Coming For Accounts

A small interlude chez Cake and Ruf

Cake: “Come on, you know you need to sort out your accounts if you’re going to live here. I don’t want your debts to be coming to my door! Get them done today and you shall have a sexually related reward!”

Ruf: “Hmmmm, what sort of reward would that be… because I could leave the accounts and just have a wank”

Cake: “Well, you could! But then I would have to poke you… and it would not be joining in in a good way”

Ruf: “Would you have had this type of conversation with your husband?”

Cake: “Well, no. I did his accounts myself. That way I wouldn’t have to have sex with him…”

Originally posted 2013-11-20 06:49:26. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

OverRated: Laxatives for Anorexics and Bulimics

It was in the news a few weeks ago that moves were afoot to stop laxatives from being available off the shelf in pharmacies and, presumably, supermarkets.

Apparently, as with paracetamol-based products and cough medicines, we need to be protected from ourselves and our addictions.

I fail to see how taking it off the shelf and making it dispensary-only is really going to stop people from using them for nefarious purposes, specifically those suffering with eating disorders.

What we really need is for more information to be available on the subject. For those of us who have trodden this well worn path over many years to educate those who follow in our footsteps. And, hopefully, to prevent them from making the same mistakes and suffering the same long term health consequences.

For anyone who thinks that laxatives are a good idea for dieting, the many years of intestinal difficulty that I suffered as a result of taking that route to facilitate my own eating disorder should provide a stark warning.

In my late teens and early twenties, I was both bulimic and anorexic. Mostly, I would eat nothing and use the laxatives to lose more weight but, if I did binge, I went through purging myself by putting my fingers into my mouth and activating the gag reflex until I vomited.

This is a totally disgusting process, which rots your teeth and just makes you feel permanently nauseous.

After several months of this, I could bear it no longer and moved onto laxatives to do the job more discreetly.

As a result, my poor bowels never really knew where they were.

Sure, it seemed to work for a while but then my system just became totally confused.

I was either completely constipated, with the waste building back up through my system and causing terrible bloating which only added to my distorted perception of my own body.

Alternatively, my stools were so loose that I was terrified to go out for fear of soiling myself.

However, my body dysmorphia meant that I persisted in this ridiculous routine of starving and purging myself.

Then followed the worst symptoms. The acute stomach cramps every time I did try to eat something. These were so painful that I couldn’t walk. My gut would go into spasm, causing my belly to distend. I wanted to be sick and to defecate to ease the painful swelling but was unable to do either.

Although I only used the laxatives regularly for a year or so, these problems continued for decades afterwards, even during the time periods when I thought my anorexia was under control.

IBS and Crohns Disease were all suspected at various times, but now I know that a lot of it was triggered by my reliance on laxatives.

The damage this did to my intestinal walls was exacerbated by my predominantly bread-based diet and stressful lifestyle. The candida (gut bacteria) proliferated and leeched through into other parts of my body, causing thrush and other yeast infections.

After suffering with this for many years, I have chosen to try the anti-candida diet for the last few months and start making my gut more healthy by taking probiotics.

I haven’t used a laxative for over twenty years, but only now that my diet has improved have I actually started to recover from the damage that my prolific use of them caused.

For more information on how to treat thrush, candida and yeast infections, click here


Originally posted 2010-01-17 00:03:00. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Advent Calendar

I’ve always loved Advent Calendars and buying them for the children in the middle of November was the trigger to the preparations for the festive season just around the corner.

As the years went on, the calendars got increasingly more expensive when they acquired a taste for chocolate better than Kinnerton or Cadburys, but the excitement of that pre-breakfast discovery still remained.

I was setting up the tree this evening – yes, I know it’s early but I just wanted the comfort – and yet it serves only to remind me that they are no longer with me.

Half-forgotten ornaments at the bottom of the box. Little sparkly trinkets which they made at school with their names etched onto the dull side of the fired clay.

Decades old but accompanied by a painful shard of memory and an echoing snatch of laughter from happier times.

For a moment I try to grasp the unravelled strands and weave them back together.

But those days are gone.

The lovely people at Lovehoney are treating us all to a luxury sex toy advent calendar with 24 chances to win.

From now until Xmas, one lucky winner will bag the fabulous sex toy that is behind the window on that day.

