Time for another episode of Thirty Dirty Questions. If you are loving this then you can catch up on my other responses here. You can also check out some other participants over at Rebel’s Notes and Marriage Sex and More
Is there anything about sex that embarrasses you, causes shame or fear of makes you nervous?
I am a squirter. I have quite openly discussed this a few times in this blog. It is an ability that I had to work on to make happen. At the time when I started squirting it was a bit of a novelty. A lot of partners, including Mr. Jones enjoyed the sensation and obvious pleasure it gave me. Over time I became more ‘adept’ and have been known to produce liters of liquid during some sessions.
I am self-conscious about the mess it creates. Although most men like the IDEA I think the reality can be confronting. Also the reactions about getting my juice in their face while they are licking me are often mixed. For a while I didn’t advertise my ‘abilities’ with new partners because I felt that they would sometimes become fixated about it and that was the only thing they wanted. After a while I realised that while I was achieving what I wanted in that regard I was sometimes missing out on oral sex.
Once a man realised that licking me was probably going to get that result he would have one of two reactions. He would love it and try to drink me up. This reaction works well for me. I felt desired and got to enjoy an activity that gives me great pleasure. The second reaction was not so good. He would politely withdraw and oral sex on me would be stopped for the rest of our time together. I would get a hand job and a fucking. Not the desired outcome.
So I changed tack. I tell people now, if you don’t like me squirting in your face then I am not sure this is going to work. It hasn’t been successful. Men lie. If there is a chance they are going to get sex they will tell a woman whatever they think she wants to hear. They will say yes to an activity and then give it a cursory glance before moving on to the thing THEY want.
As a side note I am working on toning down the squirting thing. The amount of laundry it generates is ridiculous. Just as I trained myself to respond in this way I can train myself to respond in other ways. My recent experiences with The Second Mate has led me to start exploring toys and I am finding I respond a little differently to vibration. I like it. It is giving me more power over my orgasms and it is making me more confident in asking for / taking what I want.
Mr Jones is particular about getting things straight. Hanging pictures, placing furniture, planting trees. It has to be straight and symmetrical. Sometimes his obsession is a little frustration.
The screen on the camera we use for our outdoor photos is sometimes difficult to see when framing shots so we take a bit of a scatter gun approach. Take lots and delete the really bad ones. When we took this image on the top of a magnificent yellow/ orange sand dune with the sun reflecting off the water below it was a case of point and shoot and hope for the best. When I showed him what I had chosen for this week’s Sinful Sunday he asked “Can you straighten it?”
The Unicorn and I have a philosophy relating to our crafting / textile / sewing obsession. We call it “out of the closet”. Essentially it is about looking in the cupboard for what is already there. Often when starting a project or working on an idea it is tempting to head for the nearest fabric / craft superstore and purchase everything you need (want really) to make the creation in your head. The reality is that most crafters have a mountain of supplies already squirrelled away that they often don’t ever access. So we make ourselves look in the closet and pull out the fabric we have sitting there to make that dress or use the beads we already own to make new jewelry.
When I saw this prompt for Wicked Wednesday I wanted to write about the minimalism I have been living on the yacht for the last few months. I even prepared a whole post then I saw this news story on a Facebook group I am part of.
The whole story made me feel sick. I have spent the last five months living on the ocean. There have been times when I have collected armfuls of plastic waste that has washed up on beaches. It makes me so sad to see this and know it is a result of our excessive consumption and obsession with convenience.
I read somewhere once that the best way to diet is to cook all of your food from scratch. If you had to go through the ridiculously long process of making the perfect fries you would rarely eat them. Believe me, making fries at home is HARD. Making pizza at home is delicious and worth the effort but it is time consuming. The same applies to textiles. That chunky knit that is so chic? If you had to take the twenty or so hours to create it from a ball of yarn yourself you would wear it more than a few times. That is not taking into consideration the time it would take to spin the yarn from the fleece. There are people who do that.
I have a few garments I have made myself that I wear to work. I always get complimented on them. Because they are different from what you buy in the fashion stores, because they fit me well and because people know I made them. Were they easy and did they come together in the same time it would take to impulse buy something from the sale rack? No way. Do I have more respect for them because they are from my hand? One hundred percent. Will I wear them until they are no longer wearable? Most likely.
