Last night I went to the pub for a meal with a friend. As we dressed and prepared to leave I commented to Mr Jones that we should really do this kind of thing more often. We almost never go out for a meal just because it seems like fun. While we do go to our local swinger’s club for drinks and socialising reasonably regularly we never go to a pub to catch up with friends or to see a band.
When I was younger I didn’t have the social circle or the budget to be at the pub or partying on every weekend. So I was never really in the habit of going clubbing with friends. Heading out to see a band was a big deal for me. When Mr Jones and I started swinging our night life changed a lot. But all of the partying and socialising we did had particular focus that usually saw us naked and fucking by the end of the evening. Going to a bar to pay the crazy prices they charge for drinks just for shits and giggles has never been part of our regular schedule.
So we arrived and had a great meal with our friend. It was good to catch up and hang out. After our meal we ventured into the main bar where karaoke was cranking up. It was interesting seeing how the other half party. The drinking was similar. The weird behaviour and conversations over loud music were the same as I remembered and the same as most parties.
The thing that struck me was feeling at odds with how flirting worked. A woman came up to me and full on ran her hands over my body. I was taken aback. I thought she was with a man. I was with my husband. Later in the bar another man was giving off flirty vibes but he seemed a little reluctant. Obviously the presence of husband was an issue. I kept to myself. Unsure of where lines were and what was acceptable and what was not.
In the wash-up I am unconvinced it is something I would like to do every week. Maybe every now and then. I would rather hang out around a camp fire with some like minded souls. Or even at a pinch head out for dinner and drinks with similar like minded souls. At the end of the day the only thing in this world that should be vanilla is ice cream.
In my last two Thirty Dirty Questions Posts I have talked a little about my repressed upbringing and the long term effects that had on how I felt about my sexuality, my body and myself in general. What I hadn’t realised until a few days ago was that something else that has been bothering me is also linked to this ingrained guilt.
For the last little while I have been extremely self conscious about my “number”. When I think about the number of people I have fucked it makes me feel a number of negative things. Things like shame and guilt. Whenever people ask me how long I have been in the lifestyle this shame surfaces and I am reluctant to share an accurate figure or divulge exactly how active I have been. Which many people in my world think is a little odd. Most other women like myself have a similar number. Those I meet who are just starting out are often admiring of the way I have embraced my sexuality and feel so comfortable talking about what I do and don’t want.
A few days ago I was chatting at a gathering with a woman who has a similar longevity in the swing scene as myself. I didn’t ask about her number. I doubt that she really counted and she is definitely not concerned about it. What I realised during the course of the conversation is that this weirdness about my number was linked to the whole Catholic guilt thing. Strange how things from your past that you thought you had left behind can reach their long fingers into your present and push your buttons all over again.
Now that I have had that realisation I am better equipped to deal with it I guess. Although like all things in your head dealing with it is not just a case of telling it to go away. At least it is a step in the right direction.
Over the next two days The Traveller and I fucked. Many times. I was amazed. He never seemed tired or unable to respond to me. My own response to him was also surprising to me. I never failed to respond to his touch. One moment we would be enjoying some sunshine and the nest my dress was pushed up and his fingers were exploring me. Drawing out my juice and making me almost beg for his cock.
We weren’t completely nude. But clothing was minimal. The days were warm and I enjoyed the sunshine. I was keen to enhance my tan as the last warm days of summer faded. Whenever I could find a warm sunny spot out of the wind I stripped down and lay around like a siren luring men to me. For the most part Mr Jones was amused. He watched us dancing around each other and me teasing a response from this man. He watched us fuck and then reclaimed his wife as much as he wanted.
I was never tired of looking at him. I loved the hair on his body. I loved to run my fingers through the rug on his chest. The silvery hairs seemed to make him more attractive. Like a silverback. Strong, virile and experienced. When he was fully naked I peeked at him around corners. Taking in the strong lines of his body and his round arse. Whenever I looked at his arse I wanted to grab it. I was reminded of how it felt to wrap my legs around it as he fucked me.
I am unsure of how I managed to walk on the last morning we were together. Or sex that morning was more leisurely. I was reflective knowing that I had to go back to reality and that this was probably the last time he would fuck me. We dragged ourselves out of bed and prepared for the day. I took the opportunity to be a lady of leisure as The Traveller took on my regular duties as a crew member. We sailed back towards the city line, leaving behind the quiet bay where we had spent the night.
As we sailed back to our home port I began to tidy our cabin and pack up clothing and washing from our trip. As I was pottering I became aware of him in the cabin that Mr Jones and I shared. Of all the places we had fucked Mr Jones’ and my bed was off limits. It wasn’t something spoken but something we agreed to. Over our time together Mr Jones and I have invited others into our own bed at home but for the most part we play somewhere else. A hotel a club, the play room or the guest cabin on the yacht.
