So I celebrated Christmas with a surprise shag. I celebrate New Years with a cold sore. It’s not the surprise shags fault…I’ve been getting them for years thanks to my big brother giving me a kiss when I was still in nappies. It came up three days ago - not sure why, I'm not stressed, I'm not run down, I'm not depressed and I haven't got sunburnt - and thanks to iodine and a high pain threshold I just have a little bit of healing to do. Then I can get on with New Years Resolution.
After my session in bed, on the sofa and on the floor the other day and the aching that followed the following days, I have decided to sod the gym this year. I intend to work out in the manner that people worked out in before the invention of gyms.
It’s my NYResolution to have more sex, that means at least once a week - bearing in mind that I'm recently separated and wasn't getting any - and doesn’t include play, it means bump and grind with sweat, groaning and screaming!
May 2008 bring you plenty of bump, grind and screaming too.
Monday, December 31
Wednesday, December 26
The Pleasant Surprise
I was surfing a little yesterday between sips of champagne and bad television ad I viewed a profile on a dating site I go too. As I closed it an email appeared from that very profile, spooky. A brief time later we were chatting on Messenger a brief time after that he had my address and I was re making the bed (I stripped it when I got up) and showering. We had both acknowledged it was crazy.He turned up, he was cute. We chatted, I cooked dinner and then we chatted some more and drank a glass of wine. Then he asked if I would like a foot rub, of course my toes got a good sucking first. Well, it kind of went hazy after that, after we started kissing. It was lovely…soft, gentle but passionate. It got rougher as the heat rose in the room but not rough enough to hurt. We’d agreed not to play because I’d been drinking earlier so we made out and that turned into more until he was between my legs and I was gripping the blanket on the sofa ‘til my knuckles went white. That went on for about two hours.
He stayed over, he’d driven a long way and it was very early. We had a hour or more of fun this morning after only a few hours sleep, but oddly enough I’m not that tired today.
He tasted like Raspberries.
Tuesday, December 25
Happy Christmas
to all my fellow perverts...have a get holiday season.
And if you're not already perverted, may 2008 open your eyes to the glorious possibilities!
And if you're not already perverted, may 2008 open your eyes to the glorious possibilities!
Sunday, December 23
Propaganda
I was watching a recent episode of ‘Wire in the Blood’ today while doing the ironing (yes, no sub to do it for me yet) and it was about a serial killer who preyed on young girls who wanted to be cared for and serve via the internet and taken to a room where they were lovingly bound. They were only killed when they no longer followed the rules of the Master. Incidentally it turned out to be a husband/wife duo.It got me to thinking about the way BDSM and the various offshoots of the lifestyle are represented in the media. Often, in fact in every instance I have seen show it in a negative light. Serial killers have a desire to dominate their victim without consent, control their victims with violence, they want to hear them scream. The Victims are weak, stupid and often simply victims of their own warped needs and desires.
Is it because the writers don’t understand, I find that hard to stomach. Or maybe they just write what they believe the ‘general populace’ wants to see in regards to bondage, dominance, submission, sadism and complete power transfer.
It’s my belief that they (writers of mass media and in turn the broadcasting corporations) believe that the greater masses can’t handle the truth about what it is that turns us on and or completes us. How is it possible that we can allow someone to beat us until we’re black, blue and scarlet, how we can stand over a naked someone lying on the floor and stomp on them, how we can enjoy having our wrist bound and being forced to give our Mistress/Master head or how someone would serve as a footstool for the love of the service or the feel of feet on their skin.
I can understand how it can be difficult to understand these things; I didn’t get it myself for a while. But I came to not only understand, but to embrace these things and I would love to know how we, the few that believe and understand, can convince the others that what we do doesn’t make us freaks, doesn’t make us abnormal, it just proves we can accept that everyone needs something different to make them whole.
Thursday, December 20
The Policeman - part II
He stood me up!
What happened to manners? He made a date and then stood me up. I’m sorry but in my books that just makes him rude. Also I found out a couple of weeks ago that he is on three weeks leave and has made no attempt to rearrange. I wouldn’t go even if he did, but that’s not the point really, is it?
UPDATE 1335 23-12-07 : during an online decussion yesterday (he started it) he told me he was thinking about meeting me again...but that was it, he was just thinking about it. I think I'm going to ingor any further attempts at online contact.
What happened to manners? He made a date and then stood me up. I’m sorry but in my books that just makes him rude. Also I found out a couple of weeks ago that he is on three weeks leave and has made no attempt to rearrange. I wouldn’t go even if he did, but that’s not the point really, is it?
UPDATE 1335 23-12-07 : during an online decussion yesterday (he started it) he told me he was thinking about meeting me again...but that was it, he was just thinking about it. I think I'm going to ingor any further attempts at online contact.
The Barman
I was nineteen, he was 28, although he told me he was 25. He had a good body and a square jaw and he was nice to me. I fell for it hook, line and sinker. He chatted me up while I sat at the bar, the girlfriend I was out with was being chatted up by someone else. This was in the days before stalkers existed and mobile phones were for rich banker types, so I talked about where I lived and where I worked, and agreed I’d pop into the pub next week to say Hi.
The next day I was at work when a delivery of roses arrived at the front desk. Twelve of the deepest red roses you have seen sat on the counter on the other side of the glass division. As is usual with these things we commented and asked ‘who was the lucky person?’ When my phone rang, I jumped. They were for me, from him.
