TMI Tuesday – Delayed

This week I was a little reluctant to answer the questions. Even though I can say I have dabbled in BDSM / kink I don’t consider myself a serious practitioner. In the presence of people living in true Ds relationships I feel intimidated. However after reading the answers of a few fellow TMIers namely Pink Seam and Mr A I felt a little more confident. So here goes!

1. In a D/s relationship (dominance and submission) , what do you enjoy most?

I always seem to end up dominating. It is sometimes by choice and I enjoy it. Some recent experiences with JB have proven that to me. I was reminded of the rush I get from marking a man with my teeth during sex and I expanded my toy collection a little by purchasing my first riding crop. I LOVED the sound it made when I used it on his ass.

I have also enjoyed being submissive as well. A long term occasional play friend introduced me to another thing that I find infinitely erotic. He used to hold the back of my head when I was sucking his cock and whisper to me what a good girl I was. Those words were sometimes enough to make me squirt a little.


2. What do you want people to know most about D/s relationships?

I guess, given my opening comments, I would like people to know that it isn’t all extreme pain and shouting. Sometimes like the situations I have described above it is more subtle. Many play situations involve simply teasing the line between pleasure and pain so that it gets a little blurred.

3. For you, does D/s need to have a sadist and masochist component?

Walking the line between pleasure and pain yes, sadism probably not so much. Most of the time it is more about a power play. Allowing someone to have control of your senses and experiences. Which can be more about surprise and maybe doing something that you wouldn’t normally.

4. For you, does BDSM have to involve sex?

As I said earlier I don’t consider myself a practitioner of true BDSM. I am primarily a swinger who likes to include a bit of kinky stuff in my sex. So the answer for me is yes there needs to be sex.

5. If you are in a D/s relationship, why do you need it?

I refuse to introduce any long term every day elements of Ds into my marriage. I consider marriage to be a partnership. Some members of the kink community would argue that there can be Ds and partnership, and they would be right. For me I don’t feel our partnership would work if it were a Ds relationship.

6. If you are not in a D/s relationship, would you like to be? Why?

While I don’t feel that my marriage is a good place for Ds my play friend space is definitely a great place for this to exist. As I explained in Q1. I have explored this dynamic in play friendships before and thoroughly enjoyed it. I look forward to pushing my boundaries more in the future.

Bonus:   What is the relationship between trust and vulnerability?

I think that there is a strong connection. When you trust you become vulnerable. The more you trust, the more vulnerable you are. Some people trust too easily and it gets them into unsafe situations. It would be nice to think that every person who likes to be Dominant had the feelings and safety of their submissive at heart. But sadly that is not the case.

This post is Part of TMI Tuesday. Please take the time to read other posts there.

Wicked Wednesday – Week 1

This week the amazing and indefatigable Marie Rebelle creator and author of  the material at Rebels Notes is celebrating a rather impressive milestone. It is the 400th week of Wicked Wednesday. I have recently come back to the fold of this great Meme which is an excellent place to read a wide variety of different sex related material. From erotic fiction to personal recounts to musings about various topics it has it all.

Back in the days of Erotic Adventures I was a regular contributor to Wicked Wednesday. I remember being asked by Marie to contribute to her fledgling meme after another regular Wednesday Meme that we both participated in was ended. I am not sure if I was part of the first week but a search of Erotic Adventures turned up a post entitled; Happy Birthday to Me –  Wicked Wednesday Week 1. I was excited to read it as it features some very good memories for me and someone who I have spent many pleasurable and erotic times with. I hope that he reads this and enjoys the memories as much as I did.

To save you all the hassle of finding the story I have pasted it here.

“You need to have a shower,” Jake tells me as he leads me to the bathroom and turns on the water.

“What are we doing?” I am curious but also a little reluctant. It has been a longish day. I am in no mood for prissing myself up to go out or rushing around to be ready to go at a specified time.  

He doesn’t answer instead he stands near the bathroom sink and watches me in the shower. The water is warm. I lather body wash over myself a little provocatively teasing him. There is this weird tension in the room, slightly horny, slightly nervous. Jake is twitchy and evasive. In know he has cooked something up. For the entire week there have been little cues, things like odd text messages that he doesn’t share with me. He is definitely cooking up something but I am not going to allow him to spoil my shower, it is my birthday, I can do what I want and I am not going to hurry.

When I step out of the shower there is some clothing laid out on the bed.

“I want you to wear this” Jake tells me. I don’t argue. It is his favourite skirt and hoodie. There is no question now that he has something planned but I am not going to press him for details. A tiny thought nags at the corner of my mind. Is it a premonition of what is to come? Or is it a wish? Do I dare think about it too much in case it doesn’t happen?

