The Shortest Day

This is another flash fiction type story in response to one of the “Bingo” prompts posted in the final instalment of Wicked Wednesday. Although I have not been as regular a participant as I would have liked in recent times I have enjoyed being part of this meme for the time it has been running. Click on the icon below and see who else is playing bingo

“Today is the shortest day of the year. That means it is only going to get warmer from now on!”

The principal’s voice carried across the courtyard to the shivering, fidgeting students.

“Which means I should see fewer of these random hoodies instead of your school jerseys.”

The assembled students grumbled as they stamped their feet in the cold westerly breeze

“Ok guys, you can head to class.” 

Young people straggled off to the building entrance. Relieved to be out of the biting wind but reluctant to be in class. Jennifer wrapped her jacket around her and made her way back to her office. Hugo, the principal fell into step beside her. 

“I don’t think they bought it.” She commented to her colleague.

“Probably not but they still have to lose the hoodies.” Hugo squared his shoulders. Jennifer stole a sideways glance at him. Even though he was slightly shorter than her he was solid and muscly, like a rugby league player. He radiated strength and confidence. Two things that spoke straight to Jen’s core. No. Lower than that. Her cunt. 

“Good luck with that then.” Jennifer turned into her office. Her work day yawned in front of her. Calls to parents, paperwork to sign, emails to respond to and then maybe a class or two. Within minutes she was immersed in her work. 

It seemed as if her day had passed in the blink of an eye when Jen put down the phone from the last call. She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her neck before opening her diary to make notes about the call she had just made. Another student to keep an eye on. 

The sound of her office door closing interrupted her. Startled she looked up to see Hugo standing in front of her. From her position it was easy for her to drop her eyes to the suggestive bulge in his perfectly ironed pants. Despite the chill in the air Jen suddenly felt very warm. 

“Hello,” Jen hoped desperately that the flush creeping up her neck wasn’t too obvious. “What can I do for you?”

There was a small pause. Hugo seemed to be sizing her up. 

“You work too hard,” His voice was characteristically calm. Jen felt as if her heart was going to beat out of her chest. Hugo moved around her desk and Jen stood up, unsure of what was on his mind. 

“All work and no play makes for a burnt out counsellor.” They were standing face to face, almost touching. Jen could smell the faint scent of his aftershave. She wondered if he could hear her heart beating. Things seemed to be moving in slow motion as his hand reached out to take hers. His eyes bored into hers as he turned her towards her desk and bent her over it. 

Without a whimper she complied resting her warm face against the firmness of the desk. She felt his strong, fingers lifting her skirt and pulling aside the crotch of her panties. 

“You are so wet you dirty girl,” 

Jen heard the sound of a zipper. Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She had imagined this very thing so many times. She felt the hard rod of his cock probing at her entrance as he pushed her legs apart before sliding his cock into her slick opening. He gave a grunt of pleasure. 

“You are such a good girl,” his hands held her hips firmly. “Do you want a good hard fucking?”

Jen gave a whimper of pleasure thankful for the desk holding her or her knees would have buckled.

Hugo withdrew his cock holding it at her entrance. She bucked her hips, trying to impale herself on his erection but he held her firmly,

“Do you want a good fucking?” He was insistent.

“Yes,” Jen managed to squeak.

He dipped his cock partway into her and withdrew again 

“I didn’t hear you,” his hands held her firmly, preventing her from backing against him like the dirty slut she wanted to be.

“Yes, YES!” Jen’s voice rang out, bouncing off the walls of her office. 

“Like this?” He pumped in to her, his belly making slapping sounds as it hit her arse. 

“YES, YES!” Jen almost screamed. 

“You are such a dirty slut,” His voice was hoarse with desire. He pumped her hard. She knew he was close, she didn’t care. All she wanted now was for him to fill her. She felt the first hot jet of his cum as his fingers clenched even tighter around her hips. His groan of pleasure filled her office.

A soft knock on the door startled Jen into wakefulness. Slightly confused from sleep she sat up and straightened her dress. 

“Come in.” 

The Office Manager opened the door, “How late are you staying today? I am just about to lock everything up.”

“How late is it?” Jen asked, alarmed that she had fallen asleep at her desk. 

“Only 4.30.” It seems so late because the sun is so low but today IS the shortest day. Rebecca, the Office Manager replied. 