This went on for a week, gifts arrived daily. A teddy bear, a ceramic cat (I'd told him I had a cat), more flowers and a couple of other things I can’t remember. Every time a delivery guy arrived, my heart fluttered and my stomach flipped. I was suffering a severe case of butterflies. I was besotted.
The next time I saw him was in the pub…he was pleased to see me. I sat at the end of the bar with stars in my eyes all night. When he wasn’t serving he was talking to me, asking me questions. We went home to my place that night (my parents were out) and had sex. He was rough, he pulled my hair and he was big, almost too big. He pounded into me from above like I wasn’t really there, everytime. There was no other postion in his book. But still I was in lust. I knew no better.
He came back for more, we ‘dated’ for two months. He behaved like a love sick puppy when we were out together and when he met my parents. He even painted the door frames for my dad. My dad thought he was the best.
But when we were alone, he turned into a nasty piece. He was rough, he was mean and it wasn’t until I was recovering from a small operation and he still wanted sex that I finally told him to piss off. He'd had sex a lot, I mostly got held down by my hair. He wasn’t raping me, because I wanted to be there, but he didn’t care about me, I felt like I was just a hole. He told me he had a high sex drive and needed relief, so I would give him hand relief, when i was too sore. Somehow I could see this was not a healthy relationship. I'd found out he was telling me lies about his age, that he had been discharged from the Army and that his brother lived just round the corner from me.
I threw all his things that had crept into my drawers down the stairs and told him to get out. He stood there, looking up at me and started to cry. He told me he loved me. I told him I didn’t love him and he had to go. He picked up his stuff and left.
He called me for three weeks after, daily. He told me he was thinking of joining the army. He was shocked when I told him they wouldn’t have him back.
I’ll never date a abusing liar again.
The next day I was at work when a delivery of roses arrived at the front desk. Twelve of the deepest red roses you have seen sat on the counter on the other side of the glass division. As is usual with these things we commented and asked ‘who was the lucky person?’ When my phone rang, I jumped. They were for me, from him.
This went on for a week, gifts arrived daily. A teddy bear, a ceramic cat (I'd told him I had a cat), more flowers and a couple of other things I can’t remember. Every time a delivery guy arrived, my heart fluttered and my stomach flipped. I was suffering a severe case of butterflies. I was besotted.
The next time I saw him was in the pub…he was pleased to see me. I sat at the end of the bar with stars in my eyes all night. When he wasn’t serving he was talking to me, asking me questions. We went home to my place that night (my parents were out) and had sex. He was rough, he pulled my hair and he was big, almost too big. He pounded into me from above like I wasn’t really there, everytime. There was no other postion in his book. But still I was in lust. I knew no better.
He came back for more, we ‘dated’ for two months. He behaved like a love sick puppy when we were out together and when he met my parents. He even painted the door frames for my dad. My dad thought he was the best.
But when we were alone, he turned into a nasty piece. He was rough, he was mean and it wasn’t until I was recovering from a small operation and he still wanted sex that I finally told him to piss off. He'd had sex a lot, I mostly got held down by my hair. He wasn’t raping me, because I wanted to be there, but he didn’t care about me, I felt like I was just a hole. He told me he had a high sex drive and needed relief, so I would give him hand relief, when i was too sore. Somehow I could see this was not a healthy relationship. I'd found out he was telling me lies about his age, that he had been discharged from the Army and that his brother lived just round the corner from me.
I threw all his things that had crept into my drawers down the stairs and told him to get out. He stood there, looking up at me and started to cry. He told me he loved me. I told him I didn’t love him and he had to go. He picked up his stuff and left.
He called me for three weeks after, daily. He told me he was thinking of joining the army. He was shocked when I told him they wouldn’t have him back.
I’ll never date a abusing liar again.
Wednesday, December 19
The Blue Tiger
He was my first love. I lost my virginity to him when I was 15 and he was 18.It was awkward at first, but we figured out how it was best with plenty of practice in his bed, his bathroom, the chair in his mother’s bedroom, the desk in his dorm room, my bed, on a blanket amongst the bracken in the woods behind of his house and the front and back seats of his car. I may have missed somewhere, it was a while ago and we were inventive.
I watched him marry someone else a couple of years ago. It was the hardest things I've ever done.
Sassy Shoes
Recently I counted my shoes. I only have 43 pairs.My ex always accused me of being an Imelda I would like to refute that. For someone with a passion for shoes, I think 43 is a reasonable number. I understand that some may consider this to be an excessive amount of foot covering required by one person, but I would argue that at least five pairs don’t cover my foot at all, they just have a tiny strip of leather that barely holds them on!
I also have a few pairs that are what I class as sassy, not practical in any way (practical = being suitable for work wear). One such pair is my polka dots. They look fabulous with jeans and always draw the eye.
Wednesday, December 12
The Military Policeman
I worked in a barracks for a while as a secretary, many years ago when I was in my early twenties. There I was surrounded by men in uniform on a daily basis. I used to have lunch in the Sergeants Mess and there I got to know many very nice men and women, mostly married. On occasion there would new guys around as a lot of teaching went on and The Military Policeman was one such visitor. He would come for 5 days in a month to teach recruits about the MP’s. He was flirty, charming and just what I needed.