When I am dressed Jake brings out a blindfold and some strapping. He leads me over to the wall of our bedroom, near the doorway. He places the blindfold over my eyes and ties my hands and then helps me to kneel beside the wall. I kneel there quietly adjusting to the darkness and the fabric over my eyes. Instinctively my arms flex against the ties around my wrists. I am not uncomfortable but I don’t like being restrained. Jake’s voice whispers in my ear, “I will be back shortly,” and then he left the room.

In the quiet darkness I strain to hear every tiny noise. My mind is seeking out information about what is happening. Questions press into my thoughts. Is there someone coming? Who is it? When will they be here? What will they do to me? The seconds feel like minutes. I hear the back door slide open. People are quietly moving in the next room. There is some whispering and the jingle of a belt buckle. My heart is beating. Who is there? I think I know who it might be but then maybe it isn’t. Other possible people run through my head. What if it is someone I have never met? I don’t know if I could handle that.

I hear footsteps on the carpet. There is a body standing close to me, I hear him breathing. He is nervous like me. He touches my face to say hello but there is no words. Then he places his cock against my lips.  I lick the tip, tasting the pre-cum that has formed there already. I open my lips and he slides his shaft into my mouth. I know this cock! I am happy that he is here to celebrate my birthday with me. I relax and begin to enjoy myself now savouring the feel of his hard thick member in my mouth. I try to take all of him down my throat but he is too large for me. I gag slightly on him and continue to suck him greedily. Above my head his breathing is heavier I feel him lean over to place his hands on the wall behind me so he can fuck my mouth.  

Then he pulls himself out of my mouth and steps away. I am confused. What is happening? Another body is in front of me. This time he doesn’t hesitate he puts his cock against my lips. Immediately I open my mouth to the warm soft skin. I smile to myself. Jake didn’t want to be left out of the fun. I suck him down into my mouth as well. I am at his mercy. I cannot use my hands to stop him from penetrating as deeply as he wants.

But he only stays a moment. Then another person is in front of me. I am expecting Dino again. I remember the last time I was with him, how hard he fucked me and how it felt to have his big beautiful cock inside me. The idea of a night of tag teaming with him and Jake fills me with excitement and pleasure.

Then surprise and hesitation. This person isn’t Dino it is someone else! I flick my tongue over him and I am even more excited. It is Mr Fix It!. My lips open and he slips into my mouth pressing his belly against my face. If I could I would have placed my arms around his hips and hugged him. This is shaping up to be a fantastic night. How could a girl ask for a better birthday celebration than to be at the mercy of three men?

I hope you all enjoyed this little trip down memory lane. I know I did. If you want to read the original post in all it’s glory here.


According to the Australasian Menopausal Society a woman is considered post menopausal when twelve consecutive months have elapsed since her last period. Last January I decided to put to bed some suspicions I had about the pill masking my embarkation into this post menopausal world.

One year later and my suspicions were confirmed. I am post menopausal.

My reproductive system has never been a source of angst, pain or any other issue. I started menstruating at age 11, a little earlier than most but without any real issues. Unless you count the ridiculous “birds and bees” talk or lack thereof that I received from my parents which led a terrified 11 year old girl to not understanding completely why she was suddenly bleeding and with no real idea of how to deal with it. No internet in 1983 to educate myself with.

Fast forward fifteen years and I have educated myself as much as possible. Actually probably a bit more than a lot of my peers given that I have been sexually active since age 17 and have managed to avoid STD’s and pregnancy while still having a good working knowledge of the bedroom. Mr Jones and I decide to have children quite soon after we are married. He is worried about not being fertile due to radiation therapy he had following a brush with testicular cancer.

He needn’t have worried. I was pregnant as soon as humanly possible.

Two mostly uncomplicated pregnancies and natural births later I continued on my sexual journey. I have had a couple of brushes with Chlamydia over the years but nothing else of note pertaining to my lady bits. I am happy to say my reproductive organs have served me well and performed according to design specifications.

Not surprisingly menopause seemed equally uneventful. Reading the list illustrated above I can tick off a lot of the symptoms there; hot flushes (“power surges” as a good friend refers to them), weight gain (or was that all the starchy, sugary food??) and some mild depression. Writing this I also noted brittle nails as a symptom. Yep tick. The depression has been around for a while in one form or another. Not entirely sure of the cause / trigger or extent. So I don’t know if it can be counted as a symptom.

The thing that caught me by surprise was the tears. I hate crying. I hate crying in front of anyone even more. I think Mr Jones can count on one hand the number of times he has seen me cry, until this year. Now I cry




About anything. Even when I want to stop sometimes I can’t. Even when I really need to stop I can’t. I hate it. Recently I received some negative news about my daughter’s application for a leadership role at her school. It just so happens I teach at the same school. I was fine in front of the students. In the staff room I couldn’t stop crying. I don’t even want to know what everyone thought. I just know that the tears would not stop. No matter how much I rationalised them, no matter how much I told myself to get over it. They just wouldn’t stop.

