Space for Gemma

Slowly the bingo card is getting filled. The prompt for this post is “Being you”

Mr Jones and I recently caught up with a couple that live in a small town about five hour’s drive from us. The distance that separates us means that we don’t spend a lot of time together but it seems that when we do the conversation is not the banal “So how is your job going?” Kind of thing. During our latest visit the Mr of the couple commented about my transformation as I voyaged with Mr Jones last year. I was a little nonplussed by some of his observations. 

I will admit that I did change during the journey. Perhaps more than I realised. But when it came to my sexuality and my Gemma life I hadn’t really reflected about the impact of this voyage. Before we left I had been swinging for more than ten years. We had journeyed through the early days of “Only swapping with other couples, only in the same room” through various versions of couple swapping to what I would consider a full blown open relationship. The only thing that separates our relationship with polyamory is that neither of us have romantic relationships with our partners. A friendship, yes, regular conversation about non-sexual things yes but full blown romantic relationships, no. I had done a lot of things from a sexual point of view and had ticked a lot of the fantasy boxes. While I didn’t feel that I was done with my lifestyle I didn’t really consider that I had that much room to grow. 

One thing that I do remember having very clear in my mind when we purchased the yacht and started our travels was that when I was in this space and this lifestyle I was not going to pretend to be something I wasn’t. In my professional and extended family life my sexual lifestyle is kept very much in the closet. My parents have no idea about my ‘number’ my employer and my students are completely in the dark. I don’t even discuss my pole dancing with most people at my work. But when we stepped aboard and started taking the yacht out, even for day trips. I refused to hide anything about me from the people we met along the way. 

I sunbathed nude when I wanted to. I did put clothes on when people came to visit, unless they wanted them off. I invited lovers on board when I wanted to. I had sex in the open when other boats were not parked too close. When talking with other travellers I did not hide my lifestyle. I answered any questions honestly. As we travelled along the coast we took on board more than one man as “crew” for short periods. We also met with a few men in particular towns along the way. 

At the time I didn’t really think about this but this practice of meeting people and spending twenty four hours per day with them was something of an evolution. The Second Mate definitely opened my eyes to a lot of things. Even though we were very clear about the boundaries and we all knew that when he left there was no going back there was something about having another person effectively living aboard that was different. Did it change me? 

I think so. I was able to have a different kind of relationship with him. From a sexual perspective he pushed some of my boundaries. He encouraged me to do things I would not have done otherwise and he gave me confidence because, I am not going to lie, he was sexy as fuck and I was punching well above my weight! Later we were joined by The Italian. He came with a different set of quirks but there was growth and a strengthening of my confidence in being Gemma. 

Before this journey I was becoming very concerned about my “Number”. I was self conscious about my “slut” status. That old fashioned idea about being a “good girl” who didn’t sleep around was still living in the back of my mind even though I had consciously rejected it there was still aspects of it that haunted me. Interacting with these men and spending time being completely true to myself meant I was able to make progress in slaying those demons. Certainly The Second Mate or The Italian didn’t care how many men I had fucked. Neither does Mr Jones. Or anyone else who has an inkling. The only person who is bothered by it is me. 

Even though it has been a year since I left on that voyage and I have been back at work and living on land for several months now I am still able to spend time on the water and that time is often accompanied by “Being Gemma”. Boating and the ocean are perhaps the last free places on Earth. Places where the normal rules often don’t apply. People who mess around on boats understand this. No one questions anything that they see me doing or the people who accompany us when we head out. More importantly I have a space where I don’t feel I have to behave in a certain way to impress people or to preserve their sensibilities. I have a space where I am free to be myself. 

As my friend observed having this space has changed me. Even in a landlubbing state I am different. I have grown. Gemma is a more intrinsic part of my life. She is no longer the party girl I bring out every so often. According to my friend it makes me a role model for people who are also on a journey of discovery. When he told me this I wasn’t sure what to think. I see myself as a regular person doing regular things. But he assures me that there are many things about me as special. Personally I think that what is special is that I am proof that ordinary people can do extraordinary things when they put their mind to it. 

