I started writing an article about body hair in response to this week’s Revelations prompt. Then I jotted this line as my thoughts coalesced.
“Maybe something about mullets”
The thought must have been a good one because a story came out of it.
I am not going to lie. The first thing I noticed about him was the hair. “Party at the back, business at the front.” After several years working at a trade college I had seen many iterations of a mullet. Teenagers are all about proving they are individuals by doing things they know adults don’t like but then seeking desperately to fit in by copying the people they think are cool. And so, at a school where hairstyles are not regulated there were some shockers. When I first became aware of the skullet I wasn’t a fan. But it grew on me. Maybe it was the boys who sported the hairstyle or maybe it was just a better version of a bad hairstyle.
Whatever the reason I seemed to have a soft spot for this particular hairstyle and the one I spotted was glorious. The ‘business’ section looked freshly clipped while the ‘party’ section fell down over his shoulders in a thick cascade with just a slight wave. My palms itched to explore the possibilities of that hair. To tickle my senses with the soft prickles of the number one that stood up perfectly over the top of his head followed by the surge of power as I twisted those long locks around my fingers.
As I sat with my friends chatting over a Friday afternoon drink I found my eyes being drawn back to the hairstyle more than once. He was sitting with his back to me enjoying the same ritual as myself. A social moment in the pub after work on Friday afternoon. Perhaps a pre-cursor to a Friday night of debauchery. As I made my way to the bar for a second drink he came and stood beside me waiting to order himself another beer. I stole a look at him. This bar, favoured by tradies like him wasn’t somewhere that I would normally hang out but my work friend always liked to go there. And so here I was checking out a tradie who, on closer inspection, was probably not much older than my son.
“So, you are mates with Adam?” The sound of his voice interrupted my thoughts. I turned to look him square in the face and was dazzled by a pair of piercing blue eyes. A part of my brain registered that he was probably not much older than my son.
“Yeh, we work together,” I replied.
“Cool,” he nodded before turning to order a beer. “He is mates with my dad,”
Not for the first time I was amazed about the way this little community, a suburb of a larger city seemed somehow like a country town.
“Fair enough.” I wasn’t sure what to say. I wanted to keep talking. Lets be honest. I wanted to rub my hand over the fresh looking crew cut. For a few moments our eyes locked. He seemed to be reading my thoughts. I felt a throb in my groin and a slight trickle of wetness between my thighs. Suddenly I regretted the drink I had just purchased. I wanted drag him off somewhere. Images of that head between my thighs filled my mind. I leaned against the bar to steady myself as I imagined pushing his eager young face against my cunt.
Instead I made my way back to our table and sat sipping ginger beer and making conversation. My eye, wandered. It seemed so did that of my new friend.
A short while later I finished my drink and said goodbye. It was time to meander home and investigate dinner. The skullet and his friends no doubt had cool, young person partying to get on with.
“Leaving without saying goodbye?” His voice startled me.
I turned and leaned against my car tilting my head slightly to look up at him. Those eyes pierced into me and his hair seemed to frame his chiselled face perfectly. Filthy images welled up in my mind.
“You seemed busy,” I tried desperately to be cool hoping all the time my face wasn’t giving me away.
Behind us a ute horn sounded and a group of young men called out, “C’mon, beers are waiting!”
He handed me a business card, “I gotta go,” the horn sounded accompanied by raucous laughter.
“Bros before hos mate,” his friends were getting impatient.
Awkwardly he bent and whispered in my ear, “I really want to eat your gorgeous thicc arse,” The stubble of his mullet brushed against my face and then he was gone, loping towards his friends and the promised beers.
I started trying to write for this prompt sometime last week. Back when I was sitting on.a yacht in the Burrum River with nothing to do but walk on beaches and clean. Fast forward or so days and I knew what I wanted to write but there was so much every day STUFF happening. So here I am with two hours to deadline getting my thoughts on a page.
After our three day stint in the river we headed south. After two weeks on the yacht enjoying time with friends, taking #travellingboob shots and spending time with each other the time had come to make our way back to the “real world”. As happens the weather was the most perfect it could be. The water was blue, the sun was shining, and there was a gentle breeze as we stopped at one of our favourite spots. Pelican Banks is a permanent sand bar within spitting distance of K’Gari. On a good day it is one of the most picturesque spots I have visited. This day was a cracker.