There were also a couple of incidents during pole classes where I had to leave the room to shed tears of frustration at the way my mind had convinced my body it couldn’t do something. I just can’t stop this water coming out of my eyes.

I have always wanted to be in control and look strong and powerful. Now in my middle age and perhaps with some of the wisdom that comes with that I have realised that being strong is not always possible or healthy. Slowly I am coming to terms with not always having the answers. My family finds this a bit confronting as I am the go to person if there is an issue. Being told to “work it out for yourself” or “ask your Dad” are relatively new experiences for my children.

I can still do without the tears. Tears are messy and crying leads to red eyes which leads to people asking if you are OK which means having to explain the source of not OKness which leads to more tears. Then you have to find tissues and splash water on your face. All too hard.

Recently I visited a psychologist for the first time. That was challenging but at least I didn’t cry. Small victory. One of the things he told me was I needed to slow down and take more time to just be. He is right of course. Maybe if I take his advice and chill for a little bit each day the tears will be easier to control. Maybe I just need to carry a box of tissues with me everywhere.

This post was part of Wicked Wednesday’s 400th prompt celebration.

I have also included this as part of Menopause Diaries. Both of these places have some amazing posts from amazing writers, I strongly encourage you to check them out.

RIP Nana

I blogged in 2019 about attending the 100th birthday of my grandmother. It was a milestone that was celebrated in style with all of her family present.

I had thought for some time that despite seeming to be timeless that Nana was merely marking time in this dimension. She had lived longer than most people ever do, she had outlived her husband by forty years, most of her friends, her younger sister and one of her children. Despite taking great joy in watching her grandchildren and great-grandchildren grow up, she was done.

Interestingly she didn’t have any major debilitating health problems that were causing her concern. Her body was just worn out. On Christmas Day she was admitted to hospital with a kidney infection and while in hospital she contracted a rhinovirus. On Friday 17 January she suffered a massive stroke and left this world. While everyone was saddened by her passing there was a sense of relief. One of the things that she had been adamant about was not wanting to live in a nursing home. Prior to Christmas and during her stay in hospital the need to move her from her assisted living residence to a facility with a higher level of care had become obvious. That battle and transition never came to pass.

One thing that was commented on during the funeral was her response to a question posed to her during her 100th birthday celebrations; “What is your secret to a long life?”

Her response; “Hard work!”

There is no doubt during her long life she worked hard. She was born at the end of WWI she lived through the Great Depression and WWII. She was actively involved in the raising of all five of her grandchildren and had a major role in the lives of her 12 great – grandchildren. She cared for her husband as he battled cancer and did the same for three of her children. Sadly her husband and one of her sons did not win the great fight but two of her daughters did. She worked hard.

My grandfather died when I was 9 years old. I have very few memories of him. Nana never re-married. She lived an entire lifetime as a widow. Her reunion with her husband has been long in the making.

Rest in peace, hard working, eternally cheerful, quietly extraordinary woman.

TMI Tuesday – Head Stuff

It is TMI Tuesday time again!

1. What makes you dislike life?

This question has me stumped. I don’t know how to answer without going into some long winded discussion about depression. I want to highlight that my depression is minor and I believe primarily caused by hormonal fluctuations and weird chemical imbalances in my brain. It is also mostly under control. I just have to remember to take time to relax.

2. When has a mundane occurrence or chance completely changed the course of your life?

One day a man came to the door of the house I was living in handing out flyers about ballroom dance classes at the community centre nearby. I had always wanted to try this style of dancing so I took myself along. At that class I met Mr Jones. It could so easily have been different. I could have not answered the door, not taken the flyer, not gone to the class… But I did all those things and well the rest is history.

3. What has taken up too much of your life?

Meetings. No one realises how much time teachers spend in meetings. Meetings about all sorts of stuff, admin stuff, behaviour management, teaching frameworks, the latest pretty data chart, results of standard tests the list is endless. Just like some of the meetings.

4. What is the most ridiculous rule you have to follow?

This is a bit controversial, but having to enforce uniform standards. For those in the US, it is pretty standard in Australia for school students to wear a uniform. State / public schools are fairly relaxed about the standard of the uniform. The school I work at is not one of those schools and so we, the teachers, are expected to enforce standards about the type of hat worn, tucking shirts in, pulling socks up, yada, yada. It is draining and many times I have asked myself if it is actually a productive thing. Really the only reason the school is so picky about uniform is for appearances. It doesn’t have any educational benefit.

5. What does the voice in your head say?

Right now it is telling me I should be going to bed very soon. Usually it says a lot of sarcastic, inappropriate things. Sometimes judgemental things but I am working on minimising those.

Bonus: What’s better than great sex?

