Am I knackered?

Sex actually can have its down sides, hard as it seems to believe.

I am completely fucked.

As a complete and innocent child, I remember being reprimanded, either at school or at home, for stating that I was knackered. It wasn’t a pleasant word apparently. They explained that whilst it was common slang for being tired, it was a more usual term for an explicit type of tiredness, i.e. exhaustion after sex.
I actually thought this was rather odd. Could you really be that tired after a bit of rumpy pumpy?

Well, some thirty years later, I can assure you that today, I am knackered! And I love it, even though it is somewhat debilitating.

Being knackered doesn’t just happen with the physical aspects of sex. Yet again, for me, it is about the depths of sensuality that come from an intimate form of sex; a sex that envelops you so that you are completely wrapped in the entire experience and passion of it.
Losing your mind to what is happening to your body is exhausting and it is the type of wipe-out that people really should give into.
Sex is such an integral part of peoples’ lives that they should give it the space and the time that it deserves.
There may be papers to sign, people to see, work to be done – all of which are extremely important but they pale into insignificance when compared with the vitality of sex and what it can do for one’s equilibrium.

I am not suggesting that sex should dominate to the detriment of getting on with the day to day chores but even if it knackers you out, then you should still do it.
Why? Because I think it is your body’s way of releasing and relaxing. Maybe our desire and need for sex is heightened just at the point when the body needs to relax. Clearly, I need considerable amounts of relaxation.
Alternatively, my desire and need for sex could be because I am addicted to the bliss that it gives!

There are, of course, various stages of being knackered by sex.
There’s the immediate post orgasm instant oomph of exhaustion; the one that zaps you whilst you devour the physical, spiritual and emotional sensations.
Then there is the post coital tiredness, after you have simultaneously decided that love making for this particular time has ceased and you can fall into a state of Satori, as your consciousness ebbs and flows, as you lie together, holding one another, embracing that brilliant feeling of oneness.
There’s also that state after you have got up from bed or wherever else you may have been having sex and have brought yourselves back into the realities of the day. Whilst you are essentially functioning, there is that serenity and feeling of being knackered that never quite leaves. It is a contentment, calm, appreciation of the delights that you have just experienced. It is underlying as you continue with conversations or making dinner but it is there nonetheless.
I guess the final stage of being knackered is the reflective time; the time when you have finished the chores and can really sit or lie down and revisit, remember and indulge in the sexual events of the day or night.

I’m at this stage now.

As I said at the beginning of this exceptionally brief blog, I am fucked.

I had yet more mind-blowing orgasms that incapacitated me immediately after they had happened. I once read about a man with such an enormous dick that he was unable to have an orgasm because the blood drain to his cock meant that he lost consciousness. I always thought this to be apocryphal but I’m not so sure. The orgasms that I am currently having could easily wipe me out if I allowed them to, if I wasn’t so desperate to experience them again almost immediately.

I drifted off into a delightfully light snooze after my lover had spunked his stuff all over me, after I had gushed out yet another slosh of fuck juices, letting my body just simmer into the flow of being beautifully knackered.

I was functioning well enough this afternoon to talk coherently and logically about matters that needed discussing. I drove home, I watched the television, I cooked a meal. I functioned but the sexual feeling from earlier today is never far away, and that feeling of satisfaction, calmness and physical, yet pleasant exhaustion is never far away.

And now, I am just in that stage of letting all the sexual delights of the day wash over me as I remember some special moments that I can take with me as I drift away from the day; like being greeted by my lover who was totally naked when I arrived, like feeling his cock respond so instantly to my gentle caress, like lying in bed and having my cunt licked so lasciviously, like being asked to turn onto my knees so that he could really thrust hard into me, like cumming for the seventh time, still managing to emit more juices, like being fingered in places that I hadn’t been fingered before, like having my lover drift into his own serenity whilst still cupping one of my tits with both hands, like cumming for the tenth time as he tweaked my nipples without either of us touching my pussy.

So going back to the theme of the writing, is this being knackered or is it just a state of serenity or is it both? Does it matter what it is as long as it is a positive feeling that leaves you seeking more?

