When Worlds Collide

Photo by freestocks on Unsplash

One of the things I have always voiced as a fear is running into a play friend when I am at work. When I have played out possible scenarios of this happening I have always imagined the man being either a potential employer or recognising him at a parent teacher interview scenario. As is always the way nothing ever plays out the way you imagine it.

As I was minding my own business one Friday night I received the following message

“Hi remember me?”

I looked at my phone. There was a number with no contact assigned. So I had absolutely no idea. My response,

“?? A name perhaps”

H proceeded to be very coy and not forthcoming with information but dropped hints while I tried to get my head around the situation. I worked out that I had never actually met this guy that we had chatted for a while planned to meet and for some reason never followed through. He had recognised me at a school function that day, gone home and thought it would be fun to mess with my head a little.

It really threw me. His complete refusal to fully identify himself although he knew where I worked, who my work colleagues and my boss were and my name but he refused to give any clues to his identity. I told him that I hadn’t saved his number, or more likely deleted it when things fell through. Eventually he gave me the name of the profile he used on the dating apps we met through and then proceeded to tell me his account had been deactivated. A quick search confirmed there was no profile with this name. He didn’t seem to understand why this situation was grossly unfair. He told me he didn’t want to reveal too much to protect his kid. Even when I pointed out he knew a lot about me.

The whole time I was having the conversation I was struggling to keep up with emotions and thoughts that were popping in to my head. I was aware that this could go very badly for me and saying the wrong thing could have major repercussions but I was also dealing with being quite irritated at his smugness. On top of this confusion about what exactly he wanted out of this conversation. He didn’t want to meet as far as I could work out. He had a partner of sorts and he didn’t tell her about this. He didn’t make any threats about outing me to my boss he just seemed to get pleasure out of messing with my head.

In the end I just stopped responding to him or giving him any openings in the conversation. I wished him well and made sure he understood that while I wouldn’t be teaching his kid next year I would likely see him around from time to time. What I didn’t tell him, mainly because I didn’t really think about it much, was that there are ways I could work out who he was. The class his kid belongs to was one that I taught this year. It isn’t that big and of course teachers have access to the contact details of parents. How else could we contact them when we need to? It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to open their class list and poke around a little.

Before I even went down that road I sat quietly and ran through the parents I had conversed with that day. I realised who it was. While I don’t have a clear mental picture of the parent I have a clear understanding of the kid. And so here I am. Now what? Nothing really. At the end of the day he would have to out himself to make a complaint or a fuss. I have done nothing wrong or unprofessional. I think I wasn’t even working at this school when we were talking. I know I wasn’t teaching his kid. And even if I was our meeting was in a separate place, on a separate pathway. I am nothing if not professional and proper with my Young People.

And so, now that my irritation at his childish behaviour has dissipated I am taking it on the chin. Or doing my best. Lessons have been learned and appreciation for the bullet I dodged in not actually meeting this person is growing.

TMI Tuesday – Relationships and Attention

1. Compared to 5 years ago do you care more or less about what people think of you?

I would like to say less. The reality is probably that it hasn’t really changed. I still have a pathological need to gain people’s approval

2. What is the last self-help book, article or blog post you read? Did it help you?

In the early hours of this morning I was preparing a blog post and I delved into articles about narcissistic parents and the effects on their children. It was somewhat helpful to explain the behaviour of my own parent which hasn’t always been exemplary but I guess we all have failings. The thing I am coming to realise is that while you may have a reason for your failing I don’t have an obligation to accept behaviour from you that is damaging to me. There is a reason that the word toxic is used to describe certain people.

3. Tell us 3 people you must have in your life.

Mr Jones because he is Mr Jones. I like to think sometimes that I could manage without him but I really honestly couldn’t.

The Unicorn because if there was a mini me in the world it is her.

I don’t have a third person.

4. Does tech interfere with your personal relationships? How so?

I think that tech interferes with living in general. Spending endless hours with your head down scrolling and scrolling. When can you get that time back. How can you connect when you are so stimulated that your brain doesn’t relax into existing?

5. When you want your partner or friend’s undivided attention, how do you communicate that?

Depends on the friend but I find putting my body directly in their line of sight so that they can’t ignore me works well. This applies for teenagers who don’t want to listen to an instruction, children who are fixated on a television and husbands who haven’t noticed you in a while.

