Girly chats are priceless. I have decided that there could be a market for selling girly chats to the highest bidder on websites such as eBay.
"Genuine forty somethings talk and take on female ejaculation! - Cum and get it here. No false arousals. Listen to two women telling it like it is!"
Seriously, I am quite convinced that had other people overheard my friend and I talking recently, they would either have been very shocked or very turned on.
It is one of those weird facts of life that everyone seems to want to be unique whilst simultaneously desiring to be similar to others; not freakish or perverse.
I rather like the idea of being in a minority. It makes me feel special, unique, different, non conformist but I know there is a tenuous line between this and feeling odd, unusual, abnormal, freaky.
Apparently, according to statistics, I am in a minority because I ejaculate when I cum. Not always, but quite frequently - well mostly actually.
I like the fact that whilst not being unique in that respect, I belong to a smaller group of fortunate women who have a blindingly good physical as well as spiritual, sexual and emotional response to orgasm.
I gush. I like nothing more than being brought to orgasm and then gushing away onto fingers, cocks, dildos - whatever has made me climax (cocks of course, doing it for me more than anything else).
And as much as I enjoy being in this minority, I also want that changed as I passionately believe that every woman should and must have a juicy, gushing wet cum, at least once in their lives.
On a day to day basis, female ejaculation is not actually discussed that often, even though if should be. Normalizing ejaculation would liberate many women who feel that their watery emissions are something to be hidden or ashamed of.
If it is perfectly acceptable and expected fit a man to spunk his gungy white stuff all over the place, then why can't it be acceptable for a woman to gush?
I've known my friend for well over half of my life. I've known who she's slept with, I've known her every preference in food and drink and activities and blokes. I know her likes and dislikes, which famous people she'd like to fuck. I know she likes sex and has always had decent sexual experiences but until our recent discussion, I didn't know she was a full on horny spunker, and I'm so utterly delighted that we have this significant thing in common.
I can't even remember how the conversation started but we were discussing sexuality in general. My friend said that she thought there were far more blokes in the world that were not that interested in sex than people realise.
I agreed. I went on to say that there was, I felt, quite a reluctance to talk openly about sex, something that as you know I am passionate to do something about.
I continued to say that I had previously asked other friends what happened when they cum. The usual response goes something along the lines of, "I get a great tingly sensation all over, and it makes me feel good".
Not the world's greatest endorsement.
So I continued to ask my friend what happened to her when she had an orgasm.
Pausing at first, she looked at me and said, "Well if I am perfectly honest, when I'm really turned on, I tend to wet the sheets".
"Really?" I responded and then went on to explain that I often need towels laid down before me to soak up my cum. I told her how I like nothing more than jetting my hot stuff all over my lover, his stomach, his cock, his fingers. I love gushing and cannot really hold back when the time comes.
It was such a relief, one that was reiterated by my friend. She, like me, was delighted that she had met someone who knew what a steaming female spunk was like. She was almost relieved to find another gusher, and here we were, friends for almost a lifetime not knowing this extremely important and vital part of our lives.
Back to eBay! The excitement of finding out that your lifelong buddy is a gusher is incredible. It opened up the conversation to sexual fantasies, to how we aroused ourselves and our partners, about what particular kinkiness we liked and whether we had some sexual fantasies as yet unexplored.
She told me of her love of porn and the joys of living alone so that she could amuse herself with an Internet search, unshackled by queries and concerns of others. She explained how she loved looking of photos of cocks and how her partner liked her looking at other women's tits.
I told her how much I enjoyed my own photo collection of both my own pussy and my lover's cock.
She told me how she was quite tempted by having sex with someone who tied her hands together. I told her of my fantasy of fucking my lover in front of other people.
We both agreed that we actually liked the word "cunt" and that it should be rescued as a positively and wondrously sexual word without sordid and derogatory connotations.
And whilst this rapid fire of sexual release was going on, I was thinking how horny and exciting it was to talk so naturally and so energetically about such an incredibly important subject. And, if I was aroused by this how would other people respond to two relatively articulate women talking openly and honestly about wanking and gushing and cunts and cocks and finger fucks and juicy, wet orgasms?
It has to be sellable.
And after all of this luscious talk with its rampant delights sending my fingers southbound into my pussy, I was also rather saddened that it had taken half a lifetime to realise this commonality.
I held back some things. There's time for more! She probably held back too.
But something was unlocked, a new togetherness was released and that special bond (no puns intended) between us grew some more.
And all because the girlies needed a chat. Who knows where such wonderful chats may lead.
Saturday 18 April 2009
Wednesday 15 April 2009
From Both Sides Now
It was Helen who had told me about this particular place; just outside Bristol, on the edge of the river, overlooking the suspension bridge. Quite an attractive redbrick building, in keeping with its neighbouring houses with wonderful deep, curved bay windows.
You got the impression that they could see you approaching but no figures could be seen from the street.
If you want a truly special and unique massage that is the place to go, she had said.
I wondered.
I suspected that my idea of a unique and special massage did not quite synergise with Helen's. But to be honest, I genuinely wasn't expecting anything other than an hour of relaxation, a time when I could drift away to unknown lands and undiscovered thoughts.
That is all I needed.
I was greeted by the ubiquitous over caked dollybird with more than a hint of tedium and false delight in her welcome.
I must be getting old. These young women would look so much fresher, more attractive if only they let their pores breathe, if only they'd scrape the heavily tinged gunk from their faces.
I was directed to the changing room where I undressed, apart from my lacy thongs, and reclothed myself in the customer uniform of the heavy towelling robe. It felt snug, and already I felt the release of walking around in a house full of people without my bra on. Liberation from bras is something that I can understand. There's such joy in whipping off a bra and just feeling no need to comply with anything.
Sod the world, sod everything, let the tits hang loose, no-one is looking.
I walked along the golden lit corridor to the relaxation room and waited for my name to be called. A tiny blond with a twenty inch waist poked her head around the door and asked for Caroline.
Not me! I was glad.
Her fingers were smooth and delicate and I had a feeling her touch would have been insipid.
Natalie then came in and called my name. Follow me, she said as she directed me into the chamber.
She was tallish, just over five and a half foot with the most beautiful, silky hair tipping into soft curls as they bounced on her shoulder. Brunette.