Not a lot really. Interludes like this one inspired by sessions with JB really don’t have any parallel. The only thing could be a really, really, really good chocolate cake. But it would only just make it.

For more TMI goodness make sure that you head on over to the TMI blog for more fun!

Late for Work

The prompt for this week’s Wicked Wednesday was Timekeeping. A short while ago I took some early morning images of Mr Jones before he had woken up properly. It seemed to be a fitting image to go with this story. 

The first beams of the morning sun spilled through the window onto Rita’s face. Sleepily she turned away pulling the blanket over her shoulders. Just a few more minutes. The alarm had other ideas, Rita’s stolen slumber was pierced by insistent sound demanding that she rouse herself. Sleepily she surveyed the man beside her still sleeping oblivious to the alarm that had so rudely interrupted Rita’s doze. The sheet wrapped loosely over his hips did little to hide the firmly erect cock underneath. IMG_1484


A smirk played across Rita’s lips as she slid her hand under the warmth of the sheets to encircle the erection. Warm velvety skin slid against her palm as she stroked him slowly. Her man stirred sleepily as his cock hardened more against her palm. A tiny drop of wetness formed at the tip.

With her cunt starting to throb Rita bent down and licked away the pre-cum that was building there. Heat rushed through Rita starting at her groin and finding it’s way to her nipples causing them to stiffen and poke against the fabric of her t-shirt. She opened her mouth and let her wet lips slide down his shaft. Inhaling his scent as his cock hit the back of her throat. Her man let out a muffled groan. Wetness started to gather at the opening of Rita’s cunt. She moved her head up and down, sliding her lips over his cock taking time at the top of each stroke to circle the head before sliding down. His breathing was coming harder and faster. Each breath was ending with a small moan.

Rita let the swollen cock slide from her lips. A dribble of saliva mixed with his pre-cum formed at the corner of her mouth. The heat and throbbing in her cunt could no longer be ignored. She lifted her body and straddled him, guiding his cock into her slick wetness. As slowly as she could she impaled herself on him, taking time to feel the thickness filling and stretching her.

When she was filled she sat astride him looking down at the smooth skin of his chest and studying the expression on his face. Sleep still made his eyelids heavy but his mouth smiled, showing his pleasure. She began to rock on his cock, responding to the primal desire inside her.

“Don’t you have that thing you have to be at work early for?” His voice penetrated her pleasure in the same insistent way the alarm had penetrated her sleep.

For a moment Rita was confused, her mind, focused on the pleasure between her thighs resisted the transition to daily tasks but the change in his demeanor forced her to focus on the question. A blinding flash of reality hit her. She looked at the clock on the bedside table;

7:43 was spelled out in neat red LED display.

“Fuckity, fuck, fuck,” Rita bolted upright and slid off the cock that had filled her so pleasurably just seconds ago. “I am going to be so fucking late!!!”

She dashed into the bathroom. She didn’t have time to wait for the water to warm. Instead she shivered her way through the coldest, shortest shower in history before dashing to the wardrobe to hurriedly choose and pull on some clothing,

“Can you book me an Uber!” she called in a panicky voice as she yanked at buttons on her blouse. Her breasts seemed to have developed a life of their own and resisted being encased in a bra and sensible blouse. “I can’t find my fucking shoes

Rushing into the bedroom she bent over Michael to kiss him goodbye. He smiled at her and thrust his pelvis so that his semi hard cock could stroke her thigh. Rita’s cunt twitched and she felt a trickle of wetness between her legs, “Stop it,” she snapped firmly suppressing the urge to strip down and finish what she started.

“Your Uber is out the front,” He grinned, his hand moving slowly up and down his shaft. “Good luck with your meeting, I am going to stay here and finish what you started,”

Rita made a face at him knowing that once she stepped inside her office she would have scant opportunity to deal with the desire burning inside her. Michael’s free hand slid up her skirt and under the elastic of her panties.

“Your Uber is out the front waiting,” he slid his finger inside her as he stroked himself with his other hand.

“Fuck you!!” She stepped away from the bed forcing him to withdraw his hand.

“Have a great day,” His voice followed her out the front door to her waiting Uber. “I will send you some pics,”

Rita’s Uber pulled up at the front of her offices at 8:23am. Traffic had been a nightmare. In seven minutes she was expected to be in front of a group of clients with her ideas and thoughts calmly bound together to present.

“Where have you been?” Lucy greeted her colleague at her desk.

“Fucking traffic,” Rita dashed around her workspace collecting figures and reports, “Where are the printouts I organised yesterday?” Papers flew around. Rita was completely out of her depth. Normally she would arrive at work at least 45 minutes before a meeting with a client. Giving herself less than five minutes was almost more than she could bear.

“Your meeting is here,” Sharon the receptionist announced cheerily, “Should I show them into the meeting room?”