On his second visit he sat in the Bar with me (I also worked behind the bar of the Sergeants Mess when the regular barmaid was away) all night, just chatting. There were no other customers and we spent the whole night chatting. I was infatuated. The conversation turned to sex after about three hours and we chatted about my experience. He was older and I slightly embarrassed talking about such things. But talk about we did. When closing time came an hour later I pulled down the shutters and walked with him to his room.
We made love that night. He was gentle, I was trembling.
The next day he left.
A month later he returned for another five day and four nights. On the first night he sat in the bar and watched me while I served drinks. He walked me home and we snogged for hours outside my house with my legs wrapped around him. The second night I didn’t work. The third night I didn’t work. The fourth night I worked and he was sat at the end of the bar, watching again. About half an hour before closing he slid of his stool and disappeared. After my shift I closed the shutters as I did every other night, but with a heavy disappointment. As I was leaving the building he appeared. He was wearing all black. He was standing next to my bicycle and he said, ‘I want you to spank me.’
‘You want me to what?’ I didn’t think I had heard him right.
‘I want you to spank me.’ He repeated then continued with, ‘but I understand if you don’t want to.’
‘Well, I never have and won’t it hurt?’ I was confused. I remember the feeling coursing through my body…the excitement, the fear and the embarrassment.
‘That’s the point. I want it to. The rush of endorphins through my body is amazing.’
Before I knew it, I had said ‘Ok, I’ll give it a go, but you’ll have to tell me where to hit you.’ We were on the way to his room. The small military room had a single bed, a bedside table with lamp, a small padded chair with arms and long wall mounted chrome pole for hanging clothes. The walls were painted magnolia and all the furnishing were chrome, grey or beige. I stood by the door while he undressed and talked. When I started to undress he told me to stop. He wanted me clothed he explained, that way he would feel the fabric of my skirt rubbing his stomach. He asked me to sit on the edge of the chair with my legs spread. I had a hard time suppressing a giggle, but even then the adrenaline was rushing through my veins.
Here I was, faced with a naked man on his knees in front of me asking to spanked like a little boy.
He crawled forward and placed himself over my left knee. He was kneeing on the floor, his bare buttocks facing me. And I said, ‘Now what?’ I knew, but I needed him to ask me to strike him. I couldn’t explain it then, but now I know, I needed him to be sure he wanted this.
He asked me to spank him twelve times, first on the right, then the left and so on. He also asked that I start gently and get harder. When I had completed the twelve I saw his reddened cheeks and stroked my fingers across his skin. It was warm. He was purring. I asked if he would like some more.
‘Only if you are happy, Mistress.’
I was shocked by the title, but decided I would go with the flow. I could feel my own excitement. I did however, wonder what would be in all this for me. ‘I told you if you were a naughty boy you would be punished. You were a naughty boy so now I have you across my knee and you will stay here ‘til you cry.’ I told him.
He nodded his head. I raised my hand and brought it down hard. When I heard him whimper a while later I told him to stand before me. He was rock hard. I had never been more excited.
‘Do you think you have paid the price for being bad?’ I asked.
‘No Mistress.’
Again, I was surprised by the answer; I had expected him to say yes.
‘What else do you think needs to happen to ensure your bad behaviour doesn’t continue?’ I asked, hoping not to break the mood and hoping it was my turn.
‘Mistress, if I may be so bold as to request to feel the touch of your thighs to my face?’
I wasn’t quite sure what he meant, so I said yes. I was new to anything other missionary and me on top. I was playing the game as best I could.
He got back down onto his knees and kissed the inside of my knee, and then he licked me. He smooched the inside of my thigh with his cheek. I leaned back into the seat and sighed. It felt so good. I had no idea he was about to pull my pants down and give me my first experience of cunnilingus. It was amazing. I came in about three minutes. I had never come so fast or hard before and while I was recovering in the chair he unbuttoned my blouse and removed my bra, before carrying me to the bed. Once there he buried his face in my crotch again before I told him to ‘fuck me.’
Like any good subbie boi, he followed my instructions. Afterwards, we cuddled for ages. He asked me if I was Ok, I asked him. We were both fine.
We played many times on his visits. Mostly with me on top, but on occasion he would take control. I didn’t enjoy it as much, but it was still wonderful.
He was the man who introduced me to thing that would change my life.
On his second visit he sat in the Bar with me (I also worked behind the bar of the Sergeants Mess when the regular barmaid was away) all night, just chatting. There were no other customers and we spent the whole night chatting. I was infatuated. The conversation turned to sex after about three hours and we chatted about my experience. He was older and I slightly embarrassed talking about such things. But talk about we did. When closing time came an hour later I pulled down the shutters and walked with him to his room.
We made love that night. He was gentle, I was trembling.
The next day he left.
A month later he returned for another five day and four nights. On the first night he sat in the bar and watched me while I served drinks. He walked me home and we snogged for hours outside my house with my legs wrapped around him. The second night I didn’t work. The third night I didn’t work. The fourth night I worked and he was sat at the end of the bar, watching again. About half an hour before closing he slid of his stool and disappeared. After my shift I closed the shutters as I did every other night, but with a heavy disappointment. As I was leaving the building he appeared. He was wearing all black. He was standing next to my bicycle and he said, ‘I want you to spank me.’
‘You want me to what?’ I didn’t think I had heard him right.
‘I want you to spank me.’ He repeated then continued with, ‘but I understand if you don’t want to.’
‘Well, I never have and won’t it hurt?’ I was confused. I remember the feeling coursing through my body…the excitement, the fear and the embarrassment.