She was a good size; not puny, not overweight but well-made, and voluptuous in all the right places. She smiled as she explained the process, verifying that I was here for a full body massage and telling me the oils she was going to use.
She left me to de-robe and I slid impatiently and in anticipation under the provided covers.
Listen to the music and drift away, she said, as she slid back the covers and started to stroke my back in strong and determined motions.
Nice panties, she had said. Strange comment but appreciated nonetheless. Was it a come on? I doubt it. What on earth would a beautiful, very clearly heterosexual woman, ten years my junior see in me? Not that I even wanted her. Not that she was clearly heterosexual. I'm ‘clearly’ heterosexual but it doesn't stop me thinking, doesn't stop me looking or wondering.
Her touch was good and I told her. It was perfect; neither too harsh nor soft, just perfect pressure. I could feel myself drifting and worked hard on ensuring she knew I was relaxed. I untensed my muscles and flopped in response to her hand movements.
Further down my back she travelled in deep, swirling motions, tentatively clipping the waistband with her thumb by accident.
By accident. By reason? By purpose?
It happened again and as her hands switched direction to work their way horizontally over my eased back, I felt her fingers linger a little too long, tracing the line of my thongs with her thumb, catching the edge and ever so slightly flickering underneath.
I wonder if they are taught to do that, to arouse and relax the client in one fell swoop. Taught or not, it was working. The sensation of gentle, knowing fingers simulating the line of my panties always does something for me.
Anticipation is an astounding aphrodisiac; frustrating but astounding nonetheless.
I waited and enjoyed as she swooped once more from my coccyx right the way to my shoulders, pressing firmly to confirm my back massage was complete.
Untucking the towel from my panties, she pulled the cover over my back and walked towards the bottom of the couch.
Legs now. She moved the cover to reveal one of my legs and gently smoothed the oils into my calves.
I tentatively moved my legs apart; an unnoticeable move but one done to prevent them sticking together, should I accidentally emit some slight juices from my pussy.
I don’t think she noticed but as she moved from calf to thigh, I was immensely conscious of her hand going to my inner thigh, and I know that I was almost certainly moistening up should she have accidentally touched the lower part of my thongs.
I was beginning to feel the familiar feeling of juices building up when I get aroused. I tried to relax and not worry about them. Surely masseurs are used to people being turned on by their actions? They must be used to hard ons. Just not sure they are used to hard ons in a woman, but I certainly had one now. I was pulsating and desperate to feel the juice of my own pussy on my fingers. I’d have to have a wank after she had finished, before I left this room.
I must have been imagining everything for once she had travelled comfortably and confidently up and down my thighs, she simply stopped, held the cover high above her face and asked me to move over onto my back.
It wasn’t done in a harsh or clinical way, but was professional and evidently, she was not interested in seeing my body.
I moved and closed my eyes as she explained that she was now going to manipulate my neck and chest, working down to the arms and then it would be over.
I lay there as she swooped her beautiful hands over my neck and down to the start of my breasts.
I wasn’t exactly willing her to drive her hands under the cover that she had expertly placed an inch above my nipples, but I was hoping that her fingers would surreptitiously find their way beneath, just as they had with my panties.
She kept on swooping down, in deep circular motions that mocked me, drawing boobs with her hand on my chest, clipping the side of my tits with her forearm.
The cover was in the way and she carefully suggested that she might pull it down a little. There was nothing sexual in this statement. It was just a practicality. I said I’d prefer that anyway.
Maybe that was a little too forward, but she removed it anyway, and I hoped my nipples wouldn’t reveal my obvious arousal. They could just have been responding to the freshness of the air.
Although my eyes were closed I could feel her gaze as she moved her hands over my tits, carefully avoiding the nipples. It felt incredible, and I desperately wanted to finger myself as she further manipulated my tits.
And then, her hands cupped my boobs and remained there a second too long. She drew her circle again, driving her fingers down my cleavage and allowed her fingers to drift over my nipples. And then she stopped and squeezed and carefully put some pressure onto her palms which were directly over my now protruding nipples.
I opened my eyes and raised my chin towards her, still laying as still as possible, and as I did, without any warning whatsoever, she simply leaned forward and kissed my nose at the same time, squeezing my tits in a very sexual and needy way.
I smiled.
Still clasping my bosom, she moved to the side and then took both hands over to my left tit and held it, releasing my nipple to the coldness of the air. With gentle and stimulating caresses she smoothed it over and over again, and then she leant over and took a mouthful of my tit in her warm and comforting mouth.
It was sensational. I could feel her hot saliva as it trickled from her kiss as she circled my nipple with her tongue and sucked gently on its tip.
Her hand moved to my other tit as she continued to massage my nipple with her tongue.
Enough! I needed to control this. I could wait no longer.
Either my hand or hers had to get under those covers and inside my pussy. I’d parted my legs as she had sucked my tit and I am sure she had noticed this movement. This time it was intentional, deliberate, the affirmation of which I hope she approved.
I held my hand over hers, and dramatically grabbed it and slid it down the length of my body towards my white, lacy thongs.
Lingering a mere second at the edge of my panties, I pushed her hand invitingly towards my pubes.
She needed no further invitation, and without any pleas from me she traced the most natural line of my body, inserting her fingers past my labia and deep into my cunt, and for the first time in our session, her fingers moved vigorously and passionately as she finger fucked me, clearly delighted in the fuck juices she found within.
I undid her tunic and fumbled around to push my hand into her bra. Her nipple were as erect as my own and I clung onto it as she continued to find her way through the folds of my pussy, deeper and deeper toward my passion.
I was going to cum, and I feared my copious emissions might alarm her. She expertly curled her two fingers deep inside me, clipping against my G-spot, and once found pushed hard in a dramatic and familiar way.
I felt my release and I silently wailed as I erupted in a monumental gush, and as I did she released herself from my clutches and dived down to capture the juices in her mouth, licking her way around my pubes and sliding her tongue into the place where her fingers had done their tidy work seconds before.
She crouched down and placed her hands on my thighs and I fucking came again, splashing her face and moistening that beautiful hair as I did.
She moved from left to right, carefully tickling my labia with her tongue and then sliding once more into my fanny with her strong and capable tongue.
I clutched my boobs as she did this, feeling the remnants of oil to ease my journey.
