Young Boys

Photo by Volha Milovich on Unsplash

I was assured the other day by The Unicorn that GILF (granny I like to fuck) is a thing. Apparently in her OF world niches like GILF, Mature woman, MILF etc are trending strongly. As I have aged there has been more than one occasion that I have been approached by very young men who claim to be into mature, curvy women. For the most part I find this kind of male unreliable, flaky and hard to deal with. I have a general rule of not really interacting with men under about 35 and a fairly hard boundary of no one under 25. Then I received this message; 

Where do I sign up. God Damn

M28 with a face pic in his profile. It is hard to go past someone who is massaging your ego like that. We had a conversation. Then he messaged

I’ll be out near you tomorrow 

 I tossed this back and forwards for a while. He looked OK but not my usual type. The red hair intrigued me, unusual. He seemed to be intelligent. And so I agreed to meet for a drink. I was rewarded. The first sight of him calmed my hesitation. The conversation flowed and he was genuinely gentle and kind. And then we were fucking like a pair of rabbits.

He doesn’t meet the regular criteria. If I was asked to describe my type I would say 40 – 50, taller, well built, confident and strong. Silver foxes who have spent large parts of their life doing manual labour make me weak at the knees. The Ranga is the opposite. One day he will be a silver fox who has spent most of his life doing manual labour but at the moment he is at the opposite end of that career. He does tick the confident and strong boxes. Plus he can fuck. For hours. 

He has this way of pushing me around the bed into the position he wants, inserting his finger or his cock to the exact right spot and telling me to cum for him like a good girl. Just the memory of it makes me press my clit against something hard. Like a little girl rubbing herself on the edges of furniture. Did I mention he can fuck? For hours?

People often get excited by the idea of me being a teacher. Men often recollect a teacher they had the hots for as a teenager and assure me that my students feel the same way about me. I honestly don’t believe them. I actively keep thoughts about my students in the Mrs Jones The Teacher part of my mind. I am not going to lie it isn’t always easy. While my typical ‘type’ is the Silver Fox there is something about some young men. Their vulnerability. The way they try to act like they are experienced and know all about ‘it’, whatever ‘it’ is. So, sometimes, one occasionally worms his way into my thoughts for a moment before I banish him back to the professional part of my mind. 

What is a little freaky about The Ranga is that he bears a strong resemblance to one of these young men. He isn’t a doppelgänger in the true sense. But his eyes are the same and his face is the same shape and he has this mannerism that is the same. Like they are cousins or something. It is a little unsettling. But not enough to negate the fucking, for hours. In fact the confidence and skill with which he performs that act is enough of a point of difference for it not to matter. Last time we were together I did spend a couple of moments reflecting on the surrealness of that particular nuance while I sat astride him with his cock deep inside me. He asked me what I was thinking but I didn’t tell him. Instead I distracted him with a pair of jiggling breasts and a very hungry pussy. 


TMI Tuesday Revisited

Welcome to another edition of re-visited TMI. I don’t know why this type of thing appeals to me but it does. If you have a TMI question you want answered leave a comment or say hi on Twitter.

1. Have you performed a strip tease for a lover?

This was the reason I started pole fit all those years ago. I remember being super disappointed after my first lesson because there was a bunch of gymnastics style exercises but no dancing. Fifteen years on I am still a fan of the sexy dancing but also a little more determined to get my body to do the gymnastics part. It is a slow process but as long as there is progress and fun and fitness I am not wasting my time.

2. Have you ever let someone else bathe you although you were perfectly capable of doing it yourself?

I struggle to let people do anything for me. Especially when I am capable of doing it myself but I feel like a boyfriend washed my back in the shower some time in my distant past. As I think about this on one level I feel like it would be nice to be cared for but I am certain if it actually happened I would feel very awkward.

3. If you were asked, “does the carpet match the drapes”… Would your answer be “yes” or “no”?

My hair is currently mostly blonde which is not my natural colour. I am not high maintenance enough to blonde my “drapes”.