Rita took a moment to breathe, “Yes please,” she smiled at Sharon digging deep to find a well of calmness inside herself. “We are in room 2”

The meeting went well. Rita managed to impress without her usual over preparedness. As she farewelled the client she noticed one of his assistants looking surreptitiously at her chest. The assistant was dressed impeccably in a well cut suit. Underneath the perfectly ironed shirt appeared to be a lithe well toned body. For a nanosecond Rita found herself fantasising about unbuttoning that shirt and running her hands over the smooth skin underneath.

The final handshake was made, the client left followed by his assistant who gave one last quizzical glance at Rita’s chest. It was definitely not a sexy look. Rita glanced down, her shirt was buttoned incorrectly!!! She was mortified, why hadn’t anyone told her?

After a detour to the bathroom to fix her blouse Rita went back to her desk.

“How did it go?” Lucy poked her head around the partition. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind, I flipped your phone onto silent. It kept pinging and it was driving me nuts,”

Rita wondered if anything else could happen to unnerve her today. ” I am going to get some coffee. I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning.”

Out in the street she took the time to check her messages. Of course a string of explicit photos from Michael. Her hungry cunt throbbed. He had the day off and was clearly spending it well. She wished she had time to go home and join him but her desk and the follow up from her meeting was calling. Reluctantly she collected her coffee and made her way back to the office,

Back at her desk she immediately became immersed in emails. The coffee she had bought sat half consumed on her desk. Time seemed to blur and Rita was oblivious to her surroundings until she was interrupted by Sharon.

“”Michael is here,” The expression on Sharon’s face was a little hard to read. Rita’s colleagues seemed to have a fascination with Michael.

“Really?” Rita was surprised that he had managed to get himself out of bed and put clothes on. She stood up from her desk and made her way to the reception area.

When she saw Michael sitting there all of the morning desire came flooding back. Heat radiated from her groin and the tell tale wetness started collecting in Her panties. The photos from earlier popped into her mind as she inadvertently dropped her gaze to his crotch, the jeans he was wearing hid what was underneath but it didn’t matter she knew well the fun that could be had with what was underneath.

“I came to take you for lunch,” he grinned.

“I am really busy,” Rita began making excuses acutely aware of Sharon sitting behind her tall reception desk judging this interruption to smooth office operations at the same time as she was wishing that she had someone like Michael to visit her inappropriately at work.

“We won’t be long,” Michael cajoled. ” Besides I bet you haven’t eaten today at all.”

He was of course right. Suddenly Rita felt ravenous.

Within a short time they were sitting on the bench in a nearby park eating sandwiches from Rita’s favourite cafe. She forced herself to take the time to appreciate the good food and take in some fresh air. Beside her Michael wolfed his food and then turned his attention to her skirt.

With a sly smile he slid his hand up her leg to slip his finger into her panties.

“Now we can also deal with a little unfinished business,” his finger worked its way past her labia and wormed down into her crotch.

Rita’s legs spread open, inviting him in. As she finished the last of her sandwich Michael reached over and pulled her onto his lap. She made weak protesting sounds but the intense look in his eye told her that he was having none of it. Deftly he unzipped his jeans to reveal his hard cock. Equally as deftly he hoisted her skirt and pulled aside her panties to guide her wet aching cunt onto him. A small moan of pleasure escaped her lips as his hands pushed her hips down onto him.

Rita’s fingers worked her clit as Michael used her hips to grind her against his cock. Neither of them needed much to reach the release they had both been denied the orgasm gripped her Rita was pleased to hear a muffled grunt of pleasure from Michael and to feel the warmth of his cum filling her cunt. She slumped forward against his chest.

“I needed that,” she gasped as the warm afterglow filled her.

“So did I,” he stroked her hair

“I need to go back to work now,” she pulled herself away reluctantly.

“We can have the main course later when there is more time.” Michael zipped his jeans as she straightened her skirt. “I will be hungry all afternoon thinking of that beautiful pussy I just smashed.”

Rita squirmed in pleasure noting the slight scent of sex emanating from her. She wished she didn’t have to work, but she did. There would be time enough later.

This post was written for this week’s Wicked Wednesday If you enjoyed this then you will definitely enjoy the other smuttiness you will find there. 


Trying to be Safe

No one in my house is awake. I get myself up because;

  1. I want to work on a story for the blog
  2. I have a bunch of stuff I need to work through before I go back to school next week after summer holidays. (Yes I am still on holidays and that means I shouldn’t work but … it is too hard to explain)

So what do I do, I scroll through Twitter of course because procrastination is my middle name. BUT then I came across this article describing a woman’s experience of explaining a non-linear monogamous sex life to her gynecologist. In short, for all of her sex life she has tried to do the right thing to ensure that she doesn’t get infected with an STI. It is not a black and white process, nothing to do with biology ever is. (Something I can never seem to get my students to understand but I digress). She finds herself pigeonholed and belittled by many medical practitioners who don’t always ask the right questions or even prescribe the right tests.

