A Blast From the Past

Several years ago I had a pet. Over the course of a couple of years we had some intense sexual encounters and explored some kinks. The relationship was sexual and definitely not romantic. We met we fucked, sometimes during a rest break we shared food. When he was working away (he was a FIFO ) we texted most days. The connection between us was strong. But then one day he disappeared. He was evasive and when I asked directly he told me it was time to move on. There was no explanation. And I didn’t ask. In my mind I didn’t have the right to ask. We were fuck buddies not dating. Neither owed the other anything.

That is not to say that it didn’t hurt. He left a gap in my life. One that was never filled. Most of the time it wasn’t a problem but sometimes I found myself thinking about our adventures and wishing they hadn’t ended.

Then last Saturday, randomly, I ran into him at the swingers club that Mr Jones and I visit from time to time. It was one of those nights when all sorts of people were popping out of corners and things were a little chaotic. I was chatting to a lady who was sitting nervously in the corner. She was explaining that her new-ish boyfriend had brought her along to check things out. Then there he was. I didn’t know where to look or what to say. We said hi. He kind of explained how he knew us to his new girl and then I ran away. I didn’t know what to say.

It took time to process the encounter. About 24 hours afterward I realised that it hurt my heart seeing him again. I guess I wasn’t as detached as I thought.

Abstinence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

In a recent TMI Tuesday post I spoke about giving up an extra martial relationship as an example of a recent grand romantic gesture. It was something I had done in response to concerns Mr Jones was having about the direction our own relationship was travelling. Just to be clear he was aware of my interactions with this man and I was in no way having an “affair”of any kind.

Over the course of the twenty or so years that Mr Jones and I have been together sex has been a central feature of our interaction with each other in both a positive and sometimes very negative way. To the outside observer we are very physical with each other. We touch fondly in public and we have sex regularly. Much more regularly than a lot of married people I know. Even when we have been struggling with our relationship I don’t think we have ever gone more than a couple of weeks between drinks.

Where things become awkward and problematic is the wanting. I am much more submissive by nature than many people realise. If Mr Jones says ‘let’s do this’ then we do it. Without question, without me really considering what I want to do. This habit stems from a childhood with an over controlling parent whose skill in using guilt to manipulate the people around them was unsurpassed. This has created in me a compulsion to make people around me happy. As a friend once explained it; I have an extremely bad case of ‘disease to please’.

Long story short I want to please my husband, even at my own expense. I will and often do have sex when I don’t want to in a bid to avoid the guilt I feel when I say no to someone. Over s long period of time this eats away at your soul.

Recently I have started to assert myself. Partly because I have realised that I have to if I want to avoid becoming a complete basket case. Additionally I have realised that I need to learn to ask for what I want if my marriage is to survive past raising children. This is sometimes as simple as choosing what is on the television or saying that yes actually I do want you to make dinner tonight because I have marking to do and I don’t have time.

When it comes to sex things are more difficult. My chronic over thinking kicks in and I double guess myself by asking “Am I saying no because of habit or because I actually don’t want to?” Or worse “Am I convincing myself to say yes because I said no yesterday?” Crazy, crazy stuff. Maybe I need more help than I realise.

In a play relationship it is easy. There are no financial ties, there are no children, there are no mutual friends or relatives to explain things to if one or both of use decides things are not working. Consequently the sex is easy. There is no worry about what he will think if I don’t do it right. If I get bored or he leaves then, no biggie just move on.

Unfortunately this means I can hide a little from my feelings and avoid dealing with stuff. Putting aside other relationships forces me to focus on the person who has been standing in front of me for twenty years and deal with my demons. It forces me to really be honest with him about how I feel and what goes through my mind. Oddly I have delivered some of this information without feeling guilty later. I have given a clear description of what goes through my head without any feelings of remorse for the pain it may be causing Mr Jones.

It is liberating and confidence inspiring. I am not really afraid that he will leave me. Although I am sure some people reading this will ask “why the fuck not?” I also know that there needs to be some pain for true growth to happen. At the moment I am kicking goals in my life. I have been given some very good recognition of my talents and achievements at work. My colleagues are giving me great positive feedback and I feel like I am finally putting to rest some demons that have haunted me for many years, I feel like a worthy grown up person.

Mr Jones often says that one of the things that attracted him to me when we met was my confidence. Over the years some significant events occurred that took away that confidence and perhaps this contributed to what I have been writing about in this post. My achievements in my working life have started to correct this and I can feel the effects trickling into other parts of my life. Taking a break from pursuing and dating others is helping me to channel this in the right direction.

Things are looking very positive. I feel like I am more in control than ever. So watch this space.