She moved away and stood upright, smiling, dripping with my juices, and as she wiped them from her chin, she reinserted her fingers back into my cunt and simply rested them there as she moved around the other side of the couch, bent over and kissed me.
You got the impression that they could see you approaching but no figures could be seen from the street.
If you want a truly special and unique massage that is the place to go, she had said.
I wondered.
I suspected that my idea of a unique and special massage did not quite synergise with Helen's. But to be honest, I genuinely wasn't expecting anything other than an hour of relaxation, a time when I could drift away to unknown lands and undiscovered thoughts.
That is all I needed.
I was greeted by the ubiquitous over caked dollybird with more than a hint of tedium and false delight in her welcome.
I must be getting old. These young women would look so much fresher, more attractive if only they let their pores breathe, if only they'd scrape the heavily tinged gunk from their faces.
I was directed to the changing room where I undressed, apart from my lacy thongs, and reclothed myself in the customer uniform of the heavy towelling robe. It felt snug, and already I felt the release of walking around in a house full of people without my bra on. Liberation from bras is something that I can understand. There's such joy in whipping off a bra and just feeling no need to comply with anything.
Sod the world, sod everything, let the tits hang loose, no-one is looking.
I walked along the golden lit corridor to the relaxation room and waited for my name to be called. A tiny blond with a twenty inch waist poked her head around the door and asked for Caroline.
Not me! I was glad.
Her fingers were smooth and delicate and I had a feeling her touch would have been insipid.
Natalie then came in and called my name. Follow me, she said as she directed me into the chamber.
She was tallish, just over five and a half foot with the most beautiful, silky hair tipping into soft curls as they bounced on her shoulder. Brunette.
She was a good size; not puny, not overweight but well-made, and voluptuous in all the right places. She smiled as she explained the process, verifying that I was here for a full body massage and telling me the oils she was going to use.
She left me to de-robe and I slid impatiently and in anticipation under the provided covers.
Listen to the music and drift away, she said, as she slid back the covers and started to stroke my back in strong and determined motions.
Nice panties, she had said. Strange comment but appreciated nonetheless. Was it a come on? I doubt it. What on earth would a beautiful, very clearly heterosexual woman, ten years my junior see in me? Not that I even wanted her. Not that she was clearly heterosexual. I'm ‘clearly’ heterosexual but it doesn't stop me thinking, doesn't stop me looking or wondering.
Her touch was good and I told her. It was perfect; neither too harsh nor soft, just perfect pressure. I could feel myself drifting and worked hard on ensuring she knew I was relaxed. I untensed my muscles and flopped in response to her hand movements.
Further down my back she travelled in deep, swirling motions, tentatively clipping the waistband with her thumb by accident.
By accident. By reason? By purpose?
It happened again and as her hands switched direction to work their way horizontally over my eased back, I felt her fingers linger a little too long, tracing the line of my thongs with her thumb, catching the edge and ever so slightly flickering underneath.
I wonder if they are taught to do that, to arouse and relax the client in one fell swoop. Taught or not, it was working. The sensation of gentle, knowing fingers simulating the line of my panties always does something for me.
Anticipation is an astounding aphrodisiac; frustrating but astounding nonetheless.
I waited and enjoyed as she swooped once more from my coccyx right the way to my shoulders, pressing firmly to confirm my back massage was complete.
Untucking the towel from my panties, she pulled the cover over my back and walked towards the bottom of the couch.
Legs now. She moved the cover to reveal one of my legs and gently smoothed the oils into my calves.
I tentatively moved my legs apart; an unnoticeable move but one done to prevent them sticking together, should I accidentally emit some slight juices from my pussy.
I don’t think she noticed but as she moved from calf to thigh, I was immensely conscious of her hand going to my inner thigh, and I know that I was almost certainly moistening up should she have accidentally touched the lower part of my thongs.
I was beginning to feel the familiar feeling of juices building up when I get aroused. I tried to relax and not worry about them. Surely masseurs are used to people being turned on by their actions? They must be used to hard ons. Just not sure they are used to hard ons in a woman, but I certainly had one now. I was pulsating and desperate to feel the juice of my own pussy on my fingers. I’d have to have a wank after she had finished, before I left this room.
I must have been imagining everything for once she had travelled comfortably and confidently up and down my thighs, she simply stopped, held the cover high above her face and asked me to move over onto my back.
It wasn’t done in a harsh or clinical way, but was professional and evidently, she was not interested in seeing my body.
I moved and closed my eyes as she explained that she was now going to manipulate my neck and chest, working down to the arms and then it would be over.
I lay there as she swooped her beautiful hands over my neck and down to the start of my breasts.
I wasn’t exactly willing her to drive her hands under the cover that she had expertly placed an inch above my nipples, but I was hoping that her fingers would surreptitiously find their way beneath, just as they had with my panties.
She kept on swooping down, in deep circular motions that mocked me, drawing boobs with her hand on my chest, clipping the side of my tits with her forearm.
The cover was in the way and she carefully suggested that she might pull it down a little. There was nothing sexual in this statement. It was just a practicality. I said I’d prefer that anyway.
Maybe that was a little too forward, but she removed it anyway, and I hoped my nipples wouldn’t reveal my obvious arousal. They could just have been responding to the freshness of the air.
Although my eyes were closed I could feel her gaze as she moved her hands over my tits, carefully avoiding the nipples. It felt incredible, and I desperately wanted to finger myself as she further manipulated my tits.
And then, her hands cupped my boobs and remained there a second too long. She drew her circle again, driving her fingers down my cleavage and allowed her fingers to drift over my nipples. And then she stopped and squeezed and carefully put some pressure onto her palms which were directly over my now protruding nipples.
I opened my eyes and raised my chin towards her, still laying as still as possible, and as I did, without any warning whatsoever, she simply leaned forward and kissed my nose at the same time, squeezing my tits in a very sexual and needy way.
I smiled.
Still clasping my bosom, she moved to the side and then took both hands over to my left tit and held it, releasing my nipple to the coldness of the air. With gentle and stimulating caresses she smoothed it over and over again, and then she leant over and took a mouthful of my tit in her warm and comforting mouth.
It was sensational. I could feel her hot saliva as it trickled from her kiss as she circled my nipple with her tongue and sucked gently on its tip.
