We have arrived In Port Stephens and yesterday spent a lovely day touring the coast. It is my first visit to this area either by land or by sea and I am enjoying seeing a different coastline with some entertaining and generous hosts. There were many sights to see and as a science and geology nerd I was kept interested by some spectacular rock formations. I don’t think I will ever tire of observing how the ocean shapes the coastline.
One of the highlights of the day was a sighting of a vulnerable species of sea bird called a Gould’s Petrel. Our hosts were proud to tell us that this particular species only nests in two places near their home. As we were cruising past these nesting sites we were discussing what the birds looked like and I observed what I thought was a tern. After some googling we discovered that we had in fact just observed a pair of the elusive birds. Further research taught me that in 1995 there were as few as 220 breeding pairs in existence but conservation work has helped the numbers to increase to around 1000 breeding pairs in 2007.
Later that evening we were discussing mutual friends and the definition of wanker came up in conversation. Mr Fisherman thought that our excitement about seeing the Gould’s Petrels would in many people’s eyes make us seem unusual and possibly fall into this category. My personal opinion for what it is worth…
It is a great tragedy that so many Australians have never travelled outside of major cities or regional centres and that most Australian school children are completely unfamiliar with all but the most common Australian native animals such as magpies, kangaroos and koalas.
If that makes me a wanker then so be it.
Later that evening we enjoyed each other’s company in a more adult way. There may have been some wankING but there were no wankERs.
There have been times in my life when I have felt isolated and as if I had no friends at all. My weekends have stretched in front of me full of chores and lazing around my house. Somehow I seemed to have turned that upside down. At the moment every weekend seems full of stuff. Tomorrow for the third weekend in a row we are packing our suitcases and heading off. Flying to meet a couple that live in another state.
At the time when I booked the trip it was one weekend and it seemed like a good idea. They are nice people. When we were together last we had good food, good conversation and sexy times. That is definitely the plan for this trip as well. And I am sure that I will enjoy myself.
But as I type I look out the window at a yard that needs attention. I am ignoring the sewing waiting for me. A weekend of hibernating seems like a luxury that is out of reach. And now I need to go to work.
In my last post, masturbation, I spoke about my asexual upbringing. I lived on a farm. Everything was about reproduction but sex was not allowed. Rather, enjoying sex was not allowed. At least for the teenagers. The adults. I have no idea. At the time when I made choices about my education and earlier jobs I felt I was following the expected path. Get a university degree, get a good job. My mother is a control freak. For all of my life, including my life as an adult she did her best to be in charge of the decisions I made and to keep me in the mould she had determined made a ‘good daughter’. I could probably write a book about the ways she tried to manipulate me.
The education and the job led me to a place a six hour drive away. In hindsight it probably wasn’t far enough. Despite the distance she still tried to influence all of my choices and so the stupid Catholic, abstinence based ideas about sex continued to haunt me. My true sexual nature and my upbringing continued to wrestle with each other for a very long time. In some ways they still do. My current feelings about my ‘number’ are testimony to that.
But I lucked out. I met Mr Jones. Sex was a feature of our relationship very early on and the way that he encouraged me to express my sexuality was exactly what I needed. I had found a person who encouraged me to dress and act sexy instead of shaming me for it. He encouraged me to be nude and be proud of my body. Cheeky nude photos in the outdoors were a feature of our relationship from the beginning. When children came along our sex life struggled. Actually our marriage struggled. There was a man I almost had an affair with and then a long dark time of guilt.
But we made it through. And then we opened our marriage. The journey through the opening up has not been without its problems but together we have worked through it because we both knew that it was right for us. Our journey has always come back to a simple touch stone. What the other person needs and how we can make that work for us.
When I started writing this piece I was thinking that the thing I was most grateful for was my open marriage. But as I wrote I realised it went deeper than that. The thing I am most grateful for is Mr Jones.
Last week’s Wicked Wednesday Prompt was “Hitchhiking”I started writing this post about a friend we had encountered but life got in the way a little.
In yachting circles it is called “taking on crew”. Sometimes the crew are looking for experience aboard a yacht because they want to own their own boat. Sometimes the crew have the finance and life situation to make this happen. For these people crewing is a step on the journey they have already begun. A way to get experience and some free training. Some people don’t have finances and the idea of owning a boat is more of a dream. For them being part of a crew is like touching the dream and somehow keeping it alive. For some people they want to travel from point A to point B but they have time and they are taking the opportunity to have an adventure along the way.
From the outside life on a yacht can seem romantic and luxurious. The reality can be quite different. Broken toilets, close living quarters, seasickness, bad weather and nowhere to escape when someone is getting on your nerves. Most yachties are men. This can make it hard for solo women who want to join the adventure. Being aboard a small space with no escape and being effectively trapped with a man can be hazardous. Especially if he is interested in more than someone to help him operate his yacht and share the cooking duties. Yachting forums and social media groups are awash with cautionary tales about women getting caught in these situations. To make it worse some of the posts from single men looking for “female only crew” are a bit ambiguous but a bit of a closer inspection makes things seem doubtful that once they have trapped their prey they are going to respect her wishes. As always it seems men take every opportunity to be a dick and try to force their desires on any woman they choose.