Trimming the Lawn

All those years again when Mr Jones and I stepped into the dating scene pubic hair was a big no-no. I had off and on experimented with pubic hair removal to fulfil fantasies or interests of Mr Jones but it wasn’t something I did regularly, I didn’t even really wax my bikini line. Suddenly I found myself regularly waxing. For the first time in my life I was regularly visiting a beautician. Caught up in the new adventures I was having I didn’t really consider the expense too much or the demands on my time particularly draining. As time went on regular waxing became a habit. I genuinely fulfilled that swinger stereotype of not being able to remember the last time I had pubic hair.Fast forward to now and Mr Jones and I have definitely slowed our level of activity. We visit clubs and the occasional party as a couple looking for other couples but we often hook up with single men for a threesome. Mr Jones doesn’t really feel the amount of effort involved in looking for a playmate is not always well rewarded so he tends not to bother. I am of a different opinion.I enjoy meeting different people and experiencing different situations so I put a bit more effort in and am rewarded with a few different experiences. And a certain amount of frustration. Sadly I have not found someone with the mind shattering sexual chemistry I experienced with Pet, but I have had some fun times. Due to the nature of my job my dating life has slowed considerably. My time has become quite limited so visits to the beautician are a thing of the past. Grooming these days is in the form of a quick shave just before heading out the door. A little while ago I had some play time with a European man who had a distinct preference for unshaved pubic hair. I did my best to please him but the best I could do was about four weeks growth. My reward was some intense sex and this very sexy photo After this experience I have become much more relaxed about going on dates with less than a perfectly shaved puss. In fact lately I have decided to grow the bush back. The novelty of having hair down there is a little stimulating. Mr Jones seems happy with this turn of events. He commented recently that it is fun to have something to stroke down there. So I think the hair is here to stay for the moment. Sorry potential playmates but if pubic hair is a deal breaker then you are not the guy for me.

The Dick Pic

I have probably written about this topic before but I was inspired to pen this because of a post by The Zen Nudist about rape. Although it is not anywhere as extreme as rape there is something about the unsolicited dick pic that I, and many women, find invasive and confronting. Don’t get me wrong, I love penises. I love to look at them, I love to inspect them in the minutest detail, I love to suck them, I love them inside me. What I don’t love is having one shoved in my face when I am innocently going through my day and my message notification pings. I don’t understand why men do it. In a way it is sad that men have distilled their attractiveness to women to such a small (no pun intended) part of them.There are many parts of men that are attractive. I am a sucker for a nice arse. I even have Twitter friends who send me great shots of their arse, after invitation. Things like this. This is hot after you have made a connection, had a conversation etc. There are plenty of ways to entice and intrigue which for me makes attraction stronger. I can’t speak for all women of course but based on conversations I have had with female friends who are dating most women seem to feel the same way as me. Sending uninvited pictures of your dick to women is NOT acceptable behaviour EVER. As I stated in my opening comments it is invasive, offensive and sometimes just plain weird.There are plenty of ways to present your package that are alluring and damn sexy something like this;Or this;So guys, take note. You are more than your naked protruding penis. Show some creativity and remember that less is often more.

When I Say No….

As a teacher and as a parent I have learned a few things about saying no. The first one is that when you say no you have to mean it. Saying “no” and then changing your mind when everyone protests just sends the message that no doesn’t mean no it means “try a little harder to convince me”.

The second thing I have learned about saying no is that you have to be prepared to back it up with a reason. Having a sound reason usually reduces the amount a student/ child will try to convince you that you really meant yes. Finally, in my experience, the people who try the hardest to change your mind are the ones who have learned from experience with other people that you can change someone’s mind. These students/ children are usually proficient at techniques that trigger an emotional response such as pouting, eye rolling, and making statements like “I was just trying to….”. These students are the hardest to deal with but getting them to see things your way is not impossible.

I posted recently about s conversation I had with a man I have enjoyed as a lover and his inability to u derstand and respect “no”. In my post I outlined my dealings with my ex lover and my very clear no. That, I thought, was that. How wrong I was. I received a couple of messages during the week about “accidental” messages automatically sent from social media apps like Snapchat and then whammo we are talking again. Well he is talking and asking me to video chat with him (he has been working in an extremely remote location over the Christmas Break). Of course I replied no. As I put my phone down I said to it “I am not going to fuck you.”

Of course he didn’t hear that, not that it would make any difference. The problem is even as I was saying the words a small part of me was protesting. He is attractive. He does have sex appeal and there were aspects of fucking him that I enjoyed. A tiny part of me almost believes that idea that it will be different if I give him another chance. Of course the rational part of me has to step in and firmly remind the positive, fantasy me of the frustration and dissapointment that is the most likely outcome if I give in.

Sometimes being the most responsible adult in the room is hard.

Not Without My Permission 

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. 

Like WTF???? 

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. 

What are you doing for Valentine’s Day?

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.

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Baggage Free Sex

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.

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Shave

Wicked Wednesday

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.

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In The Beginning

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.