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Chris and Jessica, married for 27 years… In a tiny pine bed overloaded with dogs, cats and old resentments, Chris lamented how his wife goes up to the loft every night with a bag of glass beads to make jewellery.
After a logjam of heated accusations, Chris finally asked her why she couldn’t sit next to him and do it ‘on a tray’.
‘I miss you,’ he said, simply.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asked, looking amazed.
‘I thought you knew.’
‘Oh,’ she said, collapsing onto her pillow as if she’d been falling out of an exploding plane for a long time, and finally landed.
Caitlin Moran on TV, The Times, Saturday 17 October 2009 reviewing ‘Wonderland: The British in Bed‘
I watched this episode of the Wonderland strand on BBC IPlayer after reading this review.
It was quite fascinating. Three or four couples of varying ages and stages in their relationship. Couples who had been together for many years and some who were quite new to the relationship. And there were just so many variants in the ways that it is possible to love a spouse.
But it was Chris and Jessica who stood out. She had put on weight after problems in childbirth. She felt old and fat and needed to have his love physically demonstrated but when he didn’t, she replaced it with external activities. The sudden discovery that he loved her desperately but just didn’t know how or was unable to show/tell her was quite shocking. Not just to her but to this viewer as well.
I can remember that my Husband and I used to watch television together until he discovered the joys of a musical instrument. He went through an extremely irritating phase of strumming a guitar whilst I was trying to concentrate on a programme. Being me, I never expressed that but I guess my face must have shown it because he eventually got the hint and retired to another room to practise.
When I began to feel more and more isolated from him, I focussed more and more on my hobby and then I discovered the internet. It wasn’t long before I had replaced his lack of attention with the conversation of strangers on sites where my hobby was being discussed.
Looking back, I think he was probably a Chris. Unable to share his feelings for me, he wanted to be in the same room but he also wanted to indulge his own hobby at the same time, which meant that it was just impossible for us both to enjoy what we were doing.
Once the crack began to show, his behaviour over the children just drove a wedge between us until the chasm was unbridgeable.
Let’s hope the programme has been a wake-up call for Chris and Jessica and they can move forward together from here.
Further to my post about Botched Up Bodies, the second programme in the series showed even more horrors – and ones which were closer to home.
Whilst the first episode dealt with a woman who had had permanent filler injected into her cheeks to try to highlight her cheek bones, I could be po-faced and say that I would never be so silly. Especially after the example of poor Lesley Ash – so beautiful in Men Behaving Badly – who suddenly looked like a trout after having filler injected into her lips. It was a permanent filler and the first time I had come across the term.
However, it seems that, these days, everyone is obsessed with their wrinkles and the quest to find ways to ‘fill’ them. There were images of women having injections in their crowsfeet, laughter lines and necks.
The second episode talked about some of the problems with this burgeoning industry and one of the consultant plastic surgeons talked about why permanent fillers should be banned.
He said ‘If you have a problem with a permanent filler, then you have a permanent problem.”
70% of UK Plastic Surgeons report seeing problems with patients who have had procedures using fillers.
When filler is injected, the body reacts by surrounding it with collagen to restrict exposure and movement but sometimes this doesn’t work properly and the filler starts to migrate into areas that it is not meant to be. Worse still, it becomes infected so the effect is swollen and lumpy and it feels extremely painful. For many, this happens several years after the original operation.
The only solution is remove the filler but it is very difficult to get rid of every last bit so, even then, there is always a chance of reinfection.
In the UK, there is a petition to get the Home Secretary, Theresa May, to enforce an exclusion zone around abortion clinics prohibiting pro-Life protesters.
The petition’s organiser says:
“I was shocked that it is legal for people to protest and have recording equipment so close to the entrance of these clinics. Abortion is not illegal in the UK and nor should it be. Women should be able to visit these clinics without fear, harassment or intimidation.”
As someone who has used one of these clinics, I firmly believe that every woman has the right to make that choice about her own body.
And this includes not having to run a gauntlet of outrage as she exercises her right to make that choice. And to have the option for privacy over that decision.
To run the risk of having such a horrible event documented on YouTube for later identification is such a gross infringement of data protection and civil rights!
Here is a video of how one woman protested to the protesters.
I wake up lying on my stomach. It’s too hot and I’m very squashed. My body hurts… it aches in places I didn’t know I had places.
