Young Boys

Photo by Volha Milovich on Unsplash

I was assured the other day by The Unicorn that GILF (granny I like to fuck) is a thing. Apparently in her OF world niches like GILF, Mature woman, MILF etc are trending strongly. As I have aged there has been more than one occasion that I have been approached by very young men who claim to be into mature, curvy women. For the most part I find this kind of male unreliable, flaky and hard to deal with. I have a general rule of not really interacting with men under about 35 and a fairly hard boundary of no one under 25. Then I received this message; 

Where do I sign up. God Damn

M28 with a face pic in his profile. It is hard to go past someone who is massaging your ego like that. We had a conversation. Then he messaged

I’ll be out near you tomorrow 

 I tossed this back and forwards for a while. He looked OK but not my usual type. The red hair intrigued me, unusual. He seemed to be intelligent. And so I agreed to meet for a drink. I was rewarded. The first sight of him calmed my hesitation. The conversation flowed and he was genuinely gentle and kind. And then we were fucking like a pair of rabbits.

He doesn’t meet the regular criteria. If I was asked to describe my type I would say 40 – 50, taller, well built, confident and strong. Silver foxes who have spent large parts of their life doing manual labour make me weak at the knees. The Ranga is the opposite. One day he will be a silver fox who has spent most of his life doing manual labour but at the moment he is at the opposite end of that career. He does tick the confident and strong boxes. Plus he can fuck. For hours. 

He has this way of pushing me around the bed into the position he wants, inserting his finger or his cock to the exact right spot and telling me to cum for him like a good girl. Just the memory of it makes me press my clit against something hard. Like a little girl rubbing herself on the edges of furniture. Did I mention he can fuck? For hours?

People often get excited by the idea of me being a teacher. Men often recollect a teacher they had the hots for as a teenager and assure me that my students feel the same way about me. I honestly don’t believe them. I actively keep thoughts about my students in the Mrs Jones The Teacher part of my mind. I am not going to lie it isn’t always easy. While my typical ‘type’ is the Silver Fox there is something about some young men. Their vulnerability. The way they try to act like they are experienced and know all about ‘it’, whatever ‘it’ is. So, sometimes, one occasionally worms his way into my thoughts for a moment before I banish him back to the professional part of my mind. 

What is a little freaky about The Ranga is that he bears a strong resemblance to one of these young men. He isn’t a doppelgänger in the true sense. But his eyes are the same and his face is the same shape and he has this mannerism that is the same. Like they are cousins or something. It is a little unsettling. But not enough to negate the fucking, for hours. In fact the confidence and skill with which he performs that act is enough of a point of difference for it not to matter. Last time we were together I did spend a couple of moments reflecting on the surrealness of that particular nuance while I sat astride him with his cock deep inside me. He asked me what I was thinking but I didn’t tell him. Instead I distracted him with a pair of jiggling breasts and a very hungry pussy. 


TMI Tuesday Revisited

Welcome to another edition of re-visited TMI. I don’t know why this type of thing appeals to me but it does. If you have a TMI question you want answered leave a comment or say hi on Twitter.

1. Have you performed a strip tease for a lover?

This was the reason I started pole fit all those years ago. I remember being super disappointed after my first lesson because there was a bunch of gymnastics style exercises but no dancing. Fifteen years on I am still a fan of the sexy dancing but also a little more determined to get my body to do the gymnastics part. It is a slow process but as long as there is progress and fun and fitness I am not wasting my time.

2. Have you ever let someone else bathe you although you were perfectly capable of doing it yourself?

I struggle to let people do anything for me. Especially when I am capable of doing it myself but I feel like a boyfriend washed my back in the shower some time in my distant past. As I think about this on one level I feel like it would be nice to be cared for but I am certain if it actually happened I would feel very awkward.

3. If you were asked, “does the carpet match the drapes”… Would your answer be “yes” or “no”?

My hair is currently mostly blonde which is not my natural colour. I am not high maintenance enough to blonde my “drapes”.

4. Who has done something within the last 24 hours to show they care for you? What did they do?

Yesterday my class was loud and using a lot of swear words. Which is not something I am particularly bothered by but it is often a pre-cursor to things getting out of hand. My colleague, listening in just down the corridor and knowing how my life is rolling made an appearance, unobtrusively, at the doorway to let the boys know that I have backup at the flick of a switch. It was subtle, it worked and I am very grateful.

5. What do you prefer to do after sex?
a. Go for another round!
b. Cuddle and talk
c. Eat
d. Fall asleep
e. Shower
f. Get out!

