I was prompted to write this post by a comment I read on Facebook about a woman who punched a guy in a bar because he touched her without her permission. Now the comment did not elaborate about exactly where she was touched or even how many times he touched her before she punched him. I think it is reasonable to assume it wasn’t a tap on the shoulder to get her attention and it is likely he was told to stop touching her that way and he ignored that instruction. In which case his touching was neither warranted nor reasonable. I want to make it clear right at the start that this post is not going to be a feminist rant about men who think they have the right to touch women whenever, wherever and however they like. There is plenty of stuff on the net about that. What sprang to mind when I read this comment was a situation I came accross in a club a couple of years ago.
I met a woman who was very flirtatious. She was at the event with a man who was very touchy-feely and had to put in his place a couple of times that night but interestingly his girlfriend was acting in a very similar way. Somehow she got the idea that I like being randomly slapped on the ass as she walked past me. I am not saying that I was entirely against the idea but it was a little bit more than I was used to. What made me sit up and take notice was that when I returned the favour she rounded on me with a tirade about how that kind of thing made her uncomfortable because of her history of being physically abused.
Her story may very well have been true but in my mind you should not put out what you are not prepared to recieve. Particularly without explicit agreement. The other aspect of this whole scenario that Mr Jones was very keen to point out to me was that she was “getting away” with giving physical attention in a way that was not usually acceptable for men to give simply because she is a woman. He was right of course. Women do get away with giving a whole bunch of physical attention to both men and women that simply would not be acceptable for a man to give. It is no surprise that men become frustrated and resentful when they see clearly demonstrated a double standard.
What makes it even harder for men is that a lot of women will accept behaviour from a guy they find attractive that they will not accept from a guy that they don’t. Attractive guys don’t ask for permission before they touch any more than guys who aren’t attractive. Mostly they don’t have to deal with a slap accross the face as a rejection and so men who are less attractive but still perfectly nice find themselves wondering if it is worth daring to cross the minefield. The ones who are not so nice end up giving physical attention whenever and wherever they like because they are working on the premise that it is easier to ask for forgiveness than to seek permission.
And we wonder where all the nice guys went?
The swing scene is a little more clear with the touching with permission thing. All respectable clubs and parties have very clearly stated rules indicating that touching without permission is a no-no. But still people are people and the rules get bent. Especially with women. Since the incident with the arse slapping I have been more conscious of my tendency to get touchy freely with people and I take care to make sure I have consent before I touch anyone. It feels a bit weird to actually verbalise this but once you get used to it is not so bad. Most people appreciate the respect. It hasn’t changed other people’s idea of what is acceptable and what is not and I still find myself having to tell both men and women that my nipples are not there to be tweaked painfully even if they are on display. Some people just have no self control.
I guess the reality is that we all have difficulty giving a clear and honest indication to others about what we do and don’t want and as a result a whole culture of game playing has evolved. Unfortunately because no one wants to explain the rules clearly there are no rules.
As some of my colleagues and I shared a drink to celebrate the end of another week attempting to educate other people’s children the conversation turned to what everyone was planning for Valentine’s Day. A range of ideas were shared including simple nights in watching movies to potential dinner dates and movie dates to the heavily promoted “Fifty Shades of Grey”.
I have mixed feelings about this book/movie franchise. Reqding the first book didnt convince me it was a good idea to spend my hard earned cash or precious time on the second and third books. For me the book consisted of a string of unrealistic scenarios that titillated a little at first but became monotonous as time went on.
The thing that really got under my skin was how unrealistic everything was. I mean how many people out there have an earth shattering number of orgasms the first time we have sex? How many twenty year old virgins would even consider getting in to a relationship with someone as intense and demanding as Christian Grey, no matter how much money he had? I understand that the reason for the book’s popularity is the whole Mills and Boon style romantic fantasy. I also get that for most people this is the first book they have read that describes sex in graphic detail.Maybe that is why the books took off; not because they are good literature but because it is different.
