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.