When Life Hands You Lemons

Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

A couple of months ago. I received a notification from Twitter telling me that my profile image violated their terms of use. I complied with their instructions and changed the offending image. I found it a little ironic that the image that was so offensive was so tame compared to some of the ones that I have seen in my timeline. As I was venting about it to The Unicorn she informed me that trigger of these events was likely being reported by someone. That Twitter as an organisation wouldn’t normally identify an offending image and take action. I would concur as the image had been in place for possibly years with no issues. In a fit of defiance I posted an image from the #travellingboob series. 

It was a foolish decision made without any adult consideration. I knew it wasn’t compliant but like a teenager I didn’t stop to consider the consequences. Things went well for a couple of weeks but of course it was only a matter of time. And then I was in Twitter jail again. Despite all of my ranting and frustration at communicating with Bots and their automated system they were the ones with the power. And I was a small person who didn’t matter to them. 

And so my account is suspended. Which is frustrating. Frustrating because their response to my question; “Does that mean I can’t re-open this account ever?”  Was “your account has been suspended and will not be reactivated?” They haven’t deleted the account. I can’t delete the account so it sits there in suspended animation with the offending profile image on display. Maybe one day it will come back to life. In the meantime I am left to take stock.

I regret being impulsive because it has affected traffic to my blog. Something I didn’t stop to consider properly. I have lost contact with a few people who I kind of wish I didn’t, also something I didn’t stop to consider properly. My perception of social media has changed a little during this process. I used to think it was a piece of fluff that we used to fill our time. And it is. But it is also something else. A tool for connecting to people. It would be easy to think that one platform can be replaced by another but that is not so. They are all different. They don’t serve the same purpose. And if the community you are connected to all use a particular platform you are kind of forced to use it too. 

And so here I sit. Taking stock of what I am doing with the blog, with my writing. I have always said that I only blogged for my own purposes and wouldn’t be driven by traffic. That is still true, up to a point, but it feels pointless putting words out into thin air. There has to be some kind of function to my writing. I need to feel that there is someone getting pleasure from my words. Ultimately it would be amazing if people liked it enough to give me money for my words but finding those people and providing words worth money is something I am not sure I have the wherewithal to do. 

As a step towards finding paying customers I opened a Medium account. I haven’t posted there yet but as part of this ‘taking stock” process I am getting some pieces ready. I am not abandoning Corrupting Mrs Jones as I only really want to post fiction on Medium. So you will all still be subjected to my rambling thoughts. I started this year determined to keep up a sustained presence on Corrupting Mrs Jones. I have achieved that goal and for a while the traffic reflected that. Until my nipples got in the way. What it has shown me is that I am OK as a writer. I just need to be a bit more focussed. In the wash-up I regret being impulsive but I think it has given me the nudge I needed. As they say, onwards and upwards. 

Wicked Wednesday

Shut Up and Drive, part 2

Jensen’s story continues. Unexpectedly he encounters the mystery woman as he goes about his business with his brother. For the first part of the story click here

Succubi, hells whores. They lure men into fits of ecstasy and then kill them by sucking out their life force. So the legend goes. – Journal of John Winchester.

7 REASONS WHY 'SUPERNATURAL' ACTOR JEFFREY DEAN MORGAN'S 'JOHN WINCHES –  Supernatural-Sickness

“So it looks as though we may have a case,” Jared looked up at Jensen as he staggered through the door.

“That’s good bro,” Jensen stumbled over to collapse on the bed. “It’s gonna have to wait until the morning though, I am beat.”

“What happened to you? Jared put down the newspaper he was reading.

“Nothing man, Jensen’s voice was already thick with sleep. “Just need some sleep.” Within moments he was snoring softly, completely unconscious. 

Jared shrugged and continued reading. His brother’s erratic behaviour was just a part of their crazy life. He continued to read articles and use the information to cross reference with his father’s journal. The hotel room was silent except for the sound of Jensen’s snores and the scratching of Jared’s pencil. Sometime around midnight even coffee wasn’t enough and Jared succumbed to sleep.

“Rise and shine buddy boy!” 

Jared struggled to open his eyes. His brother waved a breakfast burrito under his nose. “Time to go hunt evil things!”

With a heavy sigh Jared struggled out of bed. “You are chipper this morning. What has gotten in to you?”

“Just high on life bro,” Jared slammed back a coffee and devoured half of his burrito. “What were you saying about a case?”

Jared frowned at his brother as he shrugged on his jeans and a shirt, “So you were listening,”

Jensen shrugged, “Of course man! Why would I not listen to you, the font of all knowledge on things evil,” 

“Because you don’t usually,” Jared was wary of the new bouncy Jensen. Something was not right. 

