Worlds Collide

One of my greatest fears is that one day, unexpectedly, I will encounter a play friend in my professional life. Either as a colleague or as a parent. Thankfully it hasn’t happened yet but you never know.

Morning sun pierced the gap in the curtains pouring a slit of bright light over Suzie’s face. With an irritated grunt she tossed herself to the other side of the bed. The sunlight steadfastly shone on the pillow that she had left bare. Time passed. The temperature in the room rose, fed by the warmth of the sun. Suzie flung back covers to reveal her naked body. Her full round breasts moved with her chest in time with her breathing. On the bedside table her alarm buzzed piercing her sleep.

With a groan Suzie rolled over and turned off the alarm and lay with the shaft of sunlight playing over her naked belly. For a few moments she struggled to remember where she was and what day it was. Then she remembered, it was Parent – Teacher interview day. Panic began to flutter at the base of her stomach. She hated this day. Of all the days when teachers are asked to stay back, for meetings, for professional development, for awards nights the worst is parent – teacher interview day. Four hours of sitting in a hall at a tiny desk having awkward conversations with parents. With no time in between to collect your thoughts or even pee.

Suzie considered calling in sick. But she knew that would mean having to re-schedule all those meetings to another time after school. Nope, best to rip the band-aid. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and moved to the window to open the curtains. The sun shone gleefully in illuminating her entire room. As she walked past her wardrobe Suzie caught a glimpse of her ass. The bruises from two nights ago had faded a little. Their bright redness now a sullen purple with yellow tinges around the edge. A smile played around the corners of her mouth as she remembered him. The calm authority about him as he had indicated to her to lay across his lap. The way his cock prodded her belly while his hand tormented her ass. Then later, kneeling in front of him with his cock in her mouth, looking up at him. All the while her ass was burning. But not as much as her cunt.

Still fantasizing Suzie hurried to the shower, knowing she was late, knowing today was not a day to be late, or flustered, or apologetic. Nor was it a day she was going to suck that magnificent cock. She chose her outfit carefully. Her Principal’s voice ringing in her ears, “Professional dress people”. She chose a dress that snug fitting but not tight. It draped across her ample bosom showing only a hint of cleavage. The skirt was straight but allowed her to move and it was long enough that it didn’t ride up too far when she sat down. Before she stepped out the door, she checked her appearance one last time. Perfect.

The day passed in a blur. Students sat before her, some gleeful that they were finishing school early today, some nervous about the upcoming evening. She chatted with some of them about interviews that she knew were booked, calming their nerves, pointing out things they could bring up with their parents. All the things a kind teacher did. And then it was time.

The first few meetings passed without a hitch. Parents sat with their student. Grades were discussed, assignments examined, comments made about behaviour at home versus behaviour at school. Suzie was finding her rhythm. She started to relax a little. So far, so good. No complete fruit-loops and no aggressive parents with an axe to grind. Then she saw him. He was sitting in the waiting area. The same air of calm authority. The same hands, slightly larger than some, clean, manicured. The hands that could deliver a sting to your ass and then seconds later stimulate your cunt in ways she didn’t think was possible. Suzie’s ass twitched in time with her cunt. A trickle of wetness soaked her panties. For a few moments she forgot where she was. The collision between her private and professional life was completely unexpected.

He stood and for the first time she noticed the young person with him. One of her students. In fact, now that she saw them together the resemblance was obvious. The same height, the same colouring the same air of quiet confidence. Beside them a woman tottered on platform heels. Neither father nor son paid her any heed, she looked oddly out of place but in this speed-dating alternative universe nothing was unexpected.  

He sat opposite her. Nothing in his face showed that he recognised her. For a moment she doubted herself. Maybe it wasn’t him. Unsettled she shuffled her files before selecting the right one. Across the table he watched calmly. His hands were folded, nothing in his face gave him away. The mother started speaking. She babbled about her son’s cleverness and questioned his latest grade. Suzie forced herself to ignore him and focus on the mother. With a practised smile she brought out examples of work and marking rubrics to explain to the mother that remembering a bunch of facts was not enough. Suzie knew she was wasting her breath, but she was glad of the distraction.