After a swim in crystal clear waters and a walk on a pristine beach looking at shorebirds and greeting a very enthusiastic toy poodle we made our way back to civilisation. The water was glassy and so very very clear. Mr Jones took this shot.
I grew up far from the ocean. I always thought I was a creature of the land. In the early part of my marriage I resisted sailing as a sport and we spent a lot of time exploring the land. It took me a long time to love the ocean. But swimming in crystal clear water, looking at the creatures that live in it gives me a sense of awe and joy that I have never felt anywhere else. There is nothing better than, sunshine, naked skin and ocean.
“Morning Ladies,” Fred, the delivery man, strode into the foyer of the accounting firm where Julie and Lisa worked together on the front desk.
“Good morning Fred,” Julie smiled invitingly as she stood up to sign the delivery docket.
“Only one this morning?” her eyebrow raised.
“Yep one little monogamous parcel for Mr T Watt.” Fred winked.
Julie smirked as beside her Lisa made a strangled sound before answering her phone.
“I think monogamy is overrated,” Julie continued, ignoring her colleague’s plight on the telephone beside her. “Why limit yourself to one flavour for the rest of your life?”
Fred nodded. His face revealed nothing but there was a twinkle in his eyes as he replied,
“And what flavour do you prefer most of the time?” Fred winked at Lisa still trapped in her phone call. Lisa pressed her lips together and held her nose to stop herself from laughing.
“In milkshakes?” Julie was completely focussed on Fred. “Cherry Ripe,” she continued without waiting for a response, ”because it is two completely different flavours mixed together to create one amazing experience.”
Beside her Lisa bid her customer farewell in a completely professional manner.
“Personally I prefer carrot juice,” Fred replied. “The carrot is such a versatile vegetable, many different uses.” He nodded at Lisa, “Have a good day luv,” and then he left.
As the door swung shut behind him Julie collapsed in a fit of giggles.
“You are impossible,” Lisa shoved her friend gently.
“You are just as bad,” Julie replied. “Do you think I haven’t noticed those little tops you have been wearing to impress him. And sitting there with your arms pressing your tits together while you were on the phone this morning. I don’t know why you don’t just ask him to go into the stationery room and fuck you.”
“Shaddup!” Lisa’s face flushed red.
Their banter was interrupted by a series of ringing phones. Thoughts of milkshakes and carrots went out of the window as the two girls answered phones, directed visitors, photocopied, typed and filed. The morning passed in a flurry of activity until a lull a half an hour before lunch. Lisa gathered a sheaf of papers that had been dumped in her in-tray and stood up from her chair,
“I am just going to do this photocopying while it is a bit quiet,”
Julie was immersed in her computer screen, “OK see you in a bit.”
Ten minutes later Lisa stood beside the photocopier, lost in her fantasies. She had the hots for Fred right from the first day he had walked through that door with four parcels and those shorts. Those shorts looked just as good coming as they did going. Every time he walked through the door she couldn’t help looking at the bulge there and wondering what she could do with that. Every time he left she thought about gripping that ass as he fucked her hard. Julie came past on her way to the lunch room,
“I am just going for lunch now,” Julie stopped and stood very close to Lisa. She looked down at her colleague’s cleavage before stroking the neckline of her top with one finger. “Yep two flavours at once is definitely the way to go.” She murmured before she walked off.
Lisa leaned against the photocopier to steady herself. Thoughts of Julie and Fred naked in bed with her whirled through her mind. Her nipples pressed against her bra and her skin tingled where Julie had stroked her. There was an ache in her groin and a dampness in her panties.
Back at her desk Lisa found a carrot with a post it note from Julie.
“Enjoy,” was written with a smiley face next to it. Lisa gave a chuckle and sat down with the innocent(?) vegetable resting on her thigh. With Julie at lunch she was alone and tried her best to focus on her screen but the feeling in her panties distracted her. With one hand she stroked the soft skin of her inner thigh, allowing her fingers to brush against her damp panties. Then the phone rang with a long sigh dispelling her sexual tension Lisa pushed aside her fantasies and answered the phone in her best professional voice. The carrot became a pre-lunch snack.