I reach out my hand and feel the reassuring crackle of Ruf’s chest hair under my fingers but I am conscious of the heat surrounding me. I cautiously move my left hand and the realisation starts to dawn as it encounters the soft skin of another chest at my other side and I become aware of the pressure of a second hand on my back. I can feel the red flush rise in my face as the memories start to flood back…
We had invited him to our hotel room. Someone I’ve known for a while virtually. I knew he wanted me. He had made no secret of that. And who else would I choose for this adventure? It had to be someone that lusted after me but that I knew and trusted. He intrigued me and, since the day Ruf and I first discussed this subject, the day when I promised him that I would ‘munch carpet’ (as he so eloquently describes it) for him because he wanted it so. I would do it because he is my Master and I want to please him. But my proviso was that I would only do it if he would play out my fantasy first. I’m sure that deep down inside, part of me was calling his bluff, willing him to say that he would never agree to such a thing, never entertain the idea of watching someone else play with me, and yet that uncontrollable other part was deeply excited at the prospect of two men worshipping me, touching me, filling me…
From that time, this man had been the one that I subconsciously desired, the name that fit the frame in my secret thoughts, even though I had no idea what he really looked like. It’s so strange how your mind can depict a man with whom you have conversed on a computer screen but never actually seen for real. So I had cultivated him, groomed him, prepared him for this day, the only way he could have me for real… unless he could prove himself indispensible. Finally coming face to face with him was something of a shock but I need not have worried. A part of me, deep inside the recesses of my mind, recognised him and made me feel comfortable with him.
Ruf is unsure about all this. At the final hurdle, he doesn’t know if he wants to share me but he is aware that if he wants to fulfil his own desire for a FFM, then this has to happen. Is it mean to admit that I want him to be jealous? I want him to feel pain at seeing another man touch my secret places and watch and listen to him take me to a climax because I know that anguish is how I will feel if and when I let some other woman share him. I shake my head and lock away the secret fear that we are both doing something that could irrevocably destroy the perfection that we have forever. This is just another experiment, another step of discovery on a long journey of mutual sexual exploration. Yet I am still uncomfortably aware of my hands trembling at my sides.
Ruf inclines his head to the other man in acknowledgement. Neither is sure whether a handshake of introduction is the correct etiquette for this situation. So a reciprocated nod has to suffice and then Ruf grabs hold of me and kisses me deeply, claiming his prior ownership, before letting me go, pulling at the belt of my robe so that it falls open. I shrug it off so that I’m left standing in the black basque and holdups that I know they both love. Stood there between them, my Ruf, all squat, solid and smiling dimples in his jeans and tshirt and his antithesis, slightly anxious, tall and almost willowy in his shirt and trousers. Such a contrast. Ruf and Smooth. The perfect combination.
I turn to Ruf and kiss him gently before pulling off his tshirt and caressing his shoulders and chest, whispering to remind him how much I love him. Running my fingertips over the muscles and the tattoos that I know so well. His hands are on the lace covering my nipples, squeezing them through the fabric until they are pointed and protruding. Pressing my lips back to his, I undo his fly and run my hand across his groin through his jeans. My cock presses back at me, knowing me, wanting me, even with a stranger in the room and I smile and push him away, turning my body to face Smooth.
He drinks me in as I stand there. My face is turned towards Ruf, the lace of the basque is pushed down so my breasts are exposed. Two soft globes begging for attention. The pale skin starting to flush pink with arousal, tiny goosebumps of anticipation raising the skin. The nipples taut and pert, ready to be sucked. The stiff, ribboned lace covering my firm, tight belly. My thighs encased in their black stockings with the lace toppings contrasting with the stark whiteness of the exposed slender flesh. The soft hair of my pussy curling damply. I slide my fingers between my legs and part the lips, dipping my fingers into my liquid excitement and sucking the juice off. I love the taste of my desire. I reach up my hand and rub those fingers across his mouth. He can smell me. Inhale my lust… and he shivers.
I have to stand on tiptoe to reach his lips and he bends slightly to assist. The feel of his mouth on mine is electric. His cock is pressing against me through his trousers. I have teased and tormented him for months. He can hardly wait and as my fingers slowly undo each button of the shirt, caressing the skin of his chest, his breath is ragged with desire. He has wanted me to touch him for so long. His arms are on my hips as his tongue devours my mouth and he lifts me up, pressing into me so that my legs have to go around his waist. He lifts me as if I am a feather, hands cupping my pert bottom and pulling me in. My pointed nipples rub against his chest and my soaking pussy against the skin of his belly makes him moan. I push the shirt from his shoulders and reach behind me to undo his fly before he lets me back down to the floor.
He watches as I kneel before Ruf and remove his jeans and boxers, catching his cock expertly in my mouth as I set it free. Licking and sucking and stroking his balls as I untangle his feet from the restraints of his clothing. His hands are on the back of my head as I deepthroat him with alacrity and he laughs with delight before pushing me to Smooth, who trembles as my hands draw his trousers and boxers down his thighs. My mouth is level with the tip of his cock. He can feel my hot breath and I slip my tongue out and caress the very end. He jumps as if I have burned him and, as I open wide, he buries his member deep inside my mouth. Letting me flick at the captured shaft with my tongue as my lips slide backwards and forwards along it. Freeing his feet, I return my hands to his buttocks, caressing the soft skin and pull him tight into me, taking as much as I can. The reward of the goosebumps erupting beneath my fingers and the shudder that runs through him pushing me to new efforts.
