My daughter turned eighteen recently. Today, Saturday, we are holding a family gathering to celebrate the event. My parents and both my siblings live in different towns several hours drive away so this event doesn’t just involve twenty five people descending on my house for an evening. I will be graced by the presence of my parents for three days. Which may sound like a good thing but believe me, it isn’t. But that isn’t the point of this post.
A few years ago I entertained regularly. I was quite adept at planning, preparing and presenting a meal for 15 – 30 people as the occasion demanded. Over the years the group of people we hung out with whittled away, people moved, we lost contact etc. My mental health went to another place and this is the first large gathering I have hosted in a while.
What is disturbing me about this event, apart from the parental visit, is my lack of ability to get focussed and be organised. Once I was the person who had the answers. I planned whole weekend camps for five families, accomodation, meals, shopping, the works. At the moment I am struggling to make decisions about what we will eat and decorations for a single evening. I make plans, I forget them (yes I should write them down, I know). I write lists, they don’t make sense, I go shopping and get home only to realise I should have had another twenty items on my list. it goes on and on.
I can’t seem to focus on a single task to completion. For example I woke up and was scrolling through Fakebook (no that isn’t a typo) and saw something that inspired a blog post. Between my bed and the keyboard I latched on to three other tasks and now I am writing this.
You will get to read my pearls of wisdom later. If I remember them and someone doesn’t interrupt me.
I think it is some of the reason I haven’t been posting regularly. Believe me there are about ten stories that have started their life and are hanging in the balance somewhere. I hope that they get to be fully formed and make their way to your view. Maybe when the holidays start in three weeks.
Until then you will have to make do with the occasional brain fart!
I was recently at a swing club and encountered a man. That in itself is not unusual. It is in fact one of the things that Mr Jones and I go there for. The difference in this case is that I didn’t find him attractive. I knew this as soon as I saw him. Not only did I not find him attractive I also had some instinctive understanding that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
Throughout the evening I avoided eye contact with this man. I didn’t want to get into a conversation with him. I knew without experiencing it that he would be pushy and not listen to me when I avoided his advances. In short I just found him a bit creepy. I chatted with other men and found other people who were much more attractive to me.
Later I was in an open play area and I was enjoying myself with another man. He was sitting on a couch naked and I was kneeling in front of him with my mouth on his cock. It was hot, he was enjoying himself and I was enjoying myself. Two consenting adults enjoying themselves in a place where that kind of thing is allowed. I was aware of the creepy guy watching. It wasn’t ideal but it was a public space, he was entitled to watch. As long as he kept to himself.
Of course he didn’t. Creepy people never do. They are constantly trying to find a way to ease themselves into situations where they are not wanted or invited. I heard him asking Mr Jones if he was able to join in. Of course Mr Jones stated that I was in charge of that. I turned and clearly said no to him.
Undeterred he moved to be sitting on the couch a little way down from myself and my new friend. He pulled out his cock and began wanking. Not entirely the most acceptable thing but I ignored him. As long as he kept his hands to himself I was prepared to ignore his transgression.
As it happened Covid restrictions meant my new friend and I were directed to a closed room. I don’t know what the difference would be but hey, we adjourned and continued with our fun.
Later I was talking with the club security. He apologised for moving us. In pre-Covid times giving a man a head job in an open play area was the norm. These days rules say that kind of thing is not allowed. The club’s owners don’t like the rules or think they are sensible but they are also keen to avoid a fine and so enforce them. What was more of a concern to him was the behaviour of the creepy guy. It turned out that he was not prepared to overlook Creepy Guy’s transgression and was only to happy to evict him.
As I suspected he did not go willingly. He refused to understand that what he had done was not acceptable. No amount of explaining could convey why creepiness was not OK. To make matters worse he accused the security man of being racist. It is true that Creepy Guy was not Caucasian like myself, Mr Jones, our friend and the security man but that was not the reason why we found him creepy. He was just creepy.
At the end of the day no-one likes being rejected. It is unpleasant and can be painful. But pushing things can lead to situations where you have to hear even less pleasant things about yourself. If a person says No it really is best to just accept it and walk away.
This post is part of Wicked Wednesday prompt #441 Unrequited Love. Click on the image to see who else is being Wicked.
Another week. Another Tuesday. You know what that means…
1. Do you post sexy pics of yourself on your blog? Why?
EERRRM yes. Why? Because I can. Because it makes me feel good. And because there are a bunch of people out there who like to look. So without any further ado
Another reason I post the occasional pic is because I want to put some images of real women onto the internet. We aren’t all perfectly shaped.
2. Have you ever had sex when you suspected security cameras might be present but the passion was too hot to stop or care about being caught on video?