Her hand moved to my other tit as she continued to massage my nipple with her tongue.
Enough! I needed to control this. I could wait no longer.
Either my hand or hers had to get under those covers and inside my pussy. I’d parted my legs as she had sucked my tit and I am sure she had noticed this movement. This time it was intentional, deliberate, the affirmation of which I hope she approved.
I held my hand over hers, and dramatically grabbed it and slid it down the length of my body towards my white, lacy thongs.
Lingering a mere second at the edge of my panties, I pushed her hand invitingly towards my pubes.
She needed no further invitation, and without any pleas from me she traced the most natural line of my body, inserting her fingers past my labia and deep into my cunt, and for the first time in our session, her fingers moved vigorously and passionately as she finger fucked me, clearly delighted in the fuck juices she found within.
I undid her tunic and fumbled around to push my hand into her bra. Her nipple were as erect as my own and I clung onto it as she continued to find her way through the folds of my pussy, deeper and deeper toward my passion.
I was going to cum, and I feared my copious emissions might alarm her. She expertly curled her two fingers deep inside me, clipping against my G-spot, and once found pushed hard in a dramatic and familiar way.
I felt my release and I silently wailed as I erupted in a monumental gush, and as I did she released herself from my clutches and dived down to capture the juices in her mouth, licking her way around my pubes and sliding her tongue into the place where her fingers had done their tidy work seconds before.
She crouched down and placed her hands on my thighs and I fucking came again, splashing her face and moistening that beautiful hair as I did.
She moved from left to right, carefully tickling my labia with her tongue and then sliding once more into my fanny with her strong and capable tongue.
I clutched my boobs as she did this, feeling the remnants of oil to ease my journey.
She moved away and stood upright, smiling, dripping with my juices, and as she wiped them from her chin, she reinserted her fingers back into my cunt and simply rested them there as she moved around the other side of the couch, bent over and kissed me.
Tuesday 14 April 2009
It's in the hands
Hello. Would you like to follow me please? This way, and through that door. My name is Natalie and I'm going to try and put you in a beautifully relaxed state of mind.
If you'd like to take your robe off, just leaving your pants on. I'll just wait the other side of the door whilst you do that. As soon as you're undressed, just climb onto the bed and cover yourself with the towel and bedsheet. Lie on your tummy with your face down in the hole. And relax!
Okay in there? Are you ready?
Good. I'm going to use a range of oils to smother into your body which will relax and stimulate you at the same time. It is a full body massage today, isn't it? Good.
I'm just going to pull the sheet down and tuck the towel into the top of your knickers. Lovely - oh they're pretty.
Let me know if the pressure is too much or too soft.
Happy with that? Good.
I'm going to work down your back, then your legs and then work on your neck. Once we have done your shoulders, I'll ask you to turn over and I'll massage your neck, chest, arms and the front of your legs.
Now just close your eyes and float away with the music.
............................................................
She has very smooth skin. I like that in a woman, especially older ones. A well defined spine. Mmmm, that feels good. She's already beginning to relax. Maybe she likes my touch. I'm just going to smooth her hair away from her shoulders, brushing it over to the left. Silky - maybe I'll just spend a little time stroking her head to relax her further.
Mmmm, she likes that.
My hands are pressing firmly over her back as I swish up and down in long, sensual moves. Each movement, each stroke dashes an extra centimetre towards the base of her spine, edging nearer to those fine lacey knickers.
They look startlingly white and pure.
The next stroke I'll just gently rub against the panties, just surreptitiously lead my finger just inside. See what happens.
Ooh yes! She liked that.
Don't rush it though.
Back around the shoulders. Wow, this woman is really responding to my touches. I wonder if she's responding all over. I wonder if.......
I'll try the lingering, lengthy stroke and take my thumb towards the top of her arse.
Yes! She let me do that without a murmer. She liked me doing that.
I'm going to brush across her body horizantally now, starting at the top, moving down. I'm now hovering over the lacy hem, digging deep, stroking my finger across the lace, not lifting it, just lingering, giving the idea I want to go in.
..............................................................
I'm just going to pull the towel over your back. We'll work on your legs now. Okay? Good. Stay relaxed for me.
...........................................................
Stay very relaxed. Wow! These legs look like they can be firmly wrapped round someone. Those thighs have seen some action!
I'll start with the calves. She's got strong calves; firm, powerful, beautiful.
And sweet feet! Gentle feet! Sensitive feet! She likes the movement of my hands cupping them.
Outer thighs now in deep, rotating movements. Still relaxed, good. Moving to the inner thigh.
Yes! Warm, almost moist before the oil has got there. Oh boy, is she responding that positively to my fingers? Does she know? Did I sense a slight shifting of her legs? Did they ease apart a little? Is she inviting me in?
My pussy is trickling. I wonder if she knows.
Yes! A definite movement. She's willing me in. I can feel it, sense it.....
.............................................................
If you'd like to turn over, I'll hold the towel so you can move with ease and place it back over you, to cover you?
Are you on your back? Excellent!
I'm now going to do your shoulders and upper chest. Place your arms by your side. Lovely.
Are you comfortable?
Wonderful.
............................................................
She's peaceful, relaxed and waiting.
I move my hands across her neck, sweeping into her face, then travelling back down, circling the top of her chest. Her tits seem big. I want to feel them. I want to taste them. Does she want that too?
I circle again, taking my thumbs towards her cleavage.
She likes that. She lets out a satisfied breath.
I repeat the action, and again, deep into her sizeable valley. I tantalizingly rub my thumb across the inner section of her left boob. Her facial muscles ease.
................................................................
Everything okay? Excellent. I'm glad you're relaxing. It feels good? Invigorating?
I'm just going to move the towel down to below your chest. Okay with that? You'd prefer that? Fantastic!
...........................................................
She is a responsive one! Thank goodness. I need this as much as she does.
Beautiful breasts. Big and comfortable.
I work my way around avoiding the nipples in great swathing motions; out to the side, inwards, around the base, feeling the weight of those fabulous tits in my hand.
I place both palms over her nipples and gently squeeze her excited boobs.
She opens her eyes and gazes at me, not alarmed, not smiling, just accepting, and then she raises her chin in invitation and I lean forward and kiss her nose. She smiles as I squeeze her tits a little tighter.