But Ruf has other plans and drags me by my hair to the bed, pushes me down and thrusts two fingers into me. I am soaking. I had no idea how exciting this would be. Showing off how well he knows my body, he expertly brings me quickly to a climax, delighting at my moans and then gestures to Smooth to stand at the side of the bed whilst he remains at the end. He lifts me by my hair back to all fours so that I am diagonally on the bed with my arse in the air and penetrates my sopping hole with his cock. As I gasp in surprise, Smooth shoves his cock into my mouth and there I am, spitroasted for the first time. Trying so hard to focus on pleasuring the cock in my mouth and still enjoy the cock thrusting into in my cunt.
Smooth can feel how wet my mouth is from my excitement. He slides in and out on the wave of saliva, using my hair as handles. The friction builds and builds until he is deep within my throat feeling it constrict and contract as I start to gag and then recover squeezing it so tightly that he can’t help but come. Inwardly I’m smiling as I hear him shouting his joy and his gratitude. His semen shooting inside me and as he tries to withdraw, it leaves a trail all over my face. At the same time Ruf pulls out and spurts his load to join it. He knows I liked to watch the bukake girls. It’s in my mouth, my hair, blurring my eyes, dripping off my dangly earrings and running down my throat and neck. Ruf rubs his hand in it and pushes it into my mouth as I lick hungrily and then forces my face onto Smooth’s cock again to take care of the aftershocks. Licking and sucking as his body contracts from the ejaculation, the most sensitive time for the head of the penis, he is almost beside himself, shaking and shuddering at my attentions with Ruf laughing because he knows that exquisite sensation, the fine line between pleasure and pain. He is hard again and back inside me. His hands pulling at the lace of the basque to find my nipples and pinching hard as he thrusts into me harder and harder, making it so difficult to maintain the gentleness of my cocksucking until Smooth has to pull away. My drool mixing with the tendrils of the remnants of his come leaving a sticky trail connecting my mouth and his cock.
And he watches me. Watches the flush rise from my chest, blotching my neck and filling my face. Our eyes are locked as he spectates. Hearing my screams for real, watching my face and body contort as I climb the mountain secure in Ruf’s hands and shrieking and collapsing onto the bed as he pushes me over the edge of my climax. Giving me only seconds to recover, Ruf drags me onto my back and throws the tulip onto the bed beside me, ‘Wank for him, bitch’. Like I ever needed any encouragement. This was such a huge turn on. A proper audience. Both of them sitting on either side of the bed, their eyes intent on me and my cunt, their hands busy massaging their wood. I come almost immediately, short sharp spasms racking my body and, as I close my eyes and wait for the next one to build, Ruf tosses Smooth the dildo and holds out his hand as if to say ‘Be my guest’.
They can both see how wet I am, my slit slick, red and engorged, the lips of my cunt fluttering as the muscles recover from the ferocity of my orgasm, the come dribbling out of me, but Smooth lubes up the dildo anyway. He’s new to this and wants to get comfortable first. Lying there with my legs wide open inviting him, he has no choice but to bury his face in my musky, messy muff, drinking the juice of my previous orgasm. Feeling it soak into his skin, he inserts two fingers. When I open my eyes at the intrusion, he smiles up at me and works his way up my body, stopping to nuzzle and suck at my erect nipples on the way to kiss me. Gently and then more passionately. I can taste myself on his lips and his tongue, smell my longing in the stubble of his cheeks. He whispers in my ear about how excited he is. What all this is doing to him and how much he wants to make me come. His fingers feel so good inside me. He has found my gspot and he laughs delightedly as the orgasm rips through me, the muscles tightening around his fingers, making me pull my knees up and try to curl into a ball as I moan into his chest. Removing his fingers, he inserts the dildo. Sliding it in and out, twisting and turning, exiting and penetrating. My nerve endings beside themselves with pleasure before licking his two fingers, wet and sticky with my come, and pushing them into my bottom. He’s never experienced anything like it as I twist and curl and stretch and scream, bearing down onto his fingers. I’m trying to talk to him but my mouth can’t make the words. I close my eyes and it takes all my focus to finally whisper the words he has been desperate to hear: ‘Fuck me, please fuck me’.
His cock is like a baby’s arm, he’s so excited but he knows how I like it best and he flips me over onto all fours and penetrates my warm, wet, tight cunt from behind. The vibration of the tulip tightening everything around him. My face is in Ruf’s lap and I’m spitroasted again with two fingers up my arse and my own hand operating the tulip on my clit. It feels like I’m going to burst, the pressure inside my head is so immense. My muscles are contracting and expanding with yet another orgasm and I can hear Smooth yelling behind me as he’s coming closer and closer to expelling his load into me but Ruf isn’t going to let that happen… not yet. He has one more fantasy of his own to fulfil.