If These Walls Could Speak

As we finished our recent short break I took some time to do some cleaning. Mould, ever present on a boat and doubly so because we live in Queensland where it just doesn’t stop raining, had started to appear. As I wiped ceilings and walls in the back cabin I reflected on the action this room has seen. Typically it is the room we use when we have naughty guests aboard. In the eighteen months we have owned this yacht some notable visitors to this room have included, The Second Mate, The Italian and The Traveller.

And so I share a snap of an unassuming cabin, freshly cleaned that carries many memories of hot sweaty fucking.

Unwind – Part 2; The Transaction

Photo by Parrish Freeman on Unsplash

I posted the lead up to this for MMMonday last week.

We took the stairs to the mezzanine room that I sometimes used to fuck in when I meet with men. A purpose built room in the back of an industrial building. Nothing fancy but there is a big sturdy bed with a few toys. Out of the way and private. I have enjoyed some wild times in this room. But for the last few months it had been quiet. Not for any one reason just the way of it. Climbing the stairs felt strange. I always felt weird bringing a new person to this space. It was not like most places and I worried about what they would think. It made me feel awkward and jittery. 

But there was something else. I was at the end of several weeks of visiting relatives, attending events and dealing with people. It isn’t that I don’t like people and it wasn’t like I didn’t enjoy every individual event or spending time with the people I cared about but it took it’s toll. I am at heart an introvert. I need time at home quietly away from people to recharge my batteries and I hadn’t had that. I was wound up tightly like a spring about to give way. I could feel the tension in me and it added to the awkwardness.

Once inside the room we shed our clothes. There was still this transactional feeling. The heat of attraction was still struggling to ignite. We stretched out together and he cupped my breast. His fingers pinched gently, exploring my response getting to know me. His fingers slid inside my wet opening, teasing, bringing out a response. The whole time he was careful, respectful but I could feel something in him. There was strength. He pressed his face between my legs, tasting me. My back arched as his tongue traced around my folds, seeking out my pleasure. Liquid covered his mouth. He gripped my thighs, pulling me closer. I smiled in pleasure. The sight of a man between my legs greedily devouring was something I missed. 

He consumed me until I couldn’t stand it any more. The sheets beneath me were wet. I pushed him down and positioned myself so that I could take his cock into my mouth. There was a sigh of pleasure as my lips slid down his shaft. I tilted my head so that I could look him in the eye. He smiled as his hand cupped the back of my head. 

“I love that sight,” he told me. “Watching you take my cock into your mouth.” 

I slid my lips down further. His cock was smooth over my tongue. Clean, a slight salt of pre-cum, not to small that it didn’t fill my mouth and not so large that it choked me. Just right. He pulled back a little and leaned forward, not letting him escape. 

“I want to edge for a while.” His breathing was hard. I was a little surprised at how close he was to cumming. But I complied. I alternated with swirling my tongue around him and sucking him deeply. His arousal resonated through my body. I spasmed in my own pleasure feeling his enjoyment on a deep visceral level. It wasn’t long before we could wait no longer. He stepped away to find a condom. I rolled over onto my belly and watched him between my arms. He stood over me, with his cock jutting out in front of him. 

“Take a photo,” I asked. He kneeled on the bed and placed his cock in my mouth again. I looked up at him following his direction as he snapped pictures. I could feel how close he was to cumming. The phone was abandoned. The condom was rolled down over his cock and he knelt behind my arse. His hands gipped my hips as his cock slid into me.

This position is sometimes problematic but tonight it wasn’t. He fit nicely. I was like Goldilocks, not to small, not too big, just right. This man could fuck. Like a machine. He was attentive to my responses and responded accordingly. Earlier in the night he had indicated he liked the feeling of being dominant. As he gripped my hips I felt it coming out in him. He held me against him. Keeping me in the position he wanted. Showing me he could control my movement without making me feel trapped. I was a goner. He took himself to the point of orgasm and then withdrew from me. The bed beneath us was soaked but I didn’t care. I was in that place of happy fucking. 