“Well today is a new day and you, baby bro, have been under appreciated. So hit me with the deets.” 

Jared rummaged through the newspapers and notes he had spent half the night scribbling. “Well there have been reports in the local area of men disappearing. Over the last five or so years there have been three cases. The first was a man in his thirties, lived alone, found by his neighbour in his bed, naked. His appearance was described as desiccated even though he could not have been dead more than three days.”

Jensen nodded as he shovelled the remainder of his breakfast into his mouth and took a swig of coffee. He eyed Jared’s breakfast as yet untouched, “You gonna eat that?”

Jared frowned at the interruption, “No, go ahead,” He continued, “The second case was a younger man, twenty five, last seen leaving a bar with a young woman. His body was found in his car two days later, same desiccated appearance. Third case was a man in his forties, reported missing by his wife after he didn’t return from a visit to the local burger joint. Body has not been located.” 

“Right then.” Jensen’s mouth was full of burrito. “What is your conclusion then, Baby Bro?”

“Well it is not a lot to go on but I am leaning towards a succubi.” Jared took a sip of his coffee. 

“Bit of a stretch,” Jensen swallowed the last of the burrito. “Let’s go make the acquaintance of the local morgue people.” Jensen shrugged into his jacket followed by a more cautious Jared. 

“Sure,” he was used to following his brother’s lead with some things but today he seemed even looser than ever. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was not going to end well.

As the Impala drew up outside the morgue Jensen noticed the young woman walking along the street. Same dark hair falling down her back and same bright red lips that parted in that slow smile when she saw the car. There was something about a woman who appreciated a classic car. 

“You go in and ask questions Bro,” he spoke to Jared without taking his eyes off the young woman. 

“Sure,” Jared replied gathering his notepad and fake ID. He glanced in the direction of the young woman. “She doesn’t look like your regular type. Aren’t you more into blondes?” 

“Variety is the spice of life Jared!” Jensen grinned a little like a wolf about to eat his dinner. Jared felt a brief moment of sympathy for the woman, but as she walked closer he wondered if his brother had met his match. 

“Good morning,” the woman greeted Jensen as he stepped out of the car, “Did you sleep well?” She stood close enough that Jensen could smell her fresh perfume and the cherry flavoured lip gloss. 

“Like a baby,” Jensen stretched in the morning sunshine. “I haven’t slept that well in years.” 

The woman moved closer and placed her hand on Jensen’s chest, her face was close to his and Jensen felt himself responding to her. Their eyes met and he felt as if he could dive into their deep brown depths. Her hand slid lower until it was resting on the front of his jeans. Despite himself Jensen could feel his cock hardening and his breath coming harder and faster. The woman’s breasts were pressed against his chest and her mouth was millimetres from his. He could smell her cherry lip gloss and feel the warmth of her breath on his face. Her eyes were like dark pools, enticing him to dive in. 

Before he realised it her hand was inside his pants. Her fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking slowly. Waves of pleasure washed over him. He felt his legs buckling underneath him as she continued to stroke. Her eyelids drooped and a look of pure satisfaction came over her face as she leaned against him. The same as before he felt his climax building almost against his will, as if she were pulling it out of him. Weakly he fought it, trying to make the moment last but it was futile. He rode the wave of his orgasm, higher than he ever remembered. Jizz pulsed over her willing hand as he groaned in pleasure. She whimpered and her body undulated against his, as if she were feeling his orgasm herself. For a long moment they both stood slumped against his car before she roused herself and withdrew her hand from his pants. Unashamed she licked his jizz from her hand. Her pink tongue cleaning her hand like a cat. 

Jensen was unable to move. Somehow he stayed upright as she finished eating his semen before she straightened her hair and leaned over to use the window of the car as a mirror to apply her lip gloss. The scent of cherry filled the air as she stood up. 

“Delicious.” She grinned before turning to walk away. 

Jensen watched her go still unable to move from his position slumped against the car. His body felt heavy and exhausted. He grinned at the memory of how good her hand felt wrapped around his cock. Just as Jared appeared at the doorway of the morgue Jensen was able to stagger to the front door of the car and slide into the driver’s seat. 

“What happened to you?” Jared frowned in concern at the sight of his brother slumped in the seat. 

With a massive effort Jensen sat upright and leaned forward to start the car,

“Nothing,” The high on life feeling of earlier in the day had left him completely. Somehow he turned the steering wheel and the car moved out of the parking lot. Later when the reached the hotel, Jensen staggered through the door and collapsed on the bed. He had no recollection of the drive. It was as if the car had driven by itself.