4. Who has done something within the last 24 hours to show they care for you? What did they do?

Yesterday my class was loud and using a lot of swear words. Which is not something I am particularly bothered by but it is often a pre-cursor to things getting out of hand. My colleague, listening in just down the corridor and knowing how my life is rolling made an appearance, unobtrusively, at the doorway to let the boys know that I have backup at the flick of a switch. It was subtle, it worked and I am very grateful.

5. What do you prefer to do after sex?
a. Go for another round!
b. Cuddle and talk
c. Eat
d. Fall asleep
e. Shower
f. Get out!

B followed by A. Mostly. Sometimes B followed by D. Kind of depends on the situation and the style of orgasm.

Bonus: Anal sex…giving or receiving, which do you prefer?

I have enjoyed both in the right circumstances. These days I am a little cautious about receiving full penetration it seems to disagree with me later but other forms of stimulation including butt plugs and teasing with a penis are very pleasurable.

I have also successfully given prostate massages to some people, I am not sure about the exact technique it is very hit and miss and that was also a lot of fun. Something to add to the “to do again sometime” list.

Bonus Bonus Random photo from the vault.

I thought this one was in theme.

TMI Tuesday Reload

1. What is your favorite part of sex?

The fucking.

And when your face is between my legs.

2. Do you enjoy phone sex?

No. It always feels contrived and fake. I rarely get excited by it unless I have been conversing with the person for a while and / or have actually fucked them in real life. I hate it when a random from the internet starts a conversation with me and then deliberately steers it in this direction. Without consent or really asking. When this happens I tend to either stop talking to them or leave them with the message “I don’t do sex chat.”

3. What’s your favorite color lingerie?

Black with either pink or red highlights. But a browse through my lingerie drawer reveals predominantly black like this one.

4. Have you ever had sex with “just a friend” and gone back to “just being” friends?

The only person I was friends with and then had sex is no longer a friend. To be honest that relationship danced around dating off and on for a good ten years. I guess the proof of his feelings, even if he never professed them, was revealed when he reacted angrily to my engagement to Mr Jones and never spoke to me again.

Right now we have several people in our life who we count as friends and who we sometimes have sex with and still remain friends. Some, I am discovering, are a bit like onions. Layers and layers of discoveries.

5. How did your last relationship end?

I have been married to Mr Jones for the best part of 25 years. So clearly it has been a while since the person I profess to love deeply forever has walked out of my life. There have been a few more intense relationships with some of my side interests but they inevitably end. Usually when they decide to get a girlfriend or return to their ex wives. You win some and you lose some I guess.

Bonus random photo from the vault.

From cruising days with Mr Jones and The Second Mate. Note the finger marks on my left breast. Those were sexy days.

These questions are from the TMI archives April 12 2011. I participated in TMI Tuesday for such a long time and now it is defunct I miss it. So now you get to read the re-load.

Awkward Conversation

Photo by Bernard Hermant on Unsplash

STI screens are a necessary evil for anyone who has sex with more than one person who has sex with more than one person who has sex with more than one person. You get the idea. The reality of casual sex is that you never know where your partner has been. Condoms give some protection against some infections but experience, and several sexual health websites, have taught me that they have their limits. And so I find myself at the doctor’s office asking for an STI screen every few months.

Over the years this request has resulted in mixed reactions. Despite the required level of professionalism that doctors are required to maintain they are still human and come with cultural and personal quirks. My city is a cultural melting pot. Wherever you go there will always be a wide range of cultures and heritages represented. This is especially evident in most medical practices. In the past when dealing with sexual health issues I have come across female doctors from certain cultural backgrounds that do not approve of a married middle aged woman being fully in touch with her sexuality. It has made me a little self conscious and cautious about sharing my lifestyle when asking for particular tests.