Jen shuffled some papers around on her desk. Fragments of her dream were coming back into her mind and she felt a deep need to get out of here, somewhere she could organise her thoughts and do something about the deep ache in her cunt. 

“Just give me a few minutes and I will be out of here.”

As she made her way down the hallway she passed The Principal’s Office. 

“You work too hard,” he said as he looked up at her. 

“You always say that,” Jen replied desperately trying to keep her voice light.

“All work and no play makes for a dull counsellor,” Hugo’s voice followed her out to the carpark.

Wicked Wednesday

 

Every Damn Day in June

Travelling Boob Flashback

We are spending the next two weeks aboard our yacht soaking up the sunshine and recharging batteries. Even though we have spent a few days here and there since our return last year it isn’t the same as travelling. Even this time which is away from our home port is not quite the same. I find myself reminiscing about our adventure.

Bright yellow sands of aptly named Yellow Patch sand dune just a little East of Rockhampton. Image copyright Gemma Jones
Sinful Sunday
Every Damn Day in June


Thirty Dirty Questions – Question 29

Have you ever (or would you ever) tried role play? What roles are you drawn to?

Role play is not something that comes to mind when I think of things I would like to try. The idea of dressing in a specific way that is dictated by someone else and pretending to be a specific character has never applied to me. As much as I enjoy the atmosphere of theatre I have never had the desire to be on a stage.

And then I started pole dance. 

On my first visit to a swingers club I watched a woman dance for her husband and lover on a pole. I remember thinking I would never be confident enough to do that. Somewhere the scales tipped. After the first time I climbed that stage and put my hand on that brass I was hooked. The power of looking a man or woman in the eye as I present my arse to them. Or as I give them a flash of my pussy is addictive. 

I have amazing boobs. There is no denying it. In appropriate environments I love getting them out for the world to see. From strippers and great boobs my ultimate role play fantasy was born. To work as a stripper / topless waitress for a room of selected people. Lap dances are available, touching is allowed. 

I just need someone who is willing to fork out for the ultimate accessory for the event, the shoes.

Every Damn Day in June

My Shussy is What?????

I fell into the world of burlesque kind of by accident. A few years ago I started attending a pole dance studio that also taught burlesque. Well actually it was the other way around. A burlesque teacher who dabbled in pole-fit. It was here that I learned about the glitter filled world of burlesque and places where dancers who didn’t look like mainstream dancers went to shine.

I made friends with women who were destined to be these kinds of dancers. Carving their way into the world to shine their own light in their own way. It was through them that I attended some shows and was fascinated by this world of feathers, silk fans, and nipple tassels. Modern burlesque is a reflection of American Burlesque of the late 1800’s. But there are many twists and turns. Every performer has their own personal style and signature way of performing. In 2020 I was excited to attend one of the first incarnations of “Shreklesque”. Put simply this was a Shrek themed show featuring some burlesque performers that I knew and others that I had seen and heard of. Not all were burlesque performers. Some were drag queens and some were “boylesque” performers; Males that danced in burlesque style and costumes but did not present as female.

At the time Brisbane was just emerging from the first panicked Covid – 19 lockdown. We were nervous about gathering in large groups but we were excited to purchase our tickets and head to a small theatre that was used predominantly for community theatre events to support this little group of performers trying to keep their art alive. Fast forward two years and I was just as excited to see the show again after two years of development and in a bigger, more professional venue.

I was not disappointed. I was treated to dance, drag queens, weird parodies of Shrek characters and a mound of green pubic hair among other things. All of the performers pushed gender norms in some way. Men dressed as women. Women performing as male characters from the movie although not disguising their femininity. A gingerbread man that was more sexual than any baked good should be. The “normal” standard for body shape was either parodied in the form of fake six packs or completely ignored in the form of larger than life performers.

None of this made the performances less. In fact it made for a richer, more diverse show. Everyone on that stage was just living their best life. Audience members did not judge anyone be it performers or each other. You want to wear a lime green outfit and bright purple hair? Go you! The show’s creator Trigger Happy has danced for most of his life. An injury prevented him from making it into the mainstream world of broadway but it doesn’t stop him from kicking high and dropping into the splits in a way no man feels comfortable watching.