Whatever it is, I know that whilst I may be unable to function completely, I also seem to function far more effectively if I have had the opportunity to enjoy and embrace my sexuality and that of my lover.
It’s back to yin and yang again.
I am knackered yet delightfully calm, allowing my body and my mind to simply relax at the love of this feeling within me.

I am knackered. I am fucked. I want to be knackered again. I will be knackered again but I will e knackered because that is what my body, my mind and my spirit demands.

My man and his sexuality

So there was Helen Campbell Black in "Riders", scurrying away from the potential foursome because she couldn't cope with the negative emotions that overwhelmed her as she saw her husband's cock rise in pleasure at seeing another woman's bush. If my memory serves me correct, that was how it was described in the book for Lady Jilly C would never use the 'C' word.

Bush it was. Funny really because had this book been written nowadays, I suspect 'bush' would not be what was seen. More likely, it would be a shaven pussy or a thin line of pubes but in those days a thick bush was the preference for the Randy Rupert.

Of course Helen was quite right in her interpretation that her husband was turned on, yet she automatically became consumed with jealousy and anger. Again, if my memory serves me correctly, Rupert didn't want to fuck the other woman. All that had happened was that he had looked at a beautiful woman's pussy and that in turn had aroused him enough to want to see his wife's pussy immediately. I would assume that if she had undressed as he had hoped, she might have had the pleasure of a good seeing to as well.
And after he had fucked his wife, then he might have wanted to have the other woman too!

Poor Helen! Poor people who can empathise with her. Poor me! Possibly, poor you!

You see, it isn't simple. There is nothing straight forward about this sex lark. It is too important in our lives to simply ignore the emotional aspects. It is too vital to remove the sensual and leave sex in its wildest, most instinctive form. As I have stated, some people can do this. They can fuck and get the most pleasure from just fucking.

For the rest of us it is more complicated. For some of us, the best, the most bliss inducing, the most vibrant and divine sex is when mind, body and soul come together and reach out and embrace the full extent and potential of our sexual selves and that of our partners.

In doing this, in saying this, then surely the best sex is between two people who care for one another and can so frequently bring about this utter wonderment of wholesome connectivity, of mind blowing sex - Satori?

But let us explore this further. Just because the best sex (for me) is as I have described above, it doesn't mean it is the only sex.

One of the many things I adore about my lover is his total honesty about his sexuality. One of the many things that I adore about our relationship is the liberation that comes from the freedom to express our sexuality.

I've been out and about with him. We've been to bars and restaurants, walked around etc and when we've been out, I have on occasion seen him look at other women with a devilishly desirable glint in his eye. Occasionally, he will begin a conversation with a tasty barmaid or another customer in a restaurant, mainly out of courtesy or interest but sometimes because he has an instant attraction, sometimes because he has an instinctual notion that he'd quite like to get into her panties.
He likes women. He loves cunts. He adores the physicality of womankind.

When this first happened, I admit, I was slightly aggrieved. Our time was limited and precious, and I rather hoped that an eyeful of me and a guarantee of a decent blow job would suffice. Didn't his attraction for others detract from his desire for me?
But I now have to ask myself this question. How can I deny him his sexuality when this is one of the very key things that attracted me to him in the first place?
If I deny him the enjoyment of looking at other women because of my destructive envy, then I am denying who he is. I am trying to change and alter his sexuality to accommodate my needs and possibly my insecurities.
Wouldn't a better course of action be to celebrate, engage and encourage his sexuality to the extent that he can turn round to me and say, "I wouldn't mind fucking her. Do you think she's a goer?"

I know. Easier said than done. But if I genuinely care for this man, then don't I want him to enjoy life to the full? Don't I want him to be fulfilled and excited by the world and the people within? Don't I want him to fuck other people if that is what he wants to do?

Well the truth is this. No I don't. I don't want him to fuck other people. I want him to fuck me! But that's not strictly true either. I want him to make love to me. I want him to tell me that I am the one that he can truly be alive with. I want to know that it is me that turns him on, that channels his sexuality, that completes his sexuality, that sends him to his blissful state of pure delight.

