TMI Tuesday –

1. With whom would you love to sing a duet?

I have some songs I love to sing in the car. In my mind I sound fucking awesome. In reality? Something else altogether. No artist springs to mind. If I was ever to perform with someone this is who I would love to “Make Some Noise” with

He does give lessons. Maybe I should sign up.

2. Have you ever cried over a pet? What kind?

I grew up on a farm. Getting sentimental over animals was strongly discouraged. The first pet I owned that I chose and purchased myself as an adult is buried in our garden. I think I may have shed a tear or two over her.

3. Do you think your personality needs polishing? Why?

Probably. I use the word fuck far too much and have a habit of taking off my clothes. Especially when I have had too much wine.

4. What is the worst injury you’ve ever had?

I broke my toe in August doing a simple every day thing on the yacht. It fucking hurt and my toe has still not gone back to it’s previous size, shape or colour.

5. If you had a clone, what part or your life or tasks would you have it do on your behalf?

Make dinner and clean the bathroom.

Bonus: Gifting supermarket flowers–good or bad?

The Unicorn says that she doesn’t understand the practice of cutting off plant genitalia and giving them to people. Personally I will take any flowers anyone gives me.

Or chocolate. Chocolate is always good.

TMI Tuesday blog

Lest We Forget

Tattoos can be so very sexy. The way they kind of wind around on your skin and tell stories of your life. The Second Mate’s intrigued me. His were very, very personal. The first one I noticed was the one on his arm. It only took a few moments to realise it was symbolic of his service. There was a dog tag, and a flag and some other symbolic things I didn’t understand. But I never asked him about it. 

I was drawn to him when I first saw him. He told me 

“I will be the big guy standing there.”

And he was. Everything about him was big. His height, his shoulders, his hands…

Everything about him was sexy. His eyes, the way his hands pinched my nipples and left finger bruises on my breast. The way he would lay me down and hold my legs open so he could watch me play a vibe over my clit. The way he told me to spend an entire day wearing no underwear so that he could put his fingers into me every time I bent down to put away a rope or adjust some sailing gear. 

Apart from the tattoo there were other marks of service. His hyper vigilance. Trained to see every tiny movement and notice every little thing. He was acutely aware of his environment but also the moods and interactions of the people around him. He noticed when your mood was down and asked how you were going. And when his fingers were inside you he noticed every movement of your face. From the first time he touched me he could play me better than any musician. 

There were other scars. Ones that were harder to watch. Physical pain from old injuries. Mental pain from the things he had seen and done. The army is not easy on its infantry. It chews them up and spits out their injured bodies and souls like seeds from a fruit. 

Every November 11 we remember the fallen and pray for their souls. This year I will be remembering those who came home and praying that they can heal their souls.  

Thirty Dirty Questions – Question 17

I have been slowly working my way through a list of thirty dirty questions that I found on the blog of Brigit Delaney. Along the way I have been joined by Marie Rebelle at Rebel’s Notes and Mike from Marriage, Sex and More. If you want to catch up on other questions you can find the links on my Thirty Dirty Questions page.

What is your favourite way to be seduced?

Photo by Antonio Friedemann on Unsplash

While I was travelling I read the book “The Game” written by Neil Strauss. The book tells of his time spent first as a trainee and then as a guru of a secret society of self titled “Pick Up Artists” These were men who were typically shunned by girls as adolescents and grew up to be the awkward nerdy types who dreamed of having sex with beautiful women but always sat in the corner of the party feeling rejected and angry at the world. 

The book describes the multitude of techniques and routines that these men use to play on the insecurities of women with the end game of scoring a phone number and ultimately sex from unsuspecting women at clubs and parties in Hollywood. Their “game” was all about illusion and using mind tricks to snare unsuspecting victims. None of the connections these men made in this way were based on true human connection. Reading the book was like watching a car crash. You know you don’t really want to see what is happening but you can’t stop looking. It made me feel sick, angry, sad and a lot of negative thoughts about the push pull between the sexes. 

Safe to say my favourite way to be seduced is NOT by cheesy pick up lines or even charming conversation. In all honesty I really can’t do mind games of any sort. I frequently tell people that I suck at social cues. By that, I mean any kind of subtle communication is confusing to me. When people say something ambiguous and expect me to pick up on what you REALLY mean never works. If you want sex say so. If you want me to suck your dick, say so. Just asking won’t guarantee a yes but at least we both know where we stand. 

The same applies with internet dating. Often when exchanging messages I don’t know what to say. I know I am witty and interesting when I write here but that is because I have time to edit and think about what I have written. Often I write a piece and then put it aside for a few days, go back and edit. Conversation doesn’t work that way. You have to go with the first draft and hope it isn’t too offensive. I can’t explain what attracts me to some men (or women) and not others. It just is. 