There are those people in the world that would not be able to see past his size to appreciate his athleticism. People who think athletic = skinny. There are people who think that larger, less pert breasts have no place in public viewing. They are wrong. Humans come in all shapes and sizes. And some of us are born to entertain no matter what shape or size we are.

Every Damn Day in June

Thirty Dirty Questions – Question 28

Have you ever had an “inappropriate” crush? What was it about that person that drew you in, and what made it “not OK”?

I am sure it is documented somewhere that Mr Jones credits the start of our journey into non-monogamy with an infidelity on my part. Somewhere back in the mists of my past was a man that I worked with who I got entangled with. It was a trashily tragic story. He wasn’t that attractive, I was insecure and awkward. I am sure he engineered the whole situation and got off on the idea that I was pining over him. After months of weird and not so discreet workplace conversations we got very drunk and ended up in a hotel room. It was not hot sex. I was wracked by guilt and fear and he couldn’t get it up. Honestly it would go down as one of the worst sexual experiences of my life. 

What attracted me to him in the first place? He was charming and could talk the talk. He was an engineer and so he had this ability to do stuff with his hands. Two things that will always catch my attention. Like I said, he wasn’t physically attractive but back in those days I wasn’t as in tune with my body and desires and I would have fallen for anyone who seemed interested in me. I wasn’t in a great place.

Obviously Mr Jones and I survived and here we are today. 

These days I have interest in all sorts of “inappropriate” people. Work colleagues, friends of friends, boys on the street whoever I see that I find attractive. Of course I don’t act on most of them but I don’t mind looking and wondering. Sometimes they see me looking and that makes me smile even more. 

I have been working on this series for over a year now. But I am almost at the end. If you want to review my previous answers links to each post can be viewed on the Thirty Dirty Questions Page.

Every Damn Day in June

Friday Flashback – Afternoon Delights

Photo by Brooke Lark on Unsplash

I know that it isn’t Friday now but I promise I started working on this on Friday!.

Monica slipped the invitation out of the thick cream envelope. Her brow furrowed as she read the cryptic note.  

Your presence is desired at the home of Evelyn Palmer

To share in an afternoon of decadence

Dress; Semi formal daytime wear, heels essential, no trousers.

Her neighbour, Amanda, had mentioned Evelyn’s afternoon teas. She had insisted that they were an experience not to be missed but was reluctant to explain exactly why. Later that afternoon Monica showed Amanda the note. 

“I thought she liked you.” Amanda grinned, “This is going to be something that you will not forget.”

Amanda’s words rang in Monica’s ears as she stood in front of her closet deciding what to wear. 

“It needs to be something very feminine.” Amanda had advised. “Nothing too revealing though. Make sure you wear some noteworthy shoes though and maybe even some pearls if you have some.” 

The dress code puzzled her. Monica had tried to get more information from Amanda but she had been typically vague. Monica began to feel as if she was on the verge of being recruited to some cult like secret society. She expressed her hesitation to Amanda,

“You HAVE to go!” Amanda was scandalised that her friend was passing up the opportunity”I will never speak to you again if you don’t” 

Standing in front of the mirror Monica studied her reflection for flaws. She worried that her dress would not be quite right or that she was wearing too much makeup, or not enough. Glancing at the clock on her bedside table she realised it was time to leave, a surge of nerves rushed through her stomach,  

“Really!” she scolded herself in the mirror. “It is afternoon tea with a group of women. How bad could it be!” She picked up her purse and made her way down the stairs.

Trepidation filled Monica as she stepped into Evelyn’s garden. Six other women were seated at a perfectly decorated table. With the air of a perfectly composed hostess, Evelyn guided Monica to an empty chair and pulled it away from the table for her. Once she was seated Evelyn introduced Monica to the other guests who welcomed her warmly. The conversation began to flow and the newcomer to the other guests. Monica felt herself relax, just the tiniest bit. The other women were like her, a little keyed up but as they made their way through small talk they found some common ground and the conversation began to flow.

“Excuse me, how would you like your tea?” a male voice at her elbow startled Monica. She hadn’t thought that Evelyn would employ staff for something like this. She turned to respond but was she saw pushed all rational responses completely out of her mind, The young man standing beside her, patiently holding a tea pot was completely naked. There was a brief pause in the conversation and Monica felt a blush creeping up her neck. The hum of conversation resumed as if this was perfectly normal. Monica started to realise why Amanda had been so secretive. Following the lead of the other women she took a breath and composed herself.  