B followed by A. Mostly. Sometimes B followed by D. Kind of depends on the situation and the style of orgasm.

Bonus: Anal sex…giving or receiving, which do you prefer?

I have enjoyed both in the right circumstances. These days I am a little cautious about receiving full penetration it seems to disagree with me later but other forms of stimulation including butt plugs and teasing with a penis are very pleasurable.

I have also successfully given prostate massages to some people, I am not sure about the exact technique it is very hit and miss and that was also a lot of fun. Something to add to the “to do again sometime” list.

Bonus Bonus Random photo from the vault.

I thought this one was in theme.

Trust the Process

Photo by Suzanne D. Williams on Unsplash

Earlier this year my life was running at an astounding pace. I found myself in the midst of a number of lifestyle events and smaller gatherings with lifestyle friends. All of this “peopling” eventually took its toll. My mental health began to decline and I found myself in the midst of other people having fun and feeling like I was faking it. Even worse I succumbed to that hallmark of untreated depression and began uncontrollably shouting awful, hurtful things at people I love.

It took some very firm words with myself and a lot of unpleasant reminders of a conversation with a friend who refused to get professional help even though she was doing the same things I had just been doing. Albeit on a much grander scale. I knew what I had to do but still I resisted. In the end I took the step of seeking professional help. As I write this post I am in possession of a mental health plan from my GP and have a pending appointment with a psychologist. Despite being on medication for depression for almost ten years I have never actually had a regular therapist. Lesson there; Most GPs cannot manage a mental health condition well. Second lesson; the only person who has a hope of getting your treatment sorted is yourself.

All of this has resulted in a bit of a “drought”. I wrote a short post about it here. It is strange how you can be living your life attending veritable sex-fests and still feel as if your marriage is dry. As a result of January I resisted making plans with people so that I could generate some breathing space but the drought was playing on my mind. I was a little reluctant to suggest a visit to the club. Partly because I worried that it was contradicting my need to be free of people. and partly because I didn’t want Mr Jones to feel left out but the itch for random, unencumbered sex was hard to ignore.

Fast forward to sitting on a couch in the club sipping drinks and chatting to a younger couple. It was just conversation to start with. There was something about him but he wasn’t my normal type. He was intriguing just the same. Things progressed. Turns out despite the extroverted behaviour he is shy and also the epitome of a sex servant. His wife happily watches him act out this persona. His desire to give pleasure is insatiable. He wants to touch and explore and draw the pleasure out of a woman. I can see how this is something one woman cannot provide constantly over a long period of time.

For me it was challenging to be waited on in this way. He jumped to attention to make everything comfortable for me. His attention was focussed entirely on my comfort and pleasure. It was a rare treat. Exactly what I needed at that moment. I needed to be reminded to LET people pleasure me. I needed to be reminded that I DIDN’T have to be the one who was waiting on everyone hand and foot. I was not responsible for making sure everyone had a good time even if it was at my own expense. I still felt guilt at just letting someone pleasure me. I still need to slay that demon that constantly tells me that my needs and wants are less important than everyone else’s. But this evening gave me a boost in that fight. It reminded me that I am still a Goddess to be worshipped. My energy is still unpredictable but I am feeling positive. I just need to have patience and trust in the process.


Story in 12 – Duke

Is the goose who wakes me at night. Is it a prompt?

I mean it is night, we are in bed. But the years of being woken and losing sleep still make it hard for me to wake someone else lest they suffer my fate. Even if they will be rewarded for being awake. Somehow I can’t get in the headspace.

Even if I tried I don’t feel the energy I need to build my own arousal. I don’t want to do the ‘work’ of arousing two people. I want someone to arouse me and be excited by me. That person isn’t in bed with me right now. Somewhere during the years of small children, tiredness, and poor mental health he slipped away. Now he has become the person he berated me for being while I was fighting those demons.

My sexy has disappeared. I want it back.

Body Count

Photo by Anne Nygård on Unsplash

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. 

Bringing In the New Year With a Bang – Part 2

My first post for Revelations was a diary of a New Year’s camping expedition Mr Jones and I embarked on. As promised there are further installments and this is one.

Saturday Afternoon

It had arrived. The last day of 2022. Getting back to nature meant no escaping the mid-summer sunrise that happened at 4 am. Someone forgot to close the tent flap it seems. Once that was rectified we were able to sleep until a more respectable hour of 7am. The day was lazy with not a lot happening. Some socialising. A little walk to the creek. Afternoon drinks under the shady trees in the creek bed with our feet dabbling in the water. 