He flipped me over and pulled me to the edge of the bed. I was completely at his mercy. His fuck toy. All pressure to make decisions disappeared. As he lifted my legs and slid his cock inside me I felt the pressure disappearing. He leaned down and held my hands above my head, firmly. Holding me in place, at his mercy. There would be times in my life when I would struggle against him asserting his authority but tonight it was what I needed. He fucked me to climax. After holding back as long as he could he came long and hard. 

I was very pleased that his earlier promises of not being a “One and done” was genuine. All of the goods offered in the transaction were delivered. The feeling of being able to relax and not have to deal with people, make decisions and be places. All I had to think about at that moment was being fucked. Relaxing and living in the moment. 

We parted with promises to meet again. The transactional feeling returned. For this man what had just happened was a regular hook up. True to his negotiation there was no emotional attachment. No drama, no pressure of high expectations. I was high on being fucked, on the feeling of being unwound. I trundled home to reflect. To listen to Powderfinger and relish the felling of release. 

Thirty Dirty Questions – Question 26

In my last post, masturbation, I spoke about my asexual upbringing. I lived on a farm. Everything was about reproduction but sex was not allowed. Rather, enjoying sex was not allowed. At least for the teenagers. The adults. I have no idea. At the time when I made choices about my education and earlier jobs I felt I was following the expected path. Get a university degree, get a good job. My mother is a control freak. For all of my life, including my life as an adult she did her best to be in charge of the decisions I made and to keep me in the mould she had determined made a ‘good daughter’. I could probably write a book about the ways she tried to manipulate me.

The education and the job led me to a place a six hour drive away. In hindsight it probably wasn’t far enough. Despite the distance she still tried to influence all of my choices and so the stupid Catholic, abstinence based ideas about sex continued to haunt me. My true sexual nature and my upbringing continued to wrestle with each other for a very long time. In some ways they still do. My current feelings about my ‘number’ are testimony to that.  

But I lucked out. I met Mr Jones. Sex was a feature of our relationship very early on and the way that he encouraged me to express my sexuality was exactly what I needed. I had found a person who encouraged me to dress and act sexy instead of shaming me for it. He encouraged me to be nude and be proud of my body. Cheeky nude photos in the outdoors were a feature of our relationship from the beginning. When children came along our sex life struggled. Actually our marriage struggled. There was a man I almost had an affair with and then a long dark time of guilt. 

But we made it through. And then we opened our marriage. The journey through the opening up has not been without its problems but together we have worked through it because we both knew that it was right for us. Our journey has always come back to a simple touch stone. What the other person needs and how we can make that work for us.

When I started writing this piece I was thinking that the thing I was most grateful for was my open marriage. But as I wrote I realised it went deeper than that. The thing I am most grateful for is Mr Jones. 

The Traveller

Last week’s Wicked Wednesday Prompt was “Hitchhiking” I started writing this post about a friend we had encountered but life got in the way a little.

In yachting circles it is called “taking on crew”. Sometimes the crew are looking for experience aboard a yacht because they want to own their own boat. Sometimes the crew have the finance and life situation to make this happen. For these people crewing is a step on the journey they have already begun. A way to get experience and some free training. Some people don’t have finances and the idea of owning a boat is more of a dream. For them being part of a crew is like touching the dream and somehow keeping it alive. For some people they want to travel from point A to point B but they have time and they are taking the opportunity to have an adventure along the way. 