Prizes from Lelo, Fun Factory, Je Joue and We-Vibe and many more.

And every time you share the Lovehoney Advent Calendar on Facebook or tweet about it, you will be put into the special Christmas Day draw with the chance to win a £100 shopping spree at Lovehoney. You can enter multiple times each day if you want to.

Do you feel lucky…?

Originally posted 2011-12-02 13:40:29. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

The Tudors: Revisited

Being an aficionado of the period, the current Season 2 of Showtime’s ‘The Tudors’ should have had me spitting feathers of inarticulate rage at some of the bigger liberties taken over dates and personnel, but I found it impossible not to be completely overwhelmed by the sheer gorgeousness of the sets and wardrobes, along withthe passion spilling out all over my living room carpet.

The story of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn is well documented but has so many twists and turns that may or may not be true, depending on which historian you speak to, because of the depth of feeling that their relationship evoked not only at the time but for decades afterwards… and Michael Hirst, the writer, made good use of all of them.

The only thing you can be truly sure of is that the King was absolutely gagging for Anne and would stop at nothing to have her. This version of the story has focussed on that and the other political machinations around them. As a bodice-ripping, sumptuous humdinger of a production, it has been quite magnificent. The lust, the depravity, the violence of the time have been fully to the fore and I have enjoyed every minute of it.

Other films and series have shown the King as we all know him – fat, red-faced, syphillitic and elderly – but in real time he would have been in his 30s and early 40s for this series. Younger, yes, than Jonathan Rhys Meyers, the actor who has portrayed him but Henry was known to be the most handsome prince in Christendom in his youth so it is conceivable that, before he hit middle-age, he could have been somewhere in between the glacial profile of JRM and the caricature with whom we are more familiar.

The idea here was to keep the story as contemporary as possible. To show a king who wanted to be a good leader, a great dynastic prince and the father of a brood of sons to succeed him. What he got were two daughters and the reputation for being ruthlessly obsessed with getting a son, at no matter what cost to the women involved. He was aided and abetted in this by his advisers, first Wolsey, then Cromwell, both of whom had their own axe to grind, their own visions of the future to secure in terms of wealth, power and religion and manipulated the ever more unpredictable monarch accordingly. As the ill-fated Sir Thomas More said at the time, ‘Never tell the King what he can do, only what he should do. If he were to know the extent of his full power he would be uncontrollable.’

The death of his first wife, Catherine of Aragon, the miscarriage of her son and Henry’s new-found passion for Jane Seymour made Anne’s position untenable. He wanted rid of her at all costs and made this abundantly clear to Cromwell, who manufactured the evidence of her demise, gleaned from the backstairs gossip of jealous and vengeful courtiers and the tortured confession of the musician, Mark Smeaton.

Last night’s season finale dealt with Anne’s trial and execution. It doesn’t matter how many times I watch the final drama played out, I always pray for a different ending and this time was no exception. The interminable delays as the French executioner and his sword made their way from Dover meant that her death was postponed by a whole day after she had hoped to be past her pain.

But the confirmation from Archbishop Cranmer that her marriage had been declared null and void because of her close relationship to another woman with whom the King had had carnal relations – her sister – must have been the worst blow of all. She was still to die for adultery, even though she had never truly been married in the eyes of the law and she would be leaving her daughter a bastard rather than a Princess.

Natalie Dormer’s characterisation of Anne was stunning to the end and, as she knelt on the scaffold awaiting the final blow, her fear was palpable. I am not ashamed to admit that I cried.

Overall this lavish series has been excellently written and performed and I’m very much looking forward to Season 3 and Henry’s continuing quest for a son… although the much vaunted appearance of Joss Stone as Anne of Cleves, a German Princess, is going to be a bit much to cope with.

Originally posted 2008-10-04 14:49:00. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Haiku Thursday – Places

Last week Troll chose alcohol and Pam was the winner!

Lick of salt on hand;
throw back a tequila shot.
How Pam met her man.

This week, it’s Place(s)

Place Bets Please; Roulette
Wheel spinning, ball clacketing
Disappointment reigns

Historic Places
Musky scents and doom-laden
Residue of death

Originally posted 2010-04-15 23:59:47. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Another Man

Lying full-length and face down on the couch, I submitted myself to his attentions.