The arrival of Neon Wax Man caused some excitement. I had witnessed his work several times and Mr Jones even was a subject last time we had seen him but I could never bring myself to be brave. Wax and I have a very mottled relationship. Maybe one day. This didn’t stop the enthusiasm of some of the other people at the event. 

The afternoon meandered to a close. People enjoyed the outdoor showers and bathtub, cooked dinner and readied themselves to party in the new year. I had never been to a New Year’s celebration like this one I was unsure of what to expect As the sun began to slide toward the horizon we wandered over to the main fire. The place where all the action will happen. We were a little earlier than most but there were a couple of people. I found myself in conversation with a man I had chatted (read flirted with) with a few times. Other women had told me that he was good at massage. When he offered a massage I decided to take him up on his offer. 

His reputation was not unfounded. His hands on my back were strong but gentle. He probed my muscles finding spots that had long needed attention. I enjoyed the feeling and felt tension leaving my body. I wished that I had the discipline to find and make regular appointments with a pair of hands like this. 

“You are not asleep yet?” His voice was gentle in my ear.

I roused myself with a smile. Despite the flirting between us the massage so far had been the opposite of sexual. 

“Would you like to turn over,” There was a small smile on his face. 

With a nod I obliged. He continued with the non-sexual approach. Starting at my feet he began to work oil into the soles of my feet and heels. It is amazing how your body can respond to stimulation in this area. He continued to work his way up my claves and legs, Around me the sky began to turn orange and the cicadas began to sing. Slowly fingers began to work their way up my thighs. I kept my eyes closed absorbing the attention. Not for the first time I wished for more regular attention to my muscles. 

Then I felt his fingers running across the top of my thighs. Grazing my outer labia, teasing just a little. Without a comment or any fanfare we tripped over the line from very good vanilla to a very new experience. His skilled fingers stroked and stimulated my yoni in a way I had not experienced before. The tension that had been building between us since we had met way back in October reached a crescendo. 

As has become my habit I worked to control myself. I was conscious of not squirting all over the towels covering the massage table we were using. I worry about making laundry for other people. 

“I can feel you holding back,” His voice was deep in my ear. 

“I know,” I replied. “It is OK.”

“You don’t have to do that though,” 

I sat up and wrapped my legs around his hips pulling him closer to me. I could feel his hard cock resting against my open, wet pussy. I allowed myself to tease him a little. While he had massaged I had wrapped my fingers around his cock, exploring him. I was interested to note a piercing near his frenulum. Not a Prince Albert, something different. I haven’t ever fucked a man with a piercing before. 

His cock slipped into my wet, hungry opening. I allowed myself to be lost in the moment. It was a weird kind of feeling. I was conscious that the night hadn’t even begun. It wasn’t even properly dark. Celebrations for the evening were still to commence. But I didn’t want to cut our fun short. 

We held each other close and his cock moved inside my body. I was torn. I wanted the full experience of this cock. But something was making me hold back. The time was not right for this. I let things ebb away a little and we held each other closely as more people gathered around the fire. There would be time in the future for more exploration. Right now the excitement of New Year’s Eve was upon us. 

If you missed the first instalment you can read about it here.

Bringing in the New Year with a Bang!

Friday Morning

There are these distinct emotional phases of planning a trip. The first one is excitement and anticipation when it booked. Things are a long way off, the calendar is clear, the fantasy is bigger than the reality. Then there is the beginning of the work. The reality starts to get bigger than the fantasy but still it is manageable. Then about a day or so out life seems to crowd in and things get hard. Sometimes so much life happens that I wonder if I had made the right choice and if perhaps I should just cancel the whole thing. 

Despite life, despite doctors appointments, despite offspring being collected from cruises we got everything packed and on the road. The weekend stretched in front of us. Full of promise. We got ready to say goodbye to 2023.

Friday Evening

Camping is a lifestyle. It seems a simple thing and in many ways it is but setting up a campsite is hard work. It felt good to be wearing less clothes and enjoying a wine in the company of others who enjoyed all of the lifestyles that are about feeling comfortable, nudism, less fuss, camping and more fun, swinging. Already there was sexual innuendoes and attention. Already I could see that things were going to happen. 

After mingling by the fire, greeting some old friends and making some new ones I found myself on a massage table. It has been a little while since I have felt so desirable. Like I am enough, just the way I am. A chick in a pair of knickers who likes to flash her tits and wave her hair around. Budgy Smuggler Man was attentive and very enthusiastic. The massage was sensual and intense. He was very keen to get down to business. After a little while Mr Jones appeared and then I had two men focussing on me. I was able to suck cock, and be fondled to my heart’s content. 