Of course everyone’s experiences are different. But what happened to her, how she felt about what she was doing and how medical professionals interacted with her is similar to my own experience.

For many years I would land in a doctor’s surgery and ask for an STI screen, not entirely regularly but when I remembered. I didn’t always have a regular GP but I tried. The conversation would go a little like this;

“So what can I do for you today?”

“I need an STI screen,”

“OK. Has something happened that you are concerned about?”


At this point a puzzled look crosses the doctor’s face. I can see them thinking “WTF???” I hurry to explain,

“My husband and I are swingers, we have multiple partners,”

“Right…” This revelation always made doctors uncomfortable. Strangely they can look at people’s lumps and bumps, examine all parts of their anatomy with that doctor face that hides emotion. But when they are faced with something that challenges a fundamental cornerstone of our culture, their professional facade falls apart. It took me many years before I found a GP who didn’t fall apart at this revelation. Not surprisingly this man had a history of working with women in prison and also in a clinic that had many sex workers as clients. His feelings about my lifestyle choice were for the most part positive. He did of course give me the obligatory safe sex rant that made me feel like all my sexual encounters should look like this

Errrm I’ll pass. As much as I hate condoms I do use them in the standard accepted manner, ie on a penis to contain bodily fluid. I use them during all of my sexual encounters with people who are not my husband.

Fast forward a few years and I found myself in a consultation with a doctor who specializes in hypertension. I was, and still am, suffering from this inherited condition, thanks Mother. This doctor was trying to eliminate known triggers and potentially remove the need for me to take medication. The topic of me taking the contraceptive pill came up. She questioned the need for a long term, married, 40+ woman to be on a medication that clearly had links to the condition that I was trying to eliminate.

She was much more professional about my reasons for insisting on this medication than many of her colleagues had been. Yes, a baby fathered by a man other than my husband is a much less desirable outcome than a possible slight reduction in my blood pressure. Interestingly since menopause has come into my life I have not taken the pill for almost a year and my blood pressure? Still high, I am still taking medication.

The general tone of the article I read was frustration that medical practitioners and educators lack empathy and probably knowledge about sexual and relationship choices that vary from the standard, boy – girl one partner only type. Our culture is so strongly rooted in the heterosexual marriage with a view to producing children that most people can’s see past it. Even when this model clearly fails the majority of people.

The world is overpopulated, no-one is really arguing against that idea. But still we expect that every human of child bearing age will want to produce offspring. So many children are scarred by being the product of toxic, malfunctioning marriages but still we push the fantasy of monogamous, happily ever after. The definition of insanity is repeating the same action and expecting a different outcome. If this is so then the world has clearly gone insane.



One of the songs that I would have loved to do some choreography to in a pole dance class is Flaunt it by TV Rock. Sadly, due to circumstances out of my control, I probably never will. In case you don’t know the song I am speaking of here is a refresher.

This is the backdrop to my Wicked Wednesday for this week. As always, read, enjoy, leave a comment if you are inspired but more importantly click the image at the end of the story to read more contributions. 

The opening lines of the song throbbed through the club;

“Go on and flaunt it…”

Veronica jumped out of her seat and made her way to the dance floor. As she walked she subconsciously moved her hips in time to the music. The tiny pleated skirt swished enticingly above her perfect round ass.

“I see your walking through the club. Making moves getting love,”

The metal of the pole was cool beneath her hand as she undulated her body against it. Keeping the rhythm of the music Veronica strutted and twisted around the pole flaunting her shiny black platforms lifting as she stepped. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a woman sitting in the corner. The woman was dressed in a short black dress with black vinyl knee high boots. The front of her dress plunged down showing her full cleavage encased by black lace.

“Walking through the disco noise. Kissing girls kissing, boys.”

For a moment Veronica rested her shoulder blades against the pole as she locked eyes with the mystery woman. She slid her hands down her body, emphasizing the swell of her breasts and her tiny waist before she turned neatly and bent down to stroke her leg neatly pointing her full round ass upwards and in the direction of her watcher.

“Your making love to the music, I’m your DJ make you lose it.”

Veronica undulated her body against the pole rippling in time to the music. She flipped her hair over her shoulder to take a peek at her admirer. The woman sat on the couch with her legs parted slightly. Veronica wondered if she was wearing underwear. As she twisted around the pole flaunting her ass and displaying her body to anyone who wanted to watch she fantasised about sliding her hand up those milky white thighs. Her pussy began to throb with arousal. She felt like a cat on heat.