‘That’s the point. I want it to. The rush of endorphins through my body is amazing.’
Before I knew it, I had said ‘Ok, I’ll give it a go, but you’ll have to tell me where to hit you.’ We were on the way to his room. The small military room had a single bed, a bedside table with lamp, a small padded chair with arms and long wall mounted chrome pole for hanging clothes. The walls were painted magnolia and all the furnishing were chrome, grey or beige. I stood by the door while he undressed and talked. When I started to undress he told me to stop. He wanted me clothed he explained, that way he would feel the fabric of my skirt rubbing his stomach. He asked me to sit on the edge of the chair with my legs spread. I had a hard time suppressing a giggle, but even then the adrenaline was rushing through my veins.
Here I was, faced with a naked man on his knees in front of me asking to spanked like a little boy.
He crawled forward and placed himself over my left knee. He was kneeing on the floor, his bare buttocks facing me. And I said, ‘Now what?’ I knew, but I needed him to ask me to strike him. I couldn’t explain it then, but now I know, I needed him to be sure he wanted this.
He asked me to spank him twelve times, first on the right, then the left and so on. He also asked that I start gently and get harder. When I had completed the twelve I saw his reddened cheeks and stroked my fingers across his skin. It was warm. He was purring. I asked if he would like some more.
‘Only if you are happy, Mistress.’
I was shocked by the title, but decided I would go with the flow. I could feel my own excitement. I did however, wonder what would be in all this for me. ‘I told you if you were a naughty boy you would be punished. You were a naughty boy so now I have you across my knee and you will stay here ‘til you cry.’ I told him.
He nodded his head. I raised my hand and brought it down hard. When I heard him whimper a while later I told him to stand before me. He was rock hard. I had never been more excited.
‘Do you think you have paid the price for being bad?’ I asked.
‘No Mistress.’
Again, I was surprised by the answer; I had expected him to say yes.
‘What else do you think needs to happen to ensure your bad behaviour doesn’t continue?’ I asked, hoping not to break the mood and hoping it was my turn.
‘Mistress, if I may be so bold as to request to feel the touch of your thighs to my face?’
I wasn’t quite sure what he meant, so I said yes. I was new to anything other missionary and me on top. I was playing the game as best I could.
He got back down onto his knees and kissed the inside of my knee, and then he licked me. He smooched the inside of my thigh with his cheek. I leaned back into the seat and sighed. It felt so good. I had no idea he was about to pull my pants down and give me my first experience of cunnilingus. It was amazing. I came in about three minutes. I had never come so fast or hard before and while I was recovering in the chair he unbuttoned my blouse and removed my bra, before carrying me to the bed. Once there he buried his face in my crotch again before I told him to ‘fuck me.’
Like any good subbie boi, he followed my instructions. Afterwards, we cuddled for ages. He asked me if I was Ok, I asked him. We were both fine.
We played many times on his visits. Mostly with me on top, but on occasion he would take control. I didn’t enjoy it as much, but it was still wonderful.
He was the man who introduced me to thing that would change my life.
Monday, December 10
Shoe Fetish
Like a lot of women I have a shoe fetish (I’ve also spent a small fortune on corsets but that deserves its own post). This weekend I did something bad while waiting for a friend. I brought a new pair on impulse, no planning, no saving, I just did it.I popped into a very large, but very bad shop for a little window shopping (I had an hour to kill) and I saw them, red, high, shiny and strappy. The brand has let me down in the past with narrow fitting and short ankle straps, but I thought I’d try my luck anyway. There was three of the same shoe sitting in a line next to a big sign informing me that there was 30% off.
I picked up the first, a size 36, too small.
I picked up the last, a size 41, too big.
I picked up the middle one, a size 39, just right!
I sat in the chair and took my foot out of my comfy sandal, pushing it to one side with my toes. I placed the red stiletto in front of me and hoovered my right foot above the gold lined sole. I lowered my foot and it slipped straight in. The one inch wide strip of red patent leather held my toes in its soft grip, perfectly.
I lent down and grasped the red strap, muttering that I would amazed if it was long enough. I pulled the strap through the buckle and pulled it tight, pulling until the strap was tight around my ankle, the holes in the strap easily fitted onto the buckle, releasing the pressure on my skin.
When the girl appeared with the box containing the partner for the shoe on my right foot she placed it on the chair next to me and pulled the left shoe and presented it me in both hands.
With the both on, I was only three inches taller, but felt much more than that. Everything about these shoes fitted. The colour, the shape, the size, I could stand AND walk in them…even the price. They had to be mine.
I paid the girl and because I was off to an all day event I had to leave my purchase there, in their care until I was able to return to pick them up.
I returned the next day to pick up my first pair of Malono Blahnik’s
Tuesday, November 27
The Businessman
About four years ago I met a businessman. He was married, I was married. He had two kids, I had two cats.
We had a mild dalliance; he came round a few of times and did what he does best. He went down on me … for hours. This might sound boring, but really it isn’t. We played with toys, did a little anal and I came many, many times. Being a sub/switch he is more than happy to exercise his tongue.
Then he separated from his wife for a time and I visited him. I stopped his and my visits when one day I got out of bed the day after one and couldn’t walk. I felt like I had been run over by a bus. My back ached, my arms felt like jelly, my legs were wobbly and I had a gait like John Wayne. I had been to put it frankly, been fucked raw.