I recently decided to find a new General Practitioner. I had not really had a proper regular doctor for several years and had been existing with my various health conditions renewing prescriptions when I needed to but not really reviewing things or making changes. As part of the initial consult we discussed my sexual health and I requested an STI screen. This particular GP was very through, taking notes and getting a good picture of my background. She was also a relatively young Indian woman. As I mentioned before I haven’t had a good track record with this ethnicity. So while I was impressed with her professionalism I was still cautious.

As part of her background questions she asked how many sexual partners I had had in the last month. I honestly had no idea how to answer the question for several reasons. Firstly I honestly had no idea. I began a mental count back but I was coming off two weekend long lifestyle events. During both of these events I interacted sexually with multiple people in multiple ways. Debaucherous was the best word to describe the adventures of my vagina over the last month so the mental count back crashed and burned in a couple of seconds.

Secondly and more awkwardly I didn’t know how she would react to a casual shrug and a vague answer of “I’m not sure, maybe 20?” I still have that lingering self-consciousness about the “number”. The left over conditioning to be a good girl and I was sitting in front of a woman with a cultural background that defends the purity of women even more than a good Irish Catholic.

There was an awkward moment as she waited for my answer and I did the mental gymnastics and tried to come up with an answer. She must have been aware of my hesitation because she tried to reassure me with a comment,

“Nothing will shock me I promise.”

My eyebrows went up, “Really?”

She was as casual as she could be, “The highest I have heard is about 140.”

Well, my number wasn’t that high. But then I wondered how does someone sleep with 140 different people in a MONTH. That is like an average of four to five DIFFERENT people EVERY day!. The logistics alone would be challenging, let alone finding that many people who are interested.

What ever passed I gave some kind of answer between 10 and 20 and she gave me my pathology request and jars and I went on my merry way. I liked her more after that. So I will be back in her office in a few months to get checked over again.

Go me, adulting hard and all that stuff.

Trust the Process

Photo by Suzanne D. Williams on Unsplash

Earlier this year my life was running at an astounding pace. I found myself in the midst of a number of lifestyle events and smaller gatherings with lifestyle friends. All of this “peopling” eventually took its toll. My mental health began to decline and I found myself in the midst of other people having fun and feeling like I was faking it. Even worse I succumbed to that hallmark of untreated depression and began uncontrollably shouting awful, hurtful things at people I love.

It took some very firm words with myself and a lot of unpleasant reminders of a conversation with a friend who refused to get professional help even though she was doing the same things I had just been doing. Albeit on a much grander scale. I knew what I had to do but still I resisted. In the end I took the step of seeking professional help. As I write this post I am in possession of a mental health plan from my GP and have a pending appointment with a psychologist. Despite being on medication for depression for almost ten years I have never actually had a regular therapist. Lesson there; Most GPs cannot manage a mental health condition well. Second lesson; the only person who has a hope of getting your treatment sorted is yourself.

All of this has resulted in a bit of a “drought”. I wrote a short post about it here. It is strange how you can be living your life attending veritable sex-fests and still feel as if your marriage is dry. As a result of January I resisted making plans with people so that I could generate some breathing space but the drought was playing on my mind. I was a little reluctant to suggest a visit to the club. Partly because I worried that it was contradicting my need to be free of people. and partly because I didn’t want Mr Jones to feel left out but the itch for random, unencumbered sex was hard to ignore.

Fast forward to sitting on a couch in the club sipping drinks and chatting to a younger couple. It was just conversation to start with. There was something about him but he wasn’t my normal type. He was intriguing just the same. Things progressed. Turns out despite the extroverted behaviour he is shy and also the epitome of a sex servant. His wife happily watches him act out this persona. His desire to give pleasure is insatiable. He wants to touch and explore and draw the pleasure out of a woman. I can see how this is something one woman cannot provide constantly over a long period of time.