The Traveller’s attention was unexpected. Our time was coming to an end. We had fucked so many times I was sure he had his fill. But then he was there, putting his hands on my waist, pulling me against his body as he nibbled on my neck. I sighed in pleasure as his hands reached inside my dress and cupped my breasts. My nipples hardened between his fingers and I reached back to slip my hands inside his pants. His cock as always was ready. He was a freak like that. Always ready. Always horny.
“How do you want me, Mrs Jones?” His voice was husky against my neck.
I smiled remembering being teased the night before about how greedy I had been. The Traveller insisted that I had initiated every one of our encounters. As much as I didn’t want to admit it he was right. But I told him that today was about him. He was the initiator.
“You are in charge today,” I replied. Attempting to fold clothing.
He moved me towards the stairs. “Here looks good,” He positioned me so that I was leaning over the staircase. I had never thought about using the stairs this way but any stray thoughts of dust and practicalities were banished as he entered me. Even after the last two days I still felt that thrill as he slid inside me. I was still transported by the sound of his breathing and the slap of his belly against my arse.
As always my body responded to him. Excitement rose as his pace increased.
“You are so fucking sexy,” his voice was strained with excitement. “Are you ready for one last load?”
“Yes,” My voice came out as a whisper.
“Here it comes,” I could feel the intensity and my own body responded.
With the now familiar grunt he climaxed. I could feel him pulsing inside me. I was never tired of that feeling. For a few moments we leaned against the stairs and he rested against me. I was really aware of the feeling that I never wanted this moment to end. I wanted to live like this forever. Reality was too hard.
We made our way back to our home berth, everything was tidy and packed away. As we said our goodbyes there we all expressed a hope that there would be a repeat in our future. As much as I want it to be that way I am not sure. He is a nomadic person. His wanderings don’t bring him to my little corner of the world much. But maybe, one day, the planets will align. In the meantime travel well sexy man. Enjoy life and be happy.
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.
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.
Interestingly I was thinking about this not long ago. Not because I was planning any escapades but because I was reflecting on Mr Jones’ aversion to having sex in an open setting where a large number of people can watch at close quarters. I love that kind of thing. I guess I would be classified as an exhibitionist. Mr Jones not so much.
Oddly though he is perfectly happy to have sex in a public place where a passerby might ‘happen’ to watch from a distance. There is a memorable occasion when we broke up a road trip with a stop in a picnic area near a lake. A distance across the lake there was a camping area and the lake was popular with fishermen and campers.
We ended up having sex on a picnic table. Of course when we began there were not any people around but at the end there seemed to be a few, keeping a discreet distance of course. The one that stuck in my mind the most was a fisherman in a kayak quite a distance away. He seemed particularly interested. I genuinely hope he went home after that and gave his wife a good seeing to.
There have been other similar occasions between us. As I mentioned Mr Jones is fond of the great outdoors. It is strange though how being shown a different perspective can completely change your feelings about something. I saw a junk “reality” show not long ago that focussed on clips of camera footage taken from cameras installed in public spaces like underground carparks, shopping centres and the like. One of the clips shown was a couple who had been out nightclubbing and decided that the boom gate of the carpark was a great place to have sex.
Watching the footage and listening to the show’s commentators making fun of the couple completely changed my perspective. There is something deeply exciting about having sex in a place that is taboo. The thrill is increased when you get away with the act knowing that maybe a bystander enjoyed the show but there are not any other repercussions. But in all honesty there isn’t always a way to know if the unsuspecting bystander DOES enjoy the show.
Our society has the idea that sex should be kept behind closed doors deeply ingrained into our subculture. For many people public displays of affection, even as innocent as kissing, are offensive. Intimacy between adults should be kept private in most vanilla people’s eyes. Of course there is probably a whole book that could be written about how unhealthy that attitude is and the damage it does to young people seeking to learn about healthy relationships. In this world of internet porn parents really do need to consider the idea that demonstrating what they consider to be a healthy relationship up close and personal and in real life could go a long way to helping their children avoid some very undesirable sexual situations.
Will there be public sex in my future? I believe the answer is probably yes. Although high traffic areas like the picnic ground mentioned above might not be ideal. A beach where there aren’t many people? Definitely on the cards.
If you want to catch up on any Dirty Questions that you may have missed visit the Thirty Dirty Questions page for a complete set of questions and links.