As part of a promotion for the movie release a local radio station has this week been running a segment featuring a couple whose sex life has wandered away from regular lust filled nights to more mundane and less regular sessions. The deal was that the couple were to spend the week having sex every day, trying something that they hadn’t tried each time. Of course bondage featured as one of the ‘tasks’ the couple were required to complete but the whole focus was more on increasing the intimacy between them based on the alarming statistic that 70% of couples don’t feel there is enough intimacy in their relationship.
At the end of the week the sum up for the couple was that being forced in a way to complete the tasks and make the effort made a difference. This may come as a surprise to you all but I found many similarities between their situation and my own. Yes I am a sex goddess but I am also a full time teacher and a super mother. Sometimes the sex goddess is a role I only put on for other people in the same way that you clean your house for guests and put out the good china.
During this week I decided to take on board some of what the radio station guinea pigs were doing. I made sure I put priority on cuddles and doing the things I know Mr Jones likes. We talked about being more intimate and communicated our thoughts and ideas. I put in the sex goddess for him as well as my other fans. In the end it worked. The little rift that was opening up between us has closed nicely.In true superwoman style I was able to still cover all my other bases, including being a legendary sex goddess for Pet, and still rock the world with my husband. Somi have to agree with the line that was being promoted on the radio station, sometimes the excuses offered for a decrease in intimacy between couples are just that, excuses. If you make you relationship a priority those excuses fade away.
So where does all this fit into Fifty Shades? There are a lot of articles and blog posts that express different viewpoints about FSOG. Many of the ones I have come across are quite negative. My thoughts; There are issues with this book. It does stylise and romanticise bondage in a way that doesn’t help people who are genuinely curious, it does make the abuse of power in a relationship look romantic and desirable and it definitely presents a very inaccurate picture of the BDSM world. But there are positives about it. In a world obsessed with sex but full of people who don’t know how to go about making their relationships more satisfying at least it got some of us talking about sex. At the least it opened the mainstream public’s eyes to the possibility that there is something other than lights out missionary position, once a year sex. It is up to the community of enlightened people now to continue with the momentum and get more helpful, positive stories and information out there.
I read a post recently by Andee that re-ignited a few thoughts that have been percolating in my mind for a while. In her post Andee raises the question “What do men get out of watching their wife have sex with another man?”
It is an interesting question one that many different people have many different answers for. In the comments following her post the question of why would a woman want to have sex with a man other than the one she is connected to is raised. Along with the material from Andee’s post this question crystallised a few thoughts in my mind.
In my own experience Mr Jones and I have addressed this question several times. Every now and then I encounter a man who I have a deep sexual connection with. These men get me, we share kinks, ideas, fantasies and for some unexplained reason sex with them can be mind boggling. These relationships always push boundaries and sometimes they threaten to spill over into fully blown romantic love but at the end of the day the men I have this connection with are not men I could form a life partnership with.
So why do I have such a deep and satisfying sexual connection with them? Why do I see fireworks when we are together?
The answer is complex but mainly it is to do with the lack of baggage. Mr Jones and I are married. We deal with children, money, mortgages, illness, irritating relatives and a whole plethora of unpleasant issues every day. I see him naked every morning. Which is sometimes sexy but a lot of times not. If you don’t believe me watch the Sienfeld episode that deals with just this.
So when it comes time to have ‘special cuddles’ sometimes these things affect how we interact and see each other. I don’t have these interactions with other lovers. Our whole relationship is based on sizzling hot sex. And when the sex becomes not so sizzlingly hot then I am free to move on no hurt feelings, no financial issues to settle and no custody battles to fight. It is no strings attached sex, sex in its purest form.
The idea that we should meet one person and form a life long relationship with that one person that will satisfy every need that we could have emotionally and sexually is just plain ridiculous. Thinking about it objectively how could that even be possible? We don’t choose one friend to satisfy all our social needs so why should we choose one spouse to satisfy all our sexual needs? We are human and our nature dictates that we form all kinds of connections with all kinds of people including sexual ones.
Of course every person is different and so for some there is one person who can satisfy their every romantic and sexual need but for the majority of us I don’t believe this is the case. As well as that our sexual desires change over time. So we may meet a partner who does all the right things in all the right places but once we have scratched that itch we find that it is no longer that itchy and move on. This also doesn’t sit well with the whole ‘one partner for eternity’ idea.