“Black with one sugar thanks,” she hoped her voice didn’t sound too odd as she tried to avoid looking at the penis which was just at her eye height. The young man gracefully filled her cup and added the sugar. His actions were perfectly natural as if he served women tea fully naked every day of his life. He moved on to the next guest filling each cup with the same grace. Trying to be subtle, Monica took in the lines of his body. He was athletic but not over muscled. Very pleasant to look at. As he made his way along the other side of the table Monica felt safe to take a look at his penis, It was “in between”. Not completely flaccid but with some shape. It seemed to have a life of it’s own as he moved between the guests. Something about watching him sent a deep warm shiver through her.  

“I love watching them,” Belinda, the woman seated next to her, interrupted Monica’s thoughts. “That is part of the fun, but you must never touch unless Evelyn invites you to.”

“OK,” Monica replied, “Thanks for the tip.” She leaned back in her chair and sipped her tea. The afternoon had taken on a surreal air. Monica was starting to feel as if she was Alice and had fallen down a rabbit hole.  

“Excuse me,” another male voice interrupted Monica’s reverie. She turned towards the voice. If the first server had been pleasant to look at this one was positively pornographic. His skin had a slight sheen to it and she noticed that his nipples were firm. Inside her bra Monica felt her own nipples hardening and a slight throb echoed between her legs. The young man held a tray of treats. With a slight quiver Monica indicated two cakes and the man neatly transferred them to her plate. 

“Thank you” she said quietly. He nodded his head and then made his way around the rest of the table. When each plate was full he set his tray on the side table and stood beside his friend with his hands behind his back. His cock was slightly firmer than his friend. As he stood there, completely exposed, being quietly observed by a group of women dressed to the nines, Monica could have sworn that his erection grew larger. 

The afternoon passed pleasantly, cups were emptied and replenished. More cakes were offered. No one in the group touched either of the young men but Monica began to feel a haze of lust intensifying. Gazes lingered, the ladies touched their own necklines as the servers passed. The air even seemed to have a hint of female musk. Just when Monica thought she could no longer contain the ache in her own cunt Evelyn drained the last of her tea from her cup and placed it upside down on her saucer. 

The two young men stepped forward and stood on either side of Evelyn’s chair. The conversation around the table frittered away to silence as every pair of eyes was turned towards the head of the table.  

“Monica’s shoes are the most exquisite things I have ever seen,” Evelyn commented to the group as if she were continuing the conversation. “Turn your chair out so that we can see them.” she smiled encouragingly at Monica. Embarrassed Monica turned her chair so that her legs were pulled out from under the table. 

“Eric just adores beautiful women’s shoes don’t you?” Evelyn looked up to the pornographic your man who had moved to stand beside Monica. There was a small sigh from the women around the table. “Show Monica how you feel about her shoes Eric.” Evelyn commanded. 

Monica’s heart almost beat out of her chest as Eric kneeled in front of her. Reverently he reached down and took her left foot in his hands. Monica held her breath as bent down and placed his lips on the toe of her shoe. Monica was transfixed 

“Don’t, move” Belinda whispered in her ear. 

Monica glanced at Belinda, her eyes glittered with desire as she watched Eric kissing every inch of Monica’s shoe. 

“Isn’t that the most beautiful thing?” Belinda’s voice was husky, “A man like that adoring you so perfectly.” 

Monica looked down. Eric’s fingers had slipped inside her shoe and were pressing against her instep as he kissed along the edge of her shoe. His lips brushed against the skin of her foot and a shudder went through her. Unconsciously Monica pressed her clenched fists against her pubis. 

Eric stopped kissing and rocked back on his heels. His cock was fully engorged and it stood out proudly in front of him. His hand remained, resting on her foot. Beside Monica, Belinda made a small sound of desire. At the head of the table Evelyn emained impassive.

“If he pleases you,” She spoke clearly and firmly. “You may borrow him for the afternoon. He is quite attentive and will tend to your every whim.” 

Monica felt heat colouring her cheeks. “I don’t know what to say,” she stammered.

“You don’t need to say anything,” Evelyn smiled warmly at her. “Just enjoy yourself. Eric won’t do anything you don’t ask him to do.” 

