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I said No!

I recently read a post by Ophelia outlining some experiences she had involving being raped by men one of whom she considered to be a very good friend. In both situations there was no violence, nor did the men consider that coercing a woman into having sex simply by not accepting no and sneaking their dick into her vagina was wrong.

I am fortunate that I have not had an experience where I felt as violated as Ophelia. But I think there is not a woman on the planet who has not agreed to sex with a man, based purely on her desire but simply because she got tired of the nagging and saying yes was easier than enforcing her initial no. It can be argued that many women are not very good at saying no and I am a very vocal supporter of the idea that mothers have just as much responsibility to teach their daughters to say “no” clearly and confidently as they do to teach their sons about respecting “no”. In the past I have been privately very critical of women who give out mixed messages and then complain about men who don’t get the hint. I try very hard to be honest and up front with my partners and many of them have commented on how easy it makes life to know where they stand. Recently however I had an experience that made me question my approach.

I met The Fireman initially through an online dating website. We chatted but nothing came to pass until I became part of a Facebook group he was hosting. He was a very sexy guy and I was definitely very keen. We met up a couple of times and the future looked full of fun times and fantasies being fulfilled. However he turned out to be, putting it kindly, a bit of a flake. Plans always seemed to be massaged, Mr Jones and I were left waiting in bars, and on one occasion fully stood up. As time went by he seemed to lose interest and I moved on. Then out of the blue, he was back again. The conversation went something like this;

F (Fireman): Hey guys

G (Gemma ): Hello

F: sends dick pic -do you miss him, he misses you

G: Oh a penis (I resisted the urge to add “how cute” )

F: I love your mind and your sexy body. Do you miss me? 

G: I did a while back. It has been a while (again I showed restraint and didn’t add that last time we met it had taken him so long to get his shit together and turn up that our play time had to be cut short to about an hour) 

F: sorry Hun (OMG! I am sooo not your Hun) I have been busy with my business

At this point I mentioned a couple of Facebook posts that seemed to indicate he had a girlfriend for a while, something he denied, but I didn’t believe him. I asked him what he was looking for and he said a regular threesome/ hotwife arrangement. He has a thing for that role play and although he has the body for it his cock is not anywhere up to specification. So I said “we have a regular play buddy at the moment” which is the truth

F: oh 😢 I guess I missed the boat. Is there room for another?

G: No we are happy with what we have right now, sorry. 

There was a bit more to the conversation because he wanted to be petulant and comb through reasons etc. I resisted the urge to vent about his flakiness and lack of respect for my time but I stood my ground quietly and honestly. In the end he said thank you for your Homestay and wished me well. I thought that was that .

I was wrong. In the couple of weeks that followed he contacted me every few days saying hello and making conversation. There was never an actual request for sex but he was blatant,y trying to get in my good books. I resisted the initial urge to be rude because I believe very firmly that being rude just creates unnecessary bad karma. I was also clinging to the misguided idea that I had made my position clear and he knew where he stood.

Of course I was wrong. After a few weeks when he felt that he had charmed me enough he again asked for sex. When I reminded him that I had told him he wasn’t interested he relied with ” but I thought you were”. Why? Because I replied when he messaged me? Because I told him that the posey, staged photos he was sending me were not the best way to impress people? Because I was polite? I was irritated enough to be quite blunt with him, I maintained my resolve to not be rude but I made sure my reply pointed out some of his flakiness in detail and very clearly in kindergarten language said “we are not interested”.

Of course this is not as dramatic as the events Ophelia described but is quite typical of the way a lot of men, particularly those who consider themselves attractive, operate. It is like they have some kind of filter in their ear that translates all of the negative responses they hear into a signal which says “I am really interested, you just have to chase a bit more”. I am sorry but no! When I say no, it means no. I am the mother of a teenage boy and I am also an educator of teenagers. I have made it part of my life mission to educate the young people in my charge about consent. The best description is this video that compares sex to tea.

It is easy for people to understand when someone doesn’t want tea you can’t force them to drink it. The thing the video can’t make clear is that trying to change a persons mind after they have said no is a version of forcing them to drink the tea. Like all the other versions of forcing them to drink the tea it is not OK. As humans we have a responsibility to accept no for an answer. We also have a responsibility to protect the integrity of the no response by using it in a very clear, straightforward way. By this I mean not being that person who says no when they mean yes or the one who encourages the chase by saying no initially.  It is not a simple thing to solve but coercing people less powerful than us, usually women, into sex has to stop! 

When I say no it means no. 

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Sunday Selfie

Over the last twelve months I have managed to put on a bit of weight which has meant that I have acquired a more classically curvy body. This is something that I am having trouble coming to terms with. When ever I see myself in photos I find my eye drawn to the parts of my body that I dislike the most and they somehow seem incredibly ugly. Recently a friend told me that he loves that kind of body. He is not the first man to express that opinion but still I find myself struggling to like my body. I took this selfie to send to my friend kind of being perverse and trying to provoke him into making a negative comment. Of course he didn’t. 

Strangely looking at pictures of myself like this is helping me to accept my body. So I thought I would share it with you all. 

TMI Tuesday – Let’s Sext 


1. How often do you sext?

To answer this one I had to think for while about what the term sexting actually means. Maybe because it is 5.30am when I am writing this. So I have to answer that I would sext at least once a week. In fact the last time I sexted was two days ago and this is the image I sent;


The recipient was very appreciative. 

2. How many dick pics have you sent in the last 3 months? 6 months? Year?

I am a girl, last time I checked, so 1. I don’t have a dick in front of me 24/7 to take photos of and 2. I don’t have that primal urge that most men have to share images of their penis with everyone. So I will instead discuss how often I recieve dick pics. 