The whole time he sat observing quietly. Suzie wondered if he would say anything. A small, bemused smile played around the corners of his mouth. Suzie felt as if SHE was the one being evaluated. He was measuring how she coped with this situation. Deciding if she was worthy. Every glance at those hands, folded neatly sent another jet of wetness to her panties. Against her seat her ass twitched, remembering the sting of his palm. After what seemed like an hour the bell rang indicating time to move on.

Suzie stood to farewell the family. She extended her hand to him. He took it firmly, looking her straight in the eye. For the first time in the whole interview he spoke,

“Thank you for being the teacher my son needs,” His voice was like silk. Exactly the way she remembered.

“Thank you for trusting our school with him,” she replied struggling to maintain a professional demeanour. She had to remind herself that he was in her world, she was in control, not him.

The mother tottered away with her son trailing behind her. For a split second they were alone in an imaginary bubble. Suzie’s heart soared.

“I have no doubt we will be seeing each other again.”

And then he was gone.

The seats in front of her tiny desk were filled with another family. A weasel of a man with his loud bossy wife and their spoiled brat of a child. The contrast couldn’t have been sharper.

This post is part of this weeks 4Thoughts or Fiction prompt, Exposed. To see who else is being exposed click on the image below.


What’s in a Name

I started writing erotica sometime around 2010. Our family had just returned from a three month caravan trip through the wilds of South and Western Australia and the Northern Territory. During that time I used a blog as a way of sharing my adventures with family and friends. My romance with the written word began….

Upon our return I started writing erotica based on the adventures I was having as part of my swinging journey. I didn’t have the confidence to go blazing ahead with a blog at first. I tested the waters by posting one of my stories on the dating website we use. Given that the audience was a bunch of people looking for other people to have sex with it was well received. I looked further afield and discovered Literotica.

It was there that I honed my skills of writing by using some of their help articles and later with the assistance of a volunteer editor. While writing there I used the pen name Babeslady, which is a play on the name Mr Jones uses for me and my actual name. It was in those early days I wrote a story about an adventure I had with Mr Jones that involved another woman he saw for a little while. She and I co-wrote the story. For this story I had to give myself a name. For no other reason than I liked it, I chose Gemma. Because I liked it, it became the name I used when I did start a blog a short while later. The second name Jones just seemed to fit. I didn’t know there is a British Actress of that name until I had already set up my first blog and Twitter account. It was too late then.

Gemma Jones Picture

So that was how I became Gemma Jones. I use the name for most things on the net associated with my lifestyle. When I talk to potential lovers online I introduce myself as Gemma. Some of them learn my real name, some of them work it out for themselves, some of them are none the wiser. It honestly doesn’t matter. In my mind Gemma is almost a separate person from the everyday woman who gets up, goes to school, teaches a bunch of teenagers and then comes home to make dinner and watch TV. Gemma is an adventurer who posts pictures of her body online and writes stories that excite and arouse.

In my current blog when I refer to my adventurous life I speak about Gemma, when I speak about my mundane life I refer to myself as Mrs Jones. It helps to keep my mind straight although I am sure there is more crossover than I realise. May Moor, in her post on this topic, states that she “has become so comfortable in May’s shoes (wellies actually) that I see us as one” As I read that statement I found myself nodding. Even though there is a delineation between Gemma and Mrs Jones we are really just two sides of the same coin.

I wish the world was such that we didn’t need to hide parts of us from conservative, small minded people. But it is not. And so until I retire and no longer need to appear to conduct myself in a socially acceptable way Gemma will be that delicious part of me that comes out for special people.

This post is part of this week’s 4 Thoughts or Fiction prompt #169 Pen name. Click the image below to read some other entries.


Happy Xmas – The War is Over (almost).

Australian students are coming to the end of their school year. In Queensland the last official day of school is 11 December. Some independent schools are already on holidays and the Catholic sector, where I work, school will finish on 4 December. To be perfectly honest, I cannot wait.

I am not alone in thinking 2020 was challenging. I am grateful that I don’t live in the Northern Hemisphere if I am being completely honest. My life has been simultaneously not affected much and profoundly affected at the same time. I was talking with a teacher who is from the US and is working in Australia for a year on an exchange program. What she described about the impact of Covid on her US colleagues is nothing short of horrendous. I am grateful that I live in a country where life is almost the same as it was.