There was a collective sigh of desire as Eric held his hand out to Monica and helped her stand. Monica realised her panties were soaking but she didn’t care all that mattered was this man and the adventure ahead of her. As she gathered her handbag Belinda whispered to her,

”Welcome to the club, have a fantastic afternoon.” 

Every Damn Day in June

Magical Dreaming

Design is copyright of Missy Rose Fabrics

I recently discovered a delicious fabric supplier that is Australian based. I am currently working with the design pictured. When I read the Wicked Wednesday prompt “Magical Power” this weird idea popped into my head.

“If you could have anything in the world what would it be?” The smooth timbre of the creature’s voice broke through the magic of the clearing. 

Sally stirred, turning to feel the sun on her face as it filtered through the trees. The creature nuzzled her neck, making her wiggle against his sift velvet skin. Without thinking she lifted her hands to cup her naked breasts, lifting them upwards as her fingers explored the smooth skin and her fingers toyed idly with her erect nipples. 

“How could I want anything more than this?” Her voice sounded strange in her ears, kind of sleepy but deeper and huskier, and somehow more satisfied than she had been in a long time. 

The creature gave a satisfied rumble from deep in his body. “You are right, how could we want anything more than this?” He moved downwards stroking Sally’s breasts with the smooth skin of his forehead. Sally felt a stirring between her thighs. It was truly magical being here with him, everything about him was perfect. The creature continued his descent over her belly, leaving a silvery trail of desire as he caressed and teased. Sally’s knees fell apart in anticipation. The creature gave another rumble of desire.

“You are such a greedy girl,” he admonished her, all the while moving closer to the centre of her greed. 

“How can I not be greedy when I have something as delicious and perfect as you.” Sally responded, running her thumb over his forehead, smearing the clear fluid of his arousal over his skin before she lifted her digit to her mouth to taste him. She sighed in delight at the sensation on her tongue. The perfect blend of salt with a tiny bit of sweet. She could drink this nectar all day. 

“You know what they say, too much of a good thing is dangerous.” The creature admonished her, his voice slightly muffled as he began to nuzzle between her legs. 

“Never!” Sally’s statement ended in a sigh as he began to work his magic. Warm waves of pleasure travelled through her body and her back arched sending her breasts jutting high into the sunshine. A butterfly fluttered down from the trees and landed nearby watching, mesmerised by the beauty of the woman abandoning herself to the attentions of her creature. Birds twittered softly in the canopy, tittilating themselves with stories of other creatures that lived in this forest and the women who came to visit. 

The little clearing became alive with the sounds of Sally as the creature teased out her pleasure, stroking her folds and sucking gently on the swollen nub at the top of her slit. A stream of juice rewarded him and he drank greedily, pressing his face firmly against her. 

“Please,” her voice was strained with the urgency of her desire, “I need you, all of you.” 

As always the creature responded to her perfectly. His smooth skin slipped deeper downwards seeking out her opening. Sally held her legs wide. She gave a groan as he penetrated her. Diving deep inside her, like he had so many times. She never understood how he managed to be so perfect but he always was. No matter what he filled her exactly how she needed to be filled. She squeezed her thighs close around him, driving her deeper and he responded swelling just a little to fill her out. The sensation of stretching sent another jolt of pleasure through her body. The forest filled with her cries of pleasure. 

Around the clearing other forest creatures gathered, honouring the bond between the woman and her creature. In the trees the birds were silent, watching, committing every detail to memory to twitter to each other later. The movement of the creature became faster, more urgent. He was nearing his own peak. Sally’s fingers worked the swollen nub he had roused earlier. She was waiting for him, he was waiting for her. Together the reached the peak, filling the clearing with the sound of their release. 

As the sounds echoed away and the two of them lay, curled up in the nest of moss the creatures of the forest began to disperse, each inspired to seek their own clearings. In the trees the birds began quiet chattering, the beginning of a new story. 

Slowly Sally’s eyes opened, sun was streaming through the window of her room. Sheets were rumpled around her and her pillows nestled against her body. Between her legs the moisture of her desire remained. She smiled, remembering her dream. 

“Until we meet again my magical creature.” She whispered to the empty room. 

Wicked Wednesday
Every Damn Day in June

Thirty Dirty Questions – Question 27

What is your favourite sexual position and why?