So how do I like to be seduced?

By someone who is clean, well presented, and can string two words together. Honest and clear about the agenda. 

And if he smells good he is very much in with a chance. 

Interestingly I had a meeting with a man recently. We had been chatting for a little while. I was in two minds about the situation. I have been holding back to create a new connection. In a perfect world RSM, Mr Jones and I would make a great trio but I am not convinced that it is going to turn out. The Silver Fox was interesting (and very sexy looking). Our conversations were interesting and when there was a lull in my life I took the chance to meet with him. 

When I saw him in the flesh for the first time I was not dissapointed. He was sexy as fuck. There was no confusion. He smelled amazing and there was no confusion about the agenda. 

The agenda, for the record, is to meet again. 


Image by Pexels from Pixabay

“What is your favourite city?” It seemed a logical thing to ask as they sat on the bonnet of his car looking over the city lights. 

“One with no people in it,” she answered without even taking a moment to think.

He was taken aback, “You mean like all the people are dead, “I am Legend” style?”

The light of the moon cast weird shadows over his face as she looked at him. The distortion of his face made it hard to tell if he was taking the piss. 

“No, as in somewhere that there aren’t people bumping in to each other and cars honking and pollution and noise.” She replied after a pause

“Oh,” he laughed. “That makes more sense.”

“I hate it when there are too many people around.” She continued. 


They sat for a moment looking out at the lights twinkling in neat rows. She placed her hand on his thigh. 

“I don’t mind individual people though,” 

Their eyes met, he reached across and slid his hand underneath her shirt.

“Is that so?”

She slid her hand up his thigh until she was cupping his hard cock through his pants.

“Two people can have a lot of fun together,” She grinned in the semi darkness. 

“I agree,” his hand slipped inside her top to cup her breast. He pinched her nipple gently. She gasped in pleasure and her hand twitched against his cock. They slid closer together until they were kissing, hard and hot and heavy. His belt buckle jingled and her hand slid into his pants. Long fingers wrapped around his cock as he yanked at her panties. 

There was a pause as he pushed her further up the bonnet of the car so that he could spread her legs. Cool night air caressed her throbbing clit before he pressed his face against her hungry cunt.  The night filled with the sound of her pleasure as his tongue stroked over her folds and he dipped his fingers into her. 

“I want to fuck you,” his breath was hot and heavy in her ear, his face smelled like her pussy.

“I want you to fuck me,” she replied.

He flipped her over and slid her down to meet his hard cock. She lay against the metal of the car with her legs spread and her arse naked before she felt his cock filling her. Groaning in pleasure she lifted her head. Standing beside the car was another couple they had met earlier in the night.

“This looks like the place to be.” The man smirked as his hand reached into the panties of his wife. “I hope we aren’t invading,” 

Lucy looked over her shoulder at Grant with his cock buried deep in her cunt. He shrugged. She turned back to the couple. The woman’s breast was exposed in her man’s hand. It looked delicious.

“Four people can have a lot of fun together,” Was all the she needed to say. 

Wicked Wednesday

Friday Flashback – Shittest Day Ever

Image by mohamed Hassan from Pixabay

Thursday was the shittest day. Emma couldn’t remember a shittier day. On the last day of the financial year the accounting server crashed. No one could roll over the books, accounts couldn’t be closed off and reconciliations were impossible. The Business Manager walked around the office stressed out of his mind and biting everyone’s head off. When things finally got running again at three pm he told the entire accounts department they were not allowed to leave until reporting was finished. 

Emma’s best friend was holding birthday drinks at their favourite bar. All of the gang was there, except Emma. Around four the texts started coming,

Are you coming out, it is going to be a great night!

You should get down here we are going to have a blinder!

And so on. Eventually Emma turned her phone off. Not being able to go join the drunken party was just making her day worse. Sometime around five thirty she couldn’t take it anymore. Numbers were mashing into each other on the screen in front of her. The Business Manager had ordered pizza and retreated to his office. As if pizza was going to make everything better. Emma piled a couple of slices onto her palm and went outside for some air. Chewing on cheesy dough she climbed the fire escape stairs to the the rooftop balcony. For a few blissful moments she stood looking at the street below and the lights of the cars hurrying past on their way home. She focussed all her energy on salami and olives and breathing.

The sound of the door opening behind her shattered her moment of sanity. Footsteps crunched on the concrete behind her. Pushing the last piece of crust into her mouth, Emma braced for the onslaught of work related whining. She resisted the temptation to turn and see who it was until they were standing beside her. Only when she sensed a body beside her did she turn her head slightly. Relief washed over her as she recognised Tim, one of the sales managers. He wasn’t part of her team and was excused from her hellish day. So at least he wouldn’t start whining about having to stay back. His day had probably been all sunshine and lunches with clients. 