And so getting back to the question why would a woman want to have sex with someone other than her husband? Well I think the answer is pretty obvious; because she can, because it is fun and because it enables us to become well rounded,fulfilled sexual beings. To be honest, people who spend a lot of time espousing the idea that lifelong monogamy is a good thing probably need to get a life.
This week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt was “Body Hair”. I have made a commitment to myself that I would only use the prompt to write erotica and so it took me a while to come up with something that fitted with the prompt. I think I missed the deadline for inclusion in the link list but that doesn’t matter, you all get to enjoy some word porn anyway.
Of course as usual you can always check out the variety of entries by visiting the Wicked Wednesday page.
Gravel crunched under Howard’s feet as he walked up the small pathway to her back door. It can’t have been more than a dozen steps from where he parked his bike to the doorway but it seemed like a journey of a million miles. When he reached the back door he stood silently for a moment. Anticipation of the hours he was about to experience warred with nerves. Possible scenarios of failure crowded into his mind; What if his cock didn’t work? What if he couldn’t pleasure her? What if he tripped and fell through the back door?
He could see her through the glass sliding door, moving around in the kitchen. She was dressed in house clothes, nothing special, but that didn’t matter, she could have been dressed in a flour sack for all he cared, the thing that enticed him the most was her mind, and those eyes.
Nervously he fumbled with the zipper on his jacket slipping it down over his arms. She had instructed him to be undressed when he entered her house. He intended to follow her instructions. As he slipped his t-shirt over his head she turned and looked at him. Instantly his cock hardened almost uncomfortably against his jeans.
“Hello,” he was surprised that his voice sounded almost normal.
“Hello,” she replied quietly, leaning against the door frame. Her eyes travelled over his body, drawing him in. Nothing could make him leave now, no matter how nervous he was. He continued to undress as she watched him, placing his clothing neatly over the chair that was positioned near the back door. When he was fully naked she moved away from the doorway, gesturing for him to enter.
She moved over to the jug in the corner and busied herself making coffee. They made small talk as the jug boiled. He was acutely conscious of his nudity and her being fully clothed but somehow he didn’t feel uncomfortable. As she poured as she poured boiling water into his cup and added the right amount of sugar and milk it It was strange her serving him in this way, even though they were in her house, he was here to do her bidding and yet right now she was serving him.
He took the cup from her and sipped it gladly, it had been a long morning. Finally the nerves began to ease away from him and he could feel the sexual tension building in him. Without speaking she began to remove her clothing. Her shorts fell to the floor revealing the garment he always anticipated the most, her knickers. Today they were pink and sheer, showing the hair on her mound underneath. The urge to kneel in front of her and bury his face in her crotch was almost overwhelming but something in her eyes warned him to remain where he was.
“You are not allowed to touch,” she warned.
“OK then,” he responded wondering how he was going to be able to obey her rules. The thought completely left his mind as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slipped them down over her knees.
“You are to wear these,” she instructed, holding them out to him. His heart raced, almost thumping out of his chest as he took the scrap of pink fabric from her. He could not resist pressing them to his face and inhaling her aroma. His cock stiffened between his thighs as he slipped the garment over his legs and up over his ass. He couldn’t stretch the nylon over his hardened cock but it was the most enticing thing he had ever felt, his cock was so hard it was almost painful.
“You can see I haven’t shaved,” she indicated the hair covering her mound. While it wasn’t fully grown he could tell it had been a long time since she had shaved or waxed.
“Ok,” he replied, a little unsure of what she wanted. She turned and walked towards the bathroom without a comment. With a tingle of nerves starting again he followed her.
A yellow razor was set out on the sink of the bathroom. Howard reached forward to pick it up.
“You are to watch,” she instructed.
Unable to resist any more Howard reached out to fondle her mound,
“You may not touch,” she reiterated as she picked up the razor and placed her foot on the sink.
“Do you mind if I sit here so I can get a better view?” He asked respectfully, desperately hoping that she wouldn’t say no.