From the outside life on a yacht can seem romantic and luxurious. The reality can be quite different. Broken toilets, close living quarters, seasickness, bad weather and nowhere to escape when someone is getting on your nerves. Most yachties are men. This can make it hard for solo women who want to join the adventure. Being aboard a small space with no escape and being effectively trapped with a man can be hazardous. Especially if he is interested in more than someone to help him operate his yacht and share the cooking duties. Yachting forums and social media groups are awash with cautionary tales about women getting caught in these situations. To make it worse some of the posts from single men looking for “female only crew” are a bit ambiguous but a bit of a closer inspection makes things seem doubtful that once they have trapped their prey they are going to respect her wishes. As always it seems men take every opportunity to be a dick and try to force their desires on any woman they choose. 

For myself and Mr Jones extra crew members can have a dual purpose if they wish. We advertised on a swingers site. We were pretty transparent and we only chose people who were up for the task. But once on board the choice was theirs. We have enjoyed some very sexy times with multiple people since we purchased our yacht. The one that springs to mind first is The Second Mate. Our time with him was intense and for me satisfying. He pushed my sexual boundaries and opened my eyes to the idea that I can be more picky and in fact should be. As a sailor he was OK. Willing but not a natural. He was one of the ones that planned to own his own boat but finances did not quite meet with desire. 

Recently we met The Traveller. Whilst we are no longer travelling long distances ourselves he wanted to get experience on a yacht because, like The Second Mate, he planned to purchase his own yacht and travel. He was keen to learn about sailing and combine the experience with another activity, passion. We met at a swinger’s weekend. On our first encounter he bent me over a chair and fucked me in front of my husband and any other people who cared to watch. It was a cracking start. A promise of things to come. When we packed up and went back to reality after the weekend we exchanged numbers with plans to meet in the future. 

A few weeks later the second meeting happened. We spent a couple of nights on the water. As with our first encounter things worked. Everyone walked away satisfied. Over the course of a couple of days and memorable evenings we explored each other, learned about fantasies and pleasure spots. Words that spring to mind are lusty, willing, capable and very, very sexy. We parted, unsure of when or if we would meet again. He has a nomadic existence and does not frequent my part of the country much. 

But the planets aligned. He came on board at a jetty on an island in Moreton Bay. It was a sunny morning and Mr Jones and I were enjoying a few days remembering boat life. From the first hello there was the connection. Caressing each other as we walked past, little comments and innuendoes, quick glances that relayed promises of what was to come. We moved away from the jetty and found somewhere a little more private. It was school holiday time so there were quite a few people around. After we anchored The Traveller and myself took the opportunity to sun ourselves on the front deck. Despite the other boats in the vicinity I took off my top and sunned myself allowing the sun to kiss my bare skin. Before long our hands were on each other’s bodies and I was encouraging him to free his growing cock. Fishermen anchored close by were treated to a show of me gorging myself on his cock. All of our flirting and suggestion had taken its toll. 

“I need to fuck you.” He told me urgently. “I can’t hold back my load any longer.”

The fishermen were about to be disappointed. We retired to the cabin to be joined by Mr Jones. In line with an earlier request Mr Jones wanted to watch me be fucked closely. His request was to lie underneath while I was being fucked from behind. I kneeled with my pussy close to his face and The Traveller rested his cock against my opening, teasing us both. I was unprepared for the feeling of him sliding into me. In the weeks since we had last been together I had forgotten but he reminded me but sliding in slowly as if he wanted to remember every part of it. His hands gripped my hips and he fucked me slowly, sliding his cock almost all the way out as Mr Jones licked me. The connection we had was re-established. He fucked until he could no longer hold back sliding out to blow his load over the outside of my pussy. I listened intently, taking in his breathing, the slight groan of pleasure as my husband licked his cum from me. 

I flipped myself around so that I could impale myself on my husband. His cock was rock hard. As I leaned down to kiss him I could taste The Traveller’s cum on his lips. I smiled knowing how much he had waited for this moment. This was almost his ultimate fantasy. I could tell as I rode him that he was close to adding his own load of cum to me. The thrill of being part of this much excitement was like a drug. I could never get enough of this. His climax came quickly. A little too fast for me but it didn’t matter. I knew that this was just the entree. I had two more days with both of them. There would be many more times. 