I made a statement to Mr Jones recently that I believe that if we stopped manufacturing textiles tomorrow there would be enough clothing already in existence to keep the world population covered for decades. If every crafter emptied their stash and used what they had they would have enough projects to keep them going until they die.
A couple of years ago a group of friends and I went on a ‘fashion diet’. The diet was essentially a ban from shopping at mainstream and on-line shops. The only acceptable ways to obtain clothing were as follows;
Op shops or second hand shopping
Independent, market stall shops
Swaps with friends
Make it yourself
Underwear and socks were not included in the rules. I think at one stage we bent them slightly to get shoes exempted. I won’t say I succeeded with flying colours but it did make me think every time I looked at clothing “Do I need this? Is there something I already have that I could wear instead?” So even though I didn’t follow the rules all the time it worked. After writing this post I am resolving to implement these rules more into my every day life. It won’t be easy but I think it is necessary.
I have posted before about travellingboob. As our voyage as progressed Mr Jones has been as keen to keep up the content as myself. Often he suggests doing a “boob photo” and likes to hold the camera. I think he is starting to get the idea of angles and placement. I am getting better at explaining what is in my mind.
While the images appearing on Twitter look great (in my opinion) there are those that don’t make the cut. Usually because they show a bit of belly. Something I am incredibly self conscious about. Today we went to the beach and took some shots. After explaining my idea to Mr Jones and testing some angles we took some shots. I chose the one I liked the best and tweeted it. As I was reading the Sinful Sunday roundup for this week I was struck by several posts that featured imperfect bodies as they are. I am on a long journey towards accepting my body as it is and then believing people who tell me it is beautiful. I am getting there but I have a way to go.
Inspired by these posts I saw my image today and didn’t cringe completely. That is progress right?
Wanna see who else is sinning this week? Click the lips below
The prompt for this week’s Wicked Wednesday was to write a post that started from a comment on your blog. In response to a recent Sinful Sunday post No Pants Endurancecommented; “The way the photo is set gives me the illusion of the fifty foot woman”. And so here is the attack of the Fifty Foot Women.
“Hello I am Hank,” he had to almost shout over the noise of the club
“My name is Glenda,” she reached out to shake his hand.
“Can I get you a drink?” Inside he kicked himself for sounding so lame but really he didn’t know what else to say. Plus, he felt weird standing there in front of the lounge where she sat with her friends.
Glenda leaned towards the woman sitting next to her. They whispered for a moment before she turned to face him.
“As long as you get one for my friend Wanda,” The two women looked at him with a glitter in their eye that made Hank nervous. Despite his trepidation he shook off the feeling and made his way to the bar.
An hour later the shot glasses were piled all around. A warm feeling filled Hank as he sat wedged between Glenda and Wanda with their other friends Amelia, Maya and Jenna all laughing at everything Hank said. He didn’t know what had happened. Normally women shunned him, laughing at his height, his haircut, pretty much everything about him. This was so out of the ordinary that Hank kept waiting to wake up from the dream.
“Let’s go somewhere a bit more intimate,” Glenda gathered her purse.
All the other women followed suit. As they stood up Hank felt his jaw drop. He felt as if he was a warthog surrounded by a herd of giraffes. These women were enormous. He knew when he stood up that he would barely reach their armpit, or rather their breasts. Glenda was an inch or two taller than the others. A mental image of standing in front of her with her crotch at his eye level filled his head. He stayed sitting on the couch, unsure of what to do next.
“Are you coming?” Glenda beckoned to him. Again, there was that strange glitter in her eye. For a second Hank considered running away but Maya reached out her hand,
“We won’t eat you,” she smiled gently.
Courage, or at least Dutch courage, filled Hank and he stood to his full height of five feet. As he suspected he came up to the armpit of Maya, the shortest one, and his eyeline was just above Glenda’s navel.
“You are so cute,” Jenna cooed. “I love little guys, they are so fun to play with,”
“Behave Jenna,” Glenda chided fondly. “We don’t want to scare our new friend,” She reached out to take Hank’s hand, “Don’t listen to her, she is just being weird.”
Hank nodded and trotted along beside her still feeling like a warthog amongst giraffes.