When my husband asked ‘what the hell have you done to yourself?’ I had no explanation and panicked. I went with the ‘I must have slept wrong,’ excuse and tried to straighten myself up. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t love my husband anymore, but I couldn’t continue to cheat on him. I had to stop playing around while I was still married.
Over the last couple of years, The Businessman has remained in my mind and we have often just asked how each other are. Two nights ago he came online and told me he’d left his wife for good. Did I fancy getting together for some fun?
I’m seeing him tonight, and I’m going sub.
We had a mild dalliance; he came round a few of times and did what he does best. He went down on me … for hours. This might sound boring, but really it isn’t. We played with toys, did a little anal and I came many, many times. Being a sub/switch he is more than happy to exercise his tongue.
Then he separated from his wife for a time and I visited him. I stopped his and my visits when one day I got out of bed the day after one and couldn’t walk. I felt like I had been run over by a bus. My back ached, my arms felt like jelly, my legs were wobbly and I had a gait like John Wayne. I had been to put it frankly, been fucked raw.
When my husband asked ‘what the hell have you done to yourself?’ I had no explanation and panicked. I went with the ‘I must have slept wrong,’ excuse and tried to straighten myself up. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t love my husband anymore, but I couldn’t continue to cheat on him. I had to stop playing around while I was still married.
Over the last couple of years, The Businessman has remained in my mind and we have often just asked how each other are. Two nights ago he came online and told me he’d left his wife for good. Did I fancy getting together for some fun?
I’m seeing him tonight, and I’m going sub.
The Policeman
I’ve always had a thing about men in uniform. What healthy woman doesn’t?A couple of months back I started chatting (online) with a policeman, slightly younger than me, really tall, vanilla but keen to explore. We chatted about allsorts of stuff including the inevitable, sex. I have suggested meeting on a couple of occasions, and as he lives near a beach, ice-cream was a logical pick, or so I thought. He always said no and that he was shy. But he did email me a picture of his cock.
Turn out he just wanted a shag. So I’m meeting him on Sunday.
Tuesday, November 20
The Amateur Porno Star
About three weeks ago I got an email asking if I fancied filming a couple having sex. I thought about it and thought, What the hell! I responded and an email conversation started. He sent me photos of him and the girl, he told me what he did for a living, he told he’d starred in a few Japanese pornos and had published photos in porno mags. He sent me a photo of himself and I shivered with repulsion. Not my cup of tea. Long hair, skinny and drives an old grey jag.
Anyway, today I was having an instant message conversation with him. He opened the conversation with ‘I’m horny, fancy having sex.’
I politely replied with, ‘No thanks, I’m at work.’
The conversation carried on for sometime with talk of peeing and more about videoing then I suggested getting together for a drink to discuss in more detail. We arranged a day, a time and a place. Then he asks, ‘can we speak on the phone before then?’ I say I prefer to meet then give out my phone number as I have had bad experiences of giving my number to strangers before. This was the first time a phone call had even been mentioned.
‘Well, I’m not meeting you if you’re not serious.’
What the hell? ‘At what point did you get the message I wasn’t serious, I’ve just arranged to met you for a drink?’
‘Grow Up!’
Now please correct me if I’m wrong, and I could very well be, but what the hell made him say ‘grow up’? Was it my arranging to meet him in a grown up location? Was it my not giving a stranger my phone number? Or maybe it was my warning him earlier in the conversation that I don’t generally sleep with people on the first met up.
He had the last words, ‘Grow Up.’ Because I believe he was talking about himself and no matter what I have to say he has to do an awful lot of it.
How weird!
Anyway, today I was having an instant message conversation with him. He opened the conversation with ‘I’m horny, fancy having sex.’
I politely replied with, ‘No thanks, I’m at work.’
The conversation carried on for sometime with talk of peeing and more about videoing then I suggested getting together for a drink to discuss in more detail. We arranged a day, a time and a place. Then he asks, ‘can we speak on the phone before then?’ I say I prefer to meet then give out my phone number as I have had bad experiences of giving my number to strangers before. This was the first time a phone call had even been mentioned.
‘Well, I’m not meeting you if you’re not serious.’
What the hell? ‘At what point did you get the message I wasn’t serious, I’ve just arranged to met you for a drink?’
‘Grow Up!’
Now please correct me if I’m wrong, and I could very well be, but what the hell made him say ‘grow up’? Was it my arranging to meet him in a grown up location? Was it my not giving a stranger my phone number? Or maybe it was my warning him earlier in the conversation that I don’t generally sleep with people on the first met up.
He had the last words, ‘Grow Up.’ Because I believe he was talking about himself and no matter what I have to say he has to do an awful lot of it.
How weird!
Thursday, November 15
The Corporate Suit - part III
He’s reappeared. He’s asking to come round tonight.
He’s been absent for over a week, then an email yesterday informed me he’d been travelling without access to email. Should I swallow his bull and agree to let him in my house?
You know what, I think I will, if only to see his amazing body naked and get a foot massage.
Update 1233 16-11-07 - He didn't come round, he texted me at 8.30 saying he was bushed as he'd just left the office and didn't feel like he could worship my feet effectively. Then he rang me and we had phone sex while I described what I was going to do to him with my feet. It was fairly satisfying, but not as good as the real thing.
And Yes…I know, it’s possible that he’s really not that into me.
Update 2117 26-11-07 - All became clear today. He's got back together with his girlfriend. She thinks his foot fetish is disgusting and he doesn't find her feet attractive, so all is well in the extremely fucked up world.