Bonus: What is your view of love?

From the Vault – Afternoon Delight

I wasn’t expecting to post today but as I scrolled through some old entries from another time I came across this. It was too good not to share.

“Good Afternoon Ray,” Meryl opened the door wide. “You are just in time for banana cake.” 

“Oooohh I do like a good banana cake,” Ray leaned forward and kissed Meryl on the cheek. He allowed himself a glance downwards at the cleavage that was neatly concealed between the neat floral dress.

“I do like your dress,” he commented with a wink, “that fabric compliments your eyes.”Meryl laughed as she led the way into the kitchen. A little flush coloured her cheeks as she fussed around arranging tea things on a tray. She passed a plate of neatly cut cake to Ray.

“Would you mind?” she lifted the tray and moved towards the lounge room. 

“I never mind anything about you,” Ray followed her the short way, his eyes fixed on her ass. The soft fabric clung to her butt emphasising the movement as she walked. Balancing the tray on one hand Ray reached forward and gently cupped her butt in the palm of his hand.

“Ray!” Meryl chided, “You will make me spill the tea!”

He refused to be ashamed, “Well you should not have such an inviting ass,”

“My goodness what would Deanna say?” Meryl placed the tray on the coffee table and seated herself demurely on the sofa. 

“She would just roll her eyes and say ‘See what I have to live with.” Ray placed his plate carefully beside the tray and sat next to Meryl with his knee touching hers. 

“Well she deserves a medal for living with someone as incorrigible as you for so long!” Meryl filled his teacup and placed a slice of cake on the saucer before handing it to him.

 “If I didn’t think you had a secret longing for someone so incorrigible I would not have dropped by,” Ray took a bite out of his cake, “despite the fact that you make excellent banana cake.” He watched her as he chewed slowly. This was the biggest turn on of all. Making this reserved, demure woman so flustered was hot. Ray felt his cock stirring as he watched the blush on Meryl’s cheeks deepen.Meryl picked up her own cup and took a sip,

“Your azaleas are looking lovely,” she forced herself to ignore Ray’s hand resting on her knee. Without moving his hand Ray looked out of the window to his garden across the street.

“Yes this year I think Deanna has excelled herself with them.” As he spoke he pushed the fabric of her dress above her knee and rested his hand on her bare thigh.

“I wish I had the patience that she has with such finicky plants.” There was a small quaver in Meryl’s voice but she steadfastly kept her eyes on the window in front of them. 

“Well after forty years with me and four sons she is one of the most patient women that I know,” Ray drank the last of his tea and set his cup down on the saucer. “Personally I would rather direct my attention towards flowers that are somewhat more exotic.” He slid down off the couch and placed his body between Meryl’s legs.

Taking a deep breath as he slowly lifted the skirt of her dress. His fingers caressed the soft skin of her thighs. Meryl gave a little whimper and she fell back on the sofa. Her legs fell further apart inviting Ray in. He placed his mouth over her crotch nibbling at her mound through the fabric of her panties. Meryl lost all of her composure and thrust her pelvis towards his face. Ray sat up from her and slid his finger under the elastic, nestling it into the dampness of her crotch. The last vestiges of composure slipped away from Meryl’s face as she pressed Ray’s hand hard into her crotch. Her head was thrown back and her mouth opened as she whimpered in pleasure. Ray pressed his fingers into her wet opening. Inside his pants his cock throbbed. He stood up and unzipped himself. Meryl watched greedily as he slid his pants to the ground and eased his cock out of his boxers. 

“What should I do with this now?” he asked as he stood in front of her holding his cock. Meryl didn’t answer. Instead she stood and slipped out of her panties before kneeling on the sofa in front of him with her butt in the air. Her dress slipped down around her waist. 

“Now that is the kind of flower I was talking about,” Ray stepped forward and touched her clit with the tip of his finger before he stroked her with the tip of his cock. She backed towards him aching for him to fill her.

“Mrs Rogers!” I thought you were such a nice lady with your tea and banana cake but you are just a common cock hungry slut!” Ray’s voice teased her.Meryl looked over her shoulder at him,

“The cake and tea are just a ruse.” She smiled wickedly at him, “Now shut up and fuck me!” 