Until quite recently I received dick pics on a reasonably regular basis, considering, that I am 44 and married with 2 teenage children. However Mr Jones and I have closed the door to our relationship slightly and I am not interacting with single men that much at the moment. On top of that Pet has a lot happening in his life as well and that particular relationship has also cooled somewhat. So unfortunately I am not the recipient of sexy dick pics that much any more. Guys that is not an invitation. 

3. Do you prefer to send pics of your boobs or your vajayjay (aka pussy, in case you didn’t know)?

My preferred body part to photograph is my ass, see above. It is actually reasonably difficult to take a good photograph of your actual vulva, the vagina is on the inside girls. But personally I prefer sending pics that involve clothing, particularly knickers so if my vulva is involved it is usually covered. Sometimes the suggestion of what is concealed is more sexy that an image of the actual thing. 

4. Do you prefer to receive pics of boobs or a woman’s genitals?

Again I am not a guy, not really sure what is happening with the questions this week, so I prefer to recieve pictures of male body parts. I will say this in capital letters because it needs to be said this way, ON REQUEST OR WITH PRIOR ARRANGEMENT!!!!!!!!! Maybe I should also bold it. 

5. Dick pics, do you really think they are sexy?

Ohhhhhhhhh yes! Again the need for capitals, WHEN THEY ARE FROM PEOPLE I HAVE ALREADY MET AND HAVE AN ARRANGEMENT WITH!!!!!! I have always had a fascination with penises and I love to look at them. I also have a well documented weakness for watching men masturbate. One of the things Pet does which I love is send short videos of him cumming. I love listening to his breathing and the sounds he makes. It will make me wet every single time. 

6. Do you send unsolicited pics of your genitals?

No. Never. 

7. Are you more impressed and willing to get to know, meet-up with, date, or have sex with someone who presents a “good dick pic” or “nice tits” pic?

Remembering that I am already married, I don’t date with the agenda, hidden or otherwise, that I am looking for a life partner. So yes, having an appendage that I find attractive is a very important thing. If you have a tiny dick you have a lot of ground to make up in other areas. I don’t ‘date’ just the penis but it is a significantly important part of the whole package. 

Bonus: Just how sexy are you. 


This sexy. See photo in question 1. 

For more TMI goodness head on over to the TMI Tuesday website 

Waking Up

  

This week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt was “crumpled” I immediately thought of crumpled sheets in the morning. 

Morning light filters through the windows pushing away the dimness. Lorikeets begin their raucous chatter in the bottle brushes outside my window. Inside the budgies, awakened by their wild cousins outside begin to fill the house with their own piercing calls. Slowly I become more conscious as sleep slides away from me. The bed feels empty, I am alone. On the bedside table the phone buzzes telling me that it has an important message for me. 
The image on the screen makes me smile at first but then it makes me wriggle with … Something, not excitement but something. I reach down to the box beside the bed and with clumsy morning fingers I remove the glass from its protective foam and slip it down under the sheets. It is cold against the skin of my thighs and I gingerly slide it down towards my crotch waiting for it to warm a little before I start to rub its smoothness against my itching cunt.  

 A little smile plays across my face as I pull back the covers and fumble with my phone. The air is cold and it feels awkward juggling the phone and my toy while I position my body but I manage to take a pic that captures what I am doing. Awkwardly I type “Good morning” with my left hand before I press send. Then I slide back into the warmth of my bed and focus on the smoothness of the glass as it slides around my silky wet folds. The tingles increase to warm waves and I slip the head of the dildo inside me. I realise that the itching that I have been feeling the day before was not the start of a yeast invasion but rather an itch for something else. It was my body’s cry for attention.

I start it to slide the head deeper inside me feeling every ridge on the outside of my dildo. The weight of the glass fills me and increases the sensations coursing through me. On my chest the phone vibrates, alerting me to your reply. A glance at the message tells me I have your full attention. I think of you thousands of kilometres away in your small room in the midst of all those  huts dotting the red earth that red eaearth with your hand wrapped around your cock as you look at my photo. 

Taking a video is even more awkward than taking a photo. The light in my room is still dim, my skin contracts in response to the chill of the air as I flick back the covers yet again to allow me to position my phone. It takes a couple of attempts trying to merge technology with the age old urge to ram the implement into my cunt and give in to the pleasure. The thought of you sharing this pleasure with me despite the distance is what keeps me from giving in the primal urge.
After a couple of attempts I mange thirty seconds of film. This time I don’t bother with typing, I let the images tell the story and I press send. Putting the phone back I settle back into the warmth of my bed sliding the dildo into my hungry cunt and letting my fingers play over my swelling clit. I can feel the edge of the orgasm creeping closer. This is not going to be a long play session of exploring and riding little crests and troughs of pleasure. I am on a mission Outside my bedroom door I hear the sounds of other members of my family beginning their day but I am determined not to let this opportunity pass by. 
The phone buzzes and your message reminds me or your tongue on my asshole. All the muscles of my cunt squeeze around the glass rod inserted into me as I remember the feeling of your tongue exploring that most forbidden of places teasing past the inhibitions and giving more pleasure than I ever thought possible. My fingers play quickly over my clit and with my other hand I move the dildo in and out of me. The orgasm is closer now. I can feel it pressing into my groin. At another time, in a different set of circumstances I would have played with it, letting it slide away before bringing it back stronger and faster but this time I don’t have that luxury. I welcome it with open arms, an old friend that has been away for too long. 
Afterwards I lie in bed enjoying the afterglow and I read your message, “Do you taste good?” In response I film myself licking the round glass head like a girl with a lolly pop. I smile enticingly into the camera before I send the last clip off over the airwaves to you. I know that for you this whole thing was just a teaser for you but for me it was a satisfying, if brief, start to my day. With a slight twinge of regret I leave my crumpled bed in search of some clothing and some breakfast.