For me it was challenging to be waited on in this way. He jumped to attention to make everything comfortable for me. His attention was focussed entirely on my comfort and pleasure. It was a rare treat. Exactly what I needed at that moment. I needed to be reminded to LET people pleasure me. I needed to be reminded that I DIDN’T have to be the one who was waiting on everyone hand and foot. I was not responsible for making sure everyone had a good time even if it was at my own expense. I still felt guilt at just letting someone pleasure me. I still need to slay that demon that constantly tells me that my needs and wants are less important than everyone else’s. But this evening gave me a boost in that fight. It reminded me that I am still a Goddess to be worshipped. My energy is still unpredictable but I am feeling positive. I just need to have patience and trust in the process.


I Am Not In This For the Money

Way back at the start of my Gemma Jones journey there was no such thing as Instagram, Snapchat or Tick Tok. Only Fans was far into the future. In fact when I wrote the very first story featuring Gemma I was still chatting with friends on MSN. Remember that? Back then men still sent weird pictures of their dicks without permission but not on a daily. At least I don’t think so. I assumed it was par for the course in the lifestyle I found myself in. Another thing that happened was them asking for nudes of me.

Now here is the grey area. I am online dating for sex and I was posting the same sorts of pictures for some reason. Because it made me feel good, because I thought it was fun, because I am an exhibitionist. Whatever. The point is I was, and still am, posting for my own reasons. On my own terms. When it suits me. I don’t post as a service to men who happen by. I don’t ask for money or any type of payment. I don’t even have an Amazon wish list. In the ten or so years I have been positing pictures of my boobs on the internet I have never received even an offer of payment or a gift as a thank you. Nor have I asked for one.

Does this stop men asking for particular content or their own personal photo as if I am actually a paid service provider? You would think most people would understand the idea that if they are getting something for free they don’t really have the right or are in a position to make requests. Especially if requests are not invited. But no. It seems having a penis gives some people the idea that they can demand whatever they want whenever they want. FOR FREE.

In the old days I would tell them to go find a porn channel. I never understood what they thought I could offer that wasn’t better there. Except that I didn’t charge. These days the requests have slowed somewhat. Mostly I think because men are afraid they are going to get told to pay up for an Only Fans membership. Perhaps they are slowly becoming more educated about etiquette. But this morning one slipped through.

His first slip up was a comment about my response to a compliment he paid me. Apparently “Thank You” is a bit glib. I don’t know what he wanted me to actually say. Last time I checked thank you was a gracious way to accept a compliment without sounding like you wanted more. This guy wasn’t satisfied with one “demand” he went for the double dip. Apparently he liked the bath pic I posted and requested another.

I am proud to say I resisted the temptation to tell him to

Instead I worded a response that indicated that if he had specific requirements then perhaps he should consider paying someone who is offering that service. Pretty controlled for 6am. I thought that would be the end of it. He would go on his merry way. But he apologised, profusely. It seems that he didn’t intend to offend.

I am not convinced.

What is the Best Experience You Have Had?

Photo by Glenn Carstens-Peters on Unsplash

Meeting people through dating apps seems to be the most surreal thing to me. Trying to decide who is worthy of your conversation from a brief hello a couple of random photos and a poorly completed bio. It is impossible to meet all of them in person so there has to be some kind of selection process.

My own bio says I am looking for someone with an imagination. I kind of know why I wrote that. I was tired of being the one calling all the plays and coming up with the ideas. I just want someone who takes control and tells me where to be at. Mostly so I can brat and tell them I don’t want to but sometimes because I just don’t want the responsibility.

But we digress. I was contacted by someone whose pics were meh but something in his bio made me go let’s give this a shot. He proclaims to be an explorer recently emerged from a long term relationship that had some kinky times but no swinging or group sex. Something I can, and have worked with. I don’t mind helping someone on this pathway. Then he asked this clanger

“What is the best experience you have ever had?”

My brain spun. Mostly because I didn’t want to let him know just how experienced I was. But also because that is like asking someone who has travelled all over the world what their favourite tourist destination is. After ten plus years of travel and “tourist destinations” I can’t even remember all of them. Not because they were unforgettable. But because they kind of blur into the past. There are specific people who stand out. Mostly the people who are in more recent history. But not specific experiences.