“For the first time she allowed herself to smile, “of course.”
He sank to the floor so that he could look up at her pink, glistening cunt that was opened like a flower just above his head. The aroma of her arousal drifted down to him, reminding him of the garment that was covering his cock. Above his face the razor moved in long slow strokes over her mound. Gradually the hair fell away leaving behind smooth, freshly shaved skin. He held his breath as the razor passed closely to her clit, for a moment he was afraid she would cut herself but she smiled beguilingly as she moved the blade away from the danger zone.
When she was finished she placed the razor on the bench and rubbed her fingers over the smooth skin. Teasingly she dipped her fingers into her glistening cunt and raised them to her lips. Howard craved a taste of her sweet juices but he was afraid to ask. Eventually his desire got the better of him,
“Please Miss,” he asked politely, “May I have a taste?”
Like a benevolent parent she obliged, dipping her fingers deep inside herself and stroking the wetness around her fold before placing them onto his lips. A smile played around her mouth as she traced her juices onto his lips before inserting her finger into his mouth.
The taste did nothing to ease his hunger, instead it made him want her cunt even more.
But she had other ideas. Taking her foot down from the sink she led him over to the bed where she bent him over the edge. The nylon of her panties stretched over his ass as he bent against the mattress exposing his buttocks to her, waiting impatiently.
I began this blog partly as a way of making some changes to the way I was blogging with Erotic Adventures. The other part of the change was to tell the story of my journey. I was raised in a Catholic, white, middle class family. My parents are very conservative and so my sexual education as I passed through adolescence was almost non-existent.
By contrast my lifestyle today is what many people of my parents’ ilk would call hedonistic. It is not an easy transition. When I was a prudish schoolgirl who planned to be a virgin on her wedding night and was terrified of being caught masturbating I thought everyone else was more sexual than me. These days I am often confronted with the reality that while we all like to TALK about sex, very few people out there are actually having the kind of sex we like to talk about or watch on the Internet.
In some ways the transformation was inevitable. Even when I was very young I was insatiably curious about sex. Maybe it was because I was starved for information by my parent’s refusal or inability to talk about sex with me. Other aspects of my upbringing made me very socially awkward. I didn’t have may friends as a teenager and so I couldn’t ask my questions or talk about normal curiosity with my friends.
And so I resorted to furtively reading the sex advice columns in magazines and exploring my own body as much as I could in the limited privacy that a boarding school allowed. I masturbated frequently to the point where I couldn’t go to sleep without it. I liked to wear short skirts and I was proud of my breasts. I know now that that were pretty nice breasts. I wish that I had been more confident of my breasts when I was younger but I am making up for it now.
Mr Jones was one of the key people who finally helped me to reach a place where I am more or less comfortable with my body and my sexuality at least for a while. Our sexual relationship started out with a huge bang. For the first time ever I felt as if he ‘got’ me and we fucked like rabbits, until life took over. The arrival of children radically changed things in our relationship. I won’t go into all the sordid details but for a long time I couldn’t understand how much emphasis Mr Jones put on sex. For me it was fun but just the icing on the cake. I just didn’t get that sex is an important part of feeling loved especially for him. There was constant friction between us about the need for ‘enough’ sex.
My twisted upbringing had trained me well to repress my body’s natural desires and to this day I find it hard to just be horny. When I realise that I am sometimes it is like a triumph and I want to shout from the rooftops. “I am not broken! I can be horny!” The result of my repression was that I began to resent his desire and like so many women with small children and a job to juggle, sex just became one of the chores to tick off on the list of things to get done this week.
Looking back and talking with some people about this topic I know now that we were definitely having more sex than a lot of people even when he kept making me feel like we weren’t. I also know that it doesn’t really matter. Sometimes though knowing something intellectually does erase the negative impressions and bad associations. I still struggle daily with some things like telling him when I am horny or making sure that I enjoy the experience as well.