I come around the side of the couch with my hand still fondling her left tit. I take both hands to her one breast and I cup it and hold it as she smiles. I tweak her nipple until there is a mountain of erectness ready to lick and I open my mouth in anticipation.
She looks up and nods as I fall forth and take a mouthful of utter joy.
......................................................
Are you okay with this? You are! Good!
I wanted you the minute I saw you.
I hoped!
I hoped too, she said as she took my hand and led it underneath the towel and thrust it into her shimmering, White lacy panties.
I accepted the invitation, and as I sucked on her tit, I reached inside her knickers to feel the excitement that I had created between her legs.
She eagerly parted them now and flung the irrelevant covers to the floor.
I finger fucked her vigorously as she unbuttoned my tunic and took out my tits.
I manipulated myself as I reached in for more juicy satisfaction, and as I did, she exploded a gush of hot steamy cum, all over my fingers as they waggled away.
I bent over and licked her sticky pubes and I thought what a fucking marvellous job I have!
If you'd like to take your robe off, just leaving your pants on. I'll just wait the other side of the door whilst you do that. As soon as you're undressed, just climb onto the bed and cover yourself with the towel and bedsheet. Lie on your tummy with your face down in the hole. And relax!
Okay in there? Are you ready?
Good. I'm going to use a range of oils to smother into your body which will relax and stimulate you at the same time. It is a full body massage today, isn't it? Good.
I'm just going to pull the sheet down and tuck the towel into the top of your knickers. Lovely - oh they're pretty.
Let me know if the pressure is too much or too soft.
Happy with that? Good.
I'm going to work down your back, then your legs and then work on your neck. Once we have done your shoulders, I'll ask you to turn over and I'll massage your neck, chest, arms and the front of your legs.
Now just close your eyes and float away with the music.
............................................................
She has very smooth skin. I like that in a woman, especially older ones. A well defined spine. Mmmm, that feels good. She's already beginning to relax. Maybe she likes my touch. I'm just going to smooth her hair away from her shoulders, brushing it over to the left. Silky - maybe I'll just spend a little time stroking her head to relax her further.
Mmmm, she likes that.
My hands are pressing firmly over her back as I swish up and down in long, sensual moves. Each movement, each stroke dashes an extra centimetre towards the base of her spine, edging nearer to those fine lacey knickers.
They look startlingly white and pure.
The next stroke I'll just gently rub against the panties, just surreptitiously lead my finger just inside. See what happens.
Ooh yes! She liked that.
Don't rush it though.
Back around the shoulders. Wow, this woman is really responding to my touches. I wonder if she's responding all over. I wonder if.......
I'll try the lingering, lengthy stroke and take my thumb towards the top of her arse.
Yes! She let me do that without a murmer. She liked me doing that.
I'm going to brush across her body horizantally now, starting at the top, moving down. I'm now hovering over the lacy hem, digging deep, stroking my finger across the lace, not lifting it, just lingering, giving the idea I want to go in.
..............................................................
I'm just going to pull the towel over your back. We'll work on your legs now. Okay? Good. Stay relaxed for me.
...........................................................
Stay very relaxed. Wow! These legs look like they can be firmly wrapped round someone. Those thighs have seen some action!
I'll start with the calves. She's got strong calves; firm, powerful, beautiful.
And sweet feet! Gentle feet! Sensitive feet! She likes the movement of my hands cupping them.
Outer thighs now in deep, rotating movements. Still relaxed, good. Moving to the inner thigh.
Yes! Warm, almost moist before the oil has got there. Oh boy, is she responding that positively to my fingers? Does she know? Did I sense a slight shifting of her legs? Did they ease apart a little? Is she inviting me in?
My pussy is trickling. I wonder if she knows.
Yes! A definite movement. She's willing me in. I can feel it, sense it.....
.............................................................
If you'd like to turn over, I'll hold the towel so you can move with ease and place it back over you, to cover you?
Are you on your back? Excellent!
I'm now going to do your shoulders and upper chest. Place your arms by your side. Lovely.
Are you comfortable?
Wonderful.
............................................................
She's peaceful, relaxed and waiting.
I move my hands across her neck, sweeping into her face, then travelling back down, circling the top of her chest. Her tits seem big. I want to feel them. I want to taste them. Does she want that too?
I circle again, taking my thumbs towards her cleavage.
She likes that. She lets out a satisfied breath.
I repeat the action, and again, deep into her sizeable valley. I tantalizingly rub my thumb across the inner section of her left boob. Her facial muscles ease.
................................................................
Everything okay? Excellent. I'm glad you're relaxing. It feels good? Invigorating?
I'm just going to move the towel down to below your chest. Okay with that? You'd prefer that? Fantastic!
...........................................................
She is a responsive one! Thank goodness. I need this as much as she does.
Beautiful breasts. Big and comfortable.
I work my way around avoiding the nipples in great swathing motions; out to the side, inwards, around the base, feeling the weight of those fabulous tits in my hand.
I place both palms over her nipples and gently squeeze her excited boobs.
She opens her eyes and gazes at me, not alarmed, not smiling, just accepting, and then she raises her chin in invitation and I lean forward and kiss her nose. She smiles as I squeeze her tits a little tighter.
I come around the side of the couch with my hand still fondling her left tit. I take both hands to her one breast and I cup it and hold it as she smiles. I tweak her nipple until there is a mountain of erectness ready to lick and I open my mouth in anticipation.
She looks up and nods as I fall forth and take a mouthful of utter joy.
......................................................
Are you okay with this? You are! Good!
I wanted you the minute I saw you.
I hoped!
I hoped too, she said as she took my hand and led it underneath the towel and thrust it into her shimmering, White lacy panties.
I accepted the invitation, and as I sucked on her tit, I reached inside her knickers to feel the excitement that I had created between her legs.
She eagerly parted them now and flung the irrelevant covers to the floor.
I finger fucked her vigorously as she unbuttoned my tunic and took out my tits.
I manipulated myself as I reached in for more juicy satisfaction, and as I did, she exploded a gush of hot steamy cum, all over my fingers as they waggled away.
I bent over and licked her sticky pubes and I thought what a fucking marvellous job I have!
Saturday 11 April 2009
It's in the chat!
