It’s All About the Angle

I have posted many selfies. But I haven’t really used a selfie stick much. A while ago I bought my first selfie stick but I struggle with getting angles and perspective right. On Saturday night I came home from a vanilla party. I had consumed some alcohol and decided to muck around with the selfie stick. Mr Jones was not a huge fan of this shot but there was something about it that I really liked.

Sinful Sunday

Only Boring People Get Bored

Short sharp and to the point. It is TMI Tuesday time.

1. What did you last savor and when? 

As I was preparing to write this I enjoyed eight squares of Cadbury’s Fruit and Nut milk chocolate. It was my valentines gift from Mr Jones and it is delicious.

2. Athletic mind blowing sex or slow sexy romantic sex, what do you want right now?

After a weekend of athletic fucking I am very much in favour of the slow romantic type of sex.

3. You are being interviewed and asked to comment on sex-work. What do you have to add to the discussion?

This is a bit hard to answer because it has no context. But my general opinion on sex work is that it can be a completely honest and legitimate way to earn a living.

4. Should sex-work be decriminalized?

I believe yes. It is the best way to protect sex workers and remove some of the elements of the sex – work industry that make this kind of work dangerous for the workers.

5. Fill in the blank. Don’t _____ .

Don’t feed your cat too much or they will get fat like this one.

Bonus: Are you bored with people who are successful and unhappy? Why?

I frequently tell my students “Only boring people get bored”

Do I think people who are successful and unhappy deserving of my disdain? No. I think if a person is unhappy then, they are, by definition, not successful.

Morning Sunshine

La Nina has wreaked havoc with our summer weather. Instead of the heat and sunshine that have marked recent years we have had humidity, wind, storms and rain. It has been good for those growing crops and practicing agriculture but it has led to many abandoned yachting plans. This weekend was the first in a long time that promised good weather. And it delivered.

Sinful Sunday

Thirty Dirty Questions – Question 21

Source Brigit Delaney

We are on the final ten questions!! I WILL finish this one day!

In your opinion what does it mean to be good in bed?

When I opened this question to start writing I had the best of intentions. Then it all went out the window. Early morning, Lots of competing ideas and issues, not enough time the list goes on and on. So I asked the good people of Twitter. This method of finding information may sound a little haphazard and to be honest it hasn’t always been successful in the past. But in these days of @MrsJonesMT50 (as opposed to the much more popular and suspended @MrsJonesMT45) my followers are of a much higher quality. Their feedback was probably what I should have known all along. 

The key is connection. 

And this helped me to crystallise the whirling thoughts in my head. Over my life I have had sex with many people both male and female. The quality of the encounters has varied widely. Many factors have been at play. Things like what is going on in the background, how much alcohol has been consumed, the state of my relationship with Mr Jones and my own mental health. All of these factors can mean fireworks or they can help to create a fizzer. All of the fireworks events involved a connection. Some kind of spark that is hard to describe but is definitely easy to spot both when it is present and when it is absent. While it takes two to create a connection there are some factors that seem to, for me a least, make a person more likely to form a connection.

Firstly manners. A good lover is generous and considerate. You don’t have to tell them they are going to hard or too deep. They can see when you are comfortable and when you aren’t enjoying yourself and they make adjustments accordingly. Sadly women are conditioned not to make a fuss and this makes many of us terrible at correcting a lover if they are not hitting the right spot but nothing kills the mood quicker than having to forcefully tell someone they need to move a bit to the right! 

Secondly hygiene. A person who smells good is sexy as fuck. You don’t have to be scrubbed to within an inch of your life but being clean and keeping things trimmed will go a long way. Something I find super sexy is going away from an encounter and still being able to smell their aftershave or perfume in my hair or on my body. That little waft of scent triggers a twinge of a memory. 

Lastly, a nice cock. It doesn’t have to be overly large. In my experience large, especially long, can be painful. Small has its challenges but I have had some encounters with men on the smaller side that have been very very sexy. But there is something about an attractive cock. I can’t define what makes one look better than another. It isn’t size or circumcision or the amount of veins. There is just something that makes me take a second look. 