I wasn’t disappointed. 

Forbidden

Photo by Michael Dziedzic on Unsplash

There is something about fucking another man’s wife. She belongs to him. She wears his ring. When my mouth is on her cunt she moans as my tongue strokes her pussy. When I penetrate her with my cock she wraps her legs around me, squeezing me as she orgasms.  She is responding to me. I am the source of her pleasure. Even then there is always a layer of her that belongs to him.

As we are fucking he watches us. At first he sits outside the door watching. The sound of her pleasure fills the room. Every thing about her is wild and she has given in to the pleasure she feels. As he watches us his cock stiffens and he strokes his shaft as he watches his own personal porno. He is only focussed on her. And a part of her mind will be aware of him, his movements and his mood. Even while I fuck her and she squirts her juices over my cock. 

I had never experienced a woman like her. She orgasmed at my touch so many times. She vocalised her pleasure in so many different ways. She touched me in front of others, teasing my cock until it was rock hard. And then walked away to speak with someone else, as if there was nothing between us. I don’t know what the people at that party thought when the three of us went back to our own yacht, to our own private party. I just knew that where I was going was going to blow my mind in ways that most people would never understand. 

I took her away to my room and undressed her. Somewhere outside her husband was doing his thing. As we kissed and touched we both knew he was aware of us, she was aware of him. I was slowly drowning in my desire for her. I stroked her pussy, opening her legs and moving between her knees. I craved the taste of her. I wanted to extract that jet of juice that she struggled to contain. Knowing how much she was trying to hold back made the taste of her juice so much sweeter.

“I want to feel you,” I whispered in her ear. “I want to be naked inside you.”

“That isn’t part of the deal.” She responded in between gasps. 

“Please,” I was desperate. 

“It isn’t my decision,”

I lay on top of her, pressing my body against hers. Her legs opened to welcome me. She wrapped her legs around my hips so that her wet hungry cunt was against my cock. A wicked grin played around the corners of her mouth as she reached down and stroked herself with my cock.  Little spasms of pleasure told me how much she was enjoying using my cock in this way.

“You want to be inside me?” she asked as she played the head of my cock over her pussy.

“Yes,” I struggled to contain myself

“You want to slip inside me?” She pushed the head of my cock into the opening of her cunt. “Like this?” 

It took all the control I had not to ram my cock deep inside her. I ached to immerse myself in the silky warmth of her. She had complete control over me. But I wasn’t so far gone that I didn’t notice the slight change in her demeanour that told me her husband was in the room. I looked over my shoulder to see him sitting at the end of the bed. 

“I want to see your cum on her pussy,”

It was as if he had read my thoughts. Despite the forbidden nature of this encounter. What most people knew as “normal” I didn’t feel intimidated. 

“You want me to fuck her naked?” His consent was important. To her. To me. To all of us. 

He shrugged, “Don’t you?”

I didn’t need to be asked twice. My attention went back to her. The man watching intently faded into the background. My whole focus was on her. She smiled that wicked smile. Her hand was still holding me. Teasing the head of my cock against her opening. Her legs opened inviting me deeper and she released me. I slid myself into her. I resisted the urge to rush. I wanted to feel every millimetre of her. I was surprised at the way she responded. I didn’t think it was possible but she responded even more intensely. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened as she groaned in pleasure. 

I felt as if every hair on my body was tingling with pleasure as her hips bucked upwards towards me, urging me to fuck her. I didn’t need any more invitation. Our eyes locked together as I fucked her hot wet pussy. Her juice squirted over my belly and soaked the bed underneath us but neither of us cared. Nothing mattered except the feeling of skin on skin and the man watching. 

The familiar pleasure began to build at the base of my shaft. Deep strong heat building up as I pumped into her. I knew it wouldn’t be long. Somehow she knew.