I was teaching a lesson of the famous subject called Stretch which I have posted about before. We were doing a quiz about Christmas traditions and the song Happy Xmas the War os over was part of the quiz. Most of the students in my class did not know of the song and could not understand why it was included in the Christmas Quiz.

I explained to them the basic history of the song but in the noisy chaos that is Stretch, I won’t go into the reasons for that here, I didn’t go into much depth. For me the song is about reflecting on the year that has passed and challenging yourself to be honest about what you have and have not achieved.

In this time of lockdown and social isolation it is easier than ever to sit at our screens and point out everything that is wrong with the world. Humans have become consumers of media, quick to point out others’ mistakes and shortcomings without giving much thought to what they can do to make the world better. It is easy to sit back and wait for the government or some nefarious authority figure to wave their wand of power and make a great change. The world will not change even if that were to happen.

Humans are ingenious especially when it comes to avoiding responsibility and making their life easier. We are quite happy to ignore something that should be fixed and let it be someone else’s problem. But the reality is that change happens when every person does something small every day. Something like picking up someone else’s litter, or asking that person everyone avoids how they are going.

These things are hard. They take a conscious decision to go out of the way and against the flow. I will admit I am not great at them. There are times when I avoid that person who inserts themselves into every conversation even when they are not invited. There are times when I walk past litter, actually this happens all the time for me, if I didn’t I would never stop picking up rubbish.

This year my mental health was better than last year but I wouldn’t say it has been great. I wouldn’t say that I have been a model citizen but reflecting is a great way to recalibrate. I look forward to relaxing with my family and taking advantage of opportunities next year.


A couple of years ago the captain of my school started “The Gratitude Project”. Her goal was to encourage all of the people in the school community to take time to notice and remember things they are grateful for. Each classroom had Gratitude Jars and students and teachers were encouraged to write on a slip of paper something they were grateful for, to put in the jar. The project was as successful as those kinds of things are. Some teachers got on board and some classes did some cool things. Two years on the jars make appearances from time to time in various guises. I guess there were about forty of them kicking around. One can’t blame the chaplain for recycling right?

Humans are a strange bunch. On a company and nation/ state level our culture is driven by growth. GDP must constantly increase, productivity must constantly improve. We must keep biggering and Biggering and BIGGERING!

But on a personal level we are seemingly compelled to take everyone, including ourselves down. I read a beautiful poem today, written by Nananoyz at Praying for Eyebrows about her mother who was never told she was beautiful. It made me think about the way we always assume people know that we think they are beautiful, strong, amazing and fabulous and so we never tell them. Often until it is too late.

I have recently been feeling a bit unappreciated. It is a long story and I am afraid if I write it in words it will sound peevish and just plain self centred so I won’t. I will simply say that as the end of the school year is upon us I didn’t feel that some students were showing as much appreciation for my efforts as they should. I wallowed in my self pity for a while until I kicked myself in the arse, reminded myself that part of the charm of teenagers is that they are inherently selfish and got on with it.

Then as I was sitting in my daughter’s graduation (she attended the school where I teach) a parent of a student who I had taught in her first two years of high school was sitting next to me. This particular student has learning difficulties. Unlike most she just gets on with it. She never asks for extra time, extra attention, or for someone to make allowances for her. She just asks for clarification, a lot. Even though we aren’t supposed to have favourites, she is a stand out in my memory bank.

Out of the blue the mum of this student says “Thank you for being so patient with my daughter, you helped her so much,” I was stunned. It has been four years since I had a class with her. But her mother remembered me and took the time to thank me. In all honesty I should be thanking her. Thanking her for allowing me to be part of the life of such an amazing student. But mostly for reminding me that we should not be focussing on who is thanking US but rather who in our lives needs our gratitude.

This post is part of this week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt, “Giving Thanks”. Although it is not as sexy as you guys are used to I felt moved to share my thoughts. Please click on the link below and see who else is being wicked this week.

My Scrambled Brain

My daughter turned eighteen recently. Today, Saturday, we are holding a family gathering to celebrate the event. My parents and both my siblings live in different towns several hours drive away so this event doesn’t just involve twenty five people descending on my house for an evening. I will be graced by the presence of my parents for three days. Which may sound like a good thing but believe me, it isn’t. But that isn’t the point of this post.