Twenty minutes later Hank found himself at the apartment that Glenda shared with Wanda. The girls obviously spent a lot of time here, they kicked off their shoes and dropped their purses on the counter. Glenda, Wanda, and Jenna disappeared into bedrooms while Maya and Amelia busied themselves making drinks and choosing music to play on the big screen. Hank stood awkwardly in the middle of the lounge area unsure of what to do or what to expect.
After a short while the three girls re-emerged wearing short silky nightwear. They smiled at Hank as they walked towards him. Glenda took his hand and led him towards the couch that dominated the room. She pulled him down beside her and kissed him on the lips. Hank melted into her embrace, fumbling around her breasts. Without a word she took one of his hands and slid it inside the top of her pyjamas. From behind him Hank felt another hand sliding into his pants to reach around and grip his cock. Jenna’s voice breathed in his ear,
“Well, hello there. I am so glad you have come to play with us.” Her perfume was intoxicating as she kissed the side of his neck. Hank watched mesmerised as Glenda and Jenna kissed before they turned their attentions to him. First one kissed him then the other. Jenna’s hand slid slowly up and down Hank’s shaft and Glenda massaged his hand over her breast encouraging him to pinch her firm nipples.
A third set of hands moved over his torso caressing his own nipples tweaking them gently.
“I think we need to relieve Hank of some of his clothes,” Wanda’s voice was soft in his other ear. Her fingers nimbly unbuttoned his shirt, and he felt a cool rush of air over his naked skin. Glenda trailed kisses down the side of his neck as she helped Wanda remove his shirt. Wanda’s lips mirrored Glenda’s as each woman’s lips made their way to Hank’s nipples. Lips teased his nipples and teeth grazed over the sensitive buds as Hank’s hands were pushed against breasts before Wanda shoved his hand into her pyjama pants.
As Hank slid his fingers into Wanda’s slick wet pussy, he felt his pants being unzipped and his cock eased out of his underwear. Glenda took Hank’s other hand and shoved it against her pussy as she kissed Wanda above Hank. Wet lips slid down over his throbbing cock. Hank let out a strangled moan as his fingers dipped in and out of two pussies. Glenda moved so that she was kneeling over his face. Her pussy was like a vision as it lowered towards his lips.
Obediently reached his tongue upwards and stroked her pussy. She tasted amazing, clean, and salty. Like a man who has been starving he gulped at her as she ground down on his tongue. Wet lips moved up and down his cock and he was aware of women pressing their bodies against him. It felt as if he were covered in them, smothered by their scent, their breasts, their mouths, and their desire.
Somehow, he found himself on the thick rug covered by five giant women. His tiny body seemed to disappear into them. Each woman pleasured him in her own way. All of them partook of each other. Their height meant nothing. Lying down they all were the same height.
One thing Hank knew for certain. He would forever have a thing for tall women.
One of the things that some swingers pride themselves on is being conscious about obtaining consent. The phrase “No means No” is a mantra often repeated. I have observed this more frequently in the club that Mr Jones and I visit than in more private settings such as house parties or interactions between groups of acquaintances at say a camping weekend. For reasons that I am still formulating Mr Jones and I have not attended the private gathering type of swinger event for several years but recently we became acquainted with a couple who are a prominent feature of this kind of socialising and we have found ourselves flung back into the mix.
It is an interesting time as we are experienced but at the same time, we find ourselves acting a little bit like newbies. Sometimes we are unsure of how to act, what to expect when we turn up at someone’s house and what is expected of us. Some of the people we are encountering are people we have known for a long time and others are people who have been ‘in the scene’ but we have somehow not met. Whatever the case we found ourselves at an end of Summer Toga party recently. The hosts had gone to great effort to make their house look the theme and it was amazing. Much alcohol was consumed and there was a lot of flirting.
Flirting is often accompanied by what many people would consider foreplay. Extended kissing, stroking of body parts like breasts and perhaps a little fondling of genitals. I had interactions like this with several of the people present and most of them were pleasant as they were with men I would have taken things further with. However there was one man present who I didn’t want to go there with. I am certain the feeling was reciprocated. I won’t go into the history but there is a bit.
On this particular evening Mr Obnoxious was quite drunk. Other people who knew him better than me said they had never seen him that drunk. Quite early in the evening he had occasion to brush against me because I was sitting where he had left his phone. He said, “I am sorry,” to which I replied, “Are you?”