Mr Jones was a security technician in a previous career. Sometimes he still does that kind of work. The first few times I had sex in the secret sex hang out I considered that he may have installed a camera for his viewing pleasure. He assures me that he hasn’t done that but to be honest it would be kind of hot if he did.
3. Have you ever had sex knowing full well you were being filmed or pics were being taken?
Mr Jones DID set up a camera to record our wedding night. That was back in the days of VCRs. Somehow during a move the video disappeared, or got taped over. It was a great tragedy.
Since then we have taken pictures during sex especially play sessions. As I have described in a previous TMI there was a recording on a USB card of myself and Mr Fix it that also met an unfortunate end.
4. When it comes to sex, to which do you most relate–being an exhibitionist or a voyeur?
My go to has been exhibitionism. I love being watched. A long term fantasy is to be surrounded by people who are watching me have sex. During the session various onlookers are invited by Mr Jones to participate but those who are not invited are masturbating.
Having said that I am not against watching. I recently watched a woman on her knees surrounded by three men who she was pleasuring in turn. She was so wild and free and so hot.
5. Have you ever sneakily or overtly filmed or taken pics of others having sex? What did you do with the evidence?
For me consent is everything. I can’t in good conscience record something so intimate without permission. So the answer to this question is No.
Bonus: Hot or not–having sex in front of people?
My response to number 4 kind of answers this question. But there is the question of consent. In the past I have had sex in swing clubs and at parties in full view of all participants. I love it. The people watching love it. Everyone is happy.
Mr Jones and I have also been known to have sex in other public places like rest areas on the side of highways. In these situations there isn’t anyone in the immediate area watching or being exposed to our shenanigans but there is always the risk. Which is what makes it so hot. Sometimes there are people in the distance who can see what is happening if they choose to look. Also adds to the level of excitement.
However my responsible adult has developed since those days, some of them not that long ago. Teaching teenagers about consent and reading some posts by May at Sex Matters has made me think about this in a different light. Those onlookers didn’t consent before our R rated act was thrust upon them. While they don’t necessarily mind, no one actually asked them. Which is our bad really.
Many moons ago, when I was a housewife, a man, who now resides in a different city used to visit me during the day when everyone was as work and school, except me. I am still in contact with him and we both like to reminisce over some of the encounters we had. Sadly distance and Covid mean I have not seen him for quite some time.
A wrinkle formed in the middle of Zoe’s forehead as she noticed the way the dishes in the sink were completely wrecking the perfect neatness of her house. She stepped across the room towards the kitchen pausing beside the breakfast bar to remove her blouse and skirt and fold them neatly over the chair. It really was too hot for clothes. Wearing only a matching g-string and bra she turned on the tap and began rinsing the dishes before stacking them neatly in the dishwasher. She became so absorbed in her task that she did not notice the sound of footsteps on the path outside her doorway. As she bent down to stack the last of the dishes into the dishwasher she felt a pair of hands cupping her bare butt cheeks. For a split second she froze with her heart in her mouth before a familiar voice reassured her,
“Your butt looks so hot in a thong,” a thrill went through her as she recognised the voice.
For a moment she held her position bent down with her butt in the air before her visitor stepped forward and pressed his groin against her. Without saying a word she turned and sank down onto her knees in front of her visitor, she turned her face upwards to look at him like a child waiting for a treat.
“Your lips also look hot wrapped around my cock,” he continued as he unzipped his jeans.
Obediently she opened her lips as he pulled his cock from his jeans and stroked it over her bottom lip. When he rested his semi-hard cock against her lips she opened her mouth wider to allow her lips to slide along his semi hard cock. When her lips reached the base she held still looking up at him with the same wide eyes as she stroked his cock with her tongue encouraging him to grow harder inside her mouth. He put his hands on the back of her head holding her mouth against his belly. The kitchen was silent except for the sounds of his heavy breathing. The fingers at the back of her head twisted into her hair pulling ever so slightly on her scalp. She felt the cock sliding out of her mouth as he held her head stationary.
He started fucking her face as knelt on the hard tiles of her kitchen beside her neatly stacked dishwasher. At first his thrusts were slow and gentle, easing his hard cock in and out of her mouth just touching the back of her mouth and sliding into the opening of her throat. Between her legs Zoe felt the wetness building, saturating the strip of fabric between her legs. His hand gripped tighter pulling her hair just to the point of pain, his thrusts grew harder and the sound of his grunts of pleasure filled the kitchen. Hot desire flooded through Zoe. She wanted his cock ramming into her cunt, she wanted his hot cum shooting against the back of her throat, she wanted to feel his strong hands on her soft butt cheeks and on her breasts as he fucked the life out of her. She wanted it all.