The following morning Julie greeted Lisa with a smug look. Almost immediately after the computers were booted up Lisa’s IM pinged.
“There is a load of stationery due this morning.” The words blinked across Lisa’s screen. She frowned of course she knew that but why was Julie reminding her?
“So?” She typed back.
“Wanna see what Fred keeps down his shorts?” Lisa stole a sideways glance at Julie who was looking straight at her daring her.
“Maybe,” she responded.
“When the paper gets here just do the helpless female thing and get him to help you put it in the store room. I am sure you will be able to work out what to do from there.”
Lisa’s heart thumped in her chest. This was way beyond a few flirty jokes. This was daring on a completely different level. Was she up to the challenge? Minutes before Fred was due to arrive Julie grabbed her handbag and stood up.
“I am just going to get us some coffees,” The tone of her voice was completely innocent but Lisa could tell from the look in her eyes that coffee was the last thing on her mind.
The buzzer announced Fred’s arrival.
“Big load of paper this morning,” he commented, presenting his delivery docket to Lisa. “Where’s Julie?”
“Oh she went to get coffee.” Lisa rolled her eyes, “Probably so she didn’t have to help me lug all this inside.” She paused for a moment, working up the courage to ask the next question, “Listen can I get you to help me with the paper?” Lisa smiled weakly at him, she could feel a slight flush in her cheeks and a definite throb in her panties.
Fred didn’t miss a beat, ”Sure.”
Lisa looked down for a moment. His shorts seemed more enticing this morning. “The stationery room is this way.” She opened the doorway beside their desk.
Fred wheeled his trolley through, “Now I feel privileged.” He quipped, “I am seeing how the other half live.”
Lisa led the way to the store room and opened the door. Fred wheeled his trolley through and Lisa followed him in, shutting the door behind her.
“I would really appreciate it if you could stack in on the shelf,” Lisa hoped she didn’t look like a lovesick puppy.
Fred looked at her for a moment before he turned towards the trolley, “Sure thing,”
He began stacking paper on the shelf. For a few moments Lisa allowed herself the luxury of watching his butt stretch out his shorts as he bent and lifted. Then, without a word she stepped forward and slipped her hands around his waist.
Fred paused for a moment in his work straightening up before he reached down and released his belt and zipper. He guided her hands downwards pressing them against his hard cock.
“Is that what you wanted?” his voice was hoarse.
“Yes,” Lisa whispered. With one hand she gripped his cock and with the other she guided his hands up her thighs to her crotch.
“You are a dirty girl then aren’t you?” Fred’s fingers caressed her silky wetness. Lisa gave a soft moan of pleasure. Fred turned so that they were facing each other. With his spare hand he slipped inside her bra and pinched her nipple gently. “You know I can’t stay long, I have to get back to my other customers,”
“Just as long as you make this customer happy first.” Lisa turned and bent over the table in the middle of the room. so that she was bent over the table in the middle of the room. Her skirt rode up over her round butt, displaying her inviting, wet opening.
For a moment she thought he had left but then she felt his hands on her hips and his cock buried deep inside her.
“You really are a naughty minx,” he grunted in pleasure as he thrust himself deep inside her.
Lisa gipped the table bracing herself against his hard thrusts. Pleasure flooded through her heightened by the fear that someone would open the door opposite them and catch them.
“Are you ready to take my load?” Fred’s words took her attention.
Lisa arched her back in response, “Fill me up,”
Fred didn’t need a second invitation. She could feel his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside her. Elation buzzed through Lisa as she listened to his quiet intense grunts. For a few seconds he rested against her kissing the back of her neck.
“I really need to get going,” his voice broke the silence. He stepped back from her letting his cock slide out of her. Lisa hurriedly pulled up her panties.
“Next time I am going to eat the lovely cunt of yours,” And with those words he grabbed his trolley and walked out the door.
Back at the front desk Lisa found a coffee beside her keyboard.
“Did you get everything sorted back there?” The question was so innocent but held so much more meaning.