This is a response which I sometimes use with students who are annoying me with bad behaviour. It is a challenge to them to consider their behaviour for more than a millisecond and not just excuse themselves with a false politeness. The awkwardness I felt around him made me defensive. He clearly didn’t feel the same way because he took my comment in a flirty way and proceeded to grope my boobs. I didn’t quite know how to deal with that and so in the way of too many women everywhere I said nothing. During the rest of the evening there were another couple of times that he took the opportunity to put his hands on my boobs. Clearly he liked them. He never considered asking if this was OK with me or even really spoke to me. In such an alcohol and sex charged environment it was hard to formulate a response that wouldn’t cause a scene and result in me looking like the one with a problem. The other women seemed to treat his behaviour as cute if they weren’t interested or go with it if they were.
The next day as Mr Jones and I discussed the events of the evening his behaviour was a prominent topic. We agreed that his touching of me was not appropriate. Up to that point I wasn’t completely convinced. I still held on to that old chestnut that perhaps I had invited his touching by simply being a woman at a sex event and dressing provocatively. Mr Jones told me that at one point he had tried to tell him to stop but he had been ignored.
I tried to explain to Mr Jones about the conditioning of women to not say outright no. I tried to make him understand that often I don’t feel that I CAN say no. There is always that little seed of doubt in my mind that says “What if I am wrong? What if I did something to tell him he could even inadvertently? What if I make a fuss and look like an idiot?” Sometimes I am strong and confident and I do tell men like that to fuck off. Right then, at that party, I was not. I felt awkward and unsure of myself. I was not confident of anything about me. I didn’t feel sexy or particularly desirable.
That is not a reflection on anyone there including Mr Jones. That is all on me. Once I would have walked into a situation like that and flirted with and fucked whoever I wanted. I would have thought to hell with the mutterings of others behind my back. 2021 me is not that woman. I have taken pause and listened to some of the mutterings. I have lost that confidence. Sometimes I yearn for the old me. Sometimes I think she was way too arrogant.
In my working life, my principal requires that we set goals every year in a formal review system. We are required to have two professional goals and one “Spiritual Formation”goal I shat out the professional goals without too much difficulty. That kind of “management speak” comes out easily for me. The spiritual goal gave me pause. I don’t want to write “Go to church more” or “seek out opportunities for prayer and reflection”. They sound stupid. Maybe I should write “take steps to improve my confidence in my own worth and abilities.”
Before I start this edition of TMI I just want to say that even though I wrote the questions I didn’t realise that it would turn into a so many opportunities to post photos. Not that I think most of you will mind.
1. Which part of your body do you think is the most sexy? Post a pic if you dare.
Ok so I like my boobs. Most people who see them in real life tend to agree. I have an awesome friend who did a photo shoot of me recently and I have shared a few of the shots here but I will do so again happily. Apologies if you have seen some of these before. I really need to have another session with my friend.
2. Which part of your partner’s body do you find the most sexy. Tell us about the time you first saw it.
I am a sucker for a great ass. It is one of the things about Mr Jones that I have always liked even as his body changed over the 23 years we have been together. This is quite an old photo but it honestly looks the same today as it did then.
3. Are you a fan of lingerie on yourself? Or on someone else?
Mr Jones is not really in to lingerie. Consequently my collection is relatively small. As I aged and my body changed I felt less confident to wear lacy things. Over my time as a swinger but more recently at my previous pole studio I have had experiences and seen myself in many different angles. I have become more comfortable with myself and will wear a bunch of things I never would have before. My lingerie collection these days includes a few bra and panty sets but other things like body stockings and sexy bodysuits.
4. “Fifty Shades of Grey”– Work of genius or complete twaddle?
I was interested to read Cyndi from Moondance Pages’ take on this. I have never been a fan of Fifty Shades the book, mainly because I just can’t stomach the “Knight in shining armour rescues the damsel” storyline. Having said that I did really like the first movie. Mainly because the look and feel of it was so sexy.
It obviously isn’t complete twaddle or no-one would have wanted to read it. I definitely wouldn’t put it in the complete genius category either. Complete genius is something that is completely unlike anything else. To be regarded as a genius in my eyes is to conceive something that is unlike anything written before.