We found ourselves a corner of the play area. Around us other people where in situations, massaging in small groups, succumbing to their desires. We forgot the rest of the people and focussed on each other. I was licked by both men. I sucked their cocks. They fucked my pussy. But the image that stands out in my mind is being positioned beside Mr Jones with Budgy Smuggler man’s cock between our mouths. For a moment there Mr Jones placed his lips on one side and I on the other. No one flinched. I waited for a few moments to see what would happen before I pushed his cock into Mr Jones’ mouth. Then it was happening. Not just two men enjoying a sexy chick but two men enjoying a sexy chick with a side of cock sucking. 

I wondered briefly what the onlookers would think. But no one said anything. For everyone it was business as usual. It was New Year’s Eve eve. There was another two and a half days before reality hit.

Hanging Around

I regularly tell people I have a million people living in my house. While that is an exaggeration it drive home the point. Sexual antics in my house are not really a thing. In response Mr Jones built a play room in a back room of an industrial building we own. It has been a neat solution to the situation and from time to time has been given a good workout. As a birthday present Mr Jones got me a new addition. And it was installed this weekend.

The verdict: A good height and very comfortable.

Sinful Sunday

From the Vault – Softly Softly

It has been a while since I posted something from the archives of Erotic Adventures. When I opened the page this one was at the top of the list.

Photo by Travis Grossen on Unsplash

My name is Layla my boyfriend’s name is Seb. We have been going out for about six months now and it has been great. Seb isn’t like the other boys he is quiet and kinda nerdy. He does nice things for me. Like the other day I was walking the the bus and the strap on my bag broke. My books went everywhere. People were pushing me as I tried to pick up my stuff then frigging Lucy Smythe called me a loser and stood there with her friends laughing at me. Seb came along and helped me. He picked up my books and carried my broken bag to the bus without saying anything. No one at school knows he is my boyfriend. We decided to keep it a secret because we didn’t want people giving us shit at lunchtime or writing stupid stuff about us on the toilet walls.

On the weekends I usually go to Seb’s house. We have the place to ourselves because his mum works at Big W and doesn’t get home until six. His Dad doesn’t live with them which suits Seb just fine. He says his dad is a loser. So I go to his place around lunchtime and we usually hang out in his room listening to the radio and talking. My Mum thinks we are studying and sometimes we do. Seb is amazing at science; he says he wants to do cancer research when he finishes school. I just want to pass and get a job.

So we hang out in his room and listen to songs on the radio. Sometimes we lie on his bed and he puts his arm around me. The first time we kissed I had to kiss him. He is really shy but it was nice, soft and gentle, not trying to eat my face like some of the other boys I dated. When he touches me it is like he is afraid he is going to hurt me. He slips his hand inside my shirt and strokes my boob through my bra. Honestly some days he goes so slow and soft I feel like I am gonna turn inside out. One day I unzipped my jeans and pulled them down so he could put his hand inside my knickers. He was so shocked but I could see in his eyes that he really wanted to. When he touched me there it was the weirdest feeling. I had never let a guy do that before. Stupid Josh Patterson had tried to grope me through my jeans once when he was drunk at a party but I kicked him in the nuts. We broke up after that. 

Seb’s dick is amazing. The first time I held it I was so shocked at how something could be so warm and soft and still hard at the same time. I love stroking it and playing with the stuff that comes out of the end when he is hard. One day I pulled back his foreskin and kissed the tip. I thought it would taste yuck but it didn’t taste like much at all just a bit salty, he smelled like soap. Afterwards he told me he always showered just before I came so he would smell nice for me. After I kissed the tip like that I kind of sucked him into my mouth. He groaned so loud I thought his brother was going to come in to see what was wrong. After that we turned the radio up a bit louder, just in case. He wouldn’t let me suck him for too long. He was worried he was going to cum and he didn’t know if I would like that in my mouth. I was glad about that. I don’t think I would like it in my mouth either. 

Last week we were lying on his bed and he was kissing me. His hand went down into my jeans. I helped him a bit and unzipped them for him. He was feeling brave and pushed them right down and my knickers as well. He watched my face as he started to feel around down there. He has learned a little bit about what to do there and he knows where to put his fingers to make me feel good. This day he played with my clit a little bit then he put his fingers inside me. I tried not to make a noise but I couldn’t help myself. I reached down and put my hand inside his jeans. His dick was hard as a rock. I put my fingers around and moved my hand up and down the way he liked. 

“Would you like it if I put that inside you instead of my finger?” he asked me quietly. 

I thought for a moment. “I dunno,” I kept moving my hand and he began to move his fingers in and out of me.