He’s been absent for over a week, then an email yesterday informed me he’d been travelling without access to email. Should I swallow his bull and agree to let him in my house?
You know what, I think I will, if only to see his amazing body naked and get a foot massage.
Update 1233 16-11-07 - He didn't come round, he texted me at 8.30 saying he was bushed as he'd just left the office and didn't feel like he could worship my feet effectively. Then he rang me and we had phone sex while I described what I was going to do to him with my feet. It was fairly satisfying, but not as good as the real thing.
And Yes…I know, it’s possible that he’s really not that into me.
Update 2117 26-11-07 - All became clear today. He's got back together with his girlfriend. She thinks his foot fetish is disgusting and he doesn't find her feet attractive, so all is well in the extremely fucked up world.
The Writer
I met him months ago. It was a random encounter while I was still married. In fact I think my larger half was with me. We were out with some friends at a pub. The Journalist was there with his friends and in the way pubs are everyone was mingling and chatting. I got chatting with the Journo.
He’s younger than me, works in a field I’m interested in, had a girlfriend and reminded me of my larger half in many ways. But he wasn’t completely repellent. We parted ways at the end of the evening with a ‘see you around.’
And see him around I did, at pubs, clubs, concerts and even the movies. We always shot the breeze and if was alone (which I frequently was, even before my separation) he would buy me a drink or popcorn and have a chat.
Now, here’s the thing. This guy will only ever be a mate. During the course of my chats with him I have discovered that he has ‘issues’ and I don’t want, need or desire to make those any worse and I certainly don’t want to sleep with him (despite encouragement from mates) and then leave him. I don’t want to add to the hurt.
I think I may have issues myself; I care too much about feelings. Why can’t I do what a girlfriend of mine does, fuck ‘em and call ‘em a cab?
I think I may have work to do.
He’s younger than me, works in a field I’m interested in, had a girlfriend and reminded me of my larger half in many ways. But he wasn’t completely repellent. We parted ways at the end of the evening with a ‘see you around.’
And see him around I did, at pubs, clubs, concerts and even the movies. We always shot the breeze and if was alone (which I frequently was, even before my separation) he would buy me a drink or popcorn and have a chat.
Now, here’s the thing. This guy will only ever be a mate. During the course of my chats with him I have discovered that he has ‘issues’ and I don’t want, need or desire to make those any worse and I certainly don’t want to sleep with him (despite encouragement from mates) and then leave him. I don’t want to add to the hurt.
I think I may have issues myself; I care too much about feelings. Why can’t I do what a girlfriend of mine does, fuck ‘em and call ‘em a cab?
I think I may have work to do.
Wednesday, November 7
Fyshwick Sex Shops
A friend of mine and I went down to Canberra at the weekend, or to be more specific to Fyshwick to visit the sex shops. The visit to Parliament House, the bird on a stick and the wineries were a nice diversion, but I was on a mission. I wanted a strap-on!
After asking the advise of a few mates that I know have spent time perusing the smut purveyors of the ACT and coming up with, ’I only know how to get there if I’m driving,’ and ‘Ohh there’s a really good one near Harvey Norman.’ We decided to go in blind.
So here, I pass my knowledge to you;
Hello Sexy – Corner Gladstone/Wollongong Street : New and with a great selection of shoes, outfits and video/dvd. Currently not a huge selection of toys, but loads of stocking and leather wear.
Adam & Eve – 107 Gladstone Street : Huge, claims to be the largest sex shop in Australia. Seemed to be unpacking still. Massive selection of toys, books, magazine, games, you name it, they had it.
Fantasy Lane – Molonglo Mall : more of a gay sauna than a sex shop. Heaps of gay porn on VHS and dvd.
----- Ranch – Molongo Mall : Can’t remember the first part of name, but you see it as you drive in. Seedy place with mostly videos and a few blow up dolls.
XXX Adult Shop – Gladstone Street. This unimaginatively name shop was just as it promised. An adult shop, but it had more prank stuff than toys or crops.
There was another one too, but I can’t for the life of me remember what it was called, but it was just across the street from the Molongo Mall exit on Newcastle street. It was small, but had a nice selection and a really cool logo. It was also conveniently next to a hobby shop. Ironic really!
And yes... I did acquire a strap-on, plus I got a Rabbit, a small suede flogger and a couple of books. My friend got a lovely new cock vibrator.
After asking the advise of a few mates that I know have spent time perusing the smut purveyors of the ACT and coming up with, ’I only know how to get there if I’m driving,’ and ‘Ohh there’s a really good one near Harvey Norman.’ We decided to go in blind.
So here, I pass my knowledge to you;
Hello Sexy – Corner Gladstone/Wollongong Street : New and with a great selection of shoes, outfits and video/dvd. Currently not a huge selection of toys, but loads of stocking and leather wear.
Adam & Eve – 107 Gladstone Street : Huge, claims to be the largest sex shop in Australia. Seemed to be unpacking still. Massive selection of toys, books, magazine, games, you name it, they had it.
Fantasy Lane – Molonglo Mall : more of a gay sauna than a sex shop. Heaps of gay porn on VHS and dvd.
----- Ranch – Molongo Mall : Can’t remember the first part of name, but you see it as you drive in. Seedy place with mostly videos and a few blow up dolls.
XXX Adult Shop – Gladstone Street. This unimaginatively name shop was just as it promised. An adult shop, but it had more prank stuff than toys or crops.