5. Would you rather listen to a sexy voice telling you what is happening or watch a sex scene on mute?
Watching is probably more my go to. If I watch porn, very occasionally, it is on mute. I often find sexy talk distracting when I have sex. Although there are some stand out sexy talk moments in my history. One of them is a long term friend who is firmly out of reach right now thanks to Covid and his insistence that Sydney is a much better place to live!!! One of the first times I sucked his cock he put his hand on the back of my head and whispered to me what a good girl I was.
Remembering that still gives me a twinge.
Bonus: Tell us about a time you experimented with a fantasy and it did not go according to plan.
This one time … (at band camp) …
Sorry I couldn’t help myself.
So once Mr Jones tried to organise a surprise for my birthday. He contacted several men we knew and arranged for them to visit me. I was completely unaware of the plan. On the night he tied me and blindfolded me and then I was “visited” over several intervals. There were pauses in between and there was no speaking. At the time it was fun but a little confusing. I knew each “visitor” was him but I didn’t know what he was trying to do.
It turned out that our “friends” had all pulled out and he was left manning the fort alone. He had organised baby sitters and we had the house completely to ourselves. This was not something that happened often so he didn’t want to completely waste the opportunity.
This post is part of this week’s TMI Tuesday. To see who else is sharing click here. Or on the image below.
After a hiatus of a couple of weeks TMI Tuesday is Back. I am very happy about this and I am sure there are others who will be equally as happy.This week’s theme is food and drink .
1. Name a food or drink you could never live without.
I never used to be a fan of tea but in the last year I have become a regular tea drinker. It has become an intrinsic part of my morning routine and I have even started having a second cup when I get to school (work) even though it is often only half drunk before I have to rush off somewhere to do something. Maybe it is the caffeine, maybe it is old age kicking in.
Just for the record I am not ever going to become a coffee drinker… ever!
2. Name a food or drink that you think should never have graced this Earth.
I recently taught a unit about fermented foods. It has always fascinated me how someone looked at some food that had spoiled and smelled weird and then decided it would be good to eat. Most fermented foods in their natural state taste pretty awful eg, Kimchi and very young cheese. People must have been desperate for nourishment to go there with fermented vegetables. And yet here we are.
Cheese is the result of that weird process and an example of human ingenuity, persistence and probably some serious illness along the way. From it we got some of the most delectable things to grace a table.
Then someone decided to liquify it, colour it orange and put it in a can. Like What The Actual…. Cheese in a can is all kinds of wrong.
3. If you had to choose between licking chocolate from your partner’s genitals or taking tequila shots from their navel, which would you choose and why?
Mr Jones has a very nice cock. It is one of the reasons I married him. I would like chocolate from it any time he asked.
In fact I would lick chocolate from any nice cock if the owner asked nicely. What is not to like about that combination?
4. If you had to choose between having to eat one Brussels sprout every day or never having coffee again, which would you choose? Of course elaborate.
Referring to the above statement. I don’t drink coffee so this is a no-brainer for me. I don’t care if coffee never graces my palate ever. I don’t even like Tiramisu. Interestingly I discussed this question with my vegetarian friend and she rolled off a few brussels sprout cooking ideas that make eating brussels sprouts SOUND appealing. I am not convinced though.
5. Give us the recipe or at least the name of your favourite cocktail
I was never a cocktail drinker until recently. Then I met this man who is passionate about creating the perfect recipe for as many cocktails as possible. For a non-barman he is VERY knowledgeable and passionate. I have yet to sample all of his wares but I will highly recommend his Cosmopolitans
Bonus: Tell us about your current food fantasy, sexual or otherwise.
A few years ago I was fortunate enough to live this fantasy in a bar at our regular swing club. I would very much like to do it again. I was hoping to arrange it soon but unfortunately… Covid…. If I had enough friends and didn’t have eleventy million other people living at my house maybe I could organise a private event. Sadly I will have to wait until an opportunity presents itself in the future.
So being a science teacher I am ALL over this one: The largest organ in the human body is the skin. It is an extremely important organ that is often overlooked. Fun fact about skin, your body is lined inside and out with the same types of cells so we are really a big doughnut.
What is the biggest part of my body that people usually comment about is my ass which of course is sensational.
2. What is the best bad decision you have ever made?
I have a very strong philosophy of never looking back. Once something is in the past that is where it stays. I don’t re-hash a lot of events or decisions. It has helped me to be a saner person. Considering the question though I would choose the time I ended up naked with a work colleague at a conference despite being married to Mr Jones.