‘Don’t worry, Daddy’s got you,’ hung in the air as I cringed at the inappropriateness of the sentiment.

But, over the months, we have built up an extraordinary level of trust.

I know that whatever he does, I will feel better in the long run.

And so, I allow myself to be taken to the extremes of pain and back to the joy of release.

Strong hands gliding over my body, he has begun to know each muscle like an old friend. Which ones reflect the tension and strains of my life and which respond best to force or gentle persuasion.

So, at the height of my discomfort, as I alternate between trying to breathe through the agony and cussing him furiously for his the determined pressure of his elbow in my pert derriere, he whispers:

“Is it safe?”

"another-man"With a sharp inhale of breath as the image of Dustin Hoffman with Laurence Olivier’s dentist’s drill forcing its way into his front tooth sears through my brain, I acknowledge his playfulness and join in the game.

Finally, exhaling the ‘Yes, it’s safe‘ as I feel the muscle relax beneath the force of his treatment, allowing him to release his weight.

This man will heal my body just as surely as Ruf has reshaped my mind.

And the knowledge of his attraction to my physical form only reinforces the security of the bargain.

Originally posted 2011-05-24 08:03:29. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

MCW – Best Garden Scene

"MovieClip Wednesday" 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.

It was BuzzKill who suggested Best Garden Scene and my thoughts immediately went to Henry VIII courting Anne Boleyn in the garden at Hever Castle in Anne of The Thousand Days but then a second scene came into my head.

One that rather influenced my determination to succeed as a martial artist. The Bride learning her craft from Pai Mei and beginning to feel the art rather than just pay lip service to the accepted mechanics of it.

There were several clips that were over 9 minutes and showed their first meeting in his garden and Pai Mei’s initial distain for her temerity to think that a caucasian woman could ever even attempt to learn so, in keeping with the rules of MCW, I go with something shorter and a very fitting backing track.

Originally posted 2011-07-13 14:45:19. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Foods For A Calmer Life

Another great lifestyle post from iVillage with 30 calming foods.

Here are some of my favourites:

Chard is something that gets delivered a lot in my weekly veggie box. It doesn’t always look the most enticing of feeds – a bit like a big spinach leaf with a thick white chewy stalk. However, being packed full of the human anti stress mineral, magnesium, it does have some amazing relaxing properties for the human psyche. Being deficient in magnesium can also result in high blood pressure, head aches and problems with blood sugar. You can eat it steamed or sauteed.

Cauliflower contains lots of fibre so is great for a healthy digestion – something which be adversely affected if you suffer from stress. Whilst most people will just boil or steam it and serve in lumps, Ruf and I have discovered the joys of mashing. Add a little bit of olive oil and it is the most creamy topping for a shepherds pie or as an accompaniment to a veggie burger or even lamp chop.

Brocolli has more vitamin C than an orange and is also a rich source of both vitamin A and potent antioxidants that help your body manage everyday stress. Like cauliflower, you can eat it steamed, boiled or stir fried… but it also makes the most amazing mash too. Sometimes I have combined lots of these vegetables in an accompanying mash.

Spinach contains vitamins A, C, K and folate plus minerals like manganese and iron. When you’re stressed, spinach and brocolli can help the adrenal glands (where the stress hormones are stored) to top up their depleted levels of vitamin C. Like chard, you would never have got me eating this up until I was 40. However, I wish I had got over my fear of turning muscled like Popeye through eating the slimy veg boiled! Steamed or stirfried or used with lettuce to make a great salad, it is delicious.

Asparagus is not only high in antioxidants but also a good source of tryptophan, an important amino acid that the body uses to make serotonin, which helps us sleep and supports a healthy mood. It can also help to prevent the panic attacks that are caused by Serotonin deficiency. I recall having the most delicious freshly cut asparagus tips, microwaved with a knob of butter and then eaten in the garden on a sunny spring evening in Kent. They are, however, wellknown for making your wee smell vile so not recommended for a romantic evening that you intend to follow with some oral examination of your partner’s nether regions.

Sweet potatoes were introduced to me by Ruf as well. Being a follower of GI diets, he said they release far more slowly and are therefore better for you than regular potatoes. They are an excellent source of beta-carotene, dietary fibre and potassium (which can protect your body from the effects of stress), especially if you leave the skin on. We have had them boiled, mashed, roasted and as chips.