All of these things are one part of the puzzle. A fireworks encounter doesn’t require all of them. Sometimes one is enough. Sometimes all the boxes are ticked, sometimes one or more are not and this isn’t an issue. As I said earlier there are factors on my side of the fence that don’t always line up and it is a more of a “It’s not you it’s me” situation. So being good in bed is not about a specific set of skills or attributes. It is about being able to roll with the situation and make things work with what you have. 

Smile for the Picture

Prime Minister Scott Morrison and 2021 Australian of the Year Grace Tame during a morning tea for state and territory recipients in the 2022 Australian of the Year Awards at The Lodge in Canberra, Tuesday, January 25, 2022.
Source – SBS News website

I don’t normally listen to the news but as I was driving to work yesterday I was intrigued by the story that accompanied the above shot. Recently the woman in the photo, Grace Tame, was attending a function at The Lodge whereby she was passing on the baton as Australian of the Year to the incoming recipient. Ms Tame is an advocate for, and survivor of, child sexual abuse and this advocacy was the reason for her being awarded this honour in 2021.

The media storm that surrounded this function and the footage that featured Ms Tame refusing to “smile for the camera” has focussed recently on comments by the Prime Minister’s wife about the rude behaviour of Tame. Ms Tame’s response to Mrs Morrison’s comments has been;

“survival of abuse culture is dependent on submissive smiles and self-defeating surrenders. It is dependent on hyprocrisy.”

Powerful words. Ones that make men like Scott Morrison squirm in their seats. Privileged white males who survive on the premise of civility. As a child I had one of “those” family friends who stood too close, put his hands on my thighs and tried to touch me inside my panties. My mother was like Jenny Morrison, always telling me to be nice and smile for the camera. I could never tell her about it because she wouldn’t believe that this man would do something like that. There are millions of stories like mine hidden behind the nice smiles in photos. I am one of the lucky ones who was never seriously touched.

The people who did this never seemed to be outed or dealt with by the adults who should have known better and protected their children. Why? Because looking nice to the outside world and not having to explain why Uncle Arthur or Auntie Gladys were invited to family functions any more was more important than the safety of a child. Ms Tame’s story is similar. Aged fifteen she was groomed and repeatedly abused by a teacher at her expensive girls high school. When the case was brought to trial the court found that the school had multiple opportunities to intervene but chose not to. It was up to the vulnerable teenage girl to stand up against the establishment and out her attacker to stop the abuse.

Fast forward to now. This young woman has done some pretty remarkable things. Which is why she was awarded the status of Australian of the year. She is incredibly intelligent and clearly not up for accepting any bullshit. To be told by a condescending woman to smile for the camera is the ultimate insult. What is even more tragic is that this woman is raising daughters. Do her daughters have to stand next to a relative that makes them feel uncomfortable and whose hands linger just that little bit too long? Who insists on kissing them when they don’t want to? Jenny Morrison says Ms Tame should be ashamed. She should be ashamed for not realising the world needs to call this crap to attention.

For all the children in the world I have this wish: Know your body, value it as the temple it is. Never believe that other people have the right to touch you in ways you don’t like. Nor do other people have the right to tell you to smile when you don’t like the person you are standing next to.

Wishing

This week’s Flash Fiction Friday prompt was a penny for your thoughts. I have had this thought twisting around in my head for a while.

Your face between my legs

Hands on my hips

Lips on my lips

Your tongue slips into my slit 

Stroking my swelling clit

My fingers twist into your hair

Pressing your face into me

My legs open 

Inviting you in to devour me

mmmMondays

Controlling Body Chemistry

Source: Pixabay

In other posts that I have linked to Menopause Diaries I have explained that my journey through menopause was masked largely by taking the contraceptive pill for most of my life. For many women this is unusual. Once child bearing is done most couples seek a more permanent solution to fertility in the form of a vasectomy or a tubal ligation. After the birth of our second child Mr Jones did indeed have a vasectomy. It is a neat way to deal with fertility that doesn’t involve chemical interference and doesn’t affect sexual performance. At the time we were monogamous and it seemed that I was done with chemical forms of contraception. 