There was once a TMI Tuesday question that asked “if you could only have sex in one position for the rest of your life what would it be?” Or something like that. Being a practical person I responded with missionary because it is an easy go to. I guess I was cheating because there are variants on missionary that make it more exciting but it is still two people facing each other one with his penis inside the other. 

Often this is a go to for me. Legs on his shoulders, his hands on my body, maybe even my boobs, and dick penetrating just the right amount. I used to love deep penetration positions like doggie and similar but these days for some reason if a man has any kind of length and he goes in really deep I feel as if he is moving my uterus around my belly and not in a fun kind of way. As we get older our bodies change and adjustments are necessary.

When I am playing I like to have sex in multiple positions. I have a relatively short attention span I guess and so If I stay in the one position for too long I get bored and then my interest / arousal wanes. Don’t get me wrong. I love fucking. It is one of my favourite things to do but there needs to be variety. This I guess is why I am struggling with the idea of having to choose ONE position. 

I guess, as I said in the opening paragraph missionary is a catch all that can describe a number of variations. I like to watch a man fucking me. If I can almost see his cock going inside me all the better. I also find it easier to position myself to ensure maximum stimulation when I am in a missionary variant. Plus there is this thing that happens when his cock slides out and he taps me on the clit……

Yep. As cliche as it sounds nothing beats being able to look someone in the eye as they cum inside your pussy. 

mmmMondays
Every Damn Day in June

Friday Flashback – Four in the Bed

Four naked bodies twist together on the bed while lips explore other lips. Hands roam freely over breasts and buttocks, caressing and stroking. I watch you as you suck my husband’s cock. The look of pleasure on his face is one of the most erotic things I have ever seen. My hand travels down to caress your lover’s member. He stiffens in my grasp and his breath sighs in my ear. I squirm as his fingers pinch my nipples before he bends down and sucks one nipple and then the other gently between his lips. 

Your lover’s hand travels downwards over my belly to the top of my slit. His fingers stroke me gently before he places his tongue on my pussy. Liquid fire flares through me, and my body responds the way it always does. Liquid trickles down my thighs and coats your lover’s face. He buries his head further into me as if he craves the taste of my juice. The feeling is intense. Sometimes so intense it is painful. I ride it like a wave, hoping it will never end. 

He lifts his face away from me. My juice runs down his chin as he looks at both of us sprawled beside each other on the bed. My body feels as if it will melt into the bed. You lover looks over at you before he pulls you towards him. He presses your knees apart beside you and your feet rest on his shoulders. He strokes your slick wet opening with his cock and you spasm in pleasure. You are so open for him and so aching for him to fill you.  

Slowly he feeds himself into you. You sigh in pleasure as his cock fills you. He spreads your legs so that I can watch him fucking you slowly. His cock draws all the way out and then presses deeply into you as you moan in pleasure. Your pussy looks like a flower as it grips his cock. You giggle a little but it isn’t laughter it is your happy, pleasure sound. Your lover pushes harder and you moan even more. 

He turns you over so that you are kneeling on the bed. My husband and I press our bodies against yours, stroking your soft skin and sucking your nipples. As you spasm in pleasure your juice squirts out wetting your lover’s thighs and the bed. I touch your pussy seeking the node of your pleasure and pressing my fingers inside you beside your lover’s cock. It is intense. I curl my finger around seeking out your g-spot so that I can tease and tantalise you. I feel your body spasm with pleasure pushing your lover’s cock and my finger out of you but we both press against you keeping ourselves inside you.

After a while we change partners. My husband puts his arms around you from behind. His cock is rubbing against you pressing against the entrance to your pussy. I lean down and lick you, your pussy is soaked with your juice and tastes so sweet. I press my tongue into you, exploring your folds and crevices. My husband holds you as you squirm in pleasure. 

When it is over the four of us lie together in a pile, happy and satisfied. For the moment.

Every Damn Day in June

Consent Revisited

Photo by Philipp Wüthrich on Unsplash

Uncle and I are considering starting a project documenting our experiences and advice.  So I have started ploughing through the substantial body of work I had written for Erotic Adventures and Corrupting Mrs Jones. I came across an article I wrote in 2013. Almost ten years ago! I am so old. In it I I wax lyrical about the art of saying “NO”. At the time I felt that the “No means no” fundamental of the swinging world was very firmly in place. I considered that most women who had an issue with enforcing their NO were not being clear with their intent. 