There was another one too, but I can’t for the life of me remember what it was called, but it was just across the street from the Molongo Mall exit on Newcastle street. It was small, but had a nice selection and a really cool logo. It was also conveniently next to a hobby shop. Ironic really!
And yes... I did acquire a strap-on, plus I got a Rabbit, a small suede flogger and a couple of books. My friend got a lovely new cock vibrator.
The Corporate Suit – part II
I’m confused. After a week of frenzied emailing and a couple of phone calls all’s gone quiet. I’m not hurt or broken hearted or anything, after all I had very little invested, but that doesn’t stop the confusion.
A girlfriend and I spent a couple of hours taking saucy photos of my feet at the weekend for him. It was actually really good fun and I had a glimpse of what models have to put up with. I sent him a couple and he seemed to enjoy them, but still there has been very little for the last few days and last night mid chat he logged off after saying he’d be right back.
A girlfriend and I spent a couple of hours taking saucy photos of my feet at the weekend for him. It was actually really good fun and I had a glimpse of what models have to put up with. I sent him a couple and he seemed to enjoy them, but still there has been very little for the last few days and last night mid chat he logged off after saying he’d be right back.
I could make excuses for him, he’s been at a conference (no, really he has), I’ve been going to bed really early (I’ve been unwell), he’s tired…etc. etc… but I should also realize that he also had very little to gain from it except a really nice pair of feet that I was willing to put anywhere and I’ve already sent him some pictures for his viewing pleasure. My own fault I suppose.
We all live and learn – no picture sharing until after first play.
We all live and learn – no picture sharing until after first play.
The Banker
Had lunch with the Banker today. I really can’t see it going anywhere near the bedroom, but I think we could be mates, oddly I think he agrees. I didn’t feel any chemistry. He’s predominantly dominant and so am I, so it could be very fiery if not downright awkward.
Ohh and he's mostly gay.
Back to the drawing board.
Friday, November 2
The Drummer
About three years ago I saw a band play in a restaurant. I was drawn to the skinny white guy playing the drums, not my usual type at all. This year this band has been playing in my home town a fair bit and generally getting about, and so I have seen them a lot. Well, because I’m at most of their concerts they have come to know me a little and nearly always acknowledge my presence.
I’ve brought them drinks and had conversations, but seeing as they are all outside my lower age limit I have never, and would never go there.
Last night I went out of my way to see them, travelling to another town, far away to partake of their particular brand of music. They were good as they always are and the audience (even if it was Very odd) seemed to want them to come back. Anyway, after I was chatting with the drummer about drum sticks and realised something. Although in the past I have been tongue-tied and star-struck when in his presence, I have grown to respect him on a level that is reserved for very few people.
He has a talent that extends beyond the band he was playing with last night. He has a solo effort that is highly successful and has won major awards. He works like a dog, touring around Aussie and various other countries with the band and solo, radio and magazine interviews, singing and drum playing, and yet he still has the time to shoot the breeze with fans.
He isn’t good looking, he’s skinny and getting skinnier (I think) because of his crazy schedule, he has an odd hair do, his teeth aren’t perfect but always seem to be revealed through his big wide mouth frog smile and generally he’s scruffy. But still I find him sexy, really really sexy, I get the lust flutters and sweaty palms, even when he’s playing and dripping with sweat.
But at the end of the concert that changes, my feeling change and I just want to hug him, take him home, wash his shirt and feed him a giant steak and chips and let him know I’m there for him. I hope his fiancé does that!
I’ve brought them drinks and had conversations, but seeing as they are all outside my lower age limit I have never, and would never go there.
Last night I went out of my way to see them, travelling to another town, far away to partake of their particular brand of music. They were good as they always are and the audience (even if it was Very odd) seemed to want them to come back. Anyway, after I was chatting with the drummer about drum sticks and realised something. Although in the past I have been tongue-tied and star-struck when in his presence, I have grown to respect him on a level that is reserved for very few people.
He has a talent that extends beyond the band he was playing with last night. He has a solo effort that is highly successful and has won major awards. He works like a dog, touring around Aussie and various other countries with the band and solo, radio and magazine interviews, singing and drum playing, and yet he still has the time to shoot the breeze with fans.
He isn’t good looking, he’s skinny and getting skinnier (I think) because of his crazy schedule, he has an odd hair do, his teeth aren’t perfect but always seem to be revealed through his big wide mouth frog smile and generally he’s scruffy. But still I find him sexy, really really sexy, I get the lust flutters and sweaty palms, even when he’s playing and dripping with sweat.
But at the end of the concert that changes, my feeling change and I just want to hug him, take him home, wash his shirt and feed him a giant steak and chips and let him know I’m there for him. I hope his fiancé does that!
Wednesday, October 31
The Corporate Suit
I had another first encounter yesterday, my third. Now, they always say third times a charm and all that, but I never believed them until last night. This time I had ventured to arrange a date with a guy several years younger than myself, a guy with a thing for feet.
I arrived at the bar a few minutes early (the taxi had managed to get all green lights) so I ordered myself a drink, propped myself on a bar stool and waited. After about five minutes and EXACTLY on time he arrived. He apologised that he had just come from the gym and wasn’t wearing a suit. He looked amazing in jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Dark hair, slim but muscled body and taller than me, even in three inch heels.