Suddenly the thrusts stopped. A pang went through her as he withdrew his cock and leaned against the bench panting heavily.
“Your mouth is so good I almost filled it with cum,” he said softly. He stroked the side of her face tenderly. “But I don’t want to see my cum on your pretty little face today,” He reached out and helped her to stand. Silently she obeyed him and bent her over the bench. The stone was cold against her belly and breasts. Her cunt quivered as he spread her legs and moved the fabric of her thong aside to expose her hungry wetness.
“Someone is a little horny,” he murmured as he explored her wetness with his fingers. Zoe groaned and bucked her hips against his hand.
“Patience little one,” he soothed as he entered her with his fingers, making wet noises as he fucked her with his hand. Zoe groaned and shuddered as an orgasm rippled through her. A stream of wetness covered his hand and her thighs.
“Good girl,” he encouraged her as he moved behind her hips pressing his cock against her hungry wet opening. She groaned as he entered her, pushing her opening apart slowly. His fingers pressed into her flesh as he withdrew before slowly entering her again. Zoe stretched her arms out over the bench her fingers seeking something to grip as he tantalised her with his long slow thrusts. She gasped and moaned as he slowly increased his rhythm, building up to the hard slamming fucking that she had been craving as she sucked his cock.
Her cries of pleasure filled the kitchen bouncing around the tiled room with the sound of his belly slapping against her ass.
“You like getting fucked hard like that,” he gasped between thrusts.
“Yes,” she whimpered against the hard stone of the bench.
“Tell me how much you like my cock,” he commanded
“Oh Fuck me hard!” Zoe moaned as the muscles of her pussy clenched around his cock.
“You want to feel my cum?” he asked his fingers gripping her hips almost painfully.
Zoe tensed, with a pang she remembered how he had pulled his cock out of her mouth just before he came earlier but the thought of his cum in her gave her just as much of a thrill.
“Yes, yes,” she moaned against the bench.
“Get ready,” she could hear the urgency in his voice. There would be no holding back this time.
Her visitor let out a long low groan as Zoe felt a warm splash on her butt. A second splash followed seconds later before he rested against the bench beside her panting and smiling at her.
“Fuck I love fucking you,” he stroked her face. “Your pussy is so sweet I wish I could keep my cock buried in it all day,”
Zoe stirred against the kitchen bench, not quite ready to move or disturb the delicious warmth that was starting to slide down over her butt cheeks. Her pussy quivered in pleasure. It was a nice starter but the fucking she had just received barely touched the sides. She was just getting warmed up.
As if he read her thoughts, her visitor smiled at her, “Don’t worry,” he grinned at her. “I am not finished with you yet.” He reached down and stroked her pussy, slipping his fingers into her and teasing the sensitive spot he knew so well. She stirred against the bench, standing up to face him. He took her hand and lead her towards the bedroom. “Let’s find somewhere comfortable for you to lie,” he murmured. “I need to feel you squirting on my face.”
Manners. A polite man who opens the door, notices things and then shows he has paid attention
Hands. Hands that can touch, pinch, stroke, spank. Hands that sit quietly folded in public but are capable of so much more…..
Cocks. I have discussed this at length here and here and here. What can I say?
Snail trails, that little line of hair over his belly.
Lips. Whispering in my ear as he fucks me, telling me that I am a good girl.
Minds. Entice me with your mind. Your ideas, your jokes, your fantasies
Did I mention cocks? Oh yes I did
Jokes. Laughter is so alluring.
Strength. Strength of mind in adversity. Strength to hold me when I am spinning out of control. Strong arms that can wrap around me and move my body into the position he desires.
Gentle hands. Holding the back of my head while his cock is in my mouth.
Eyes. Looking into mine
Cocks. Oh yes I said that already.
I am a woman not a tap but I can absolutely be turned on.
This post is part of this week’s Wicked Wednesday. Click here to see who else is being sexy.
1. What car do you remember your parents owning when you were a child? Do you have any special memories attached to it?
I only vaguely remember this but my parents owned a Leyland P76. It was bone couloured like this one.
I don’t really know if they bought it because they thought they needed a big car or if it was my father’s last hurrah before descending into sensible cars. I was very young but I do remember the seats being vinyl and burning your arse on a hot day.
2. How important are cars to you? Could you live without one?
Currently parked in various garages, sheds and driveways of our house are no less than six cars. Most of them get driven regularly. To be fair there are currently six people with open driver’s licences, soon to be seven, so that many cars is not unreasonable. The plan is to reduce this number to five in the medium term but in all honesty the only way it will be reduced is when some people move out – adult children; or die – parents in law.