That night set in motion a chain of events that led to Gemma coming into existence. I can’t imagine my life without her now.
3. What is the silliest reason you got into a fight with someone?
I am a high school teacher. I get into silly arguments ALL THE FREAKING TIME!!! Take yesterday for example I arrived at my classroom, on time just for the record, to find about a third of my class inside what was supposed to be a locked classroom.
Me: “Why are you in the classroom? We have discussed the reasons why you can’t be in the classroom without a teacher.” (It isn’t just about the rule being the rule it is about duty of care and what if they decide to jump out the window when I am not in the room to stop them etc etc)
Kids (students about to graduate from high school just for the record) “The door was unlocked. What are you going to do about it?”
Me (knowing that there isn’t a whole lot that is going to make an impression on this lot); “discuss this with your year co-ordinator.”
They know the whole situation is ridiculous and they know that civil disobedience is a viable option for them at this point because they really DON’T CARE weather they graduate from high school with a certificate or not. In fact some of them probably have already missed the opportunity to get said certificate. For the record, they thought my response was amusing and the year coordinator indicated that next time it happens they can spend a lunch break picking up rubbish.
4. What is your favorite thing about your best friend?
When I read this question my initial response is that I don’t really have a best friend. but since Tuesday I have had several conversations with Mr Jones that have made me realise this is not the case. The best thing about my best friend?
He believes in me even when I don’t.
5. If 5 men take about 3 hours to dig 3 holes, how long will it take for 2 men to dig half a hole?
I think I should give this problem to my senior Maths class (the ones who broke into the classroom) and promise them some amazing chocolately prize for the first one to prove to me mathematically that their answer is correct!!!!!
As amusing as that might be of course I would not be that mean to them.
Bonus: Would you rather be itchy or sticky for the rest of your life?
I have a slight issue with having sticky stuff on my hands. I wash my hands frequently when I am cooking and have grease, meat, icky stuff on them. It is partly because of years of being a Food Technologist and being on people’s cases to wash their hands and partly some OCD lurking.
However I did have a stress related itchy rash for most of the first year I was teaching and I remember how annoying that was so I am going to go with sticky.
Bonus Bonus: There was this time when I got extra sticky on a bar for a bit of fun.
This post is part of this week’s TMI Tuesday. To find out who else would rather be sticky click on the button below;
Lily’s relationship with Jenna is growing and taking Lily in a direction she never knew she needed.
“Oh my God!” Jenna placed her lunch on the table and flopped into a chair at the only table in the rooftop garden they both retreated to for lunch every day. “Rob is the most frustrating man to work with.”
Lily smiled knowingly and took a sip of her coffee.
“I mean what the fuck is it with asking you to do a task and then making you feel like an idiot because you haven’t done what he wanted and THEN taking your work and pretending it is his! Like WHAT the ACTUAL FUCK!” Jenna’s face was red with anger and her chest heaved as she sat scowling at her lunch.
“He has got me so worked up that I don’t even want my coffee,” Jenna thumped the mug onto the table.
“Yeh he does that.” Lily’s calm response hid a turmoil of her own. The fantasy of kissing Jenna would not leave her. Sitting opposite the raging woman added fuel to the fire. In her anger she seemed even more like a goddess, fierce, and glorious. Her breasts heaved under her shirt pulling apart the lapels feeding Lily’s obsession with seeing them naked.
“He isn’t even hot,” Jenna’s rage was passing and this last comment sounded like a childish tantrum.
“Oh my god imagine being his wife,” Lily giggled.
“I would rather not,” Jenna retorted, “Poor thing having to fuck someone with such a small cock.”
Lily was mildly shocked. After several weeks of sharing lunch breaks, she was still not entirely comfortable with Jenna’s bluntness. Apart from Jenna she had never thought about any of the people she worked with in a sexual way. The idea of imagining her colleagues naked was completely out of character for her. Talking about the size of a man’s penis so casually seemed weird.
An awkward silence descended. Lily had no idea how to respond with Jenna’s last statement. Jenna looked across the table at her.
“Don’t tell me you have never thought about the size of the partners’ junk,” a wry smile twisted at the corners of Jenna’s mouth.
“Of course not!” Lily could feel the heat rising in her cheeks.