“Sort of,” Lisa took a sip of coffee, “I think I might need a hand to finish it off later.” She opened her desk drawer and took out a box of Favourites. “Cherry Ripe?” She asked her friend.
Their eyes met. The counter dare was given and taken as Julie took a shiny red package from the box, “Don’t mind if I do,”
A year ago I had a problem with my back. Actually, I have had the problem for quite a long time. It just got really bad a year ago. A physiotherapist diagnosed it as a problem with my core strength. Ironic really considering that at the time of the diagnosis I was becoming quite familiar with my core and I felt it was stronger than it had ever been. But it seems I still didn’t habitually use it in every day life. The pain was a result of back and hip muscles compensating for lazy core muscles.
So a few appointments involving some torture of the very tense muscles in the affected area and some exercises. Combine that with a better understanding of my body and all was well in the world of my back. I knew what the warning signs were and how to correct impending pain. But of course I got slack and over confident with my abilities. A year later and I am having ‘episodes’ of the same pain. If I have sex in the ‘on top’ position for too long. Especially if I am the one doing the movement. Hard core twerking in its most primal form is hard work and when you are in the throes of passion you forget to engage your core. Similarly the position of my sewing machine makes me twist in a certain way and I forget to ‘engage my core’
When I am poling I don’t forget to engage. I am getting much better at that at least. However I came home last night in extreme pain and stiffness. A long session of sewing, some on top sex and life in general and I could feel the pull of the muscles. It was far from fun or functional. I had the conversations about finding a Remedial Massage Therapist and looking after myself along with beating myself up for not being 25 anymore. I know what I need to do but I just STRUGGLE to self-care.
The Unicorn has recently purchased a foam roller. Which I have used from time to time when finding a massage therapist that doesn’t have a month long waiting list seems impossible. Last night it was an instrument of extreme torture for me. Some Physic Cream, a hot shower, not in that order and off to bed. I woke up this morning feeling like a new woman. I can feel the residual tension so I know this is a temporary fix. I still need to find a massage therapist and habitually use those muscles but at least I am not in pain while I am doing it. I also need to engage the roller again in the next couple of days. Oh and build some stretching into my day. Wish me luck. Encouragement is welcome.
Mr Jones has a thing for tails. Not entirely a fetish but he does have a thing for it. I own a tail. I wouldn’t say I don’t enjoy wearing it. There was a particularly hot session this one time with Johnny that involved a tail and being tied in this interesting position. Fun times were had. But anal is definitely a sometimes food for me.
Teasing is more my thing. I mean what woman doesn’t like to be admired and lusted after. So a scenario I think about often is going out wearing a butt plug. No knickers and a short skirt. So that watchers get a glimpse of a jewel when I bend over. Just a peek that makes them wonder at first. So that they have to look again, hoping for a glimpse to confirm their suspicions. Then when the get that second look they realise that they want more than just a look.
I wonder what it would feel like to walk around with that kind of stimulation? To have that feeling but have to pretend that everything is normal. Would sitting be extra stimulating? Would standing and teasing be an escape from the physical stimulation but a double edged sword because the mental stimulation would be amped up? How aroused would I be? All interesting questions.
Perhaps the biggest question is do I dare? It is one thing to have the fantasy and think about it in the comfort of your home. But another to actually do it. Am I game? To walk into a public (ish) place with something like that in place. And if I do how do I show what I am wearing without it being contrived? Perhaps it will happen one day. Perhaps I will even be brave enough to go out wearing a tail. Time will tell. But first I need to shop.
Valentines day is a strange beast. One of those ‘celebrations’. St Valentine, who the holiday is a celebration of is one of those catholic saints that has a dubious and conflicting history, much like St Patrick. Not really officially a saint but any kind of popular figure to further the ‘mission’ of the Catholic Church. Of course in our modern commercial world any kind of opportunity to milk money from people is to be expected.
So what does Valentines day look like for the Joneses? Early rise and prepare for work. Teach mostly apathetic young people all day, appointment with Physiotherapist in the afternoon and then a long conversation with a family member about a complex legal / inheritance issue we are dealing with. Some chocolate on the couch and then early bed. Mr Jones spent the day mucking around with his garden, shopping for groceries and spending time with his elderly parents.