He slides out from underneath me and stands behind me by the side of the bed; Smooth instantly understands his plan and replaces him, lying on his back with his legs dangling over the edge of the bed and his feet touching the floor, lifting me astride him. As the tulip takes me to yet another peak, he pushes into me again from below, making me buck and ride him from the moment of entry. My tits bouncing and jiggling with the force. The feel of his cock inside me at this angle is so good and, as the orgasm subsides, he drags my head forward to kiss him leaving my arse in the air. Ruf is lubed up and ready and slips slowly into the backdoor, inch by glorious inch. They regulate their thrusting so it’s gentle to give me time to adjust. I am so tiny and tight, they can feel each other’s cocks moving with just the tiniest piece of skin between them. One wrong move and they could split me but if they take it slow, it could be the best sex any of us has ever had.
Smooth has one nipple and Ruf has the other, both twisting and grinding at them, taking me even higher. They’re both telling me how good it is and how beautiful I am, encouraging me as they twist and pump and grind and the tulip wreaks its havoc on my clit. The pressure in my head building and building as I scream and scream until I explode over both of them. Dripping my excitement and elation from every orifice. The muscles contracting so forcefully that neither of them can stop themselves and two sets of semen squirt inside me, pooling and mingling with all the other fluid, as we collapse into a sweaty, exhausted, intertwined heap.
I am vaguely aware of Ruf sliding out of me and falling onto the bed beside me and Smooth dragging me up the bed and pulling the covers over us, my cheek resting on his chest. I am so out of it. All I want to do is sleep in the damp puddle of our communal passion.
There is no sliding scale of justification that tempers the degree of our adultery and nothing we can write, say or do will change that.
There are no mitigating circumstances, no sufficently excusable reasons for embarking on an extra-curricular liaison with another person – whether it be virtual or sexual. It is a totally selfish act, driven by all the baser elements of our emotional make-up.
An affair is a betrayal and the spouse who plays happy families but still feels the need to have a lover is no better than the wife who sleeps with a succession of men to feed her self-esteem or the husband who cheats with a series of one night stands whilst his partner is pregnant and left holding all the babies.
The adulterous are all equally guilty.
We do what we do, for whatever reason, and hope that it will be worth any repercussions.
And we continue to transgress whilst praying that we will not get caught.
Lying in the bath, she called out to him for company and he dragged himself away from the computer. The candles dotted around the bathroom infused everything with a warm glow and filled the air with the scent of heated vanilla, producing an overall sensation of total serenity. They had spent the weekend wrapped up in each other. Hour after hour of fucking, interspersed with feeding or snuggling on the couch to refract whilst watching a film.
As he stood beside her, she reached out and parted his robe. Her soapy hand grasping its target, carefully cleaning her residue from all the nooks and crannies and rinsing it off with a flannel.
He smiled and knelt down on the floor beside the bath, trailing his fingers through the bubbles until he could run their tips across the soft mound between her legs. Parting the foam, he inspected the area thoroughly, before pulling at the various strands of hair and carefully trimming the longer lengths with the nail scissors. Extending each of the recalcitrant tresses and snipping it level with its neighbour.
Stopping once in a while to watch her face as she relaxed back into the warm water and surrendered herself to his attentions, he pursued his task. Following the line of her outer labia up one side to the join at the top. The little triangle formed by the two lips and her clit and the most delicate of areas. One slip of the hand, one lapse in concentration would mean disaster.
He could feel her shiver every time the blade of the scissors brushed against her clit. Cold hard metal on the softest of hot flesh and the completeness of the intimacy sending the thrills of desire coursing through her. Little rippling shivers communicating themselves from the receivers in her brain and effervescing into the pleasure centres in her groin. Arousing her again and again each time there was the slightest contact. Her breathing building to little short panting gasps of need until he pulled her out of the bath and bent her, wet and dripping, over the side to slide his way into her.
One stroke, two, three and then she pushed him away.
Grabbing his cock she dragged him into the bedroom. Dropping to all fours and applying her tulip to her throbbing clit, he heard her scream for him as the orgasm hit instantly and then multiplied as he plunged into her over and over again. His semen filling her as he collapsed prostrate onto her still climaxing body.
Standing naked as she washed up in the kitchen, he caught her completely unawares. One arm suddenly wrapped around her from behind, forcing her body into his and holding her completely still. The other hand pressing the blade of the big kitchen knife to her throat as she froze in panic.
The cold steel on her neck throwing her into a confusion of simultaneous panic and excitement. She knew what she should do to attempt to free herself and yet, because of who he was, she was unwilling to even try. The penalty for any error could be catastrophic. She stood there immobilised, her mouth vocalising the fear, begging him to put down the weapon, whilst her mind screamed its terror.