For a moment Emma was jealous but sneaking glances at his tall, lanky frame leaning casually against the railing the jealousy disappeared, to be replaced by an intense desire to relieve him of his pants. As she thought about him bending her over the railing and fucking the life out of her her cunt tingled with warmth.

“I heard you guys are having a shit day,” he commented quietly as he leaned against the balcony railing.

Reluctantly Emma roused herself from her fantasy. She felt a tinge of heat in her cheeks accompanied by a damp heat in her panties. “Yep it is a ripper,” she replied. They stood for a moment watching the traffic. Emma knew she should already be back at her desk but she dallied for a moment longer. Tim didn’t say any more to her, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.  Disappointed, took a deep breath, bracing herself to go back to her desk.

“I better get back,” she muttered from the corner of her mouth. She didn’t have the energy to flirt or even make conversation. Besides, being rejected would just make this day even more shit and she had more than enough of that.

As she took her first steps the heel of her shoe caught in a crack in the concrete and she found herself lying on the ground looking up at a startled Tim.

“Are you OK?” he asked as he bent over her. 

It was all too much, Emma burst into tears. Lying on the concrete howling Emma felt as if this day couldn’t possibly get any worse. Of all the people to fall over in front of, and her ankle felt like she had wrenched it good and proper.  Tim hovered around looking nervous and uncertain. His flapping irritated Emma enough to make her pull herself together.

“Are you OK?” he asked again. A deep furrow formed in the middle of his forehead.

Emma took a deep breath, “I think I will be OK. My ankle hurts like hell though.”

Tim reached down and carefully felt her ankle. “Yep that isn’t going to tickle tomorrow. You should get some ice on it straight away. Let me help you down the steps” Emma pushed away thoughts of her boss and the work waiting on her desk. This was too good an opportunity to pass up.  

“Can you stand?” Tim was entirely focussed on her ankle.

Emma stood up carefully but almost collapsed as her ankle gave way again. Tim caught her as she stumbled. Wrapped in his arms she looked up at him helplessly.

“I guess not,” she smiled wryly at him. 

Tim half carried her to the first aid room where he helped her onto the bed and then fussed around looking for bandages and ice packs. Emma forgot about her throbbing ankle as he bent in front her looking for bandages in the cupboard. The fabric of his trousers stretched tightly over his arse. Emma’s palm twitched as she thought about how his naked butt would feel. When he turned around in the tiny space he fell against her. Maybe she had stuck her good foot out in front of him.

“I am so sorry,” he looked a little awkward and made to move away. Emma moved her good leg around his calf and pressed her hand against his crotch.

“I am not sorry,” she looked into his eyes.

“Ummmmm what if someone walks in here?” Tim allowed himself to study Emma’s cleavage which had suddenly appeared between some opened buttons. Just to make sure he knew what she wanted Emma gave in to the temptation and gripped his ass firmly pushing him against her.

Emma looked up with a devilish twinkle in her eyes that showed no signs of her earlier tears. “I do believe there is a lock on the door.”

Perhaps Thursday would turn out to be not so shit after all. 

Other People’s Relationships

Image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay

We had lunch yesterday with Mr and Mrs Bubble. Both are long term swingers. Both are currently dating other people outside their primary relationship. Mr Bubble is very much a go with the flow person. Drama, ultimatums and other turbulence are not his style. His other is a perfectly lovely woman. Wise, kind, down to earth, honest and someone I would welcome into my marriage dynamic.

Mrs Bubble is a completely different kettle of fish. She loves to socialise and be the life of the party. She is also wise kind and a great person to be friends with. In the past she had a relationship with a man that was a spectacular failure. It almost cost her her marriage to Mr Bubble and it did cost her a lot of emotional turmoil. After a recovery period she has met and is very much enjoying another young man. Most of the initial honey moon phase happened while we were away. She told me about him via message and it all seemed peachy. As we re-inserted ourselves into blue pill world and re-connected with friends and acquaintances we heard mutterings and disquiet about this relationship. Many of Mrs Bubble’s friends were concerned about this relationship, how besotted Mrs Bubble was, how young he was and just where it was going. I met the new boy a couple of times. He has said about five words to me and we have had the most superficial of interactions. I can see how she finds him visually attractive. The jury is out on his personality.

Recent conversations with Mr and Mrs Bubble have revealed that the new boy is, in fact in a live in relationship with another woman who until about a week ago didn’t really understand the nature of her boyfriend’s relationship with Mrs Bubble. Both The Bubbles are quite critical of this relationship. In their opinion she acts in a completely unreasonable way. There are fits of yelling, isolation by the silent treatment and she isolates him when they do socialise together by speaking her native language with her friends. English is a language she is still learning and he definitely does not speak hers. Despite this The Bubbles admit they have only heard one version of events.