This negativity dominated my sexual landscape for a very long time, even now it still rears its ugly head from time to time making me over think and over analyse everything that is going on. These days I am starting to realise that this is part of a bigger problem and I am dealing with it that way. Like everyone with this kind of issue I am very good at hiding it. Being in “Gemma mode” is in a lot of ways a mask. Gemma is Mrs Jones but she is also the person Mrs Jones isn’t able to be. Gemma doesn’t have body hang ups or worries about not being sexy or concerns about wether she is doing the sex right. She knows she is one of the hottest creatures on the planet and that when she walks in the room every guys wants to fuck her. It is very liberating being able to slip into character so to speak but there have been times when Gemma has overdone things a little and then left Mrs Jones to pick up the pieces.
I guess that is part of life really and directing my energy towards focussing on the positives instead of dwelling on the negatives is part of my approach to dealing with the issues I mentioned earlier. Like everything it is a journey and I will be on it for the rest of my life. In the spirit of being positive I am looking forward to the ride.
The morning after a visit to the swingers club is always an interesting time for me. Most of the time there is the post gratuitous sex horniness that sees me wanting to fuck any erect penis in sight. But what also happens always is a kaleidoscope of images, sights, sounds and experiences to sort through and ponder over. No matter what happens on the night I always come away with some kind of new insight or discovery about human nature.
Often in the earlier part of the night, when everyone else is scoping out partners and scrambling around for the best deal they can get I find myself people watching. There are lots of aspects to this hobby, checking out shoes and clothes, scoping for potential partners, watching people I already know and watching other people’s relationships in action.
The relationship part is something I find endlessly fascinating. When you come across two people who really have their shit together it is heartwarming and so fucking sexy to watch them interact. The sexiest thing a man can do is worship the woman he loves.
On the flip side the least sexy thing a person can do is leave their partner for dead. I am not going to be all holier than thou and say I have always had Mr Jones at the forefront of my mind, especially at the beginning of my corruption but these days I am mostly focussed on him.
My adventures last night included an encounter with a fairly sexy guy. We were introduced by a mutual friend and the attraction between us was immediate. Things got a bit awkward when another couple happened along and the woman of the couple decided that she was also interested in Mr Hot Guy. So there we were for a while, Hot Guy, me, the other woman and our respective husbands. To summarise, three penises and two vaginas. It was pretty obvious that both the women were interested in Hot Guy and Hot Guy, like any red blooded male, was up for two women pleasuring him but the equation also included two other men.
Personally I am more than happy to accommodate two penises and this
could have provided a solution to the imbalance but the other husband didn’t ring my bell. Based on her actions my husband wasn’t ringing the other woman’s bell either. That is fine, it is our choice. To cut a long story short Other Woman ended up dragging Hot Guy off for some fun without even looking back at her husband who was sitting watching proceedings and feeling really awkward.
In situations like that my responsibility is for the pleasure of my own husband and myself. Other Husband is entirely NOT my responsibility. As I said I am more than happy to accommodate more than one man and I took the opportunity to indulge in a spit roast, something I have a soft spot for, but after a while I decided that my charity to other husband only extended to a sympathy head job. The full threesome experience was not going to happen for him. I was also pretty clear that I was not prepared to indulge the FFM fantasy experience for Hot Guy. Other Woman may have been happy leaving her husband for dead but I don’t work that way.
At the start of our journey Mr Jones and I were very clear about our responsibility to care for each other in club and party situations. This is mainly a safety thing but it does extend to rescuing each other from being cornered with weird people and ensuring that making sure that no one gets left out. I take this seriously. My primary relationship is my primary focus. No guy, or woman, is hot enough to warrant treating my husband badly. In my opinion there is no excuse for treating your partner badly in a swing situation. People who do are really unattractive in the worst possible way.
Of course I don’t know all the details of this particular couple’s relationship and so my reading of the situation may be mistaken. It is something that I have seen before and probably have been guilty of myself from time to time. We all make mistakes. That is OK as long as we learn from them. At the end of the day we are going home with our respective partners they are the ones we have to live with and so it makes sense that we remember that.
I have a LOT of pets; cats, chickens, ducks, geese, budgies, fish, kids, a husband….. I am frequently having to tell my children “no more animals” but when you are at the Produce buying food for your menagerie these baby fluffy things look at you and then somehow they find their way into your car and your heart. You know how it goes.