And yet she couldn’t help but be aware of her cunt moistening; the lust rising and betraying her once again.
The denouement was inevitable.
Did he now know her better than she knew herself…?
But man-woman-man had never been quite what Ruf had in mind.
He would often joke that I had promised it to him for his 40th birthday, his 44th birthday, his 47th birthday…
Personally, I had no wish for it to be a friend or acquaintance or some woman that I might meet in the frozen food section of Tesco on a regular basis.
Not even someone who came from another town would be good enough.
But I wanted to give him something to remember beyond a 24 hour plane ride and the traditional Sydney Opera House picture.
Which is how I found myself searching through pictures of women online. I started with a search for Select Sydney Escorts which did what it said on the tin. There was a huge gallery of beautiful ladies but none of them called to me. I needed to find a woman that I was attracted to.
I couldn’t just act the part, I wanted to feel it. I have been through the process of lying in the darkness whilst someone did something to me. But I didn’t want Ruf to think that I was not enjoying this special event in our lives.
I have no idea how straight men can play gay characters. I cannot suspend reality in that way. I was going to need to feel something for the woman concerned. It didn’t necessarily even have to be attraction, curiosity would do! Which is how I found Joanna.
The Models Escort Agency website is actually quite superior to most of the others of that genre. It was easy to use for a start. I could click a tab called ‘Models’, secure in the knowledge that I would find the ladies on their payroll. And see a series of thumbnails of the women in question.
The word Joanna stood out straightaway. It’s funny how your eyes are drawn to familiar words. And the fact that she had a mismatched bra and pants combo in red and black. My OCD was going to play a part as well.
She was more than half my age, young enough to be my granddaughter in some parts of my country. But she was tiny and slight – just like me. With curves in all the right places – just like me. Even her boobs were the same D cup.
But she had long dark hair as opposed to my blonde bob…
Clicking through to her page, the slider showed a series of lingerie shots. I love lingerie… on me… and on other women.
Just like Ruf, I find hold ups something of a turn on.
She was also reassuringly expensive.
I clicked on the Enquire Now button and chose to make the call rather than email.
She couldn’t fit us in straightaway but arrangements were made for a date towards the end of our holiday as Ruf enjoyed everything that New South Wales has to offer, completely oblivious to my more devious machinations about his celebration.
We went out for dinner on the day itself and then returned to our hotel somewhat the worse for wear.
Whilst Ruf removed his clothes and put on a robe before inspecting the contents of the minibar, I went into the bathroom to slip into something more comfortable, knowing that he was about to get rather a surprise.
He responded to the knock on the door, thinking it was a mistake… and, when I came out of the bathroom was rather disconcertedly looking at Joanna who was dressed in a dark trenchcoat.
He looked at me and said: “Apparently Joanna is here to see you… Joanna…”
Swiftly, I crossed the room, took her by the hand and drew her into our room.
Closing the door behind her, I took his hand and whispered “Happy Birthday” before kissing him tenderly.
It took a while for him to respond, he was trying to work out what on earth was happening.
But I took his hand too and pushed him into the nearest armchair. Suddenly the choreography from my imaginings was coming to life.
As he watched, Joanna kissed me.
She had been primed that I would not be experienced and was helping me to get into the zone.
Stepping back, she let the coat fall to the floor and revealed her outfit. Red basque and holdups to contrast with my own black ensemble.
I admired her young flesh enviously for a few moments before she drew me towards her again. Her expert lips and tongue taking my rather intoxicated brain into a less fearful place.
I was afraid, this was virgin territory. Sure, I had kissed a girl before, but not with the knowledge that it was going to go further. That had been to tease a man I desired.
And I enjoyed watching Ruf. whose face showed emotions veering from perplexed to very excited.
We moved towards him. Our hands removed his clothes and that excitement became ever more obvious.
He knew that his most treasured dream was about to become real.
As one we knelt before him. Joanna took his balls in her mouth as I attended to his erection with mine.
The groan above my head was worth every Australian dollar.
His knees were beginning to tremble as he struggled to remain upright AND focus on what was occurring in his nether regions. As the groans grew more and more intense, we knew he was getting close and backed off.
Taking a hand each, we led him to the bed and watched him lay down before resuming our ministrations. Joanna had produced a vinyl glove but Ruf had not noticed. So he flinched as her lubed finger began caressing his ringpiece.
Another of Ruf’s long held dreams was about to be fulfilled. Her experienced movements found the organ in question and began to caress it.
As his face and body contorted in response, I felt the thick, creamy liquid hit the back of my throat. Prostate milking – done…
Seeing the man I adore eagerly go into a situation where he could get injured and having to let go and trust that he can handle himself. Remember that he is the extremely competent martial artist that I know him to be. Separate that side of him from the gentle man that loves me.
Watching him pace about like a caged tiger, trying to control the complex cocktail of nerves, hormones and emotions as he enters the zone where no one else can help him and he has to draw on all his inner resolve to see him through.