Coconut Water is one of Ruf’s latest passions. He buys green coconuts and uses a hatchet to break them open on the kitchen floor. The water contains lots of potassium and magnesium and not added sugar. I have been told that, in those climates where they grow naturally, women have been known to feed this to newborn babies as it is still sterile and is very close in composition to breast milk.

Turmeric is bright yellow and related to the ginger root. It contains a compound that suppresses inflammation and supports the health of the liver called curcumin. It is often put into curries but can be used in regular dishes as well. Ruf is a big fan!

How has your diet changed in the last twenty years?

Originally posted 2013-04-18 08:45:46. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

A Dozen Red Roses

We hadn’t seen each other for a month.

And I was skittish and excitable with all the stresses of setting up my new business. It was hard to relax, especially when I was so excited about seeing him again.

But not in a sexual way. Sure, I wanted him naked. And in my bed with his arms around me. My security blanket. My sanctuary. Making me feel warm and safe and calm.

When I arrived home, he was waiting. I had had a long day and I kept him at arm’s length to start with. And he knew it, respecting my space and allowing me time to relax. To stop repressing Joanna and make the transition from the every-day me to the siren that is Ruf’s lover.

Helping myself to a cup of pau d’arco and a square of chocolate, we retired to the bedroom, kicked off our shoes and just relaxed fully-clothed on the bed. He to recover from his long train journey and me to wait for the stresses of the day to evaporate in the steam of my brew.

This time, this transition took the longest it ever has. I had not realised just how much my rushing around and frantic typing over the last few weeks had affected my ability to relax. I seem to have been working on hyperdrive for so long that it took forever for the adrenalin to dissipate.

So, we just chatted about the events of the intervening weeks, I remember I got very enthusiastic about a new yoga posture to which I had been introduced and which was extremely beneficial for those of us who get ‘computer back’. You know that stiffness between the shoulder blades caused by sitting at the computer or hunched over the laptop for too long? But I digress…

Although, I’m not really. Because that was when Ruf just scooped me up and started kissing me. He just loves my enthusiasm for some of life’s simpler pleasures. And I just love his kisses. Slow, deliberate, gentle explorations of my oral cavity until I have to suck on his tongue just to gain a bit of respite and regain a modicum of control.

But, of course, by that time it was too late. I had already lost the majority of my clothes and his hands just took over from his pinioned tongue. Before he tore himself away and did what he had always intended – buried his head between my legs.

Except that it was not the same. Instead of going with the grain along the length of my exposed clit, he positioned himself at an angle and proceeded to stroke his tongue across it, fluttering and feathery alternating with firm and precise. Delighting in my squeals of pleasure and the accompanying liquidity of my nether regions, he watched my cunt go from palest pink petals to the crimson redness of a Valentine’s rose as it came at his behest.

Laughing, he came up for air and kisses, I love licking myself off his face and, today, it was especially sweet. He commented on it being the best he’d ever tasted. I suddenly realised that my current penchant for home-baked flapjacks made with vanilla and sesame seeds could well be responsible for more than one delicious moment on the tongue.

And then it was back to the business in hand as he dragged me over to the edge of the bed and stood between my legs. His hands assumed my favourite position, two fingers deep insde me, gently stroking the spongy area of my G Spot, the rhythm growing ever faster until his palm heel was hitting my clit and pressing down. Keeping his whole hand in contact he began to rub. Hard and fast, back and forth, maintaining the pressure upon both my clit and my G Spot until my hands gripped his shoulders convulsively. Half-upright, half reclined, I could hear the juices squelching and trickling as a torrent ran down his wrist and forearm, soaking the duvet beneath.

Not satisfied, he did it again. And again. Until I was damp and wretched and rung out like a rag. Wiping my effluvia over my face and into my hair, he had no mercy, only more tricks up his sleeve as he pushed himself inside me. The mere act of entering resulted in another paroxysm of pleasure before I realised that something unusual was occurring.

He had withdrawn and, holding his cock about half-way down its length, carefully pulled back the foreskin before lowering his grasp and gripping the little man firmly so that it increased the bulk above his fist, pushed it all back inside me. The effect of his grasp and the change of penile shape and dimension seemed to push the top of his cock onto the most sensitive of spots inside me. The results were staggering as I gasped and shrieked from one orgasm to the next counting out loud.