So the truth is this. Yes I do. I want him to be himself. And because of this I want him to fuck other people if that is what he wants to do. What's more I want to see him fuck other people. I really do. I want to see the enjoyment that he can give to others. I want to see the pleasure of fulfilled sexuality on his face. I want him to be who he is, even if that includes components of his sexuality that, in my darker moments, I find a challenge for my own emotional state of being.

It is complicated.
There is this notion that if you go for the latter truth, the one where I state that I want him to have sex with other people, then I am, by virtue of this statement, suggesting that I don’t love him as fully as one would ‘expect’. If he wants me to have sex with other people, then does it imply a certain amount of indifference, a lack of commitment to our relationship?
The norm in this situation is to respond by stating that if two people are utterly committed to one another, then they cannot possibly want sex with other people but I am challenging this. After all, isn’t this one of the problems with monogamous relationships? We are somehow expected to turn off our sexuality in any direction other than the ‘chosen one’. Is that honestly a realistic and viable way of living?

What I am trying to say is that if I want my lover to have sex with other people and if he wants to watch me having sex with another man, then all we are doing is understanding, acknowledging and accepting ourselves and each other as sexual beings that have sexual thoughts and a strong and defined sexuality. And this sexuality and its power is one of the things that attracted us to one another in the first instance. Therefore, we should want and even need to have sex with other people.

Only it isn’t that simple.
When my lover fucks me, he fucks my mind as well as my body. He can do this because I have a vivid imagination and the potential to use my mind to enhance the experiences of the body. All of this is immensely positive and provides a greater sense of wonderment at the sex that we enjoy.
But there is the flip side. My imagination, my thoughts aren’t always positive. They can turn on me; send me into a spiral of anxiousness and distress.
If I think about someone else getting what I am getting with my lover, then I am horrified and appalled that he could be that loving and that sexual with another person, only this isn’t true either because I really adore seeing him sexually satisfied and I really do get immensely turned on by thinking of him with other women, and I want him to feel, to be alive, to be fulfilled.
And I am not sure that I can do all of that on my own, not consistently, not constantly ad infinitum.

“Greater love hath no man than to lay down his life for his friends”. Greater love hath no woman than to put away her selfish and destructive emotions, to eradicate them and allay them and accept that the most loving and positive thing to do is enable her lover to enjoy plenty of sex with plenty of friends without him having to worry as to whether this sexual act with another is tearing the woman apart. I mean, could he really properly enjoy sex with another person if he thought that it would have a detrimental effect on me? He may enjoy it in the moment, but the thought of him being wrapped in even fleeting moments of guilt is not what I want. I’d hate him to feel that he had to hide something from me. I’d hate him to have to sit and weigh the pros and cons of letting me know about his liaisons with other people. I want him, and thankfully, this is exactly what I have, to be honest and open, sharing his sexuality with me.

And this is another issue.
Or enjoyment of one another, our closeness is vastly enhanced by the fact that we can be honest about this. He can and should want to tell me of his sexual and spiritual encounters with others. This is what makes him part of who he is.
And returning to the theme of threesomes of foursomes, he should be able to express his desires, his thoughts, his wish to fuck another person without me suddenly having an attack of jealous rage or envy, without me interpreting this as some sort of detraction from his intense feelings for me.

Of course, through this writing, one can see, I hope an obvious train of thought – the yin and yang of any situation.
My lover knows that I am going to yin and yang all over the place. He knows that there is part of me that greedily wants to have him all to myself. He knows that there is a part of me that worries that he is going to fall madly in love with another who can offer him far more than my body and my mind can do. But he also knows that I want him to be true to himself and that I actually get excited at the prospect of his sexuality with another, that I enjoy listening to how he enjoys the friendship of others.
For goodness sake, I don’t want this man and his sexuality to be shoved in a box that only I have the key for. I don’t want him to be placed on some sort of deity-like pedestal where only I can reach him. He’s not a god; he’s a very naughty boy! And he should be enabled to be a very naughty boy as and when he wants.
I want him to have sex with others because it is this very sexuality that I adore, and in saying this, it is not some sort of resignation. It is not me saying, oh well – if that is the only way I can maintain a relationship with him, then that is what I have to do.