Then we walked through the big red door of that swing club all those years ago and things were never the same again. For the majority of swingers condoms are a must. I am not naive enough to think that all of us consistently use them. There have been times when I have taken risks that may not have been the smartest risks to take. In short condoms suck balls, and not in the fun way. On top of that Mr Jones feels very strongly about fathering other men’s children. He is happy to watch me be fucked all kinds of ways by other men but he was adamant, there would be no babies from other men in our lives. Even if they were a result of an accident during a consensual non-monogamy event. 

And so, despite using condoms 99% of the time I went back on the pill. My go to was the combined pill. I was fortunate that I was able to use a low dose version successfully. It had worked pre- marriage and planned pregnancy so I was happy to go there again. At one time early in my journey a GP I was seeing convinced me to try an Implanon. At that time I knew a couple of women who were using it and they were all very happy with the device so I agreed. It didn’t work so well for me. I was fortunate that I didn’t experience very heavy bleeding but I bled lightly or spotted for most of the time that I had the device in my arm. Unfortunately I was travelling for three of the six months that I kept it in. Needless to say after three months of living in a caravan with two small children and dealing with a constant light period I didn’t waste much time getting it removed upon my return home!

After this my GP didn’t suggest any other devices. Although one gynaecologist I visited for an unrelated issue tried to convince me that a Mirena would be a good idea. She got firmly told no. And so I continued on my merry way, taking my little round pill every day for many years. I was what pharmacists refer to as ‘compliant’, meaning that I take my medication fairly reliably so I had minimal issues. I did try the old trick of skipping the sugar pills to skip a period but it didn’t work that well. I was fortunate that my period was also compliant and generally started on Monday and finished by Friday so my weekend plans were almost never ruined. 

Despite suffering from hypertension I was able to convince my doctors that an unplanned pregnancy as a result of my lifestyle was a much more likely and undesirable outcome than a blood clot and so they never tried to convince me to stop the pill when my genetic pre-disposition for hypertension kicked in. I guess doctors don’t have a lot of faith in condoms either. In the end, at the age of 46, I responded to some changes and stopped taking the pill because I no longer needed it. 

I didn’t exactly fly through menopause but I believe that my long term use of the pill definitely softened the blow. When I talk to other women about the symptoms of peri-menopause I have a feeling of gratitude that my life during those years was very different. Reliable periods are something that makes my lifestyle much, much easier. Plans don’t have to be changed because of a random menstrual event, libido is much more stable. Or at least for me. Would I have suffered from these problems? I don’t know. There is one thing I do know. If I hadn’t been taking the pill I would have been very unlikely to go to a doctor and ask for HRT. Like many women I would have suffered in ignorance. 

It wasn’t all smooth sailing. There were other symptoms, most notably hot flushes and depression. Probably I experienced other symptoms but didn’t realise what they were. Definitely I have been more in touch with my body since I stopped taking the pill but I still count myself as lucky to have unintentionally been the benefactor of HRT like treatment. Is it something I would recommend? I am not sure. Every one is different. 

The Menopause Diaries

Riding the Sybian Explained

The Cowgirl Premium Sex Machine | Fucking Machines | Sybian Sex Saddle

Last week I posted an image of myself riding a Sybian. At the time I posted I had just returned from a weekend long lifestyle event. My mind was full of thoughts, images, conversations and encounters. Most of these were positive experiences. At the time of posting the photo I made some vague statements with a promise that I would be back later to expand on my experiences. I guess later has arrived. 

Despite our long term swinger status Mr Jones and I have never really been part of any large scale lifestyle event. We have been to clubs and parties. As far as private parties go the largest we have been to is about fifty people and everyone was out the door and heading home by about 1 am. Clubs can kick on for much longer. We have had experiences of New Year’s Eve events that saw us heading home with the rising sun. We have been on camping weekends with a small intimate group of friends that have had their own delights but as far as camping on a private property with 100+ people for two nights and effectively three days? Not our experience. 

We connected with this event primarily through Mr and Mrs Bubble. Mrs Bubble does not organise this event but she does promote it. The Bubbles are regular attendees at this event although it has to be noted that they DON’T camp. Mr Jones and I have a lot of camping experience but it has been quite a while since we have camped in a tent on the ground. So we were nervous. Dealing with this many people is a new experience for us. I was a little surprised when Mr Jones was adamant about biting the bullet and attending. 