Looking down he could see my pussy laid out before him, with my legs spread to achieve the optimum position for orgasm facilitation. When my tally reached six, the whole area resembled a big blowsy red rose at that moment just before the petals start to fall, its structure loose and open with each swollen petal expanded almost to that point beyond which it cannot maintain its form.

But he was still not finished and I wanted him close to me. He picked me up bodily and shunted me further onto the bed before my arms reached out and pulled him in. Naked and sweaty, his skin cleaving to mine as he drove into me once more, teasing out the final two before his own climax gripped him vocally and, exiting sharply, a week’s worth of semen spurted out over my belly with such force that it sprayed my face and deposited globules in my already sticky hair.

He flopped down across the bed beside me with a very satisfied grin on his face.

‘Twelve, huh?’

And that’s when I knew what I would be writing about for Valentine’s Day!

Let’s just hope that, by the time you read this, he will have repeated the experience for our first Valentine’s Day together as a proper couple.

Hope you all have a good day! x

Originally posted 2010-02-14 10:01:31. Republished by Blog Post Promoter


“I love you so much that it makes me want to cry. And sometimes I feel pathetic!”

He lay there looking into my eyes and, as I returned his gaze, the intensity of two loves meeting and colliding produced an electricity that was almost palpable.

It’s frightening how much he loves me and he commented that some might not be able to cope. But, whilst part of me wants to run away and hide, most of me just wants to suck it up, absorb it and then give it back to him with knobs on.

I have blossomed under the warmth of his feelings for me.

And, after so many years where I knew that the majority of his being did indeed love me, I had to endure the harsh utterances of his mouth, fuelled by the small portion of his brain that wanted a more traditional relationship – a proper girlfriend. I struggled then, forcing my way through the detritus of friends’ comments. They were all well-meaning. They cared about him and didn’t want him to get hurt, which seemed like the only outcome in such a twisted, tangled web. It wasn’t personal against me. They like me but their concern was for him.

So, to come to this point in my life where a man cannot contain the depth of his feeling for me and introduces me to anyone who will listen as ‘My Joanna’…

We smile at each other, our gaze locked together, as I explain my fears and he kisses me, telling me that this is the right answer and that we will work together to maintain the strength of our feelings for each other. Enjoy this mutual intensity.

Which is when the heat from his body and the feel of his skin against mine becomes too much.

Writhing my pelvis against his thigh and twisting his chest hair in my clenched fist, I feel the desire welling up inside me. Just as he loves me more than he has ever loved any woman, I want this man just as keenly. It is an uncontrollable lust that threatens to consume me if not satisfied forthwith. But the previous discomfort of his entrance fills me with fear.

Turning my back to him, we spoon and he slides easily inside me, the liquid evidence of my desire facilitating the penetration from a different angle, avoiding the area of delicate skin that still troubles me. Gentle thrusts building me towards the inevitable climax and then the knowledge that he too has come… inside me.

It is so long since we have orgasmed together that I cannot think to be concerned, just enjoying the moment as I squeeze the last drops out of him.

It has been eleven months since I was last troubled by Aunt Flo and I have my fingers crossed that I am moving into the next stage of being a woman.

And, with this man beside me, I intend to enjoy every last minute of it.

Originally posted 2010-10-08 10:17:33. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Mother and Child Reunion

It was 21 years ago today that I went into labour.

England had won the Grand Slam and my time as a DINKY was done.

Someone asked me recently if I resented the changes that childbirth had wrought upon my body and my life.

And yet I remember the often told rigours of that day with almost fondness.

It was a difficult birth for both of us.

In days gone by at least one of us would probably have died.

But, by the miracles of modern science, we both lived to tell the tale.

I think what I resent is that I never actually witnessed her arrival, although I was the first person to see her because they woke me from the anaesthetic to say hello.

It was love at first sight of her ski-slope nose and big blue eyes.

Even if, for everyone else, her appearance, wrapped in a blue blanket, was very confusing.

A situation which would set the tone for the rest of her childhood.

The cussed combination of two families – stubborn and wilful but with the kindest heart.