“Put your cum on me,” she whispered in encouragement. 

I didn’t need to be asked twice. I pulled out of her just as thick white jizz spurted over her swollen pussy. My body tensed as a second wave of pleasure shuddered through me and a second jet covered her. I was spent and rested against her for a few seconds as the other man touched her, smearing my jizz over her cunt. 

I moved away and he took my place. Reclaiming his territory fucking her hard until he left his own seed deep inside her. 

Thirty Dirty Questions – Question 11

Would you ever visit a sex therapist? What would be the reason and what do you think their advice would be for you?

The short answer to this question is no. Even though I was diagnosed with depression by a General Practitioner and take medication for it I am quite reluctant to visit a therapist to discuss this condition. I can’t really define the reasons for this but I guess they are part of being in this mental state. I have started journaling both about my life as it is and my sexual life. They really are hand in hand so that is as it should be really. That is as close as I am going to get to a therapist for now. It is helping me to see things a little more clearly but as time goes by my dedication to journaling every day is slipping so the benefits are waning a little

So why would I visit a sex therapist? I think I would maybe visit one if I was in a poly relationship and there were issues. That isn’t really a sex therapist but that is the only sexual reason I would visit a therapist that I can identify. I have a friend who worked as a therapist for people in ‘alternative’ relationships. She is completely amazing and someone I hope I can spend more time with, in the future. I think she is the most likely person I would visit for therapy.

What would she tell me? Love yourself. Know your own value and don’t get into a relationship with someone who doesn’t respect you as you are.

Oh wait

I gave that advice out earlier this week to a young woman who go into a bad situation.

Maybe I am a therapist

TMI Tuesday – A Wet Afternoon

It is a wet and windy afternoon here in cruising yacht paradise and not the fun kind of wet. It has been four days since I set foot on land and about six since I had an in-person conversation with someone other than Mr Jones. Cabin fever may have some influence on my answers.

1. What’s the most stressful thing in your life right now

Apart from the aforementioned weather the announcement today that our delightful premier has announced a three day lockdown for the city that we are planning to visit in three days. Fingers crossed that it doesn’t get extended. Fingers also crossed that our friend who is meeting us there is able to travel from his city which is also part of the lockdown.

2. True or False. The best way to get over an ex is to get under someone new.

You know it has been so long since I have had an ex as such that I really don’t know. Getting under someone new is always fun though.

3. Is rebound sex empowering or does it leave you feeling lonelier?

Sex for the benefit of someone other than yourself is never going to end well. Whether it is to make the person you are having sex with happy or to make another person jealous it is never going to end well. The only way sex is empowering is if you are doing it for yourself on your terms.

4. Would you rather watch porn every night forever or never watch porn again?

One of my Thirty Dirty Questions discussed my thoughts on porn. You can read about it here. Personally having to watch porn every night forever sounds like torture. I am pretty sure I wouldn’t miss it if I never saw it again.

5. Would you rather go to bed alone forever or share a bed with someone forever?

Well I am married to Mr Jones. He has this thing about wanting to share a bed with me because he thinks it is part of being married. So I guess I am stuck with sharing a bed.

Bonus: You must pick one and explain. Would you rather your mom or your ex set up and run your dating apps?

Anyone except my mother. The further my mother is away from my sex life the better. Really the further she is away from most of my life the better.

TMI Tuesday – Just Wondering

1.What food did you eat so much of that you now hate it?

For many years I enjoyed Papaya or Paw Paw as we call it in Australia. I liked the yellow variety but was very happy when I could get the red ones. The rest of my family hated even the smell of them. Recently, every time I eat one, I feel unwell for the rest of the day. It is irritating because I really liked it and I felt it was a healthy eating choice but the thought of eating it now makes me feel queasy.

2.What two films would you like to combine into one?