A few years ago I entertained regularly. I was quite adept at planning, preparing and presenting a meal for 15 – 30 people as the occasion demanded. Over the years the group of people we hung out with whittled away, people moved, we lost contact etc. My mental health went to another place and this is the first large gathering I have hosted in a while.

What is disturbing me about this event, apart from the parental visit, is my lack of ability to get focussed and be organised. Once I was the person who had the answers. I planned whole weekend camps for five families, accomodation, meals, shopping, the works. At the moment I am struggling to make decisions about what we will eat and decorations for a single evening. I make plans, I forget them (yes I should write them down, I know). I write lists, they don’t make sense, I go shopping and get home only to realise I should have had another twenty items on my list. it goes on and on.

I can’t seem to focus on a single task to completion. For example I woke up and was scrolling through Fakebook (no that isn’t a typo) and saw something that inspired a blog post. Between my bed and the keyboard I latched on to three other tasks and now I am writing this.

You will get to read my pearls of wisdom later. If I remember them and someone doesn’t interrupt me.

I think it is some of the reason I haven’t been posting regularly. Believe me there are about ten stories that have started their life and are hanging in the balance somewhere. I hope that they get to be fully formed and make their way to your view. Maybe when the holidays start in three weeks.

Until then you will have to make do with the occasional brain fart!

TMI Tuesday – Adjusting to the New Normal

Welcome to this week’s TMI Tuesday. As usual please visit TMI Tuesday to check out the other contributions. But only after you read mine first!

1. Favorite form of adult pajamas: Kimono, soft pant, romper or Winnie-the-pooh style? 

I only became a pajama wearer recently. I sleep naked and have since I was in my early twenties. Consequently I never really saw the point of spending money on pajamas. On an outlet shopping expedition I bought my first pair of Peter Alexander pajama pants. It has changed my whole outlook on pajamas. If I worked from home I would live in those babies!!

I think I need a new pair soon though.

2. What time do you wake-up in the morning?

During term time my alarm goes off at 5.30am. It is a struggle to get up at that time but it is necessary if I am going to even have a hope of getting something on these pages and retain my sanity.

When school is out I usually get up around 7am. Sometimes earlier in summer. Despite taking medication that is supposed to help with my circadian rhythms insomnia seems to be part of my regular sleep landscape these days so a regular sleep cycle seems to be impossible to achieve.

3. Your favorite chore to do is _____ .

Washing clothes. There is something about hanging them all on the line neatly and then folding them. I feel as if I have achieved something with my day if I have done a few loads of laundry.

4. Least favorite chore to do is _____ . Why?

Cleaning dishes. It is messy and wet and it seems like as soon as you get that sink clean and empty there is something else sitting there. A completely endless, thankless task!!

5. Tell us about a home-cooked meal that you cannot forget.

When our children were younger we often went camping with a group of families. It was the practice on these trips to share meals. Each family would be responsible for cooking one meal or alternatively we would all contribute something to the meal. One of the group members was quite good at camp oven cooking. There is something very special about food that has been cooked on the coals. Particularly when you are balancing your plate on your lap around a fire.

Bonus: Is tired the new norm?

I don’t think tired is the new norm but having a mental health issue definitely seems to be something that is more prevalent than it was about 10 years ago. It seems that everywhere I turn people are identifying as having a mental health problem.

Another disturbing thing that is perhaps linked to the above is the overwhelming number of people who are more interested in constant scrolling and consumption of rubbish content created by their internet interests stopping only to perhaps create some substandard content of their own using an app that basically does it for you. No one is interested in putting in the effort to create something completely original with their own minds and hands.

OK that maybe was a bit of a rant. I apologise.

Bonus Bonus: Due to the lack of sexy content today here are some boobs

Remember to click the link and enjoy some other bloggers

I Grew a Unicorn

Today was an emotional day for me. My daughter completed her last day of classes for high school. For the next four weeks she will be completing final exams and then my youngest child will have graduated from high school. During that time she will also celebrate her 18th birthday. I will no longer be the mother of children. My children will be adults.