Slender, beautiful and determined to be independent, her refusal to bow to convention got her into lots of scrapes.

We have never had the most conventional of relationships but that only makes me want to protect her more.

So this mother and child reunion will be the last.

The beloved child is now a fully fledged woman with her own life and her own dreams.

And I am very proud of her.

Originally posted 2012-03-17 22:53:16. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

OverRated: Doctor-Patient Privilege and Teenagers

"doctor-patient-privilege"Almost five decades ago, when I was a child, medical treatment for children under the age of 18 would have required the consent of an adult parent or guardian because minors were not considered competent to make any such decision. Unless it was an emergency situation and no parent/guardian could be contacted (as was often the case in the days before mobile phones), when the medical staff on the spot would make any decisions on behalf of the youngster.

However, as I’ve grown up, political correctness has allowed the rights of minors to become paramount, permitting them to make their own decisions and choices about all sorts of matters pertaining to their health – be it physical, mental or sexual. And allowing children a few moments to speak to the doctor privately might stop some of the terrible incidents of abuse that we hear about in the media.

Back in the Dark Ages, when I turned 16, this change in the Law meant that I could obtain the contraceptive Pill and/or condoms from the local Family Planning Clinic without having to involve my parents.

On becoming a mum myself, I still support this ruling wholeheartedly. Even though my relationship with my daughter is far more open than the one I had shared with my own mother – she told me she was going to the clinic to discuss and procure her personal methods of contraception – for her friends, this ability probably prevented a lot of unwanted pregnancies and STDs.

However, I wonder how many other parents are aware of the rules regarding doctor-patient privilege when it is applied to adolescents who visit them for other, more serious matters.

Whilst most of us will have been well aware that contraception and abortion issues can be dealt with by medical professionals without recourse to the parents, did you also know that drugs for depression can be dished out on prescription to your child without your knowledge?."teenagers-and-depression"

It’s a difficult and very grey area. At 16, they are no longer children physically but, mentally, they still have a long way to go to reach full maturity. It isn’t rocket science to suggest that a teenager’s analysis of symptoms and situations is not always fuelled by a thorough assessment of all the facts.

To send a sleepless and depressed youngster away from the surgery armed with a prescription for a drug which has the side-effects of insomnia and suicide is worrying enough. To do so without being required to alert the people who are responsible for their day to day care is reprehensible

I would like to think that doctors take into account the rather skewed way that these young people perceive the world and their position in it. Hopefully, when they formulate their diagnosis, they acknowledge that the teenager’s diet will invariably be based regular fast-food and caffeine-heavy drinks, accompanied by a fair of amount of alcohol and narcotic consumption. None of this is going to promote good sleeping habits or a healthy metabolism. But, if questioned, these facts will probably be denied vehemently and, to the juvenile brain, it is not necessarily a falsehood, merely that their perception of their diet is that it is not unhealthy or that it does not affect their mood or insomnia.

I am sure that doctors and counsellors also take into account the hormonal imbalances, party animal syndrome and general ‘I want it now’ attitude of most teenagers.

I would hope that most doctors would warn explicitly about the dangers of combining any prescription medication with alcohol or any other social drug use and the fact that anti-depressants can cause drowsiness, so driving or operating machinery should not be undertaken.

But the most worrying part about this is that, if the parent does find out or is told by the child, if they call the surgery, they will not receive any information to help them to guide their child with the usage of the drug unless that child goes to the surgery and withdraws the confidentiality.

"living-with-teenagers"And then I think, well, is it really any different from being precluded from any say in a child’s contraceptive choices? 16 year olds are allowed the privilege of being treated as ‘mature minors’ who are able to give ‘informed consent’ to accepting such aids, even down to a surgical procedure like an abortion.

But at least the latter is performed in a hospital under the care of the medical professionals. When your child is out ‘clubbing’ on prescription medication and you have no control over their consumption of other extraneous substances, it is the stuff of nightmares…

… and the moment when you realise that your child has thrown off any parental restraints — with the full permission and collusion of that childhood authority figure, the local doctor.

OverRated/UnderRated Sunday

Originally posted 2010-07-25 11:39:25. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

When The Price Is Too High…

I discover that my children and my ex will all be going on holiday with my sister and her family… a week before they go.