It would be easy to judge in this situation. Easy to judge the girlfriend for being a screaming, unreasonable, demanding woman. Her behaviour is definitely something most westerners would not tolerate; but we need to stop and  consider what we do know about her. She has been wronged. She is living in a country with a very different culture from the one she grew up in, trying to learn a different language and set of behaviours that must seem quite foreign. The relationship with The New Boy is key to her staying in Australia. Without it she goes home. Home to what? As I said to Mr Jones there must be a reason that so many women from SE Asia put themselves into bad relationships, rely on men who exploit them and behave in the only way they know to control a relationship to avoid going back. I don’t think white middle class Australians understand that.

We could judge Mrs Bubble for getting involved with him in the first place. I, personally, would have put the skids on the whole deal when I learned he was sneaking around behind his girlfriend’s back. My personal feelings on this kind of situation are a little unconventional and go like this. He is making the choices. Any wrongdoing is on him. But I am not up for getting abusive phone calls or messages from a jealous, outraged wife / girlfriend. But Mrs Bubble is not me. Her position is that she isn’t doing anything wrong. And she ISN’T. She ISN’T the reason that his relationship is failing. She is a symptom of that. She isn’t lying to anyone. She is also making sure that The New Boy does have a basic level of respect for his girlfriend and at least gives communication to reassure her about his safety. 

Finally, we could judge The New Boy. He is the one doing the cheating. He is the one with the power to walk away from the toxic relationship. But again there are mitigating circumstances. It is a big responsibility to know that if you end this the other person may have to go back to their country of origin, to a life that they clearly will go to great lengths to escape. In addition, this Covid affected world has created a housing issue in Australia. Many people have come back to Australia from overseas to ride out the pandemic in the relative safety of a country that has isolated itself from the rest of the world. Housing occupancy is ridiculously high. Meaning renters struggle to find, let alone afford, a place. The New Boy is young and works in hospitality, an industry that has suffered. He can’t afford to rent an apartment by himself.

All of these things make this situation one complicated mess. It is easy to take one or the other person’s side. It would be easy to judge one or two or all of the parties involved. Many people have aligned themselves with a particular person thinking that would make them a good friend. It may, to a certain extent. There have been times when this topic has come up in conversation that I have had to stop myself from spouting my opinion. From forcing my way of thinking into someone’s ideas. I have also had to be very aware of Mr Jones. He has less self control than me and says offensive stuff all the time. It comes from a place of love and honesty but someone who struggles to give correct names to stuff cannot express themselves accurately about something this complex and is guaranteed to say something he will regret. I have repeated the phrase, “Other people’s relationships are other people’s business” quite a few times. He knows what this means – “Don’t discuss this here, it isn’t your place to offer an opinion about someone behind their back. Besides you DON’T know everything about it.”

 I introduced a new term to him yesterday, “Loose lips sink ships,”. The Bubbles are influential in our little world. They know a lot of people which is why we find ourselves in conversations about this topic almost everywhere we go. Some of what we have been told by The Bubbles themselves I don’t think is common knowledge. Putting our knowledge into the common domain will only serve to muddy the waters further. Discussing this topic everywhere we go only creates more interest and judgement. Besides, gossiping will not solve anything. It won’t create an epiphany of realisation on one of the parties involved part. It will just create negativity, feelings of self righteousness and ultimately isolate some beautiful warm people.

Sitting at lunch listening to The Bubbles talk about their feelings and ideas I found myself wondering what is the right thing to do here. I didn’t think they wanted advice. I KNOW they probably are getting it in spades from other people. I don’t feel that my opinion would add any value. But I didn’t want to sit there looking empty headed and acting like a gossip sponge soaking up all the information to spread it around later. In the past I don’t think I would have been so self aware and I possibly WOULD have soaked up the gossip to repeat it at the earliest opportunity. but I believe that one has to act in the way one would like to be treated. In my professional world, gossip about my after dark activities could be disastrous. I go to great lengths to keep those two worlds apart but sometimes there is a little bleed over. Sometimes I say stuff that is completely unconscious that makes people wonder. Especially people who possibly also walk in this world. It would be amusing to find out how many people in my school actually do. I know of one for certain and have suspicions about a couple more. 

But I digress. I guess after all this rambling I don’t have a major world changing closing statement. What I do have are the two statements I have told Mr Jones. “Other people’s relationships are their own business”. We will never know all the ins and outs of a situation. We almost never get to hear both (?) sides of a story and we never see all the events unfold. The second is “Loose lips sink ships” Gossip never did anyone any good. In fact it usually ends up causing havoc. To that end one should never feed it. 

Wicked Wednesday