It’s complicated.

My lover and I have discussed these things. We have talked and imagined situations where we could boost our sexuality by involving others in our sexual experiences. We have talked about how much we would enjoy a woman joining us for sex (he might consider this a frequent enjoyment; I might consider it an occasional enjoyment, or visa versa). We both want to see each other sexually excited by another. I love watching him fuck me. I have enjoying watching him fuck another. I hope very much to be enthralled by him fucking someone else. He has a beautiful cock. Others really ought to be treated to the brilliance of sex with him, and I have to say that my preferred option would be to see this rather than having it explained to me. But yet again, if I embrace his sexuality to the full, then it shouldn’t really matter whether I am there or not.
However, having the opportunity to see him having sex with another might in some way dissipate my destructive emotions for when he has sex with another without me being there.
By seeing him enjoy sex with another, and knowing that he still wants me immediately, consecutively, simultaneously, then I know that even if I am not present when he has sex with someone else, then I know he is going to still want me. I hope I offer him that little bit more!

Having sex in front of other people, with other people allows us to be sexual, enables us to celebrate, flaunt and enhance our sexuality. By wanting others to be involved in our sexuality does not negate the fondness for one another. It absolutely enlivens it.
And in a stupid way, I want him to discover that he has to control his destructive emotions in exactly the same way that I do. I actually want him to feel a little envy at me fucking another man. I want him to wish he was inside me, as he watches me take a hard cock into my cunt. But I want that emotion to be fleeting. I want his desire to see me sexually fulfilled taking precedence, just as he does with me. He may be enamoured by my envy as long as it doesn’t last and as long as it doesn’t destroy.

Although this writing seems mixed, although it may appear that I want and don’t want the same thing simultaneously, the truth, the real truth is that I want my lover to be the sexy, vibrant and lively man that he is. I do think that one day, we will find a couple of people who are happy to watch us having sex. I do think that one day, we will enjoy mutual masturbation and even full blown sex with another couple. I am pretty sure that one day, we will have sex with another woman and I will look on with awe and fascination as my lover reaches inside her and makes her cum whilst simultaneously fucking me. I am excited by that prospect. I am aroused and wet with the thought of it.

I have come a long way. My path to sexual enlightenment started many years ago and I am many miles away from the finishing post. I resented him looking at others when he was with me. Now, I love it, and I like to feel the familiar bulging in both mine and his sexual organs at the attraction he feels for another. I want the fucks with other people. I want to know how he feels about others.
But I still have a long way to go.
I know that by watching him having sex with others I am still excited and yet slightly envious. This envy is exacerbated by the thought of him having sex with just one other woman, and I know this is wrong. But it is dissipating, and by being open and honest about not just our sexuality but also our feelings for one another, then I can eradicate this too.

And now for the big one!
I have no desire to have sex with anyone else at present. If it happens, so be it but I don’t feel a need to actively pursue any other kind of sexuality at the moment. I am too enthralled in what I have. However, if an overwhelming desire for another one or two occurred, I would certainly not say no.
But we are talking here about recreational sex, to some extent. Whilst I am sure that my lover and I could enjoy sex with another woman, and we could build an excellent relationship with that woman, essentially my joy at sex in this situation is about the sex itself, probably more so than the attraction to the other person – though she would have to be attractive!
To some extent, it is easy to say that I adore my man enough to want him to fuck other people. That is the straight forward bit!
What is less straight forward and more challenging is the emotional attachment in such situations.
The big one for me, the one where I know my road is only partly travelled, is that I want him to make love to me, and whilst I want him to have sex with other people, and in my more enlightened moments, I want him to make love to other people, right now, I want the love making for me.

That is not right. It is a selfish thought.

Going back to what I said at the beginning is true. If I have strong feelings for this man because of his sexuality, then I should be happy for him to express his sexuality to and with others.
But it is not just his sexuality that I am fond of. I adore his mind, and who the hell am I to prevent him from having that emotional bond that makes him want to make love to another woman, to feel for her as he feels for me? It shouldn’t take anything away from the togetherness that we have.
It is not an either/or. It would not be her or me!
This, I have to learn. But at least I am on the road and I haven’t jumped off or been ambushed by those nasty, insipid emotions that lead me back in the other direction, well most of the time at least.