Thinking back just a few hours to my arrival when I had been wondering if we would be having sex at all due to the prospect of his impending grading test the following afternoon. After all football managers ban wives and girlfriends from the team hotel before important games. But I need not have worried. All the testosterone and excitement had been saved up to give me a bumper session of full-on violent pillaging.
Leading me into the bedroom and removing my clothes with indecent haste so he could suck at my luscious nipples and test my readiness with his fingers. It is the most curious thing about us. His very presence just has this effect on me, liquefying me, readying my body for his as he wraps himself around me, pressing his hardness against my soft round bottom and whispering into my ear the magic words: ‘I’m going to fingerfuck you. Fuck you with my fingers’. Sending shivers down my spine and raising the goosebumps on my skin just with his voice. The addition of his fingers amplifying that melting desire until I can think of nothing but the fluttering between my legs and the pounding in my brain.
Manhandling me over so I’m half on my front, half on my side, he pushes himself into the tight wetness. Forcing himself deep inside me and subjugating me to his will as I squeal with pleasure over and over again. Rampantly pounding and pounding, before rolling me onto my back and entering me again. Biting at my nipples until I cry out and then our mouths finding each other, tongues intertwining, arms encircling and skin pressed tightly together. His breathing becomes a steam train in my ear with the exertion as my body reaches that place where the only option is to sing out vocally. Soft moans becoming a crescendo of delighted screams as my mind explodes around me, immediately followed by his own cries as my body’s contractions force him to spill into me and he collapses his full weight downwards, crushing my body beneath his.
Sleep overtakes us as we get more comfortable and lie like spoons, his arms wrapped around me, our fingers linked until I am awakened from my dreams by his lips whispering into the nape of my neck that he loves me as he hugs me tighter against him. His hardness pressing into me, his fingers questing for the soft wetness between my legs and accepting the welcome. Preparing the way for another entry and a second flurry of violent coupling before exhaustion drags us back to sleep.
And then a final ravishing when the alarm clock has already been on repeat snooze several times and we are late, before rushing off into the kitchen to make porridge for breakfast and sandwiches for lunch as I bathed and prepared myself for the rigours of the coming day.
It wasn’t until I saw him standing with the other gradees that I could actually tell how fired up he was. This is a moment where you don’t think about anything else but the route to the goal… and certainly not the woman you fucked that morning, no matter how good she was. We avoided eye contact the entire time.
Part of his test involved him fighting off multiple attackers. I cannot even begin to describe the enthusiasm with which he approached that particular task and the success of his strategy. To hear other higher graded, more experienced instructors talk with admiration about his abilities makes me just glow with pride…
But, of course, that is the other thing about our relationship in this company on this weekend. To anyone else, we do not officially have such a thing. It is just a training friendship. We do not mix sex and martial arts. There is no canoodling when we wear our uniforms or when we happen to be in the same class… although I did make an exception by hugging him after he got awarded the grade he was attempting.
When we finally got home at after midnight, knowing that we would have to be up again for another 8.30am training start, I rather envisaged that sleep would be the only thing on the agenda. I could not have been more wrong.
The adrenalin and testosterone mix was still coursing through him and, after a hot bath to rejuvenate his energies, I was to be the recipient. The focus of the attentions of the animal within him. The beast that I had seen fighting. And I loved watching him in that mode. Once I had let go of my concern for his safety, I could concentrate on the other just as primal emotions. My desire for him and my pride in being the woman that he shares this part of himself with. For he is a dichotomy of contradictions, sometimes so rough and yet, so often, surprisingly gentle and tender.
Letting him watch me from the bubbles as I removed my own clothing before handing him his towel and leading him back into the bedroom. Damp and warm from the bath water as he wrapped himself around me, kissing my mouth and biting on my nipples, working us both up to a frenzied fever pitch of lust, his fingers finding my gspot with ease and making me come again and again. Flipping me over and dragging me onto my knees to enter me from behind. Driving into me hard and fast as he pulled my hips back towards him, sending me shrieking skywards, before we both collapsed in a tangled heap and drifted into darkness.
Another early start only a few hours later with more hard training for four hours before we finally got back home. Exhausted, we fell into bed half-clothed for a couple of hours rest before dragging off the remaining garments for another rampant session. It started with his assertion that he could take me any time he wanted because I was his possession.
And then he cooked our tea and snuggled up on the sofa with me to watch Match of the Day before we went back to bed… again.
This man leaves me breathless. He is insatiable, indomitable, unstoppable… and I am so very proud of him x
Here is this week’s Movie Clip Wednesday whilst Anonymous Boxer continues on her break.
Search the video channels to find the best representation of the given theme – however lateral – and then post ‘Im Up’ in the comments box below my entry so that we can all come round to check for jinxes and great films that we have either never seen or not viewed in a long time.