I have been struggling to write anything of late. My new job is a much longer commute and it is taking it out of me a bit. I used to get a solid hour of quiet time in the mornings but now I am struggling to get in 30 minutes. The routine will come. It hasn’t been a full term yet. Until then things are going to be sporadic.
When and how did you lose your virginity, and how did you feel about it? How do you feel about it now?
I lost my virginity when I was 17. I had moved out of home to attend university and for some reason I was on a mission to get sexually active. At the time I did not realise but what was happening was the classic reaction of a young person who has been restricted by parents and the education system. With the first taste of freedom they go a little crazy. Perhaps as an indicator of my future sexual antics were my particular jam.
I gave my virginity to a mature age student in my university course. He was about 23 and was busily working his way through all the impressionable 17 and 18 year olds in our course. We all thought he was incredibly good looking, he wasn’t, We all thought he was worldly and grown up. But honestly he was a complete fake. No fixed career and not a lot to show for the five years he had been working since he left high school. No tales of travel, no fixed address and a beat up car. He supposedly had a girlfriend who none of us ever met and who, according to him was more of an on again off again thing.
I found myself in his flat one afternoon and there we were naked. From memory he was reasonably well endowed and I remember making him wear a condom. I didn’t tell him I was a virgin until afterwards. He was concerned about that and I remember him apologising to me and admonishing me for not telling him. Honestly I don’t think it would have made a difference. But there it was.
I was not ashamed of what had happened and wasted little time letting people know. Maybe I thought it would make me more popular. It didn’t. It certainly didn’t secure him, even temporarily. I guess I wasn’t his type because he moved on straight away. He then proceeded on his mission of fucking as many impressionable young girls as possible. One particularly memorable time he fucked my friend while I was in the room and not involved. Maybe he thought it would trigger a threesome. I was too socially awkward to know what to do other than pretend I couldn’t hear them and steadfastly concentrate on the Maths we were all supposed to be studying.
For the record. I failed that exam and she got pregnant. Not a great outcome for either of us. At least I didn’t end up with that gift. Looking back I don’t regret what happened as much as I regret being so immature and impulsive. I regret what was the beginning of a lifelong mind habit of thinking my most important value is in being sexual. I wish I had more people in my life then, and now, who celebrated my other talents and gave me a different focus. Perhaps then I would have ‘saved myself’ for someone who appreciated me, the person, a bit more and who wouldn’t cast me aside like a takeaway container after the meal is hastily consumed. It may have saved me later heartache and given me the confidence to make better relationship choices.
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.
What is the most sexually daring thing you have done?
For many people this question is fairly cut and dry. For most people being daring sexually is a once in a lifetime or at the most once a year thing. For me, who has been consistently pushing the envelope for ten years or more it is a minefield of a question. I sometimes ask this question when I am in the initial phases of contact with prospective play partners. It is a way for me to gauge how adventurous and experienced they are. But when the tables are turned and I am asked the same question? Definitely a mine field.
Firstly, what does a person consider daring? Most vanillas would consider having sex with someone else in front of your partner daring. But most people we know in the swinging / kink world accept that is par for the course.
Having sex or doing something sexual in a public place? That is pretty daring. Mr Jones and I have done that several times. One that springs to mind is the time we took a break on a road trip and had sex on a table in a picnic area in front of a lake. There was a man who was fishing on his kayak who enjoyed the show immensely I am sure. There was the time I took a playmate to a nature reserve near my home and gave him a head job in the bird watching area while Mr Jones watched from the bushes. Oh and there was the time Mr Fix It and I went for a motorcycle ride and had sex in the rainforest next to a bushwalking trail. Like I said consistently pushing the envelope.
What about kinks and sexual things that are out of the ordinary? I have sold / given away my used underwear to men I have met on the internet. Not everyone’s cup of tea but something I actually find arousing. Similarly I have found giving men a the panties I wore to our encounter and then knowing they used it to pleasure themselves later is also extremely arousing. Getting photos of men wearing my underwear? Super fucking hot! This activity is something that I tend not to discuss with new people because I am afraid that they will think I am weird. Also it is disappointing when they tell me that is not their thing. Because I would absolutely love to find a partner who is in to that kind of thing again sometime.
The final thing that is more of an out there thing than a daring thing was fisting a man. Yes you read that right. Putting my fist in a man’s arse. I did it but I am not sure I will actively pursue finding someone who wants to do that again. As a rule I don’t reveal this one often in conversation. If I do it is because I am deliberately trying to shock. It is usually effective.
So there they all are. The fun, the kinky and the slightly gross.
If you want to review all of the questions I have published so far head over to the Thirty Dirty Questions Page for links to all the relevant posts.
Corrupting Mrs Jones 