For myself and Mr Jones extra crew members can have a dual purpose if they wish. We advertised on a swingers site. We were pretty transparent and we only chose people who were up for the task. But once on board the choice was theirs. We have enjoyed some very sexy times with multiple people since we purchased our yacht. The one that springs to mind first is The Second Mate. Our time with him was intense and for me satisfying. He pushed my sexual boundaries and opened my eyes to the idea that I can be more picky and in fact should be. As a sailor he was OK. Willing but not a natural. He was one of the ones that planned to own his own boat but finances did not quite meet with desire.
Recently we met The Traveller. Whilst we are no longer travelling long distances ourselves he wanted to get experience on a yacht because, like The Second Mate, he planned to purchase his own yacht and travel. He was keen to learn about sailing and combine the experience with another activity, passion. We met at a swinger’s weekend. On our first encounter he bent me over a chair and fucked me in front of my husband and any other people who cared to watch. It was a cracking start. A promise of things to come. When we packed up and went back to reality after the weekend we exchanged numbers with plans to meet in the future.
A few weeks later the second meeting happened. We spent a couple of nights on the water. As with our first encounter things worked. Everyone walked away satisfied. Over the course of a couple of days and memorable evenings we explored each other, learned about fantasies and pleasure spots. Words that spring to mind are lusty, willing, capable and very, very sexy. We parted, unsure of when or if we would meet again. He has a nomadic existence and does not frequent my part of the country much.
But the planets aligned. He came on board at a jetty on an island in Moreton Bay. It was a sunny morning and Mr Jones and I were enjoying a few days remembering boat life. From the first hello there was the connection. Caressing each other as we walked past, little comments and innuendoes, quick glances that relayed promises of what was to come. We moved away from the jetty and found somewhere a little more private. It was school holiday time so there were quite a few people around. After we anchored The Traveller and myself took the opportunity to sun ourselves on the front deck. Despite the other boats in the vicinity I took off my top and sunned myself allowing the sun to kiss my bare skin. Before long our hands were on each other’s bodies and I was encouraging him to free his growing cock. Fishermen anchored close by were treated to a show of me gorging myself on his cock. All of our flirting and suggestion had taken its toll.
“I need to fuck you.” He told me urgently. “I can’t hold back my load any longer.”
The fishermen were about to be disappointed. We retired to the cabin to be joined by Mr Jones. In line with an earlier request Mr Jones wanted to watch me be fucked closely. His request was to lie underneath while I was being fucked from behind. I kneeled with my pussy close to his face and The Traveller rested his cock against my opening, teasing us both. I was unprepared for the feeling of him sliding into me. In the weeks since we had last been together I had forgotten but he reminded me but sliding in slowly as if he wanted to remember every part of it. His hands gripped my hips and he fucked me slowly, sliding his cock almost all the way out as Mr Jones licked me. The connection we had was re-established. He fucked until he could no longer hold back sliding out to blow his load over the outside of my pussy. I listened intently, taking in his breathing, the slight groan of pleasure as my husband licked his cum from me.
I flipped myself around so that I could impale myself on my husband. His cock was rock hard. As I leaned down to kiss him I could taste The Traveller’s cum on his lips. I smiled knowing how much he had waited for this moment. This was almost his ultimate fantasy. I could tell as I rode him that he was close to adding his own load of cum to me. The thrill of being part of this much excitement was like a drug. I could never get enough of this. His climax came quickly. A little too fast for me but it didn’t matter. I knew that this was just the entree. I had two more days with both of them. There would be many more times.
A little while ago I had this inspiration to write SOMETHING every day. As I typed the words telling you all about this idea I knew it would fail. And it did. But like a habit that I just can’t kick here I am again.
1. Select a kink. You’re a first-time visitor to a dungeon, and you are ‘center stage’ because a sizeable crowd has gathered to watch you: a. Writhing from bare-hand spanking b. Restrained on an X-cross receiving a whipping c. Dangling in air wrapped in an ornate web of rope d. Naked on a floor mat with 3 people pleasuring you
Staying true to form I am going with d. Probably done a version of that before. Actually the three people but not with a crowd watching although that does sound awfully fun. Dangling in the air with three people pleasuring. Now that sounds like something to add to the bucket list!
2. If you selected #4 in the last question, tell us how you are pleasured?
Person A would have his face buried in my cunt. Person B would have his cock in my throat and Person C would be holding me and tantalising my nipples. Perhaps with some nibbling and a little pinching.