My child is unique. Like her mother I guess. I have sought to be a parent unlike my own. In our house there are no mysteries about sex or nudity. There are no questions unanswered or brushed off. More importantly my children were never made to feel as if they could not be whatever they wanted. Their creativity was never discouraged. Choices of clothing and hobbies were never criticised or ridiculed. The result has been strong independent people who own their life choices and are not worried what other people think.

For the last three years I have been fortunate that my daughter has attended the school where I teach. It has been a unique experience. As a teacher it has given me insights into how teenagers perceive teachers and education in general. As a parent I have had a much more intimate look into the life of my child at school. During this time we have been like very close friends. We share many of the same opinions, interests and ideas.

When she was younger we shielded our children from our lifestyle. Now as they are adults they know enough. It isn’t discussed openly but certain things are tacitly accepted and acknowledged. There is no judgement. Only an understanding that privacy is important and respect for choices is paramount. Life is not about following the rules but about making sure you treat people with respect and kindness.

Dating for her has always been different. Several years ago she identified openly as Pansexual. More recently she has made the decision to avoid males altogether until she meets one who is grown up enough to be worthy of her.

God help that male…

Monogamy in her mind, like her mother, is an outdated concept that is not helpful for many people. And so it seems that she is destined for a lifetime of unconventional relationships. Or maybe she will wake up one day, meet a man who cuts through the crap and suddenly she will fall for the white picket fence dream.

Her grandmother can live in hope. I am not going to hold my breath. Or, more accurately, I am not going to concern myself with things that are not my business.

On her last day of classes she wore her wool dreadlock extensions. A novelty, as for the first time in her life her hair is very long. In the afternoon she and her friend had the last session with their Dungeons and Dragons club. Something they created and nurtured over their senior year. For the occasion they dressed up which is always fun.

When all of the festivities were over I had a moment of watching the majesty of my child frolicking across the car park with her blonde extensions flying free and her witch cape flapping around her legs. It hit me squarely between the eyes what I had created. The emotion of the day brought tears to my eyes as I realised I have made something truly magical.

Just Say No!

The school that I work at has introduced a class called “Stretch” that is compulsory for all students. The idea behind this class is to cover all of the life skills stuff that is not covered in regular academic classes. Although it could be argued that much of it is covered in day to day dealings with students. But of course that doesn’t count. It could also be argued that many of the things that are covered in Stretch; things like, how to choose a good first car, how to apply for a credit card, how to travel overseas safely, how to study effectively are things that should be perhaps taught by parents but that is a topic for another time and probably another place.

I have volunteered to prepare and deliver lessons about consent and relationship stuff for a couple of different age groups. The first lesson was for 16 – 17 year olds and is focussing around the idea of consent and avoiding unwanted sexual situations including how bad mannered sending dick pics is. Especially considering that capturing and distributing sexual images of a person under the age of 18 is illegal in Australia and can land you in jail. Even if they are pictures of YOUR penis. This lesson is fairly stock standard. A lot, but not all, of the students in this group are sexually active at some level. Many have had serious (to them) relationships and so are almost adults.

The second group are 13 – 14. Slightly younger in years but so much younger when it comes to relationships. They have dabbled in dating in a childish pre-teen way and I am assuming that there are some who are sexually active at some level. I am pretty sure penetrative sex at this age is the exception rather than the rule but sex is not just about penis in vagina. Whatever the case it has been identified that these guys are not very good at dealing with situations where someone is getting rejected or when someone has an opinion that is different from the loudest (not necessarily the most popular) person in the group.

My lesson is structured in this way;

Learning Intention:

  1. Students will be able to deal with an unwanted advance tactfully and kindly
  2. Students will be able to handle a rejection with grace and walk away knowing it is not the end of the world

Success criteria:

  1. I am able to be honest and kind with a person who likes me who I don’t like me back
  2. I will be able to be understanding and sensible when someone doesn’t like me back and not engage in any kind of childish, stupid or aggressive behaviour.

Ok so when I write those on the board I may use different words but you get the idea.

What scared me the most was the amount of material I found, while doing some research, that encouraged a level of game playing. This included videos and articles with titles like “How to get her to like you”, “What she REALLY means when she says no” and “How to keep him interested.” Now most of this is produced by and for young “adults” but I am certain that my students will be watching this. The amount of material that I could find that was a) produced for younger teenagers and b) relaying positive messages was miniscule.