I was in a bit of a shit stirring mood yesterday and it seems to have spilled into this morning. I think they should end the confusion and just combine Star Trek and Star Wars. I mean the only people who know the difference are the purists right? The rest of us get them confused all the time.

3.What songs do you feel compelled to sing along with when you hear them even if you do not know the words?

So many!! American Pie, Boys of Summer are my ones from yesterday. I can’t think of other titles right now.

4.What is the weirdest place you have ever slept?

I was on a sailing trip with Mr Jones a few years ago and he was snoring terribly! I have enough trouble sleeping and dealing with a snorer was too much! In the middle of the night, I decided to sleep in the other cabin, the one where we had dumped a whole lot of outdoor covers and cushions that had gotten wet by rain that had happened that day. I spent the rest of the night sleeping blissfully in a burrow I made in the cushions!

5.Who is the weirdest person you have ever slept with, and why do you say this?

A while back I met a man who was by anyone’s definition weird. We were platonic friends for several months until an insanely jealous girlfriend ended it. I don’t think I EVER saw him with shoes on and he was definitely left of centre. He never really talked about it but mental health issues were very much a part of his life making him the kind of person that made others around him a little nervous.

The original intent of our meeting was for sex and we did explore that avenue, but it didn’t really go the way I would have liked, and I couldn’t really see him as a sexual partner after that. So, we remained friends. I kind of miss him. He definitely made life interesting.

Bonus: What do you think you do better than 90% of people.

This one should not be a surprise to regular readers. Sucking cock. I don’t care what any male says about women all saying that. I am good. I know it. I can name several men, not including Mr Jones, who will attest.

TMI Tuesday – Life Questions

1 Who do you prefer to discuss politics with?

a) your partner, b) your best friend, c) co-workers, d) strangers, e) parents

Mr Jones has views about certain political issues which he likes to air to anyone who will listen. The kids and I have heard his ideas enough to know that arguing or trying to change the subject is impossible. On the whole though I am not particularly concerned about politics enough to talk about it with anyone at great length.

2. Which is more offensive to you: book burning or flag burning? Why?

I had a conversation about flags once that made me think about our disregard for them. During the conversation he explained how wearing the flag in clothing such as swimwear (which happens a lot in Australia) is not patriotic but disrespectful to the flag and the country because you are in effect sitting on your country’s national symbol! His words and his passion made me think twice about flags so I am going with flag. Unless you are talking about truly rare and deserving books.

3 Complete the sentence. Most of all I want to meet someone who deserves my ______:

a)trust, b)loyalty, c) admiration, d) love

I think I have people that fit each of those in different ways in all parts of my life. Mostly at the moment I am looking for someone who deserves the right to worship my pussy.

4. Which kind of fidelity (being faithful) is more important to you?

a) physical / sexual, b) mental / emotional, c) neither is important, d) both are equally important.

For Mr Jones and myself fidelity is linked closely with honesty. There must be complete disclosure about all things at all times. There is no judgement about WHAT is disclosed. Judgement comes when the disclosure is not made. I can’t really fit this with any of the options but b) is the closest because of the disclosure.

5. Would you avoid all contact with an ex if your current significant other asked you to?

a) yes of course!, b) No. This would be an unacceptable demand. c) Only if their justification seems reasonable.

I have been married to Mr Jones for 21 years. Any exes have faded into the past. Generally any lovers that I have also have faded as lovers once the sexy times end. There are one or two exceptions but these people are no longer lovers just friends so I am not sure where they sit. However he has the power to veto any person I see sexually and I would comply because my marriage is the most important partnership in my life. So if he asked I would say yes.

Bonus: If you were to die, the person going through your belongings would be shocked to find.

Probably the contents of my laptop. Maybe. It is unlikely that either of my children would be brave enough to poke through that. Mr Jones has read most of it and seen most of the images. Any of my other relatives (parents etc) would definitely find the things I write about confronting.

This post is part of TMI Tuesday for this week. If you enjoyed my revelations feel free to click on the image below and see who else is confessing.