3. Bind, blind, tease. Write a 50-word story and include those 3 words.
Ropes on my wrists, holding me against the mattress. Fabric on my face obscuring my view. The feeling of your fingers stroking me causing me to arch against the mattress. Your lips nibble my breast as your fingers slide downwards. I moan as your fingers slide inside me. I feel your breath on my face but I cannot feel your body. My senses search for you, but I am restrained. My need is like an ache.
4. Sex Doll play: The ‘doll’ is the human version of an inflatable sex doll. The ‘doll’ must lie completely still on a bed and let their partner have at it. The partner is free to control the doll’s body and movements, and do what they please. Which will you be–the doll or the doll-master? Why?
Another item for the fucket list! A longer standing fantasy is to find a strong capable man to act out the sex doll fantasy with. Of course I am the doll. To be played by a person with skill and confidence…
For my #boobday this week I posted images of my breasts against the sunset. They were from some #travellingboob shots Mr Jones and I took during a recent sailing break we took. For fun we also decided to take some sunset silhouettes of Mr Jones just for contrast.
During my school holidays Mr Jones and I took some time to head out on the yacht for a few days of relaxing and reminiscing about our time aboard last year. We took and posted on Twitter several #travellingboob photos. Mr Jones commented that sunset boob shot is very much like another and people would be starting to get bored of them. My twitter followers disagreed. One told me that each shot was like a snowflake, different and special in it’s own way.
OK so FOMO is an acronym rather than a word but it is what today is about for me. We are in day 2 of the Easter weekend which for Australians is a four day weekend. Traditionally many Australians take the opportunity to have a mini holiday often featuring camping or visits to the beach. For us winter is approaching. Days are getting shorter, mornings and evenings are just that little bit cool and we are reminded that it could be our last chance to enjoy the great outdoors.
The situation with my parents is a bit weird. They live a six hour drive away from me. Visiting for holidays like Easter and Christmas is not just popping over for dinner it is an Odyssey. It involves visiting for at least two days or back to back six hour drives. Add the guilt, the stupid mind games and general negativity that my mother generates by being a toxic person and Easter and Christmas frequently have the joy sucked out of them.
As we were planning this visit I was being positive about it. It is necessary, it means I have don’t my duty and I will be able to be free for a while. Our lifestyle friends were attending a camp which sounded much more fun but I made the conscious decision to do the right family thing. It just so happened that the campsite was on the way to where we were going to visit my family. So we took a detour to visit for an hour or so.
Whilst the visit itself was enjoyable and meant that we could connect with some people we hadn’t seen for a while it was also a little frustrating. We couldn’t stay even though it looked fun. Today I hit the point where I realised that you can make the most of a bad situation but in the end it is a bad situation. The whole day I have been thinking about the camp we visited and wishing that I was there.
I am determined to finish this series. It has been over a year!! If you want to catch up on the questions so far my Thirty Dirty Questions page has all the links.
How often do you masturbate and what works best for you?
I was raised a Catholic and sex was not talked about in our house at all. Other than the cautionary “don’t do it”. In addition my mother was very critical of mine, and almost everyone else’s body. She frequently judged people about their weight. It made me very self conscious and private about my own body. I lived quite a long way from town and had very few friends that I could share any thoughts or ideas about sex, bodies, growing up etc. Even when I went to boarding school I struggled to make friends and certainly never talked about sex with anyone. In those days the internet and smart phones were a thing of the future. Learning about sex without a social network or a parent who was willing to talk to you was almost impossible.
I did overhear conversations between other girls and gained snippets from magazines when I was allowed to buy them and so I did learn to masturbate. I had really very little idea about exactly what I was doing but I did know that I enjoyed it. I remember at one stage I got a bit of a sleep association happening and struggled to fall asleep at night without an orgasm. Not really a good situation when you are sharing a dormitory with six or seven other girls.
As an adult I didn’t invest in a vibrator or any other sex toy until I was given one by a boyfriend. For some reason I never really took to toys. I just didn’t feel comfortable. Probably because I didn’t really feel comfortable with my body or sexuality in general. This awkward feeling about toys also extended to masturbating. I felt that when I was in a relationship I should be getting sexual gratification from having sex with my partner. Masturbating was admitting that we were getting it wrong. Consequently it was infrequent.
Fast forward to now. I still don’t masturbate frequently. I guess a lifetime of habit and ingrained negativity is still having an impact. I do feel more confident these days but I still find it hard to get alone time to enjoy this activity. Mutual masturbation is not something that is part of my regular couple sex diet.
So what happens when I am alone? Well I do have a go-to toy. A glass dildo that Mr Jones bought me as a valentines gift a few years ago. There is something about the weight and rigidity that works for me. I still use a finger to stimulate my clitoris and use the toy to penetrate and press against my g-spot. In line with lifelong habit masturbating is usually a means to an end for me. I don’t take time to enjoy or edge. Get the job done, enjoy the warmth and relax for a while. Sometimes even enjoy a short nap.