“OK,” he said. “I just wanted to tell you that I would like to do that with you. But we don’t have to.” 

He put his thumb on my clit. He had found that little move on the net and had tried it on me the week before. I wasn’t sure if I liked it then but this day I loved it. I thought about his dick inside me. I was scared and excited about it at the same time. All the things I had read in magazines and heard the girls at school say made me think it wouldn’t be that great. Some people even said it hurt. But then if it wasn’t that great how come so many people wanted to do it all the time. The people in the movies always looked like they were having a great time. I trusted Seb. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me and I was starting to think I loved him.

“Have you got a thing?” I asked. I didn’t want to say the word. Last year for a joke someone had blown up some condoms and used them as balloons at Julie Bank’s party. When I touched them they felt disgusting.

“What?” he frowned. 

“You know,” I felt embarrassed, “A thing for your dick.” 

The frown disappeared. “Well I hope you don’t mind but yes I do.” He reached into his bedside table and pulled out a box. It was opened.

“Did you already use one?” I asked.

“Only for practise,” he looked sheepish. That was so Seb; the ultimate boy scout, prepared for everything. 

He took out a little square packet and put it on the bed between us. Suddenly I felt more scared than I had ever felt and at the exact same moment more excited than ever. He pulled his jeans down so that I could see his dick properly. He was so hard and a little bead of wet stuff shone at the tip. 

“Do you want this?” he held up the packet. 

I opened my mouth. All the warnings from the sex-ed teachers and my parents to wait and not be one of ‘those’ girls flashed before my eyes. Then I looked into Seb’s eyes and all I could think about was his gentle hands that had never hurt me and how when I was with him I felt like nothing could touch me. “Yes,” I whispered. 

He ripped open the packet. It seemed like everything went in slow motion. His hands were shaking as he took out the little rubber wheel and put it over his dick. I pulled down my jeans. They got caught over my ankles and I had to bend down to ease them off. When I straightened up he was lying there naked except for the rubber covering his dick. I felt so awkward and didn’t know where to lie or put my hands until he took my hand and pulled me close to him. We were both breathing hard and he was shaking so much. He rolled on top of me taking his weight on his hands and looking down at me. I could feel his dick between my legs pressing against my thighs. 

“Are you ready?” he asked as he kissed me.

“Yes,” I answered straight away. I was never more ready for anything. 

He moved a little, “You need to open your legs further,” he whispered. 

“Oh yeh,” I felt so frigging awkward. Like when I was trying to learn to ride a bike. How did the people on the TV make this look so easy? 

“It’s OK.” Seb kissed me again. “It doesn’t matter what happens I will still love you.” 

He reached down and I could feel him fumbling a little with himself then I felt his dick pressing against me. It wasn’t anything like his finger. I felt myself stretching a little as he pressed against me, it stung but at the same time I wanted it so much. He pressed into me a little more,

“Is this OK?” his face had a weird look of concentration and concern on it. 

“Yes,” I reached up and stroked the side of his face. He pressed harder and I felt him easing inside me. I whimpered a little at the sting but at the same time I felt amazing. I kissed him as he pulled out and pushed back in. He started moving faster, in and out. He was touching me in ways he had never done before. I forgot the sting and got caught up in the rhythm. His eyes were closed and he made little grunting noises as he pressed into me. I could feel something building up in me it was intense. My mind was whirling around trying to take in all the things that were happening to me. 

Seb moaned and I felt him go stiff on top of me. Between my legs I could feel him pulsing and then he relaxed on top of me. He lay there for a few moments panting. “That was amazing,” he kissed me and stroked my face. I wriggled a little under him, he was getting heavy.

 “Sorry,” he muttered and rolled off me. “Hang on,” he got of the bed and pulled to condom off. I watched him as he cleaned himself with a tissue. My hand reached down and I felt around my vag and clit. When I touched myself I felt how huge I was and I groaned a little.

“Here let me help you,” he lay down beside me and touched me. I lay back and let him stroke me. I have never cum so hard as I did then.

Afterwards we lay holding each other too stunned to think. My mind was almost splitting open with what we had done. The Little Mix song “Change Your Life” was playing on the radio. 

I Don’t Chase

If you want me say so.

Even if you only have limited time.

Just be honest.

It has been a while but you have been busy so we kind of lost touch.

If you want me just say so.

This contrived conversation is irritating.

I enjoyed fucking you.

I was incredibly turned on by your strength and the way you placed me just so. You arranged my body for your pleasure. And in doing so fucked the life out of me.

But I do not chase after dick.

I am a Goddess

If you want me you have to ask.