So, this week’s One Hit Wonders theme was inspired by a comment about the lead actor in ‘An American Werewolf in London’ and the fact that no one could remember him doing much after that awesome performance.
Of course, the first person who springs to mind is Mark Hamill of Star Wars fame but I thought that might be a bit too obvious. Next in the frame was Madonna after Desperately Seeking Susan but then I remembered her Evita and knew that it would be an unfair tag. Which is when the next lady popped into the frame.
Saturday Night Fever.
In an instant, thirty two years disappear into the ether and I have bunked off college for the afternoon with a friend to cast my eyes over the latest hottest acting property, John Travolta. I have to say that he didn’t really do it for me but I was fascinated by his relationship with Karen Lynne Gorney,the girl who was cast opposite him as his love interest and, in particular, the scene that accompanies How Deep Is Your Love.
There is something about the lighting as they sit in that window seat in their white outfits and the way they clasp hands. I wanted someone to want me like that. To be able to communicate his love with just the touch of his hand or the look in his eye.
It took three decades but, eventually, my dreams came true.
However, I have not seen Miss Gorney in anything since.
Just to remind you, October is Cancer Awareness Month.
As part of the rebuilding of Joanna Cake, I decided to get my physical health checked up, as well as continuing to work on my mental attitude with the Counsellor.
I booked my cervical smear. It is three years since my last one and, in that time, Ruf’s semen has been spurted against my cervix on many occasions. According to Wikipaedia, a human papillomavirus (HPV) is a papillomavirus that infects the epidermis and mucous membranes of humans. HPV can lead to cancers of the cervix, vulva, vagina, and anus in women. In men, it can lead to cancers of the anus and penis. Carriers and sufferers can be asymptomatic and genital warts seems to be the only obvious sign of a problem but this does not occur in all cases.
We have to remember that cervical cancer is caused by only one or two types of the virus, hence the current decision in the UK to vaccinate young women aged between 13 and 18, even those who have already had sexual intercourse, in the hope that they have so far not been exposed to either strain.
There has been a great furore in the British press recently because a young girl died a few hours after being given the vaccine. It later transpired that she had other health problems which were actually the cause of her death, but a great deal of bad publicity was given to this unfortunate event, to the detriment of the cervical cancer vaccination programme.
From the fact that all my smear tests have been normal, clearly the father of my children was not a carrier and, whilst Ruf had a full sexual health check before we became physically involved, as far as I am aware, this virus is not something that they check for in men as part of that test. So, three years on, with no apparent symptoms, I had my PAP test and kept my fingers crossed.
In the past, my cervical smears were always done at round day 17 of my cycle – as late as possible in the time parameters so that ovulation could be sure to have occurred. Without the sticky residue that accompanies this, there were repeated callbacks because of insufficient cells on the slide. Of course, at my time of life, my periods are few and far between. I have had a blood test to check my FSH levels and been told that the chances of my ovulating are very small indeed due to the high level of the reading. However, the test parameters were for samples taken on day 3-5 of a cycle and this was not a quantifiable date when I hadn’t had a day 1 for some months. I booked the smear and the following day my period decided to come back from its holidays, so I had to rearrange it all.
The much-publicised death of Jade Goody from cervical cancer at the age of 28 has also seen a huge increase in the take-up of tests offered to older women on the NHS and, therefore, the results are taking six weeks or more to come through because of the backlog.
However, what has become known as the ‘Jade Goody effect’ has also caused a lot of young woman under 25 to request a cervical smear but this is not currently available to them on the basis that statistics show the risk to these women is not so great as for those over 25, which seems very wrong since there are still women dying in their 20s as a result of this disease going undetected, Ms Goody being a very prominent example.
In the event, for me, the smear itself went smoothly and enough cells were collected to provide an adequate sample for testing, although I did not have another period for the next four months so could not have ovulated in the required timeframe.
Fortunately, after six weeks, the results came through clear, but they did advise me that there was candida present and so I was sent a prescription for a Canesten pessary.
I have not used the treatment because I have decided to investigate this invasion further. My repeated bouts of thrush and cystitis, combined with various other symptoms have led me to believe that I might have a yeast intolerance which is now leaching out through my intestines into other parts of my body. I have found a diet that precludes yeast and other fungi, plus their food source: sugar and processed wheat flour. I am also taking various herbal preparations to destroy the candida bacteria along with probiotics to restore the balance of good and bad within my gut.
The same circular spinning end and with a nice range of attachments to slip onto it. But, the most important point to stress is the POWER.
At only about eight inches long and an inch in diameter, pound for pound, this little fellow packs a mighty punch.
The thing about the Hitachi is that, even in my menopausal state where my nerve endings are just not so sensitive down there, it can be just too damn strong… and that’s on the lower of the two settings.