Fast forward to now. I still think a lot of women have issues with saying no. There are a multitude of reasons for this and I could wax lyrical about social conditioning and the like but a quick Google search and you can find much better researched and written articles about this. What this story is about is men who don’t listen. Two sides of the same coin in many ways. 

In my early slut career (I coined this term for last weeks TMI Tuesday don’t you love it). I don’t think I said no very often. We were playing predominantly in the couple space. I interacted with the people I was interested in and if there was a NO it was from the more discerning Mr Jones. Interestingly a woman saying NO on behalf of her husband does not have a lot of repercussions. It did not seem to create a lot of arguments. It is accepted. There were some occasions when it did cause problems. Mostly when the man of the rejected couple decided he HAD to have me and went about trying to pressure his wife into pleasing Mr Jones to achieve this end. But that was their issue. I went about my business secure in my bubble of “no means no”.

These days I interact with single men. In some circles I could be viewed as an individual seeking fun because I do go on solo dates. I have never sought out a couple. For the most part my interest in women is limited and so couples don’t seek me. Married men do. I am happy to play with them one on one if their wife / girlfriend is on board. Over the weekend we invited a couple to come sailing with us. We met at a party. I was intrigued by his mind. Perhaps a little flattered by his statement that he doesn’t interact with women much because he doesn’t find many women worth his while. 

On closer inspection his mind turned out to be very much like other men’s mind. Focussed on his own personal gratification. His discernment wasn’t as refined as he led me to believe. In short he was a man looking for as many holes to poke his dick in as possible. He likes rough play. The kind that explores the boundary between pain and pleasure. He likes boobs. What he likes to do with them is squeeze them quite firmly and pinch nipples. I am not averse to this practice. Sometimes it elicits quite a strong response but for the most part I am a “go easy there” kind of girl. My body is an instrument that needs to be played skilfully to get the most out of it. Bashing on me like a drum will have some effect but it is limited. Plus it will piss me off after a while and get you on the “no thanks” list. 

So I spent the weekend dancing this line. Controlling the amount of rough handling I could tolerate while he pressured me to take as much as his partner seemed to enjoy. In addition he has erection problems. Not uncommon amongst older me. Sad for them. Hard to deal with but you know what. When I want to fuck I want to fuck. If I have tolerated and accommodated your rough handling and tried to be the person to please you I am not entirely pleased when you can’t perform. On top of that I am unhappy if you make me feel like I am being unfair to express my displeasure. That my friend, is gaslighting. 

So with that awkwardness sitting in the background as I helped him straighten his bed in the cabin he shared with his partner, he proposes that I visit him and his partner solo while Mr Jones is away delivering a yacht….

My response…

“Well we don’t do that. See couples when the other one is not present.” 

He seemed OK with that. I exited as speedily as possible and related the events to Mr Jones. He was understanding and agreed with my position as the safest option. That, I thought, was that. But no. The next morning I received a text.

“Come hop in bed with us” the invitation was for me. Not Mr Jones. The cabin is big enough for three but definitely not suitable for four. 

Less than twelve hours ago I told him that we don’t do that. And now he is ignoring my no? 

I didn’t bother to respond. He queried me later. It annoyed me to have to point out that I didn’t feel comfortable leaving my husband alone to go play. Rude much? 

I was irritated about the whole situation. When I met these people I was excited. Happy to have found a couple that we both seemed to get along with. Happy to maybe have another couple friend in the lifestyle. They are hard to come by. But on reflection it just isn’t working for me. He is domineering, opinionated and the most irritating thing, he just doesn’t listen to other people’s ideas or opinions. I really like her but he is not able to let her have a relationship without him being around wanking. Not my thing. 

As we unpacked at home I reflected about a lot of things. One of them being that men often simply don’t listen when a woman as a solo person says no. They don’t hear what she means which is 

“I am not interested, this isn’t working for me, I don’t want to.”

What they hear is;

“I need you to convince me that what you are proposing is attractive.” And worse, “Tell me the reasons why my feelings about my body are not correct.”

These men pressure a woman to explain her refusal and then rebut her reasons. They badger her and make her feel bad for saying no. And then they wonder why dating apps are flooded with men  without a counterbalance of a similar number of women. It isn’t as simple as women learning to say no more clearly. Men need to learn to hear it. 

Wicked Wednesday
Every Damn Day in June