I was halfway through my drink, he waited until I had finished before going to the bar and buying himself one and another for me. We talked about politics, sport, the royal family, the trivia night that happened to be going on around us and several other things including his past relationships. After an hour, both of our emergency phone calls happened (mine from ‘a friend in need’ his for ‘work’) and we decided to call it a night. He drove me home, told me he was playing at being a lawyer and that he really wanted to do other things with his life. He walked me to my front door. Then he kissed me gently. I kissed him back. He was nervous and so was I.
I wanted to open my front door, throw him against the wall, rip all his clothes off and shag him senseless. But I have a rule…never on a first meeting.
I think it’s sensible, but last night I could have kicked my own arse for letting him get away.
PS. He's been emailing me all day and my butterflies have hatched. But I'm still not counting the chickens.
I arrived at the bar a few minutes early (the taxi had managed to get all green lights) so I ordered myself a drink, propped myself on a bar stool and waited. After about five minutes and EXACTLY on time he arrived. He apologised that he had just come from the gym and wasn’t wearing a suit. He looked amazing in jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Dark hair, slim but muscled body and taller than me, even in three inch heels.
I was halfway through my drink, he waited until I had finished before going to the bar and buying himself one and another for me. We talked about politics, sport, the royal family, the trivia night that happened to be going on around us and several other things including his past relationships. After an hour, both of our emergency phone calls happened (mine from ‘a friend in need’ his for ‘work’) and we decided to call it a night. He drove me home, told me he was playing at being a lawyer and that he really wanted to do other things with his life. He walked me to my front door. Then he kissed me gently. I kissed him back. He was nervous and so was I.
I wanted to open my front door, throw him against the wall, rip all his clothes off and shag him senseless. But I have a rule…never on a first meeting.
I think it’s sensible, but last night I could have kicked my own arse for letting him get away.
PS. He's been emailing me all day and my butterflies have hatched. But I'm still not counting the chickens.
The Barman
My second date from a dating site happened on the 22nd. He had maintained that he worked in the hospitality industry and I had chosen not read too much into it. He was a little older than me, but that wasn’t a worry.
After two hours of his company though I was exhausted. He had no conversation. I started every thread and ecked out every piece of information I could. I discovered all sorts of things about him that were undesirable including that he was a smoker. His profile said he was not. So I told him smoking was a deal breaker, I was being kind I could have mentioned the;
>Lack of conversation
>The extra extra padding
>The fact he didn’t buy me a drink
>That he lived with a flat mate
>His lack of transport
>That all he could talk about was the bar work ( he doesn’t even clean his own pipes)
>That he hasn’t read a book since leaving school
And list goes on…
And when he asked why smoking was such a problem I told him his spunk would taste like an ashtray. He looked confused as I waved goodbye.
After two hours of his company though I was exhausted. He had no conversation. I started every thread and ecked out every piece of information I could. I discovered all sorts of things about him that were undesirable including that he was a smoker. His profile said he was not. So I told him smoking was a deal breaker, I was being kind I could have mentioned the;
>Lack of conversation
>The extra extra padding
>The fact he didn’t buy me a drink
>That he lived with a flat mate
>His lack of transport
>That all he could talk about was the bar work ( he doesn’t even clean his own pipes)
>That he hasn’t read a book since leaving school
And list goes on…
And when he asked why smoking was such a problem I told him his spunk would taste like an ashtray. He looked confused as I waved goodbye.
The Project Manager
I had my first coffee on the 17th October with a lovely man who likes ladies in boots. I didn’t wear boots to the date because it was two in the afternoon at a café.
We chatted about a few things, his likes, his wants then my likes, my wants and my new washing machine. He told me I was just what he imagined a Domme to look and be, not too skinny and not too fat. That’s always nice to hear. He also told me that I was very comfortable to be around but he imagined I could be very tough.
Then I told him my situation, you know, separated and new back in the scene, vanilla ex etc. He then said, ‘I’m a similar situation, my partner is vanilla.’
My Partner…A Partner! Didn’t he think it would be a good idea to mention the partner before making a coffee date with me? I asked if he had tried to get her interested. Yes he had, but she wasn’t interested and though wearing boot in bed was freaky. We talked about his situation more and I found out what I wanted to know. She didn’t know he was going outside to play.
I finished my drink and he offered to walk me home. I said, ‘You can, but you ain’t coming over threshold.’
He did walk me home. He was a gentleman. He did admit to requiring the toilet during our short walk and I let him. He was in my house less than five minutes and after he had left I checked something;
He’d put the loo seat down, lid and all.
We chatted about a few things, his likes, his wants then my likes, my wants and my new washing machine. He told me I was just what he imagined a Domme to look and be, not too skinny and not too fat. That’s always nice to hear. He also told me that I was very comfortable to be around but he imagined I could be very tough.
Then I told him my situation, you know, separated and new back in the scene, vanilla ex etc. He then said, ‘I’m a similar situation, my partner is vanilla.’
My Partner…A Partner! Didn’t he think it would be a good idea to mention the partner before making a coffee date with me? I asked if he had tried to get her interested. Yes he had, but she wasn’t interested and though wearing boot in bed was freaky. We talked about his situation more and I found out what I wanted to know. She didn’t know he was going outside to play.
I finished my drink and he offered to walk me home. I said, ‘You can, but you ain’t coming over threshold.’
He did walk me home. He was a gentleman. He did admit to requiring the toilet during our short walk and I let him. He was in my house less than five minutes and after he had left I checked something;
He’d put the loo seat down, lid and all.
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