So poor Helen Campbell Black? Remember her? She was wrong. She should have whipped her knickers off. She should have embraced her man’s sexuality and bloody well enjoyed it. And if she had taken that first step, then who knows what else she might have enjoyed.
She may even have understood, accepted and wanted he man to make love to another.

Exhibitionism, Voyeurism and Future Fantasies Part Two

Yesterday, I wrote a short account of my fascination with being watched whilst having glorious sex. I explained that this had not actually happened but I had certainly been more forward in my sexuality in front of another than I had ever done so before.

Speaking to my lover, he too explained how he had never been so blatant in front of someone else. He had never held his partner’s boobs whilst continuing a conversation with a third person in the room. He had never sat comfortably enjoying a gentle caress of his cock whilst being in the company of another, and I rather like the idea that he was as aroused as me by being in that situation.
He certainly hadn’t been led out of a room with such indiscretion, clearly moving for the sole purpose of having sex.
I know he liked that.

I cannot comment on whether my friend was aroused or appalled but she certainly didn’t indicate the latter. She was quietly composed and smiled encouragingly as I turned to her, expressing facially how much I needed his cock inside me.
She understood.
Sometimes, words simply are superfluous to requirements.

Of course, my lover and I had both thought about this situation, or a similar situation. We had both contemplated the idea that either this friend or another would actually enjoy seeing us sexually excited and it is this that I want to consider today.

I return to a favourite subject of mine, that is, the holistic approach to sex.
I am sure there are plenty of people out there in the big, wide and wonderfully eclectic world that enjoy sex in an entirely different way to me. Thank goodness for that! We cannot all have completely complementary ideas on everything and it would be a slightly tedious and, for some, an extremely disappointing world, if there was total consistency as to what constitutes good sex.

Some people can have huge arousals and plenty of orgasms by having sex with a stranger. They can get off completely and be utterly liberated and empowered by their sexuality. They don’t need to know the other person let alone have a relationship with them. They simply like the act of sex in whatever form it takes.
Take some of these porn stars for instance. They seem to be enjoying themselves and they are no Dustin Hoffman’s in the acting stake are they? They genuinely like being fucked but there is no relationship with the other person.
Now I am not pretending that their mind does not come into it. I am sure that many of these ‘actors’ use their imagination to the greatest of effects but essentially, you cannot get away from the fact that they simply enjoy being fucked.

I can’t do that.

My sexual appetite is rather particular and the reason I am enjoying such huge sexual delight and enlightenment is because, be it actual penetration or phone sex, my mind is being liberally treated to a huge dose of sensuality in conjunction with whatever is happening with my body. My mind is being fucked as carefully and as sensitively as my body.
I open my legs to an awaiting finger or cock. I fling my thighs aside in anticipation of what is to come. I push my fingers inside me whenever I am aroused and able to touch myself, but my mind is overflowing too.
It greedily devours the experience that is physically happening to me, transforming it through the generous and able larger organs of my body, so that when I have penetrative sex, I know the cock going inside me, but I live it in my heart and feel it in my soul too. It may be physically reaching inside my cunt but it is absolutely in my thoughts and in my feelings. The metaphysical completeness is happening holistically.

I mention this for a reason, and it returns to this idea of exhibitionism, voyeurism and fantasy.

To be honest, I will have been ultimately fulfilled sexually in life if I got run over by a bus tomorrow. I couldn’t have said that a few years ago, and one might argue that I may have plenty more sexual experiences to come. I hope I do, for even after a few years of mind-lowing sex, it bizarrely seems to get better when you think that is utterly impossible.
Going back to the bus, I may not have lived out my sexual fantasies to the full if the number 366 plops itself down on me but the very fact that I have thought them and discussed them with my lover is almost a completion in itself.

The sharing of the thought, the development of the idea, the planning for the potential – it is this that is the real turn on, and in saying that I am not assuming that I would be disappointed with the reality. I still think it would be fucking good fun but it isn’t the most important thing in the world.