Supernatural surge: '67 Chevrolet Impala most searched for car |  ClassicCars.com Journal
Wicked Wednesday
mmmMondays

Choosing the Red Pill

Image by Septimiu Balica from Pixabay

As many of you will know Mr Jones and myself have spent the last six months sailing a yacht up and down the Queensland coast. While I was alway I was asked by a friend to make a video explaining what I thought it meant to be alive as part of a project she was working on to celebrate the anniversary of a person very close to her. I was unsure of what to do but as I was sitting on the outer Barrier Reef watching the sunrise I made a completely off the cuff video. Sitting on a yacht rocking in the ocean after a bad night’s sleep I had a realisation that being alive was not all about joy and happiness. The anxiety and fear that made up a lot of my voyage was part of being alive. Here I was living in a way that many people never get the chance to. My environment was the ocean, the creatures that live in and on it. Everything was pure and a lot of the issues that take up so much of our emotional energy every day were background noise. 

As my journey came to an end I was asked by many people “How are you going to cope with the real world?” I began to reject the idea that where they were was the real world. I became even more connected to sunrises and sunsets and habitually took the time to really see what I was surrounded by. Most people cannot comprehend this lifestyle. Many people imagined that I was experiencing what they experience on their two week resort vacation over an extended period of time. The reality, my reality, was very different. There was sunset drinks most days. They didn’t come with a fancy umbrella but rather in an ordinary insulated cup. We ate but it was food similar to every day home made food with no frills. In fact it was one of the best diets I have ever encountered. I lost 10 kilos while still having some chocolate and at least one drink every day. I never felt as if I was missing out. 

There were a lot of times, especially in the beginning where I was anxious. Being away from the things that make up your every day life is like standing naked in front of a crowd. All of the creature comforts of every day life were stripped away and I was exposed in front of the ocean and nature. The ocean wasn’t always calm and stunning shades of blue. Sometimes it was grey and confused. The wind wasn’t always a gentle breeze. Sometimes it was strong and came thundering down valleys in gusts that pushed us around on our anchor. Sometimes we spent nights awake and fretting about being pushed onto a reef or some rocks. It was in these moments that, despite my fear, I became alive. Not happy and drugged with creature comforts and stimulation of the internet but living and feeling the real world. 

I was introduced to the pop culture reference to “blue pill thinking” by Mike at Marriage Sex and More. Mike uses this term to refer to many male ideas about accepting a bad marriage as the way of the world and using this acceptance as an excuse to avoid taking responsibility for their situation and taking steps to change it but the wider idea of the ‘blue pill’ is about becoming immersed in these creature comforts and accepting the chains of employment and adult responsibilities of mortgages and acquiring stuff as a necessary part of life. Rejecting this thinking is part of the cruising life. To make this voyage I took unpaid leave from my job. I risked going back to work after everyone had been there without me for six months. We risked missing moments with our family but we were free. There was no employer or bank dictating where we went or what we did. All of the consequences of our choices were on us and we were free. Living in the red pill world. 

In the past Mr Jones and I took three months to take our children in a caravan to some remote and very iconic parts of Australia. The journey required similar risks. Leaving our house and business in the hands of others, leaving jobs and living in a no frills way. We met many other families doing the same thing. What we all had in common was choices that we made that involved risk and going against the grain. After our return many of our friends were amazed by our journey and several of them expressed the desire to take on a similar journey “when the time is right” 

For people like this often the time is never right. There is never a perfect time to undertake a journey. That is part of rejecting the blue pill. There are always people to leave behind, always a job or some financial commitment to fulfil. There is always the feeling that something that matters will be somehow incomplete or not right. Sure I could argue that leaving my job for six months left me exposed to someone undermining me. Leaving my eighteen year old daughter to fend for herself was irresponsible parenting. But these things are not insurmountable. The universe works how it works and when I am on my death bed the thing I will hold in my heart will be sunsets and connection to country, not a million mundane moments of getting ready for work and making dinner. 

So what is real? That routine stuff, driving to work, dealing with traffic, paying bills. That is just white noise. Reality is the spinning of the Earth and watching the sun go down with a drink in your hand. 

Shut Up and Drive

A friend of mine celebrated her birthday this week. As I composed her birthday post on Facebook I included a picture of Jensen Eckles (aka Dean Winchester) because she is slightly obsessed. As I read the Wicked Wednesday prompt for this week an idea geminated. It took a little bit of water and coaxing to get the story out and if the truth be told I am still nurturing it a little but here is the first part.