“Go on and flaunt it ha, What your Mumma gave you, ha”

The last lines of the song played and the DJ started to mix in the next track. The mystery woman stood and made her way to a dark corner at the back. For a fleeting second she glanced over her shoulder and Veronica took this as an invitation to follow. In a haze of lust mixed with the euphoria of dancing in such a slutty way she followed. She found the woman sitting on a couch at the back of the club. Beside her a young man sat straddled by an attractive woman whose short black dress was hiked up to reveal her ass the man’s hands gripped the round globes of her butt pushing her down onto his lap. Veronica couldn’t be sure but she thought they were fucking. The couple were lost in their own little world, completely oblivious to the people around them. Like Veronica they were caught up in the lust and heat of the night.

The mystery woman beckoned to Veronica enticing her to come closer. Veronica walked over to stand between the woman’s legs completely mesmerised by the shape of the woman’s breasts encased loosely by the fabric of her dress. Her nipples strained against the fabric, advertising her arousal. Veronica ached to slide her hands into the dress and rub their firmness against her palms. As she stepped forward the woman put her hands on Veronica’s hips drawing her closer. The woman pressed her face against Veronica’s crotch.

A jolt shot through Veronica as the heat from the woman’s breath seeped through her panties. A slick wetness started to form as the woman looked up into Veronica’s eyes. Their eyes remained locked as the woman slid a finger under the lace and satin. The finger worked it’s way deeper and stroked Veronica’s swelling, aching labia before sliding through the slick wetness to graze her swollen clit. A gasp of breath escaped Veronica’s lips

The music of the club and the press of people around them faded into the background as the woman deftly slid Veronica’s panties down around her knees and pressed her face against the smooth skin of Veronica’s pussy. For a fleeting moment Veronica sent a prayer of thanks to whatever deity inspired her to shave before heading out that evening. The prayer flew out of Veronica’s mind as a tongue slid into her slit.

Heat radiated through Veronica’s body. A groan escaped from her lips but the sound was lost in the music of the club. The woman’s face pressed harder against Veronica’s smooth freshly shaven mound. Her tongue reached deeper, inserting itself into Veronica’s hot wet opening. She felt her knees buckle underneath her but the grip of the mystery woman’s hands on her hips held her upright.

Time seemed to stop, everything seemed to stop. The only thing Veronica was aware of was the tongue stroking her pussy, inserting itself inside her. Pleasure coursed through her, each wave building on top of the other. Veronica slumped forward over the woman, supporting herself with her hands propped on the back of the couch. Her breath came in short, hard bursts. The woman slid a finger inside her as her tongue continued to lap her swollen, aching clit. A familiar pressure started building inside her. But this time it had a different more intense edge. For a while Veronica tried to hold it back, not wanting this moment to end.

Her resistance was futile. The woman’s finger hooked against the sensitive skin at the entrance to Veronica’s pussy. The orgasm was overwhelming. Wetness rushed out of Veronica’s pussy and a long scream escaped from her lips. Gently the woman guided her down to sit on the couch beside her. Veronica lay back as the woman gently eased her panties downwards and slipped them over her feet. Pushing Veronica’s knees apart the woman kneeled between Veronica’s feet.

The woman looked into Veronica’s eyes.

“You taste as good as you look.” With a sly smile she cupped her hand over Veronica’s dripping pussy.

“I hope you enjoyed the first course,” the woman’s voice was hot in Veronica’s ear. “Because I am famished and I could eat all night.”

This post is part of Wicked Wednesday prompt #398; Flaunt. Please visit the site and read some other exquisite erotica,

TMI Tuesday – Would You Rather?

These questions always produce some interesting thoughts. So read on about my take on some seemingly impossible conundrums. When you are finished click the TMI Tuesday image to see what everyone else is saying about it.

1.Would you rather have one nipple or two belly buttons?

I am a big fan of my nipples so I don’t really want to lose one. I think there would be some people in the world, other than myself, who would be very disappointed if one of my nipples disappeared. So despite the fact that two belly buttons would be weird and a little annoying I am not ready to lose a nipple.

2. Would you rather always feel like someone is following you, but no one is, or always feel like someone is watching you, even though no one is?

Regular followers may or may not know this about me but I loooove being watched. This applies to being watched when I am dancing, read being slutty on a pole, or fucking. The feeling of having an audience turns me on so much. I would kind of like that feeling all the time. Although I acknowledge that it could get annoying from time to time it would be much better than that creepy “someone is following me” feeling.

3. Would you rather have sex in a cave frequented by tourists or sex in a tree house in your parents’ backyard?

Technically speaking my parent’s backyard is about 10, 000 acres and there are any number of trees to build a tree house in. So sex in a tree house in there backyard could actually be very private. Once when Mr Jones and I were dating we walked up a creek to this waterhole on a neighbouring property that we swam in as kids. Of course when in nature we were inspired to do what comes naturally.

Another one of our activities before kids was to visit National Parks, get naked and take photos in certain secluded spots. Sometimes we would get distracted and forget about the photos. I think I should see if I can find some of them sometime. The photos that is. So either of those options is fine with me.