I was interested to read Pamela Stephenson's Sexual Healing column in the Guardian this week. A woman had written in to explain that she was having problems with her orgasms. At the age of 49 and two painful births, she has met a new partner and cannot manage an orgasm. Pammy responded to say that her oestrogen and/or testosterone may be low so take some supplements. She also suggested that the childbirth could have severed some nerves. Also on the physiological level, she mentioned that this woman could be concerned about repeating her horrendous birth experiences and is subconciously preventing orgasm or enjoying sex for fear of getting pregnant. Therefore, Pammy's advice - use contraception to prevent pregnancy.
Bit clinical methinks! Will tablets really work? Surely a truly sensational orgasm is reached through the mind as much as penetrating or sensitising the most appropriate sensual spots in the body? And as for women who have had difficult births preventing orgasm because of a fear of pregnancy - well it is a little far fetched. If women stopped having sex because of the horrors of childbirth we would a) have a much smaller population and b) a load of extrememly miserable and frustrated men and women around the place, all gagging for sex and being unable to do a single thing about it.
To be fair to Dr. Stephenson, she also offered some very sensible advice. She suggested that the woman return to self-exploration to find out how her body was working in order to convey this information to her lover.
Personally, I think this would have been my starting point to the response, not buried half way through. By the time the writer of the letter got to the masturbation section, she is half way to the doctors to take a look at severed nerves and to book her hormone tablets, which could negate her willingness to have sex let alone her inability to have an orgasm.
I think I would also have emphasised the fact that women in their forties do experience changes to their body and that wanting to find an answer to the orgasm issue is extremely positive. I would have reiterated to this woman that it is a wonderful thing that she is being so thoughtful in considering her needs and her desires and that this in itself is one hurdle down towards a sexual enlightenment.
Pamela also suggested, in a way, that if all else fails, perhaps this woman should consider using fantasy or erotic material without going into any explanation about what this actually means.
For me, this is a key issue. If you ask people how they interpret "sexual fantasies and erotic materials" you would undoubtedly get a massive range of responses. Are erotic materials dildos or hard core magazines? Are fantasies little imaginations of being with your lover in unusual places or are they the conformed idea of dressing up as nurses or schoolgirls?
I am afraid that because we are loathe to talk about sex, even with our lovers, the sexual fantasy thing can become this horrendous cliched idea of tarty costumes and loud dominant pleas for sex.
This is NOT everyone's idea of a sexual fantasy and some people are even turned off by the thought of this role play activity. Some people are intimidated by the thought of fantasies and playing them out.
So maybe another form of advice should be considered, or at the least, explain what is meant by sexual fantasies.
I'm not knocking fantasies. I have several of my own, and even if I cannot realise them, I enjoy talking about them and telling my lover about even more exciting ways I would like to enjoy our sexuality.
Here, of course, is my particular enjoyment - it is in the talking.
What I would have suggested would have been plenty of communication, not just with the lover but also to connect with your own mind, building up a sexual desire than mere physical approaches cannot do.
For me, there is nothing more arousing than talking about sex with my lover. Obviously, this is a personal thing and what works for me may not work for other people but it completely stimulates my mind to be able to sit in a room with my lover and talk about sexy things - no touching, or at least not of one another, simply discussing a sexual piece of information, and gradually realising that you are becoming so aroused and excited that you need to, at the very least, touch yourself, and that in that masturbation, you are clearly having a very positive and arousing effect on your partner, so that sooner rather than later, you have to come/cum together for a liberating and intensely pleasurable fuck.
I think that some of my very best, most gushing, intense and lengthy orgasms have come about in this way.
I would also advocate another type of build up in writing about sex either on your own or to your lover.
If I cannot be with my lover for any length of time, whether it be a week or even a day or two, if I am feeling particularly horny, and I cannot get to his sizeable cock, then I can be placated at least by words. Phone sex is especially good but if this is not viable, then words are essential.
I think I could go days without sex if I could just have a word or two to remind me of his thoughts, his sexuality, his enjoyment of my sexuality, his enjoyment of his own sexuality. They are so incredibly important to me, and I can feel the firm and determined pressure of my sexual organs hardening in their arousal, responding to these words.
I can miss sex and get by (just about) but I struggle without words.
So my advice to this woman would be to start with a few saucy texts, build them up to be more explicit, get on the phone to her lover and surreptitiously drop into the middle of the conversation about the state of her pussy. Feel around in "self-exploration" and tell your lover what it feels like to have your fingers inside your wet pussy. Get yourself an orgasm; let it out in words, write about it, re-read it, let your lover read it and see what it does for him or her. Ask for a response.
And if it doesn't work first of all, or every time, then fine. Keep going, keep trying to be honest and open about your sexual thoughts and what it is doing to your body.
And when you next see your lover, after you have been aroused in this way, do exactly the same thing. Sit out of touching range and start describing your pussy. Tell your lover about what you do to try and stimulate yourself. Gradually raise your skirt or undo the zip on your trousers so that you can gently finger yourself as you are talking. Work your way around your body to gently, or in my case, rapidly, moisten yourself. Look at your lover as he/she is watching you. Move your eyes across each other's body until the desire is so profound that you have to move towards one another and derobe to get to the essential parts that need some reconnection.
And if all this fails and you are still without orgasm, then I would also say this.
Orgasms are wonderful. They are incomparable to anything else, or are they?
I would forego orgasm to be able to wrap myself around my lover and feel him feeling.
I'm lucky. I don't have to forego orgasm. What I am trying to say is that there is so much more to positive love making than just having a climax. Of course it is wonderful but there are other things about sexual togetherness that are of equal value, and being in touch with one another's minds and souls as you come together to share one another and physically join together in penetration - that is priceless!
Bit clinical methinks! Will tablets really work? Surely a truly sensational orgasm is reached through the mind as much as penetrating or sensitising the most appropriate sensual spots in the body? And as for women who have had difficult births preventing orgasm because of a fear of pregnancy - well it is a little far fetched. If women stopped having sex because of the horrors of childbirth we would a) have a much smaller population and b) a load of extrememly miserable and frustrated men and women around the place, all gagging for sex and being unable to do a single thing about it.
To be fair to Dr. Stephenson, she also offered some very sensible advice. She suggested that the woman return to self-exploration to find out how her body was working in order to convey this information to her lover.