Because the 1967 Chevy Impala was not just a car it was the most important object in the whole universe.Chuck Shurley – Supernatural, Episode 22

“Nice car,” the girl in the drive thru smiled perfect white teeth. As she leaned forward Jensen got a good look at a pair of perky breasts nestling inside the fast food uniform. Her fingers brushed his hand as she handed him the bag.

Jensen grinned letting his gaze rest on those perfect globes pushing out nicely against the mustard shirt, “Ohh she isn’t just a car,” He patted the dashboard. “She is the only woman who has never cheated on me.”

The girl grinned, “I’d love to get to know her better,” 

There was a horn blast from the car behind them. The door to the cashier’s cubicle opened to admit a frowning manager. Jensen took one last look at the glistening red lips and the perfectly smooth cleavage before he slid his baby into gear, “Looks like we will have to take a rain check.” 

As he drove away Jensen glanced into the rear view mirror. The manager was doing his best to berate his employee but those lips and that cleavage were working their magic. Jensen grinned to himself as he shifted gear and gave the car some gas. She purred in response.

“Baby you are the only one for me,” Jensen stroked the gear shift lovingly as the lights of the hotel came into view. The smell of the burgers filled his nostrils and made his stomach rumble. With one thing in mind he parked outside their room and grabbed the food and the beers. As he opened the door she was there, leaning on the bonnet of his car. Dark hair tumbled down over her shoulders, perfect round breasts straining at the opening of the awful mustard uniform. Jensen frowned in confusion. 

“Where did you come from?” 

She grinned, red lips parting to reveal perfect teeth, “Well when a mummy and daddy love each other very much…” 

The door of the hotel room opened and Jensen’s brother appeared in the doorway, “Where have you been? I am starving.” He stepped towards Jensen and the woman and snatched the bag of food from his brother’s hand. 

The woman raised an eyebrow, “Looks like you better go eat or you may miss out,” 

Jensen was torn; food, or this delectable woman.

As if she read his thoughts the woman lifted herself from the bonnet of his car and took a step towards him. She smelled of cherry lip gloss and some floral perfume. Jensen felt his heart race and his cock stir.  “Go eat,” her face was so close he could almost feel her lips. “We will see each other again soon.” 

And then she was gone. Like a dream. He wondered if he had imagined the whole thing. 

Three days later Jensen found himself driving down an alley near the hotel he was staying at. On the sidewalk he saw a girl walking by herself. Dark hair tumbled down her back, stopping at the waistband of a skirt that some people would call too short. What was she doing walking here? Jensen slowed as he drove past and then he recognised her.

“Hey,” he pulled the car over to the side to drive slowly beside her. 

She turned and those red lips pulled into a slow smile, “Hey there,” she stopped walking and leaned into the window of the car. 

“You know it probably isn’t good for you to be waking down this kind of street alone in the dark.” He tried desperately to keep his eyes focussed on her face. 

She laughed, “Oh the gallant knight in the pretty car is going to save the poor little lady walking all alone at night,” Her fingers trailed along the open window. Jensen squirmed a little at her teasing

“Get in the car,” his voice was rougher than he meant

“OK then,” he was surprised at her response, “but you really need to drop the macho shit,” She opened the door and slid in beside him. Her scent tickled his nostrils and he fancied that he could feel the warmth of her body. 

“Where do you want to go?” He asked as he felt his cock stirring in his jeans. What was it about this woman?

“Wherever you take me,” she leaned over and slid her hand down over his jeans. Jensen squirmed. His cock hardened under her hand and he couldn’t stop himself from looking down her blouse. Her red lips fell open a little and there was a glint in her eye that spoke straight to his groin. With nimble fingers she opened his belt and set his cock free. “I do like a man that goes commando,” she purred as her hand wrapped around his shaft.

Jensen exhaled, slumping a little in his seat to give her better access. With a sly grin she leaned down, “Bench seats are so much more convenient don’t you think?” she grinned up at him as her hand continued to stroke his cock. A drop of pre-cum glistened at the tip of his cock. Without warning she slid her red lips down over his shaft. A groan escaped Jensen’s lips as he struggled to concentrate on his driving. Her tongue swirled around the head of his cock and he felt himself tensing as his arousal grew. Almost before he could sense it the orgasm was upon him. With a huge effort of concentration he pulls the car over to the side of the road as she slid her lips to the base of his shaft to press her nose against his belly.

He tried to fight the pleasure building at the base of his cock. He wasn’t ready to cum but she was like a greedy child sucking his cock deep into her throat. His cock exploded into her mouth accompanied by a groan of pleasure. White hot jizz pulsed out of his cock sending pulses of pleasure through his whole body. It was better than any orgasm he had ever experienced. As the orgasm subsided she held his cock in her mouth drinking the last drops of his seed before letting his spent member slide out of her mouth. 