Pet was a little bit like that. I met him at a party a couple of years ago. At the time things didn’t really pan out but recently we bumped into each other again and one thing led to another….. You know how it goes. After we dealt with the sexual energy that had built up and scratched an itch that had been two years in the scratching we had a chat about what we were interested in exploring. He told me that what he really wanted was to be a pet to some nice mistress.
I have toyed with the idea of being a “Miss” before. I have written some stories about it, look for “Declan and Mrs Smythe” on Erotic Adventures I promise to post some excerpts over the summer. But somehow it scared me a little. I didn’t have the confidence in my ability to dominate someone in the way that you read about in all the D/s stuff on the net. Added to that I wasn’t sure I wanted to punish the way Dommes seem to.
Pet is a very persuasive kind of person. In fact he isn’t the kind of guy that I would have expected would take very well to being given instructions or having restrictions placed on him. I was surprised at his request and very hesitant. The purist in me felt as if he wasn’t really going to be a submissive because even though I was playing the dominant role it was under his direction….. Yeh I have issues with overthinking.
And so here I was naked with this guy who had just fucked me senseless in a way that I hadn’t been for far too long who was literally begging me to let him be my pet because he just wanted to please his Miss. The closest analogy I can come up with is that he reminded me of a puppy, all excited and jumping around . Like the cute fluffy goslings at the produce store I couldn’t say no to his to him. Now I find myself with Pet.
This whole thing is new and both of us are making it up as we go. It is not a complete D/s relationship which suits me fine but all in all he is a very well behaved pet. He has some very sensual kinks. Unlike a lot of men he is very interested in touch, feel and sensual pleasure. The part where he sticks his dick into a hole is secondary for him. His interest in underwear and how it feels, smells and looks is something which a lot of people find a bit confronting. For me I have to say as a younger person I would have reacted the same way. But now it is proving to be extremely sexy. There is something very sensual about the feel of silky fabric against your skin. There is something even sexier about seeing and feeling it on someone else especially when you have just instructed them to put it on.
There are many things about this man that are opening my eyes to the possibilities but something that springs to mind almost every time I think of him is the re-discovery of how sensual a bare handed spanking can be. I have always enjoyed a good spank during play but often men are hesitant to spank because they are afraid to hurt. Or they hurt, and not in a good way. There is an art to delivering a good spanking. I am learning that the pleasure is not just in receiving but also in giving. Something about the contact of two skin surfaces is so very sexy. Right here right now I would say without hesitation that bare handed spanking is on my top ten list of pleasures.
Despite my original misgivings, as I just described, I am starting to enjoy giving instructions and coming up with activities for Pet. The pure sensuality of pushing boundaries and observing his pleasure is liberating in a way I find hard to describe. In some ways it is like playing Barbies in a very grown up way. I get to dress him, and put him in whatever position pleases me. I am very much looking forward to more sessions of using him as my personal fuck toy.
1. A sexy person you’ve been admiring says, “Let’s do something wild together.” What is the thing you pick to do?
This depends a lot on the person, the situation, the location etc so it is difficult to give a specific answer but for the sake of the game I will be HUGELY inappropriate and pretend that the sexy person is a colleague who from my previous employment. I think a little late afternoon car park head job would be really cool and if the mood took us booking into the first hotel we could find to spend the night fucking like rabbits,
2. I saw this headline: Whip Your Vagina Into Shape. Sadly the subject matter wasn’t what I wanted. Anywho…which way would you prefer to whip your vagina into shape. (Fellas you can select your fave way you’d like to whip a pussy or see it whipped)
a. a nice, stingy pussy spanking by hand.
b. doing kegel exercises with kegel balls.
c. having some SM master/mistress actually whip your pussy, with a whip!
Again depending on my mood I would choose different options. I have actually enjoyed a nice session of b,from time to time, especially when sitting at my computer for a couple of hours.
To try something a little different I think I would go with c. But only with someone I trusted to give just the right amount of sting with their whipping,
3. When in a relationship (married, living together or dating) What do you do if you want to be alone for a while? How do you get “me” time?