Ray stepped forward and gripped her hips firmly as he pressed his member deep inside her. She groaned in pleasure as he began to fuck her slowly at first but then harder. The room filled with the sound of her moans of pleasure and Ray’s belly slapping against her ass. “You like that cock deep in your pussy?” he panted as he pounded her.

“You know I do,” she groaned in response. A small stream of wetness coated his cock and balls as a tiny orgasm shuddered through her. Ray felt the pressure building at the base of his cock. He held it back enjoying the feeling of the impending orgasm. He gripped Meryl’s ass firmly as he leaned forward to whisper to her,

“Are you ready to be filled with my hot cum?” 

“MUUUUUM!!” A shrill voice interrupted her reply. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!”

Ray was past the point of no return. His cock pulsed as he emptied himself into Meryl but the wave of the orgasm was flat as he took in the indignant young woman standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the sitting room. Beneath him Meryl shuddered in response to him breathing heavily with her head hanging down. Silence bounced around the room as the three people adjusted to the unexpected encounter.

Meryl was the first to recover.“Well dear,” she said calmly without moving away from Ray, “Mr Crowther and I have this arrangement.”

The young woman standing in the doorway’s eyes widened as her mother spoke.

“On Thursdays he comes around for an afternoon delight.” Meryl made no effort to move away from Ray as his cock softened rapidly in her dripping wet pussy. Transfixed by the exchange between mother and daughter Ray stood still gripping Meryl’s hips. His cock slid out of her pussy but still he didn’t move.

“What would Dad say?” The young woman demanded.

“Not much I expect,” Meryl’s calm voice continued. “I believe he has a similar arrangement with Mrs Blythe two doors down.”

Drunk People Don’t Want Tea

As part of the push to complete posts I started but didn’t finish I bring you a reflection about an encounter I had recently.

“Tea and Consent” was a big part of the way I educated No 1 Son and The Unicorn about sex and consent. For me teaching my Young People about consent was more important than teaching them about STI’s or giving them guidance about when is a good time to have sex. For a few years “Drunk people don’t want tea was a mantra that embedded the idea of informed consent.

In my lifestyle consent is important. Swinging events, parties and clubs can be chaotic. People find themselves in situations that have only ever existed in their fantasies. Standard boundaries around monogamy are thrown out of the window. “Normal” ideas about what is acceptable behaviour are challenged and can become confused. To make things even more complicated every single person has a different set of expectations and ideas about how certain situations will play out. On the surface safety, in particular safe sex, seems to be a pretty standard expectation but again there are differences in expectations and plans don’t always become reality. Alcohol is a big part of the mix. Many people drink to relax and “get more in the mood” especially if they are new or nervous. But sometimes it is hard to pace yourself and the line between relaxed and social and too intoxicated to make a properly informed decision is hard to see and even harder to avoid crossing.

Recently we observed an interaction between two couples, Mr and Mrs A and Mr and Mrs B. Both professed to be experienced. You would think that being experienced their communication would be clear and their respect for other people would follow suit. You would think. Mrs A was hot. Walk in the room and get instant attention from everyone hot. She also proceeded to drink a fair bit. The jury is out about how much Mr A drank but I suspect he was the more responsible one of the duo.

Mr and Mrs B were fairly restrained. Mr B was also irritatingly opinionated about “lack of action” “people being conservative” yada, yada. He didn’t respond to being challenged by an older, more confident and some would say less attractive woman but when Mrs A walked into the room he was all over her. Mr Jones and I decided to depart before he irritated me even more and I said something I would truly regret.

As we were standing in the bar chatting to some friends we were surprised by Mrs A rushing up to us frantically proclaiming that Mr A was outside “losing his shit” because Mr B had been fucking her without a condom. One of the staff departed to deal with the situation as Mrs B arrived and started proclaiming that she hated this kind of drama. That people who don’t have their relationship sorted should really not come to places like this et cetera ET CETERA.