So how did I answer his question? Well I was very generic and said something like;

“I have had a lot of different experiences. They all have their pros and cons.”

And then I did this thing that I do that means I don’t have to expose myself. I asked him about himself.

The conversation is continuing. He hasn’t proven himself to be a complete dickhead so that is a good sign.

Do I Dare?

Mr Jones has a thing for tails. Not entirely a fetish but he does have a thing for it. I own a tail. I wouldn’t say I don’t enjoy wearing it. There was a particularly hot session this one time with Johnny that involved a tail and being tied in this interesting position. Fun times were had. But anal is definitely a sometimes food for me.

Teasing is more my thing. I mean what woman doesn’t like to be admired and lusted after. So a scenario I think about often is going out wearing a butt plug. No knickers and a short skirt. So that watchers get a glimpse of a jewel when I bend over. Just a peek that makes them wonder at first. So that they have to look again, hoping for a glimpse to confirm their suspicions. Then when the get that second look they realise that they want more than just a look.

I wonder what it would feel like to walk around with that kind of stimulation? To have that feeling but have to pretend that everything is normal. Would sitting be extra stimulating? Would standing and teasing be an escape from the physical stimulation but a double edged sword because the mental stimulation would be amped up? How aroused would I be? All interesting questions.

Perhaps the biggest question is do I dare? It is one thing to have the fantasy and think about it in the comfort of your home. But another to actually do it. Am I game? To walk into a public (ish) place with something like that in place. And if I do how do I show what I am wearing without it being contrived? Perhaps it will happen one day. Perhaps I will even be brave enough to go out wearing a tail. Time will tell. But first I need to shop.

Do I want pink

Or purple?


The Hall Pass

It is funny how you have these conversations with colleagues. You know the ones. Where they talk about something they think is cutting edge but really it is so vanilla. What is even more scary is these conversations are dangerous for me. I am almost incapable of lying. So participating in this conversation is hard. How do I say enough that I look cool without completely outing myself.

The topic of hall passes came up. I raised my eyebrows as my friend waxed lyrical about her celebrity hall pass and how delicious he was. I was a little baffled. Her nominated celebrity hall pass is Robbie Williams. I know many women find him dreamy but I cannot, for the life of me see the attraction. The second thing that baffles me is the whole concept of a hall pass. What are the chances that you will actually get into a situation that you can proposition or be propositioned by this person? And then if you do, what are the chances that they will be interested in you? Essentially it is a sexual fantasy. But somehow one that has become acceptable in mainstream water cooler conversation.

Later in the week the same group of people had a conversation about window shopping. And the old adage that it is OK to check out the talent as long as you don’t pursue it. I trod the same tightrope of not contributing while trying not to look like a complete idiot. There was a moment when I considered dropping one of those comments that made people think. But I refrained. In both of those situations my way of thinking is why lust after something you can’t have? Especially when there is usually something just as desirable that you CAN have.

Do I have a hall pass? Hell yes!!. I have one whenever I want with just about whoever I want. With the exception of a grand total of one person that I have met. Probably a few others I haven’t met yet but for the most part Mr Jones trusts my judgement. Obviously this kind of concept is something I can’t discuss around the water cooler. It is something that requires a bit more social lubricant and a different setting. I wish people could be more enlightened. I wish I didn’t have to be so careful what I say.

I certainly don’t wish for Robbie Williams in my bed though.

Monday Monday

Monday sneaks up on you. Like a jester playing a prank. One moment you are warm and comfortable in slumber and the next you are scrambling for the alarm. Tea can only soothe away the reality of the impending commute and day of noisy, demanding teenagers a little.

Memories of the weekend gone by fill your mind. The touch of a new lover. The way his complete attention was given over to your pleasure. How for once in your life you lay back like a slut and let the pleasure shudder through you. The idea of a sex slave always seemed foreign. But now it is the most appealing thing in the world.

Tea is almost gone. The clock says it is time to pack your bag. You remember that you promised yourself you would go to work early today. Five minutes counts as early right?