Jensen’s head lolled back over the seat as she sat up delicately wiping the side of her mouth. He felt as if he had just run a marathon, all of the energy seemed to have drained out of his body. He couldn’t even raise his head as he heard the squeak of the door opening and his mystery passenger disappeared down the dark alley. 

Just in case you need some more Chevy Impala and Dean Winchester Spam in your lives here is a great song that inspired the title

Wicked Wednesday

Nothing Ever Happens in Marlborough – Rework

The prompt for this week’s Wicked Wednesday was “Movie Star” I was reminded of a story I posted in 2020. It was too good a concept to sit by the wayside so I dusted it off and gave it a tweak. I hope you enjoy.

The regular Friday night crowd filtered slowly in. Most of them were familiar, farmers or workers from the mine nearby. One or two were truckies who drove up and down the highway that passed their front door. Of course there was always at least one ring in. Usually a traveler or two made their way in from the free camp on the other side of the road sometimes an unfamiliar truckie. At the end of the bar Janice’s friend Katrina sat with her boyfriend Steve.

“What time do you finish?” Katrina pushed Steve’s hand away from her thigh

“Same as usual, around 10,” Janine smiled to herself at Steve’s antics.

“Wanna come and play Wii with us later?” Katrina shrugged Steve away as he tried to kiss the side of her neck.

Janine smirked openly, “And interrupt you two rabbits?”

“Well you could always join us,” Katrina looked at Janine underneath her eyelashes.

It wasn’t an unappealing thought. It wasn’t something she hadn’t done before. The idea caused a slight tingle between Janine’s thighs.

“I will see how the night goes.” She replied, “There is something in the air tonight, this lot might get a bit out of hand.” Friday night in a roadhouse on the side of a highway in a tiny rural town was always a bit unpredictable.

Janine moved away to pull beers for the men standing around the bar. She shared banter with the ones she knew. It was all part of her job. Occasionally one would get out of hand and try to take it further, she would put them in their place pretty quickly. A girl had to know how to handle herself in a place like this and Janine knew better than to go home with a guy from the pub.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed three men come in. Two of them sounded American but they were accompanied by a tall guy with an Australian accent who looked vaguely familiar. Irritation welled up in Janine. These guys were probably going to want a room and food, she would have to go make up beds and organise meals for them. Why couldn’t they have stopped in a bigger town and found a hotel that was bigger with more staff.

Pushing her irritation down she put her best customer service smile on and made her way to the end of the bar where they were standing, “What can I get you?” she made her way to the end of the bar where they were standing.

One of the Americans replied, “Do you have rooms here?”

Janine hoped her irritation at this question didn’t show as she replied, “We do but I will have to get them made up for you. It may take a while, I am kind of busy here.”

The Australian smiled and at least had the grace to look a little uncomfortable at the imposition. The feeling that she knew him from somewhere grew stronger, adding to her irritation. He shot a look at the American who had approached her, “We get it, Can we please have a beer while we wait?” Despite herself Janine felt some of her irritation dissipate. He was attractive this man who she could not recognise. She poured beers for the three of them. A couple of paces away some patrons stood impatiently waiting for beer. Janine’s irritation re-appeared as she realised her manager had disappeared and left her to fend for herself.

“I will just serve these guys and be back in a moment,” she smiled her best customer service smile.

“Johnno can you get your arse out here!,” she yelled through the door at the back of the bar before turning and pulling five beers for the men waiting.

Like a ghost Johnno appeared. “Keep your pants on, I just had to piss,” There was nothing charming about Johnno.

“Those guys want rooms,” Janine nodded in the direction of the three men standing a little awkwardly at the end of the bar.

“Well you better get them organised,” Johnno never turned down the opportunity to make a buck, “Charge them extra because it is Friday and they didn’t make a reservation,” he grinned. Janine was not happy with his reply, she didn’t want to make up three rooms, nor organise meals.

“So how many rooms was that you wanted?” she smiled sweetly at the tall, oddly familiar man.

“Three if it is not too much trouble,” She could tell he felt a little awkward but right now she didn’t care. She just wished he and his American sounding friends had planned their trip better and landed in a town with a hotel that actually wanted travellers like them. Not in her pub that was really for farmers who wanted a beer on Friday night.

“If it isn’t too much trouble, could we get some food as well?” There was a strange glint in his eye.