Could I live without my own car? Probably not. We live in the outer suburbs. It is a long way to anywhere and public transport is sketchy. We do try to carpool as much as we can but ultimately not having access to a vehicle will result in an inability to do everyday things like go to work and visit the doctor (a regular thing here because… old people.)
3. In April 2019, Elon Musk predicted that owners of autonomous cars acting as taxis would be able to earn up to $30 000 from their vehicle while they weren’t using it. What do you think?. The link for the source article is here
This article has tickled Mr Jones’ fancy. He LOVES the idea of ALL of his assets earning him an income. His dream car is also a Tesla. Personally I don’t think it will happen in our lifetime. But then I didn’t think I would be seeing a plague in the twenty first century either.
4. Tell us about your dream car.
Despite being the author of these questions cars have never really been super important to me other than a means of transport. I have developed a bit of a thing for muscle cars as I get older. There is something so fucking sexy about a V8. Maybe it is the frequency of the sound the engine makes.
5. Tell us about the worst car you ever owned. What made it so bad?
I have never owned a car that could be fully described as a lemon. I guess I have been lucky. Currently Mr Jones is driving an Isuzu DMax ute. It is probably my least favourite car. The list of reasons why I don’t like it is not massive but it includes being low on power, uncomfortable back seats and a centre console that makes giving Mr Jones head while he is driving awkward. A problem I didn’t have in the predecessor of the DMax.
Bonus: Tell us about your most memorable sexual experience in a car.
When I was a young thing I dated a slightly older man who educated me in a lot of things sexual. He didn’t earn the badge of taking my virginity but in all honesty he was probably the man who set me on the trajectory of being the sexually open and goddess like creature you are witnessing today.
One of the things he explained to me was how he liked to receive a head job. I put into practice his teachings with my first ever head job in the back of his car at a Dusk to Dawn event at a Drive in cinema. Apparently I was a natural. The relationship was not destined to last. His loss I guess.
This post is part of this week’s TMI Tuesday. Please click here to check out some other inciteful and sexy people.
During last week’s TMI Tuesday there was some discussion about the amount of sexual content in the blog. Many of the people I interact with from there feel the same way as I do. We like the way it is and we are happy with the way our blogs are. We don’t feel the need to turn the sex down or, conversely, pressure to be sexual all the time.
It did get me to thinking about the way the minds of some people work. Urban Dictionary defines Vanilla as: Unexciting, normal, conventional and boring. In my vernacular I interpret this as people who are not sexually open. Vanillas are a strange bunch. A lot of them like to TALK about sex and get some kind of thrill out of thinking about radical sexual ideas but most of them wouldn’t act out their fantasies in public or follow up on attractions to people not deemed as their partners.
Sometimes they get brave enough to dip their toe into waters that take them past their sexual boundaries. Perhaps they will participate in a meme like TMI Tuesday or perhaps they will get very brave and visit a swing club or a fetish party. Sometimes they find that being in this environment is not how they thought it would be and they start having fun, despite themselves. Sometimes they come over to the dark side and they will never be vanilla again.
Sometimes though they find themselves reverting to their vanilla ways. Most of the time they act like adults and they retreat back to their regular haunts with their regular friends and they never speak of their adventures. Sometimes though they want to keep the little bit of kink in their lives so they try and convince the people in the kink world to turn it down a little bit for them. They make suggestions like, “lets just chat” or “Why does everything have to be about sex” or “maybe we should have a space where nudity is restricted” little by little they try to change the space they are in until it resembles their regular haunts with the sexy stuff just behind the door.
What they don’t get is that the thing that makes these spaces so sexy is the freedom. That being vanilla is all about rules and conventions. It is about worrying what other people think of you. It is about acting a certain way because someone said it is the way to act. When you put vanilla aside the only rules are respect and honesty. Everything else is on the table.
Putting vanilla aside gives a person the freedom to be who they are at all times. If they are sexy today they are sexy, if they feel like sharing cake recipes then they seek out friends to do that with. What Non-Vanilla people don’t do is ask other Non-Vanillas, or Vanillas for that matter, to conform to what they are looking for. It is about consent and respect. When you visit my blog the same rules apply. You will get sexy most of the time because that is the most interesting thing TO ME. Some days I will share things about teaching and some days just general rants. I probably won’t share my recipes here. Or my holiday snaps. If I feel the need to do that I will make a new space. Where unsuspecting people don’t get ambushed (or surprised by my bush!) because I am a respectful adult.
I don’t own TMI Tuesday and so my opinion on what the questions should be about has little impact. All I can say is if it does go off on a more Vanilla direction it is likely I will lose interest. I will be sad because I have enjoyed being part of the juggernaut for so long but I am honestly not interested in being part of something that is designed and run by a bunch of Karens.
Corrupting Mrs Jones 