Personally, I think this would have been my starting point to the response, not buried half way through. By the time the writer of the letter got to the masturbation section, she is half way to the doctors to take a look at severed nerves and to book her hormone tablets, which could negate her willingness to have sex let alone her inability to have an orgasm.
I think I would also have emphasised the fact that women in their forties do experience changes to their body and that wanting to find an answer to the orgasm issue is extremely positive. I would have reiterated to this woman that it is a wonderful thing that she is being so thoughtful in considering her needs and her desires and that this in itself is one hurdle down towards a sexual enlightenment.
Pamela also suggested, in a way, that if all else fails, perhaps this woman should consider using fantasy or erotic material without going into any explanation about what this actually means.
For me, this is a key issue. If you ask people how they interpret "sexual fantasies and erotic materials" you would undoubtedly get a massive range of responses. Are erotic materials dildos or hard core magazines? Are fantasies little imaginations of being with your lover in unusual places or are they the conformed idea of dressing up as nurses or schoolgirls?
I am afraid that because we are loathe to talk about sex, even with our lovers, the sexual fantasy thing can become this horrendous cliched idea of tarty costumes and loud dominant pleas for sex.
This is NOT everyone's idea of a sexual fantasy and some people are even turned off by the thought of this role play activity. Some people are intimidated by the thought of fantasies and playing them out.
So maybe another form of advice should be considered, or at the least, explain what is meant by sexual fantasies.
I'm not knocking fantasies. I have several of my own, and even if I cannot realise them, I enjoy talking about them and telling my lover about even more exciting ways I would like to enjoy our sexuality.
Here, of course, is my particular enjoyment - it is in the talking.
What I would have suggested would have been plenty of communication, not just with the lover but also to connect with your own mind, building up a sexual desire than mere physical approaches cannot do.
For me, there is nothing more arousing than talking about sex with my lover. Obviously, this is a personal thing and what works for me may not work for other people but it completely stimulates my mind to be able to sit in a room with my lover and talk about sexy things - no touching, or at least not of one another, simply discussing a sexual piece of information, and gradually realising that you are becoming so aroused and excited that you need to, at the very least, touch yourself, and that in that masturbation, you are clearly having a very positive and arousing effect on your partner, so that sooner rather than later, you have to come/cum together for a liberating and intensely pleasurable fuck.
I think that some of my very best, most gushing, intense and lengthy orgasms have come about in this way.
I would also advocate another type of build up in writing about sex either on your own or to your lover.
If I cannot be with my lover for any length of time, whether it be a week or even a day or two, if I am feeling particularly horny, and I cannot get to his sizeable cock, then I can be placated at least by words. Phone sex is especially good but if this is not viable, then words are essential.
I think I could go days without sex if I could just have a word or two to remind me of his thoughts, his sexuality, his enjoyment of my sexuality, his enjoyment of his own sexuality. They are so incredibly important to me, and I can feel the firm and determined pressure of my sexual organs hardening in their arousal, responding to these words.
I can miss sex and get by (just about) but I struggle without words.
So my advice to this woman would be to start with a few saucy texts, build them up to be more explicit, get on the phone to her lover and surreptitiously drop into the middle of the conversation about the state of her pussy. Feel around in "self-exploration" and tell your lover what it feels like to have your fingers inside your wet pussy. Get yourself an orgasm; let it out in words, write about it, re-read it, let your lover read it and see what it does for him or her. Ask for a response.
And if it doesn't work first of all, or every time, then fine. Keep going, keep trying to be honest and open about your sexual thoughts and what it is doing to your body.
And when you next see your lover, after you have been aroused in this way, do exactly the same thing. Sit out of touching range and start describing your pussy. Tell your lover about what you do to try and stimulate yourself. Gradually raise your skirt or undo the zip on your trousers so that you can gently finger yourself as you are talking. Work your way around your body to gently, or in my case, rapidly, moisten yourself. Look at your lover as he/she is watching you. Move your eyes across each other's body until the desire is so profound that you have to move towards one another and derobe to get to the essential parts that need some reconnection.
And if all this fails and you are still without orgasm, then I would also say this.
Orgasms are wonderful. They are incomparable to anything else, or are they?
I would forego orgasm to be able to wrap myself around my lover and feel him feeling.
I'm lucky. I don't have to forego orgasm. What I am trying to say is that there is so much more to positive love making than just having a climax. Of course it is wonderful but there are other things about sexual togetherness that are of equal value, and being in touch with one another's minds and souls as you come together to share one another and physically join together in penetration - that is priceless!
Wednesday 8 April 2009
Zenpuss is thinking.....
Zenpuss says……
I’m confused, and so it appears are many others. What precisely is the Sex Industry in the United Kingdom
This question has materialised over the last few weeks with regard to the Lap Dancing Clubs that are opening on the High Streets of small and larger towns across the country. It has also reared its head in relation to the types of job that the packed out Job Centres are allowed to advertise – a point made in Jenni Russell’s article in the Guardian at the beginning of the week.
For me, there is a particular issue about exploitation that will not go away, and also differentiates what I deem to be acceptable and what is abhorrent. I cannot bear to think of the poor young women who feel forced into doing something against their will or their instinct because of poverty or the overriding and abusive influence of another. Nobody could ever condone that sort of practice and every feasible rule of law should be available to support these vulnerable and naïve folk.
Some would also argue that even if they have made this choice for themselves, there is a possibility that they are oblivious to the exploitation that they have stumbled into. They think that titillation is fun, when really it is merely an abuse of the female form, reiterating that it only has one purpose – for the amusement of the greater being, i.e. the male species.
However, it must be a fact that some people actually feel confident about their own body, enjoy their own sexuality and genuinely want to thrill and excite people into feeling good about themselves, and they utterly adore and enjoy being able to demonstrate their sexiness and get a real sense of excitement for themselves in arousing others. And I have to say that these people are extremely fortunate and have an important role to play. Somebody has to be happy to do this. Someone has to choose and enjoy performing for hard core because if they didn’t, hard core wouldn’t disappear. It would simply revert, if that is the case, to the exploitation that is so abhorrent.
Ms. Russell is correct. There is an enormous difference between sitting on a factory or shop floor making or selling dildos and performing ‘extras’ in a massage parlour in the back streets of Soho . She is absolutely correct in saying that if we don’t have the legal terminology to differentiate between these, then we should think about it – “fast”.