“Sure! Our meals are on the board there, I will let you decide, and Johnno will get you another drink while I go sort your rooms. When you decide on your meals let him know what you want, and he will organise it.” She smiled and left them to order their drinks and food.

Upstairs she busied herself with sheets and towels. At least having these three guys around tonight would mean some extra hours for her tomorrow cleaning their rooms and doing their laundry. She could do with some cash. Efficiently she made up the first room, checking that everything was straight and tidy before making her way down the hallway to the second. She was halfway through the second bed when she was startled by the tall stranger.

“I thought I would come and help,” he spoke awkwardly, “I felt like we were imposing a little..” his voice trailed away.

Janine stood awkwardly beside the partially made bed. The strange look in his eyes and the feeling that she should know him made her flustered. “Umm, OK.” She turned back to tug at the sheet before he moved to the other side of the bed and helped her. Dumbfounded Janine watched as he tucked the sheet into perfect hospital corners.

“My mother was a bit of a neat freak,” he grinned sheepishly. He reached for the blanket and dealt with it in the same perfect neatness.

“Would you like a job?” Janine found herself drawn to him. Something about the way his hands moved and tucked the sheets so neatly despite his height and gym buffed body.

“Maybe,” he stood up and took a step closer to her. For a few moments they stood, almost touching. The sound of the bar below them formed a faint background noise but all Janine was aware of was the man in front of her, the slightly musky scent of his body, the way he towered over her. Her nipples strained against the fabric of her shirt and her breathing seemed laboured in the stillness of the room. Time moved slowly as he reached out and touched her face before trailing his fingers down her neck and along the edge of her shirt. She stood, unable to move, transfixed by the burning of his fingers.

His eyes looked at her questioningly, he seemed to be struggling with something, Janine reached out and touched his chest.

“I hope this isn’t too presumptuous but you are so fucking sexy,” his voice was deep and husky.

Janine was lost for words. He pulled her closer, “Can I kiss you?” He seemed like a little boy, afraid of being chastised. Unable to speak she nodded. Within a heartbeat they were pressed together. His hands reached down and cupped her arse, holding her against his hard body. She reached down and cupped the bulge in his jeans. He groaned into her mouth as her hands unbuckled his belt to release the hard heat of his cock. Quickly he followed suit, pulling her jeans down to her hips before turning her around to face the wall. Deft fingers stroked her wetness as she arched back towards him. Nothing mattered anymore except the need to be filled by his delicious cock. He did not disappoint. He filled her hard and the room filled with the sound of his belly slapping against her arse. She cried out in pleasure as he stroked her clit in time with his thrusts.

The orgasm hit her like a train. Vaguely she was aware of him holding her hips as he emptied into her. Her legs sagged as strong arms held her upright.

“Don’t want to mess up the bed,” he panted. Janine looked behind her.

“Oh yeh,” she laughed slowly coming back to her senses. There was a knock on the door.

“Janine, what the fuck are you doing?” Johnno’s voice filtered through as Janine hurriedly wiggled into her jeans.

“Shit, Shit!!! Coming,” she smoothed her hair and straightened her shirt. The stranger smirked at her.

“I believe you already came,” his voice was rich and sent tingles through her body.

“Fuck you,” she replied.

“I think that also happened,” his eyes were the most impossible shade of blue. “But if you are interested we can have another round when you finish. This bed deserves a good messing.”

Janine grinned. “Definitely.” She turned and left. She still didn’t know his name but somehow that didn’t matter.

Months later Janine knocked on Katrina’s door after her Friday night shift.

“Want to know some amazing goss?” Katrina greeted her in excitement.

Janine was startled but her friend’s excitement was infectious. “What!”

Katrina waved a clipping from the local newspaper in her friend’s face.

“Liam Hemsworth is making a movie in Marlborough! Who would have thought, nothing ever happens in Marlborough!”

Underneath the headline was a photograph of the man Janine had spent the night with. Until right then she had not been able to place him. How could she have been so dumb!

Wicked Wednesday

The Travelling Boob

I have posted about #travellingboob before. It is a project that Mr Jones and I created as we travelled to some spectacular places along the Queensland Coast. #travellingboob has its own little following and it has been really fun to engage with. I am proud of my boobs and getting them out to show off has been fun. I am expecting to be officially at the end of my journey in a little over a week so #travellingboob will be a little quiet for a while. In the meantime enjoy a montage of spectacular scenery

This post is part of this week’s MMMMonday. For more MMM click on the button below

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All of us love a little wickedness. There is plenty to be had at Wicked Wednesday.

Wicked Wednesday

Craving

I have a craving. A craving for a man who is starving.

I have the food he is starving for.