She is right. Drama like that has no place in a swing club. People who don’t communicate well in their relationship and have a good understanding of where the other is at really shouldn’t be swinging. Public arguments make everyone feel awkward and they rarely solve any problems. But the flip side of things was not being considered here. Mrs A was drunk and this man had taken the opportunity to have sex with one of the most attractive women in the room. I am certain he didn’t ask her if it was OK to not use a condom. Because, given the way things had panned out she would have told him that isn’t part of their rules. If he didn’t want to ask the default should have been to wear one. That is the standard procedure. Anyone who has been around as much as they were proclaiming to be should know that.

Was the drama justified? Not really. Drama never is. Were his actions acceptable behaviour? Definitely not. He didn’t ask for or consider her feelings or consent. He didn’t consider her drunkenness as a sign that she could not give enthusiastic, clear and informed consent. In a lot of ways he deserved the reaction he got.

Under the UV Light

Earlier in the year Mr Jones and I dipped our toe into the world of lifestyle camping weekends. Odd that in our long journey we have never really pitched a tent and spent an entire weekend with 50 or so other like minded people. Smaller groups for an entire weekend yes. This many naked, drinking, partying, and fucking people? No. The experience was unique and in many ways positive. We kept our minds open and so when another opportunity in a slightly different setting arose we took the chance. One of the experiences we opened ourselves up to was some UV highlighted wax play. It was more of a performance than a BDSM session but it has made me wonder and take firmer steps towards perhaps dabbling in this kind of thing.

The images were definitely different.

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.

Sinful Sunday

Friday Flashback – Four in the Bed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Every Damn Day in June

Unwind Part 1

The Morning Before

The shower was warm. Soft liquid comfort washing away sleep and waking up skin for the day ahead. Shampoo poured down over my body as I rinsed my hair clean. The morning was full of anticipation and maybe a little excitement. Somehow it seemed hard to be excited about anything right now. There had been too much of everything in these last few weeks. I felt as if I was a spring that had been coiled almost to breaking point. 

But this morning was different. A promise of release was in the air. As I stepped out of the shower the top of the tea chest looked at me from the corner of the room. Usually it was covered in stuff but today it was bare. The perfect place to recline and capture this moment and mood. 

Looking back at the images I was happy. I felt awake, sexual, sexy. With a smile I sent one to Captain Kirk. It wasn’t our normal thing. Or it hadn’t been until this point. But he was a man. What man doesn’t like a nude on his phone in the morning? It wasn’t until later I noticed the droplet of water under my breast. Somehow this seemed more sexy than anything else. I wonder if he noticed it as well? 

A Day of Wondering

The traffic gods were good to me that day. As I drove I received responses to my image from Caption Kirk. Sometimes I used Siri to send messages while I was driving but somehow the profanities I liked to type were hard to say out loud to myself and harder to hear repeated back from the sanitised voice of Siri. 

On arrival at work I had a moment of clarity. I was tense. Not in the immediate way of something looming in front of me but in the way of being wound up from weeks of events and busyness. Receiving dirty texts was a welcome distraction from the grind of every day life. 

I would love to lick you all over, nibble your neck. Suck on your nipples. Taste your pussy. Tease your asshole. 

And we had only agreed to meet for a drink. To see each other in person before deciding if we wanted to go further. It seemed like we were doing a dance. Going through the motions of a ritual that was prescribed by someone else. All the while our eyes were focussed on what we both wanted. 

The Dance

When you see someone for the first time it is always weird. Very few times have I met a man and thought, “You look better in person,” or at least, “you look like your photos.” More often I meet someone and feel some kind of magnetism. That subtle attraction that makes me want to dally in a dark corner and explore their mouth. That makes me slide my hand up their thigh to feel if they are as excited as me. 

This time I wasn’t sure. He wasn’t as tall as I had hoped. Despite his texts I didn’t get the feeling of attraction. We both were holding back. Waiting to see what the other offered. In some way unsure. I was used to men who were vocal and touchy. He was neither. But he was respectful. There was a glimmer. I sensed that he was holding back, careful not to be pushy. 

We drank our drink. All the while chatting about our experiences. Our rules. What was allowed and what wasn’t. How our respective partners felt about this meeting. Not for the first time I found myself reflecting on the transactional nature of this lifestyle. From an abstract point I could see our conversation sounding like; “I have A and B but I don’t do C…. I see you are offering P and Q do you want to get naked together?” By the end of our drink it seemed there was nothing left but to complete the transaction.