But this is only half of the issue.
At the beginning of the article, Jenni Russell also makes a very clear point about the contradictions within government. On the one hand, we have Jackie Smith and Harriet Harman talking about changes to the sex industry that will protect the innocents and at the same time, the Department of Work and Pensions is allowing advertising for jobs in what some would deem to be the same “Sex Industry” albeit in a different form to pimping and prostitution.
Well, yes. Of course there are contradictions. I can think of many more contradictions in government speak when one minister says one thing and another of the same party comes up with a completely different scenario or solution. There is very little that is new in that.
However, this shields a key issue about sex and sexuality in this country.
We’re all confused, or so it seems.
I am sure some readers of this blog, assuming that you are out there, would say they were far from confused. They are fascinated by sex. They love being aroused by hard core porn and are perfectly happy with the ambiguous boundaries regarding the various forms, roles, jobs etcetera within the industry.
Yet in reality, it is one shoddy mess, and there is no guessing for the reason. To me, it is quite apparent.
In this country, we cannot discuss sex sensibly. We cannot have these debates because as a society we are rather prudish and puritanical about this subject, and because of this, we get these hypocritical contradictions.
We loathe obvious sex, yet we window dress our chain stores with clothing for young children that are overtly and horrendously sexual. We hide sex toys in corners of shops to laugh at them , embarrassed at the thought of using them, yet we do use them, and if we don’t we wish we could. We do not condone the girly mags high on the shelves of the local newsagent, yet we are secretly dying to have a peek because that is our instinctual behaviour. Talk about an example of nature versus nurture.
We have a natural predilection to be interested in sex, yet our society tells us that overt sexuality is wrong, shared sexual experiences other than a monogamous relationship is unacceptable, even thinking about sex should be curtailed and hidden.
We brush sex and its successful and profitable industry away, hiding it in a deceitful and derogatory way, confusing its every avenue. We are appalled at prostitution yet legitimise it by using it – well some do!
We are completely and utterly confused, and why? Because the reality of facing our sexuality and being more liberal and thoughtful about sex would confront so many fixed and ingrained ideas of both individual and society, then in reality, it is probably best to just continue with the fudge and turn away because it is too damn scary to consider alternatives and think about sex in a more positive and stimulating way.
Until we have proper, sensible and open discussions about this, there will continue to be confusions, contradictions and hypocritical behaviour, and I do not exempt myself from this. I am as hypocritical as the next person, living a contradiction of being totally in touch with my sexuality and pretending that it doesn’t exist.
I suspect that Jenni Russell and I may have different reasons for wanting clarity. I suspect that Jenni has a fairly standard feminist view of the Sex Industry, though I am making huge assumptions. I share many of her views but I also recognise a real need to be more positive about some aspects of the sex industry that I am not sure some women will ever be able to do.
I return to my points above.
Not all who choose to be sexual within the industry are being exploited. Some are, and something needs to be done about that. But there are many who are simply being incredibly positive and honest about their sexuality and how it can be enjoyed by others.
Turning back to Lap Dancing clubs, the same issues apply. There are some girls who are being treated like utter crap, being exploited into paying for their spot. There are managers of these places who are clearly not adhering to the “no touching” rule that enables them to get their licence, and of course, something has to be done about this. There are people pretending that these are not sexual places. Why? Because the great British public cannot cope with sex being so prominent in theirs or our lives. The end product? More fudging. More confusion. More hiding. This is not good!
Utopia? What would that look like? Would we want to be like the Dutch or the Swedish in being honest and open about sex? Well, I think that is the case. What we cannot have is the status quo. We really need to have these discussions and we need them fast.
………………………………………………………………………………………
Another interesting article this week that is slightly relative to this was the in the Observer Women’s magazine. It was titled something like “The married women of Britain
I wasn’t in there. Not one of them had anything to do with representing me, and I am fairly convinced that I am not unique.
Yet again, they talked about ambiguous and what I would have found somewhat patronising and futile questions. Not once were they asked about female orgasms or masturbation or what happens when they feel they want to go a step further in the flirting game. They weren’t asked about their ideas on polyamory or indeed the Sex Industry, whether they know about their partners sexual desires. Yet again, noone is facing the real issues. Nobody wants to talk about the real issues of sexuality that are far more interesting, and far more challenging.
When are people going to be ready to talk?
…………………………………………………………………………………………
Angelina is ready. But then again, she has always been ready.
She has always been extremely honest about where she stands sexually, and I would be more than happy to stand precisely where she is, and not because I have a particular interest in her partner. He doesn’t actually do it for me.
According to the headline piece on a magazine I saw today, Angelina has told Brad that she is totally devoted to him but also wants other sexual partners. He, apparently, is devastated about this and cannot understand her desire for others. I suppose if I was fucking Angelina Jolie, I may not want to share her with others but I would like to think that I cared about her enough to want others to experience her seemingly insatiable sexual appetite and experience. More importantly, I hope I would show enough caring to want her to enjoy her sexuality, knowing that she still wanted to fuck me more than fucking other people. Difficult concept, I know but I do think Mr. Pitt should think about this more rationally.
She wants to fuck other people. She wants to make love and fuck him!
He is in a relationship with one of the sexiest women that is known to many and therefore labelled as one of the sexiest women on the planet. I don’t know whether Angelina is the sexiest woman on the planet or whether the goer at 69 Mapletree Gardens
………………………………………………………………………………………….
I have to stop now. These are just some collected thoughts.
It saddens me that we, including I, cannot have this sort of honesty about sexuality. I dream of a day when this country will start to think more rationally and in a more enlightened way about sex and attachment and love and sexuality, about fucking and use of words deemed too naughty to print. Another example was in the newspaper today. There were complaints of an advert showing a woman having an orgasm using a new female-inducing orgasm product from Durex.
I beg to ask the question, were they worried about the offensiveness of hearing a woman doing an impersonation of Meg Ryan at her most famous moment, or were they more appalled by people making assumptions that there was actually a real thing that is known as the female orgasm, and if there was such a thing as a female orgasm, do these creatures really have to scream and bellow like that?
How I want to howl with the overwhelming delight of being brought to that sensational, rising and eternally divine moment of complete unforgiving and abounding orgasm?
And no-one is going to shut me up when I want to scream with the joy of it.
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