I found all of this terrifying. What are we teaching our young people? Where is the honesty? Where is the acceptance that not everyone I am attracted to is going to like me back? Adding to that the idea that being rejected is not a sign that you are worth less? As a parent I have striven to imprint on my children the importance of being as honest as possible with people and avoiding games. It is not an easy path when your peers are not using the same value set. But good relationships are a long game and the gratification is not always instant.

Based on the junk I have uncovered on the internet and my observation of student behaviour, game playing seems to be pretty much the norm. Conversations about “being left on read” and what he really meant, and how to turn her opinion around are rife. The idea that a boy should “fight” for a relationship by persisting with his attention after being told no is particularly frightening.

It is a great boost to the ego when someone demonstrates their undying love consistently even in the face of adversity but the danger of encouraging persistence after the initial no is that people don’t know when no actually does mean no and this can ultimately lead to rape.

There are two sides to no. The first is the telling. Women are conditioned to be compliant and pleasant to suitors, even those they don’t like so much. On top of this humans are wired to avoid conflict. So if we get into a situation that requires rejecting someone we will avoid rather than standing up and saying how we feel. Enter the behaviour of ghosting and “leaving on read”. I am guilty of doing both of these. It is hard to say no. Especially if you have indicated interest early in the conversation. If me, a mature, strong woman finds it hard how hard must it be for a 13 year old feeling the extreme of peer pressure?

The second side is hearing no. It hurts. As an adult it is a knock back. To a teenager striving to be accepted it is of course devastating. Young boys in particular often struggle to contain tempers and express themselves in a non-violent way. Young girls resort to emotional “bitchy” behaviour when they don’t have the tools to deal with this. While the junk that I have described above floats around on the internet the idea that No doesn’t really mean No is going to persist and these young people are not going go through the painful growth of learning how to take a rejection with grace and maturity.

As an educator I am passionate about educating in a holistic way. This means teaching students life skills and encouraging them to grow into decent humans that treat each other with respect. Which is why I am passionate about making sure that this Stretch lesson happens. What concerns me is that many teachers are unaware of the rubbish that students are exposed to and how dating has changed in the last 10 -20 years. What concerns me even more is that parents are even less aware of what is going on in their children’s lives and are not equipping their children with the confidence and skills to deal with this stuff. Schools can only do so much and one or two lessons is like one person trying to stop an ocean.

This post is part of Wicked Wednesday prompt #435 “The Games We Play”. To see who else is posting!

I Wish I Had a Teacher Like You

I am sure I have written about this before but reading through some of the posts in the recent 4ThoughtsorFiction posts I came across some stories that are genuinely shocking. In particular one shared by Jenna at Rasperry Ripples. In her post she shares a recollection about a male teacher who made sexual remarks about her body during her time at high school.

As a teacher I was genuinely appalled at his behaviour. While the rules about professional conduct vary slightly from country to country I don’t believe at any time or in any place a teacher making sexual advances or even engaging in innuendos with a student has been acceptable, AT ALL, EVER.

There is a slight grey area here. In the situation I am talking about; the student was a female and the teacher was a male. This kind of situation is very much taboo but the reverse seems to carry less offense. This probably ties back to the general idea that we seem to have that men have more power than women. Even when they are significantly younger.

But it is no less offensive. The problem when a teacher makes an advance on a student is not the gender but the age of the student. It is about the power imbalance. A young inexperienced person, even if they are legally above the age of consent cannot give fully informed consent to someone who has been in a position of power over them. Hence even if an 18 year old student tried to hook up with a teacher or vice versa the situation is not seen as consensual on the part of the student.

Many times when I am talking to men who would like to be a sexual partner and I reveal my profession they reply with; “I wish I had a teacher like you.” Of course they probably did have a mid 40’s, slightly overweight maths teacher who liked to stick to the rules and dressed like a teacher. I certainly don’t look like the fantasy girl when I am at work. The fantasy these men are tapping in to is the fantasy that an unattainable person suddenly and unexpectedly becomes sexually available to them.