At the moment I am home during the day while everyone else is at school / work so I get a fair bit of “me” time. However school holidays start at the end of this week and for the next eight weeks me time is going to be fairly limited. My strategy then will be to go into my bedroom and shut the door.
4. Which of these subjects causes the most tension or fighting between you and your significant other?
Definitely d.I recently had the carpet cleaned. Mr Jones stayed home for the morning to help with moving furniture etc. There was a lot said about the amount of clutter in our bedroom. Now that the carpet is dry I am quietly waiting to see how long it takes before his resolve wavers and he is back to using the corners of the bedroom as a storage for his clothing.
5. When breaking up with someone or ending a relationship, which method is more your style?
a. dramatic exit– sending texts and phone calls and taking the chance to vent about all the things you didn’t like about the person.
b. play it cool and be upfront and tell them “it’s not working out.”
c. slow down the time you spend together…fade away and disappear without a word.
Mr Jones and I have been married for sixteen years so breaking up is not something that I have had to do. These days the closest thing to breaking up that I have needed to do is splitting from playmates. This is usually a painless process which involves just fading away but every now and then you need to man up and tell someone it isn’t working. As long as you are tactful. It generally goes fairly well.
6. I know none of YOU would ever break up with someone via text message (btw, there is an app for that http://www.breakuptext.me/) but if you did, what would your text read?
Given my answer to 5. I would have to say I have broken up with people by text. Because they are not romantic relationships with large emotional investments it tends to be fairly business like. Something along the lines of;
I am sorry but I don’t think you / this is what I am looking for.
Or if I am feeling a bit whimpy;
Things have gotten really hectic with work and the family and I just can’t fit you into my caleasndar right now.
Having said that I would NEVER break up with someone by text if I was in a romantic relationship and I go to great lengths to instil that value into my teenage children.
Bonus: Would you like you if you met you? Why?
I am not really sure about this one. I think generally yes. There would probably be quite a few times though where I would be very tempted to tell myself to “grow a set” and get on with life.
As always for more TMI goodness you can head on over to the TMI Tuesday page.
For the people out there who have not been following me for long and for those of you who have been living under a rock here are a couple of facts about me that you may or may not be aware of;
1. I am a massive exhibitionist
2. I love to suck cock
So, now that we have that straight I will continue with my story.
Last Saturday evening Mr Jones and myself decided to visit a swingers club that we frequent. The evening started out in the usual way, we had some drinks, we chatted with some people and played some pool. As is the way in venues like this the evening started out fairly awkward with couples all sitting around huddled next to each other looking at the crowd around them. Once everyone had a few drinks the more outgoing folk started to make themselves known to the folks they were interested in.
Standing at the bar I became part of a conversation with an attractive but slightly inebriated young lady who was unhappy with the state of affairs downstairs in the main play area. This area is a large lounge like room furnished with couches that is away from the main bar, smoking and traffic areas and often becomes the site of a fair bit of action. My new friend was proclaiming that tonight, however, it was like being at book club. In her opinion there was not enough nudity and adult action.
She went on to explain that it was her boyfriend’s birthday after midnight and that he was to be subjected to as much stimulation as possible without any chance of climax. She also went on to boast about his size and challenged any woman within earshot to get more than an inch of his cock into her mouth. Immediately I was up for the challenge.
And so a group led by the Pocket Rocket invaded the “book club”. Under instruction from Pocket Rocket several of us lost clothing and she proceeded to tease her lover. Once his pants were off I was keen to see the large member she boasted of, I was a little disappointed, but he turned out to be a bit of a grower.
Eventually I was able to take her up on her challenge. He did have rather a nice cock and it was hair free which is always a good thing. Another good feature was his head, the smaller one, which was kind of pointy which serves well for deep throating. Considering it was his birthday I took my time with him and encouraged him to a good size and hardness which can be hard for a guy when he has had a few drinks and has a large audience. I then proceeded to take the bulk of his cock into my mouth which shocked Pocket Rocket a little.