At first there will be restraint. I will display what he wants, and he will take a taste. One finger dipped in juice. He knows he cannot have more.

Yet.

He will put his face close to me and inhale the aroma of my offering. His mouth will water, and his fingers will explore but he knows he cannot have more.

Yet.

He moves closer and takes his first taste. A long slow lick. His whole body shudders with desire. But he cannot have more.

Yet.

I spread my legs wider. My fingers dip into my dripping wet cunt and then trace the path I want his tongue to follow. His eyes follow eagerly. I notice his hand is around his manhood moving slowly. He is almost ready. Eagerly he follows my fingers with his tongue. A deep groan vibrates through him.

Or is that me?

He grips my thighs desperately holding back. The ache to consume and be consumed grows. My fingers cradle the back of his head. His breath is hot against me. I wait. Each tentative stroke of his tongue sending a cacophony of pleasure through me.

And then it is time.

I can wait no longer. My fingers curl into his hair. I press his head against me. He obeys. He buries his face into me, gulping as he tries to drink my juice. His breath comes in short sharp bursts. I am lost in sensation. My head falls back, and the room fills with my cries of pleasure until I can take no more. I press his forehead away from me and he leans back on his heels breathing heavily. Droplets of my pleasure coat his chin. We grin at each other, and I reach for his cock. My craving is satisfied.

For now.

Image by Bogdan Ch from Pixabay
mmmMondays

Wicked Wednesday

Dead White Man’s Clothes

The Unicorn and I have a philosophy relating to our crafting / textile / sewing obsession. We call it “out of the closet”. Essentially it is about looking in the cupboard for what is already there. Often when starting a project or working on an idea it is tempting to head for the nearest fabric / craft superstore and purchase everything you need (want really) to make the creation in your head. The reality is that most crafters have a mountain of supplies already squirrelled away that they often don’t ever access. So we make ourselves look in the closet and pull out the fabric we have sitting there to make that dress or use the beads we already own to make new jewelry.

When I saw this prompt for Wicked Wednesday I wanted to write about the minimalism I have been living on the yacht for the last few months. I even prepared a whole post then I saw this news story on a Facebook group I am part of.

The whole story made me feel sick. I have spent the last five months living on the ocean. There have been times when I have collected armfuls of plastic waste that has washed up on beaches. It makes me so sad to see this and know it is a result of our excessive consumption and obsession with convenience.

I read somewhere once that the best way to diet is to cook all of your food from scratch. If you had to go through the ridiculously long process of making the perfect fries you would rarely eat them. Believe me, making fries at home is HARD. Making pizza at home is delicious and worth the effort but it is time consuming. The same applies to textiles. That chunky knit that is so chic? If you had to take the twenty or so hours to create it from a ball of yarn yourself you would wear it more than a few times. That is not taking into consideration the time it would take to spin the yarn from the fleece. There are people who do that.

I have a few garments I have made myself that I wear to work. I always get complimented on them. Because they are different from what you buy in the fashion stores, because they fit me well and because people know I made them. Were they easy and did they come together in the same time it would take to impulse buy something from the sale rack? No way. Do I have more respect for them because they are from my hand? One hundred percent. Will I wear them until they are no longer wearable? Most likely.

The Unicorn modelling a dress I made for her. I have another one made from the same fabric in a different style.

I made a statement to Mr Jones recently that I believe that if we stopped manufacturing textiles tomorrow there would be enough clothing already in existence to keep the world population covered for decades. If every crafter emptied their stash and used what they had they would have enough projects to keep them going until they die.

We

Need

to

STOP

Buying

STUFF!

A couple of years ago a group of friends and I went on a ‘fashion diet’. The diet was essentially a ban from shopping at mainstream and on-line shops. The only acceptable ways to obtain clothing were as follows;

  1. Op shops or second hand shopping
  2. Independent, market stall shops
  3. Swaps with friends
  4. Make it yourself

Underwear and socks were not included in the rules. I think at one stage we bent them slightly to get shoes exempted. I won’t say I succeeded with flying colours but it did make me think every time I looked at clothing “Do I need this? Is there something I already have that I could wear instead?” So even though I didn’t follow the rules all the time it worked. After writing this post I am resolving to implement these rules more into my every day life. It won’t be easy but I think it is necessary.

Wicked Wednesday

Naughty, Dirty Woman

I want you to fuck me

The text was straightforward enough but he knew that this would not be a routine, run of the mill fucking. Nothing about fucking this woman was routine or run of the mill. And that was how he liked it. Dirty, taboo and all kinds of naughty.

How would you like me to fuck you?