With the Fairy Wand, that power is controlled with a variable speed/power dial that you can scroll with your thumb for less or, indeed, more. It has all the oomph of its bigger sister but delivers the control to the operator. So, it can satisfy those of us of a certain age who sometimes need extra intense, clitoral stimulation as well as catering for the needs of the younger woman.
The flexible neck makes the device incredibly versatile, following the body’s curves and contours during all over erotic massage, but also allowing pinpoint accuracy in more intimate areas.
Because I’m not in the States, it was suggested that it would be better to use the battery pack rather than the mains power lead. So I popped in all six AA batteries… which probably should have given me the biggest clue as to how much more I was going to get than with a standard vibrator. Surprisingly, it was not that noisy. I would say considerably less than some of the vibrators I have tested recently although, obviously not in the Lelo league for silent operation.
Riding Ruf in reverse cowgirl, it was light and easy to hold with one hand and compact enough that there was plenty of room for penetration as I attacked my clit with it in that position. We later discovered that it also works in both doggie and when on my back with my leg on his shoulder. It produced a truly fabulous clitoral orgasm for Ruf to ride as his penetration took me over the edge with a gspot double whammy.
Definitely worthy of a regular slot in the toybox for when we are together.
Obviously, I took it home with me to give it a proper test on its own with the intriguing attachments. These are made of silicon so I remembered to use a water-based lube on both me and them.
I awoke one Saturday morning with the urge upon me. Some particularly stimulating thoughts of Ruf securing me spreadeagled on the dining room table and systematically testing the contents of the toybox, if you must know! I pulled out the Wand and slid on attachment number one. This is a dimpled flat leaf-shaped piece of silicone. It’s about two inches long and an inch and a half wide and is designed to fit neatly inside your labia so that your vulva and clit are nicely covered. Switch on and feel the vibration gradually increase by scrolling the button. When I finally reached maximum, I could feel every muscle in my pelvic floor contracting tighter and tighter until, with a great sigh, everything released and the orgasm hit.
After a brief respite, I changed to the other ‘head’. This has a little penis-type shape about two inches long by an inch in diameter with a smaller version of the dimpled leaf-shape at the front. Slipping the little cock inside me, I positioned the clit stimulator as before and whacked up the power dial. I’m sure my face must have been a picture in reaction to the effect of this little beauty. Following so quickly upon the previous event, everything was still very aroused and so my innards were really motoring in response to this one. The simultaneous stimulation of both the clit and that sensitive area just inside the entrance to my vagina… well, words fail me!
So, three distinctly different methods to orgasm – the spinning wheel, the large flat head and the cock/clit combi. Not too loud. Loads of oomph. The only downside is the heavy battery pack and the lead extending from the end of the wand to it. But it’s a longish lead and there were far too many other distractions to really make it worth complaining about.
This is definitely a regular and will be making the journey with me to Ruf’s on a regular basis. It’s far too useful as a solo implement to leave there permanently.
I would say this is probably my favourite toy of the year and comes highly recommended!
Damp and drizzly with the prospect of an hour in Church coming face to face with God for the first time since I walked away from the vows I had made, followed by the cremation and tears. Not the sort of day anyone would really relish.
Add in my impending homelessness and the fact that one of my toes had swollen up to twice it’s normal size through some fungal complaint that is directly related to stress… none of these things is conducive to a healthy appetite.
In my new-found independence, I hadn’t taken account of the huge role played by my flat in giving me a solid foundation from which to build. This unforeseen insecurity has knocked me for six. I don’t like uncertainty at the best of times but not knowing where I’m going to be living in six weeks time…
I’m a very proactive person. I don’t tend to sit back and think it through, I want answers and I want them now. If these are not forthcoming, things start to ferment inside my head causing a thick soup of fog that clouds my better judgement. With dire consequences.
It’s all very well saying that I am no longer anorexic but my mind has other ideas. It’s not that I physically stop myself from eating, more that I don’t feel hungry.
I know that I should eat but, if I try, it doesn’t taste of anything. I just go through the motions of chewing and swallowing – there is no real pleasure in it or indeed incentive to think of food. And, without Ruf to physically cook the food and put it on the plate in front of me…? Well, it’s a slippery slope.
I guess the one good thing is that I can recognise the problem and write about it. Force myself to acknowledge and own the fact that I am not cured at all – only in rehab.
I was reading about true anorexia rehab and this is dealt with in three stages – treatment of the physical effects of not eating enough, counselling to help ascertain the psychological cause and then working with a dietician to develop a proper eating plan. I had hoped I had accomplished all three and was well on the way to normality, but the truth is that I will probably never be fully recovered.
This mental illness will lurk in the darkest recesses of my mind, no matter how hard I try to root it out. Waiting to strike when I am emotionally unstable. But I cannot live my life with a guarantee that things will always go according to plan.
I have to accept that shit happens and learn to deal with such upsets more productively.