When we arrived it was overwhelming. Experienced campers arrived early to secure their “spot”. I was unable to secure a whole day off and so we arrived a little later than many. As we pulled into the driveway we were overwhelmed by the number of well set up camp sites with motor homes, camp trailers and generally organised people. I felt like we were the poor relations with our old tent and borrowed gear. It didn’t matter to people who we already knew. They welcomed us with open arms. 

After setting up and feeling a little organised we ventured to the centre of the party. There was loud music and many bodies in the pool. To give you guys some perspective the party is run on a private acreage property. The owners open sections of their house, their outdoor entertaining area and their pool and surrounding deck to party goers. A sound system is brought in, additional BBQs are set up and Porta Loos are erected. It is a feat of organisation, generosity and hospitality.  It is an anything goes situation. Nudity is practiced, semi nudity is practiced and full clothing is sometimes worn. Whatever a person is comfortable with. The weather in Queensland this summer has been wet. This particular afternoon was hot and the air was thick with humidity. The pool was popular. 

After a couple of drinks and meeting some people we toured the parts of the house that were open to guests. The media room was darkened slightly and furnished with some mattresses as well as couches for viewing and whatever else came to mind. Some other rooms were set aside as private play spaces. In the media room a sybian was set up on a bench. I was approached by a man who invited me to use the horse. 

Keeping my mind open and pushing back my feelings of being reserved I agreed. The operator was an interesting man and very enthusiastic. He explained he had put the sybian on a bench so his partner could use it as her knees were not able to support her well. She is a taller woman and the bench height was such that I couldn’t put my feet on the ground. It was very much like mounting an actual horse! 

My new friend put the sybian through it’s paces. The vibrations were strong and the attachment was insistent. It definitely produced a response and after a short time I found myself having to focus on not wetting the floor! It was awkward not being able to support myself properly and I felt a little self conscious being in such an overwhelming environment. So the session was probably a little short. I didn’t realise that the horse is normally on the floor. Which would have been a much better position for me. 

My impressions of the sybian? I think in the right situation it could be a lot of fun. I definitely want to try it again, perhaps in a better position with someone else on the controls. Perhaps also in a situation where I am feeling more relaxed and comfortable.

Wicked Wednesday

Fuck Me Now!

Photo by Colin Lloyd on Unsplash

“I want to fuck you right here, right now.” His cock was hard on her arse. His words were a secret whispered in her ear amongst the music and the chatter of drunken people all around them. His hands cupped her breasts under her shirt teasing her nipples. 

Hot breath escaped from her lips and she spread her feet, bracing against the back of the chair as his fingers slid downwards into her slit. One arm held her firmly as the other hand teased her hardening clit. His beard tickled against her cheek as his breathing sounded in her ear. His finger slid down further, seeking her opening. The sounds of the party around them seemed to fade into the background. All that mattered was him, exploring and the urgency building. 

There was a ripping sound of velcro being opened and she felt the hot velvety skin of his cock on her butt. Pre-cum smeared over her arse as he moved his cock between her butt cheeks. Like a dog on heat she bent forward and opened herself to him. For the briefest of seconds he paused at her opening before sliding the length of his cock into her hungry wet cunt. 

She wondered who was watching, then he began pumping into her. She realised she didn’t care. All that mattered was the feeling of being fucked over a chair. His fingers worked over her clit and the juice of her arousal began to trickle down the inside of her leg. She could feel the tension building in him as he fucked her harder. The familiar yearning began to build. 

Almost before she knew it he was there on the edge. His breathing changed, the rhythm of his stroke changed slightly and his fingers gripped her more tightly. She arched her back in anticipation she wanted to be filled with all he could give her. 

He did not disappoint. With a long groan he emptied himself into her. She could feel his cock pulsing and relished the shuddering of his body, responding with her own cries of pleasure. He slumped over her back, breathing heavily. She rested her head on her arm and let the warmth flow through her. He pulled away from her slowly, reluctantly, his cock sliding out of her. A trickle of cum wound its way down her leg glistening in the party lights. 

Wicked Wednesday