He had a million ideas about how he would fuck her but they all ended the same way, his cock buried deep inside her, hands gripping her hips and the deep spasm of her pussy enveloping him.

In the carpark, bent over the front of your ute.

His cock was hard before he finished reading. The thought of her bent over, legs spread. He knew he was going to struggle to say no to her. For a fleeting moment he thought about the job in front of him. His boss was waiting for him to finish but he was not motivated.

Will you wear that skirt?

He was glad his clothes were loose. Walking around the work site with a boner was always awkward.

Of course. 😉

He looked around at the other men working on the job with him. How would they react if he suddenly walked out? Did he care? Of course, it wasn’t the right thing but all he could think about was his cock buried deep in her wet cunt while she squirmed and whimpered under him.

I want to go home with your cum running down my leg

Fuck! How could he say no to that! He made a decision. He was thinking with his small head, but he didn’t care.

I will meet you at Boundary Road in one hour

He knew he would have to make it up to his boss later and he knew his boss would take no prisoners but the boner in his pants was not going away.

One hour later he pulled into the carpark. She was leaning on the bonnet of her car cool as a cucumber. As promised the skirt swirled in the wind swishing the hem tantalisingly around the top of those brown legs. She smirked at him as he stepped out of his ute.

“Took you long enough,”

She moved towards him. The wind lifted the hem of her skirt to flash him a glimpse of her bare pussy. His cock throbbed painfully. With a few short steps he was standing in front of her. He reached out and took her hand to lead her to the front of his ute.

“You wanted to be fucked over the front of my ute?”

With one hand he pressed her over the bonnet. Her skirt lifted enticingly. His other hand fumbled with his zipper. His cock throbbed almost painfully. Finally it was free. He pressed her legs apart, letting his finger graze her cunt. She was so hot and wet.

“You are such a dirty girl.” He pressed the head of his cock against her opening.

“You love it,” She pushed her hips back against his cock impaling herself on him.

“AHHHHH’” she groaned.

For a moment he looked around the car park. Even though there was no one there people could look over from the nearby road and see them.

“What if someone sees us?”

Her voice was muffled by the bonnet of his car, “I don’t fucking care. Just fill me with your big cock,”

He knew he wouldn’t last long. This whole thing was so damn dirty.

“What did you tell your hubby?” He thrust hard into her.

“Nothing,” she panted in between cries of pleasure.

“Are you going to take my load home for him,” He could feel the pressure of his orgasm building. Nothing was going to stop him blowing hard inside her

“Yes,” the word hissed out of her. “Now fill me up,”

His hands gripped her hard, “Get ready, UGGGGGHHH.” He grunted in pleasure as his cock exploded inside her. Nothing ever prepared him for the white-hot feeling of unloading inside her. For long moments he leaned over her, panting. She remained perfectly still, holding his cock. Slowly he withdrew letting his cock slide out of her. A dribble of his cum ran down her leg. She turned to face him.

“Well then,” she grinned, that naughty smile. The one that made him horny every time. “Better get back to work then.”

He grinned back at her, “Probably. But I am going to take my time and fuck the life out of you next time,” he promised.

A teasing light glinted in her eye, “Is that so?”

He slapped her bare arse cheek, “You know it,”

“Well then.” She lifted her chin as if to challenge him, “Name the place and time and we will see,”

He leaned down and kissed her on the lips. “We definitely will.”

mmmMondays
Wicked Wednesday

Thirty Dirty Questions – Question 10

What do you want more of in your sex life?

The honest answer, not much really. I have almost everything a girl could possibly want. The only thing that would possibly tick a different box is a dominant play friend.

Mr Jones is not entirely keen on this idea. He says that a man who is capable of dominating me is probably not a very nice person and therefore he wouldn’t be happy with me seeing him. He does have a point. I don’t take well to someone restraining me or denying me something I have decided I want. Particularly when it comes to sex. In my professional life I have a reputation for being tolerant and patient with difficult people. In my sex life I don’t have time for that shit. I want what I want and I want it NOW. If you say no to me then I will go find it somewhere else.

So even though I fantasise about a man strong enough to make me wait. I haven’t actually done a lot about finding him. Mostly because I don’t want to sort through the idiots on adult dating websites who call themselves Dominant. The majority of these are there to massage their own egos. I definitely don’t want that.

My recent experience with The Second Mate did take me down that path. He was not beyond pushing me to do things his way and making me wait upon his pleasure. I would very much have liked more time with him to see where things would have ended up but sadly it was not to be. I don’t think it will be easy to find someone like that again.

And so I fantasise some more. But I am not about to spend a lot of time looking. The right person will come along at the right time.

Wicked Wednesday