Hollywood, or rather Netflix, would have us believe that finding “The One” is a milestone in our lives that leads to eternal happiness. That marriage should be based on love. Because without love marriage is empty and meaningless and doomed to fail. Hallmark and the promoters of modern Valentines Day would have us believe that love and romance looks like red roses and overpriced oddly flavoured chocolate.
But many of us know that happy marriages are not based on buying the largest bunch of roses. The practical cynic in me cringes at the thought of how much roses cost in Australia in 2023. For reference a dozen red roses from Interflora cost around two hundred dollars. The biologist in me cannot reconcile the industry that produces out of season, non-native flowers for this festival of commercialism. (I am trying to stop myself from ranting here. Clearly it is not working.) After being married, somewhat successfully, for around 25 years I can say that I have not missed red roses on Valentines Day. I would not say that having them would have made me happier or more invested in my marriage.
What does define and re-enforce my marriage? Weird stuff. Mr Jones has recently discovered Shein. And while it is a fast fashion outlet that also grinds my environmentalist gears a little I have been the recipient of some cute little dresses that are quite sexy. I wear them frequently so the fast fashion is negated slightly. I like that he tries to find things we both like me to wear and that in doing so he is re-affirming his belief in my attractiveness. On his part he has said he likes that I am handy to have in an emergency. He struggles to be decisive and when an elderly relative is passed out in the bathroom it is handy to have a bossy, take charge kind of wife to call the ambulance and give instructions.
It is the every day that makes things work in a relationship. The daily looks that say “It’s OK I’ve got your back here.” and the safe space to say “Really! Can you not leave your stinky shoes next to the couch.” There is no perfect marriage. Just a relationship that works and builds a place of security and a well of stuff, emotional and otherwise, that you can draw on. Red roses do not fill the well. Cadubury’s chocolate on the couch while you are watching Netflix? I think does. You can buy a lot of blocks of chocolate for two hundred dollars.
Fun fact that I learned while reading about St Valentine. He is also the patron saint of beekeepers. Not sure what the connection is there. Maybe next year you should buy some locally sourced, organic honey for your lover.
How many people have I fucked? I started writing this post in the usual boring way. The story of my struggle with my body count. But that story has been told. If you want to hear it then you are most welcome to ask but honestly I have discussed it on these pages more than once. The real story is that I have avoided actually seriously calculating the body count by talking about the theories around limits and society’s feelings about sex.
So how many people have I fucked? It is an interesting question. When I start to consider it I can list some significant people like, Johnny, Pet, Mr Fixit, JB, The Traveller, The Second Mate and The Italian. As I write this list names keep popping into my mind. And those are the ones I remember. There are always those that are not as memorable or even those that are so far in the past that time has blurred my memory.
I will answer the question by considering the people I have fucked this year. It has been a busy couple of weeks, Mr Jones and I are on the back of the second lifestyle weekend in a few weeks. We won’t be attending another for a while so this is a slightly exaggerated figure. At New Year’s we camped for about three days at a lifestyle camp. Every night we were ‘busy”. Sometimes multiple times. The body count for that weekend was… five. Not counting little interludes of kisses, hugs, nipple caresses and small cock sucks.
We are on the back end of a lifestyle party weekend. This event is a little more civilised and more of a party than just camping group congregating by the fire at night. There is a pool and considerably more drinking. We know a lot of the people at this event so there is a lot of catching up with some people that we haven’t seen for a while. The body count for this weekend was slightly less at around four but one was a double up from New Year’s. There was also some cock sucking and nipple caressing in the pool.
So, as of the 22 Jan the body count is at 9. There will be some repeat business in the next couple of weeks with a possibility of a new addition. We will see. I keep feeling like there could be another body lurking here but it has disappeared in the fog of tiredness. Over the course of this weekend with this prompt and the thoughts it generated has triggered me to be more slutty than usual. For one of the first times in my life I have owned my slut behaviour and flaunted it. I wanted people to see me being a slut. I wanted people to see me being slutty and they wanted to see me.
And so here I am. Not quite out and proud but definitely getting there.
Corrupting Mrs Jones 