“Why not?” Jenna’s voice was matter of fact. “Do you think they pay you the same courtesy and not fantasise about your boobs?”
It was all she could do to not squirm in her seat thinking about the number of times she had fantasised about Jenna’s boobs. “No,” she managed to squeak.
“So why is it so bad that we think about the size of their junk then?” Jenna took a sip of her coffee and opened her lunch.
“I don’t know,” Lily couldn’t look Jenna in the eye. “I guess it is just something I was always taught that nice girls don’t do,”
There was a pause as Jenna studied Lily closely. Her face was unreadable, but she was thinking about something.
“And where do you think being a nice girl is going to get you in this world?” The challenge in the question was undeniable. “Nice girls always end up getting screwed over.”
Lily took a breath and considered what Jenna had just said. She had been raised by conservative, Christian parents to be a nice girl. To be demure and lady like. Her parents had succeeded. She had been a virgin when she met the man she married. They had the white picket fence dream and the nice girl seemed to be on top of things. Until she had come home one day to find another woman’s underwear on her bedroom floor.
In the wash up as her marriage disintegrated Lily was forced to face up to some harsh realities about the white picket fence dream. The harshest one was being told by her husband that the reason why he had cheated was that she was “so fucking boring, especially in bed.”
It had been five years since these events. She had worked hard to establish herself at her new job and build a home for herself and her sons. Sitting here opposite this self-assured, opinionated woman it hit her hard between the eyes. She WAS too nice, nice girls did get screwed over.
There was defeat in her voice as she replied, “I guess you are right.”
Jenna sat in silence, eating her lunch, Lily finished her coffee. Feelings tumbled chaotically through her as she lay back in her chair looking up at the sky. She thought she had come so far with repairing her life, but this conversation made her realise that she still had a long way to go.
“What do you think about boobs?” The question hit Lily between the eyes making her sit straight up to face Jenna.
“Sorry?” Lily didn’t think she had heard right.
“Do you like looking at naked women?” Lily couldn’t understand how the hell Jenna kept such a straight face when she talked about this stuff. She knew she couldn’t even begin to form the words in her mind let alone ask someone that kind of thing while keeping a straight face.
“Welllll. I’m not a lesbian if that is what you mean?” The memory of looking at the lesbian porn while she masturbated prodded at her conscience. Heat burned under her collar and up Lily’s neck.
Jenna laughed. “Fuck you are such an innocent! It isn’t about falling in love with them, it is about appreciating their body. Looking at other people and appreciating their beauty in a non-sexual way is a great way to get more comfortable with your own body actually.”
The concept seemed contradictory. How could appreciating how attractive someone else is make you feel better about yourself? Lily wondered for a moment if hanging out with Jenna was a good idea. The comment made by Maddie on the day she first met Jenna popped into Lily’s mind. Overtaken by the craziness of this whole conversation Lily decided to put the rumour to bed.
“I know this is going to sound weird,” Lily started tentatively.
“In case you haven’t noticed weird is kinda my jam,” Jenna grinned.
“I heard that you are, or were, a pole dancer.” Lily couldn’t look Jenna in the eye. Gossiping was another thing she was taught nice girls don’t do.
There was a pause as Jenna studied Lily again, “I have never danced on a pole at a strip club for money,” The answer was guarded. “I do however dance on a pole at a studio with my friends and sometimes we give student performances that are only open to family and friends.”
Relief flooded through Lily. She knew Maddie was stirring up trouble! Then more questions tumbled in.
Jenna shrugged, “Why not? It is fun, a much better work out than the gym and the girls there don’t judge your arse if you aren’t as skinny and fit as them.”
“Ok,” Lily nodded as if she understood but she really didn’t.
“Would you like to come and watch sometime?” Jenna seemed a little nervous asking this question.
Lily hesitated. She was intrigued. She had also never been asked to socialise with the people she worked with. It was a big deal to her that a woman like Jenna, someone she admired for her don’t give a fuck attitude invited her into a private world that she kept hidden.
A feeling of defiance took over Lily. Of course she wanted to go and watch women dance on a pole. She absolutely wanted to step into Jenna’s world. Maybe she would learn to be fierce like her and drop the nice girl mentality.
“Where do I sign up?”
This post is part of Wicked Wednesday #424. Click on the image below to see who else is being Wicked this week.