Naturally, I call up to enquire of my sibling why I seem to be the last to know and try to explain that it is embarrassing and hurtful to learn about it through my ex.

Apparently, if she decides that my ex and my children need a holiday, then she will give them one.

And after all she has done for me financially, I am selfish to be questioning why… “but then you have always been selfish“.

It would seem that “having shrouded my life in mystery for the last ten years“, I really don’t have any right to wonder why they never tell me anything.

She has been incredibly generous financially but it seems that the gift came with an incredibly high rate of interest.

From her words, it would also appear that my extended family all feel that they know my ex better than me because they have seen more of him in the last decade.

Choices seem to have been made and sides taken.

… Back to therapy.

Originally posted 2012-08-03 10:06:20. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Casual Sex

Thinking back to those days pre-Ruf, I was out there looking for sex.

Well, actually, strictly speaking, I was looking for love. Just in all the wrong places.

In those days, the only internet sites available were dating sites. Not that that meant they were not places to procure sexual encounters. It just meant that you had to go through the charade of filling out a profile which gave the impression that you were looking for a relationship.

I had various newly-single female friends complaining bitterly that these sites were a waste of time if you were looking for anything more than just a casual sexual encounter… or a series of casual sexual encounters with the same man but with no strings or commitment.

As a married woman, I didn’t feel it was fair to put myself onto such a site.

So, what did I do?

Well, in fact, I used the various hobby forums of which I was a member to look for a suitable candidate.

He came into my life very quickly and needed no encouragement.  But, before we got to more than telephone sex,  he broke my heart and almost his marriage by falling in love.

So, it was back to the drawing board.

Most of the men who came into my sphere after that were also  married.  And, after my first experience, I didn’t feel comfortable chatting up a man with the sole purpose of making him doubt his own relationship.

Eventually I found a single man who seemed to fit the bill. Not someone that I might fall in love with, who might want me to leave my children.

He was incredibly shy and deliberately chosen because he was not very attractive… but I was determined.

He clearly found my own charms particularly seductive so I decided that he would be the one to take me through the infidelity barrier.

I know, I know, I can hear what you’re thinking. How cheaply did I sell myself…? But it was a means to an end.

After a courtship of several months, we reached the point where online sex was just not enough.

A date was set. Travel arrangements were made. A hotel was booked.

From the moment that I picked him up from the station in my car, I knew that I did not fancy him at all. But, at that point, it didn’t actually matter. So long as he had the hots for me, that would be enough.

We got to our room and began chatting. Alcohol was imbibed to break the ice.

There was kissing.

And then I removed my outer clothing to reveal Joanna Cake in her full glory.

Black lacy basque, suspenders and lace topped black stockings.

Standing on the bed, legs astride I had one eye on him and the other on my reflection in the mirror.

I looked stunning! Even with my anorexic brain, I remember thinking that.

I was 5’3 and about 100lbs. A slender form with big boobs, tiny waist and an extremely pert bottom.

He had seen it all before online but never in the flesh and he was clearly aroused.

We began kissing.

His hands went between my legs and he made me come.

My hand went between his to discover…

… Nothing!

Despite my best attentions, he just couldn’t keep it up. He was completely overwhelmed. And then he revealed that it was his first time.

Having said that, he may have been inexperienced but he kept me coming all night. In the morning, he apologised for his poor showing before asking if he could see me again.

I prevaricated.

I dropped him at the station knowing that I would never see him again.

But he struggled to take no for an answer.

He was not a stalker… but he could so easily have been.

A few years later, internet sites for people who wanted casual sex without the pretence of wanting commitment began to become available. Sites like XXX Sex Guides.

Now women don’t have to trawl the internet looking for suitable strangers and then going through all sorts of shenanigans to work out whether they will actually be able to perform on the night.

You can just sign up and put yourself in front of men in a particular area who are being honest about the fact that they are after the same thing.

It is now possible to have the fun without the fake and minus the fear that you might not both have the same goal in mind.

I wonder what it would have been like with such a man? Someone that I actually fancied. A man with experience who could have helped me to explore some of my darker imaginings… but no intention of turning it into something more permanent.

Perhaps I might even still be married…

Originally posted 2013-08-18 14:41:50. Republished by Blog Post Promoter