), he doesn’t discuss his sex life and from what I have observed said sex life is fairly vanilla. Or rather, like most late teenage / early twenties males, any sex is better than none. The Unicorn however is completely different. She is much more open and as she grows up our relationship is morphing into more of a friendship. An example of these changes is a recent facetime conversation during which she modelled her new bra and harness set. I must say I am slightly envious that she has better play clothing than me.

You read that right, play clothing. A couple of weeks before we departed on our voyage, she revealed that she is embarking on an exploratory journey into kink. My brain exploded. With the assistance of the internet, she found a man to help her with this exploration. He is considerably older than her and five months later I have not met him. At the time I was worried. She identifies as a submissive. I KNOW from experience that many men professing to be dominants are complete twats. And that is putting it politely. My parent brain went completely off the rails thinking about how a man like that would deal with a young, naïve, and inexperienced girl taking her first steps into kink at the same time as she takes her first steps into sex in general.

Over the years I have not shied away from talking about sex with my children. I have answered their questions and I have done my best to make sure they are informed. I have explicitly lectured #1 Son about the complications of fathering children with women who are probably not going to be long term partners. I have berated him about taking responsibility for his fertility and being careful about where he sticks his penis. I have made sure The Unicorn is aware of similar issues. Her openness allowed me to see that she seeks information and takes advice on board. I am confident that both of them are sure of themselves as people and while they will undoubtedly have relationships with people who are not right for them, they will navigate sex in general quite safely.

But kink? This was not something I never thought I would have to consider. I was well into my thirties before I thought about anything non-vanilla. I was grown up enough to get my own information and parental supervision was a very long way behind me. I had a husband to be my safety monitor, I wasn’t navigating this world as a single person. There is nothing in the parenting manuals that could prepare me for this one.

In then end the only thing I could really advise about is safety. All I could do was share my own experiences and express my concerns. She is too old for me to ban her exploration or ground her to prevent her from going out. It is irrelevant if I think it is a good idea or not really. My feelings about its suitability will not change her path. She is going to do what she is going to do. If I make too much fuss, then she will simply hide that part of her life from me, and I will have no input.

I reached out to other kinksters that I knew and talked to them about what was happening. For the most part they were reassuring. Those that had met my child assured me that she was a sensible being and is unlikely to get into a situation that is too out of control. They recognised my worry and reassured me that I had done all I could. Mr Jones is being careful not to say the wrong thing. He isn’t entirely happy about this, but he knows that opposing the situation won’t prevent it. Rather it will just mean he will no longer be able to talk to her about it.

The process is ongoing. Since April I have been absent from home. The Unicorn has gotten used to being able to have people over in relative privacy. Our voyage is coming to an end. We will be moving back into our house in four weeks’ time. The next few months will mean adjustments for all of us. Mr Jones and I will have to wear pants more often, The Unicorn and #1 Son will have to consider who they bring home and what they do with those people because the parents might be around. I will meet some of the new friends. That will be interesting. I am guessing meeting and interacting with parents who are also part of their world is something a lot of them have had to deal with. There are going to be some adjustments.

So that is my story. Do I have advice for any parents in the same situation? Not really. I will not presume to tell anyone how to raise their child. But I do believe that sharing stories and experiences can be a great way to gain insight. So, I hope by sharing I have given someone somewhere something.

Image by DanXaw from Pixabay
4Thoughts