I am sexually available. To the right people. Those people don’t include; my students, other teachers I work with (despite some being of passing interest to me) and men who want to teacher role play. I have been known to tell men who are getting a bit out of hand “Don’t make me get the teacher voice out!” Sometimes this causes a bit of hilarity, but generally when the teacher voice happens in a sexually open environment I get what I want. Sometimes because obedience to that kind of voice is ingrained in us and sometimes because it touches a chord in a man’s sexual fantasy realm and he wants more. Either way it is not going to result in me donning a pair of thick rimmed glasses and engaging in a full classroom role play.

I would not say that I have not been on the receiving end of some “attention” from male students. But never anything serious. Most of it is very, very inexperienced young men awkwardly trying to come to terms with unfamiliar stuff happening in their bodies. A woman with few scruples could easily take advantage of the situation if she was so inclined. And when she was exposed it would be the end of her career as well as a bunch of negative publicity.

Consequently for me the teacher thing is off limits. I may make the occasional joke but as I said I am not interested in a teacher role play situation and I am DEFINITELY not interested in any after hours stuff in an actual classroom. Don’t laugh I was actually asked if that was a possibility once.

I don’t talk to that man any more.

Of course there are always stories about teachers hooking up with ex students or teachers that start relationships with students and keep it on the down low until they are of age. I am certain things like that happen but they are VERY rare and the participants are VERY close mouthed about it. I am not here to judge and every case is slightly different. The thing to remember is that some teachers are quite young when they start out. My daughter literally has her ex school captain as one of her teachers in the last year of her schooling. He is actually friends with my son. In the right situation they could end up dating. As a parent I would not be against that situation.

I guess the fallout from all of this is that we have a fascination with the power play and taboo nature of teacher – student interaction. For the most part this interaction has no place in real life. Teachers who take advantage of the power their position affords them are low lifes who should not be teachers. But as always there are exceptions.

TMI Tuesday

1. Would you help pay for your own engagement ring?

It has been so long since an engagement ring was such a big feature of my life. I think these days when I am a fully fledged adult who has realised that engagement rings and things like that are merely tokens I am not really bothered by the size or grandeur of a piece of jewelry. In all honesty I would rather put my hard earned cash towards something that is going to be an income generator, or at the very least be useful.

2. Were you ever afraid to masturbate?

Afraid is not quite the right word. Shy is probably better. Or uncomfortable about my partners seeing or finding me. In all honestly I have had a fairly negative view of masturbating burned into my self conscious. For most of my life I thought about it as a desperate measure only to be taken if all other measures have been explored.

It was something I did when I couldn’t get sex or if the sex I did get was unsatisfying. So it wasn’t something I really wanted to talk about or share I have never liked the idea of anyone seeing me masturbate or even knowing when and how I do. About ten years ago I wasn’t working or studying full time and I had a fair bit of time to myself in a house that was empty. It was an amazing time in my life. I entertained guests and lovers frequently and I masturbated occasionally. These days I never seem to get a moment to myself but I am becoming more relaxed about masturbating in general.

3. These days what gives you most comfort?

These days the thing that gives me the most comfort is my daughter’s cat. Of course like all cats he doesn’t necessarily recognize who we designate as his owner as HIS owner. He shares his love around. But since the time he was very young I have loved the moments when he “climbs aboard” and parks his furry ass on top of me. His purr is quite loud and that is one of the most comforting sounds in the universe to me.

4. What is distinct about you?

The cheating answer here would be my boobs or my ass. Because they are out there and I get complimented on them regularly. And yes I know I will get likes if I post a picture of them. What is not so obviously distinct about me is my honesty. In my real life people often comment on my upfrontedness. I have learned over the years to keep some of my more obnoxious thoughts to myself but stress has a very degrading impact on my mouth-brain filter and so at the end of the term I find words flying out of my mouth that should have been checked at their inception in my brain.

Sometimes I hear the words flying out and I cringe. Other times I find myself thinking “well if the shoe fits…”

Bonus: What in the past week has given you immense joy?

The thing that is giving me joy is the thought that it is Week 9 of a 10 week term. In two weeks I will be on holidays. Actually in two weeks it will be my birthday and Mr Jones has agreed that I can purchase myself a new camera for my birthday. It has been a long time since I had an actual camera. And this one is very hardy and hopefully not going to succumb to being dropped in the water or other places like a couple of my phones have.

Bonus Bonus: I can’t help myself…. Boobs

This post is part of this week’s TMI Tuesday. Click on the icon below to see who else is sharing