As I said earlier, I love sucking cock. I love teasing a completely flaccid guy into a full blown throbbing hard on using only my mouth. I love you engulfing a shy cock with my lips and holding it until it forces its way out of my mouth with its excitement. And I love, love, love, looking into a man’s eyes as I fuck his cock with my mouth. I also love doing this in front of a live audience. The thought of other men touching themselves while watching me is one of my biggest turn ons. So I was in my element.
It turned out that Pocket Rocket had the attention span of a goldfish and despite how impressed she was by my ability she was soon off in search of another audience and some more stimulation. Which suited me fine. I would very much have liked to follow such an impressive head job with a damn good fucking from the cock I had just sucked so well but I also had other fish to fry.
Did I mention that I am sometimes into women, awkward guys and oddly, of late, the occasional hairy chest? And so the night progressed. Yes Pocket Rocket was right. It is definitely NOT Book Club.
If you either live in Brisbane or are visiting Mr Jones and I would recommend that you check out Mikes Place, unless of course you are looking for a real book club.
Recently I found myself at a swingers club participating in and spectating at an amateur strip competition. The club owners conceived the competition to encourage their patrons to get up and strut their stuff all in the name of good fun. The general idea was complete acceptance of all body shapes and confirmation of the appeal of all people whatever their shape and size. Unfortunately for me I chose to enter on the same night that a whole lot of young bendy sexy things were in attendance and I found myself wondering what I had been thinking when I put my name down to do this.
I had decided to do a duo with a friend and we enjoyed ourselves immensely. Her partner and mine also enjoyed our performance as well. Which at the end of the day was all that really mattered to either of us. Once the younger more stereotypically attractive girls took over we decided that we would find something more interesting to do than hear what we already knew, that we didn’t win.
In one way it was disappointing I kinda hoped that there would be some kind of triumph of real bodies over young bendy bodies. The younger women had lacked showmanship and their appeal was based mainly around the attractiveness of their bodies, not around how they entertained the crowd. Typically, their friends and supporters were enthusiastic in their support of them but didn’t even bother to watch the other competitors.
Earlier in the day I had shopped with a vague notion of finding a new sexy club dress to wear to the event, I have put on a small amount of weight recently. I hadn’t really given it much consideration but I found myself in change room mirror after change room mirror admitting that the dress that looked great on the rack did not have enough room for my boobs and sometimes my ass.
I am not large by any stretch of the imagination but in stores that sell the kinds of clothes I was looking for stock mainly size 8. There isn’t much hope for a size 12 to 14 woman. What rubbed salt even deeper into the wound was that the stores stocking size 12 – 14 were also about sensible mumsy fashion. Not about cleavage and short skirts. The take home message I got from that? I am too old and too fat to wear sexy clothes.
In the aftermath of my failed shopping, dealing with sexy women with perfectly pert breasts and firm, smooth asses made me begin to wonder if I was the sex goddess that I perceived myself to be. I began to question the things that Mr Jones and other men told me and started to think that their compliments were just ruses to get into my pants. I started to believe that I was just another fat old lady.
It is strange how much ego stroking we all crave. Clearly I am a sexy beast, Men (and women) did notice me. More than one man (and woman) expressed a desire to have sex with me; so clearly I am attractive, But even such rational thinking was not convincing my self esteem. Somehow the small voice of self – doubt was screaming louder than the calm voice of reason. I was like a drug addict craving the next hit
A couple of years ago I was completely confident in myself. Now I find myself wondering. Spending the evening comparing myself to women who were much younger than me was definitely not doing anything to improve my self confidence. Just as the only real way to feel good about yourself is to truly believe in yourself the most efficient way to feel bad about yourself is to spend an evening comparing yourself convince yourself that you don’t measure up to other people around you.
Eventually the rational part of my brain managed to gain control. Yes the young bendy blonde was hot and all the guys were ogling her. But only in the same sort of way they look at models in a magazine. I am never going to be one of them. Maybe once I was but it must have been in an alternative universe because I don’t remember it. I don’t truly believe that I am a stunning sex goddess but enough people out there seem to. So it must be true on some level. Today I am in the process of re-convincing myself. If I tell myself enough, then one day I might just believe it.