4. Would you rather be unable to use search engines or unable to use social media?

Does WordPress count as social media? If so definitely not use a search engine. I don’t particularly care about good old FB but I am a little addicted to Twitter and I thoroughly enjoy reading what the bloggers I follow get up to even some of the non-sexy folk.

5. Would you rather get one free round trip international plane ticket every year or be able to fly domestic anytime for free?

Free domestic flight please. I have travelled very little outside of my country mostly to the South Pacific and a couple of times to New Zealand. I don’t have a driving passion to visit Europe as the vast majority of my work colleagues do. I am kind of interested in visiting Canada, The USA and Japan in that order but the idea of being crowded in with a bunch of tourists does not excite me.

Mr Jones and myself have travelled extensively through Australia, unlike many of the people I either work with or socialise with. We live in such a diverse, stunning country that I can’t understand why people want to spend such extortionate amounts of money to go stand with thousands of people to look at evidence of civilisation when right in their back yard is the awesome power of nature, coupled with one of the oldest cultures in the world living in harmony. But hey, each to their own.

Click here to see who else is sharing for TMI Tuesday

A Path of Destruction

This post is a continuation of the story of Mr Jones and my journey through the swinging world to the point we are at today. If you want to read the story so far a lot of links and brief descriptions is outlined on The Journey to Now page.

Wes and Sheree’s relationship was far less than perfect. Not long after our double penetration experience it became clear that there was more to things than just a struggle with mental health. It was a long and sordid process but ultimately the two of them split. During the demise of their marriage my feelings for Wes became stronger and stronger. I found myself listening to his feelings about the demise of his marriage and it sucked me in. Despite us telling ourselves we had everything under control we didn’t. Older wiser me can see how he was manipulating things but then I went like a lamb to the slaughter.

In conversations that we have had since these events Mr Jones has been fairly confident in his opinion that Wes was trying to manipulate the situation and steal me away from him. I am not entirely convinced that this was his motivation. I feel that he was just keeping me on a leash to be available if and when he felt he needed a woman to service his sexual needs and to massage his ego. Whatever the case he wasn’t really concerned with my best interests or my marriage.

A series of events had led to me leaving my long term employer and ultimately ending a career that I loved as a Quality Manager for a food manufacturer. This had happened prior to us embarking on our swinging journey but I was still struggling with the fallout of these changes. I had not quite made the decision to become a teacher but the seeds had been sown. Mr Jones and I took advantage of my career break to travel for three months with our children. It was an epic adventure that spawned it’s own blog and inspired a much longer term plan that will be coming to fruition in 2021. It was also a time for us to re-connect with each other.

Wes and I kept in contact the whole time we were travelling mainly through email every week or so. I think Mr Jones was hoping that the absence would sever the tie we had and when we returned we would start afresh.

Unfortunately this was not the case. We returned to our regular life and picked up some things where we left off. Through our emails Wes had told me he was very excited for my return but that he had also met someone else. I was happy that he had found a person to share his journey with as I felt that he needed that. His communication led me to believe that this new person knew about our relationship and was OK with it.

She may have known he had a friend called Gemma who was married and that she was a swinger. She may have known that Wes and Sheree were swingers but she certainly didn’t know how entwined Mr Jones and myself were with Wes and Sheree. She found out during a visit to a swing club when I tried to join them having an intimate moment thinking a threesome or a foursome would be a lot of fun. We were at a swing club after all.

The following morning a received a very blunt message from her accusing me of being a complete slut and how dare I intrude on her relationship without being invited. Her words were nasty and very very hostile. It was a sign of things to come. With his usual charm Wes smoothed things over and manipulated both of us back into our boxes but it was the beginning of the end. His new friend and I pretended to get along but it was all fake. In the end I realised my fantasy of two husbands was not going to work possibly ever and certainly not in this situation. I ended up cutting ties with Wes completely and left him to his messy life. It was hard and painful but ultimately necessary.

One of my lifelong mantras has been “things always work out the way they are meant to” at this time I didn’t feel that things were working out the way they were meant to at all. In all honesty I was just resisting the loss of someone I was very infatuated with and cutting those ties was the only healthy thing I could have done.

The experience left me with some hard learned lessons and led me to put in place a couple of policies about dealing with people that I have kept to this day. One of the first is to avoid infatuation. This is not an easy thing and I have not always been successful at it. Another is to keep out of the workings of other people’s relationships. This has been something that is easier to maintain. “Other people’s relationships are other people’s business” has become something I say frequently when comment arises about the way people interact in their marriage. It is easy to be an armchair commentator but you are never going to know what has come to pass in a relationship as it falls apart. Getting involved even as a sympathetic ear is a bad idea, it will cost you a friendship and your self respect.