Let us return to my fantasy, unless you are tired of it by now, for it isn’t really one that is entirely out of the ordinary.
I want someone to watch me having sex with my lover. I don’t care whether it is planned or not, though I prefer it to be someone who has made a decision to watch us, and that we are aware that we are part of a voyeuristic reality.

I have variations on this theme.

In one situation, I want one woman – a woman that both my lover and I might know – to watch us. I want her, whoever she may be, and there really is no-one precise in mind, to encourage us. I want her to watch us having an amorous cuddle or kiss and I want her to suggest that we might go further. I’d like it if she suggested to my lover that he undo my blouse. I’d be delighted if she asked whether she would be able to see me touching his cock or watch me giving him a damn fine blow job. I’d love to ask her if she minded me removing my panties, ready to straddle my lover and ride his cock. I’d be overwhelmed if she asked me to remove my skirt and his trousers so that she could see the actual act of penetration, when he slides in and out of my over moist cunt.
I’d like that very much indeed.

The arousal of such miniscule exhibitionism that I explained at the beginning of this blog was sensational. The idea that the above could actually happen sends me into a rhapsody of pleasure and I know that whoever this woman may be, she will have to be accepting of another woman’s fuck juices because I can assure anyone that this would happen somewhat instantaneously. I know I would cum quite vociferously, and I delight in the prospect of this other woman’s amazement at the quantity and extent of what my body can produce.

Taking the fantasy a step further, I would like it if the woman decided that she wanted to participate in this horny act. I’d happily share my lover’s cock with her if she wanted to hold it, wank it, even shove it in her mouth. I’d enjoy turning the tables and taking the role of the voyeur as my lover and this other woman continue with their form of exhibitionism, fucking each other urgently and with a passion for good sex. I’d want him back though. I’d want him to cum inside me or over me. That’s just the small element of greed in me; some might even interpret this as possessiveness. If he came beforehand though, it wouldn’t be a major problem. When a man has to cum, he has to cum, just like a woman!

One step on and I would enjoy the prospect of watching my man fuck another woman even more if I was involved in the act as well. Another fantasy is of us all getting on together, with the woman caressing my boobs or sliding her fingers inside me just at the point where my lover thrusts his cock in there. That would be wonderful, and of course I would reciprocate and kiss her tits whilst my lover fucked her, maybe with his hand firmly balancing himself with a handful of arse.

However, that is just one of my exhibitionist fantasies. The other is far more heterosexual; whereby we have sex in front of another ‘couple’ for want of a better expression.

In many ways, this is probably my preferred fantasy.
I would love to be in a comfortable conversation with someone, either relaxing at someone’s home, or even in a restaurant, where the conversation turns to sex, where we all discuss our fantasies and I can illustrate my own.
Alternatively, I would like to be simply relaxing in a house, listening to good music and just letting that wonderful sexual arousal fill me to the extent that I need some sexual contact with my lover. I can imagine us kissing, and maybe the other two people would see this as an invitation to enjoy themselves as well. I would like to imagine my lover getting aroused and blatantly showing me, and making the others aware too, of his growing desire to fuck me. Maybe one of the other two might mention the fact that they too are aroused and would seriously like to see another couple having sex. I’d happily oblige and allow them to watch me as I take my lover’s trousers off, put my hands down his knickers and reach in to extract his stiff one, ready and hoping for my wet cunt.
I’d then whip my skirt or trousers off so that they can have a proper view of what is happening, and I would sincerely hope that the others would start to either mutually masturbate or take our lead so that whilst we are fucking, we can look over and see the others fucking too.
I think a person being honest about their sexuality is not only the right thing to do but is incredibly powerful, and demonstrating the force and passion of their sexuality seems to be a natural thing to do.
Of course, others would disagree but I do find it difficult to understand how people who love to watch porn would not be equally, if not more so, by being in the same room as another pair of people who are enjoying wonderful, penetrative sex.

This fantasy too could take another direction. Maybe the couples would like to swap. It could happen but it isn’t a particular ambition of mine. For me, the horniness is not in the availability of additional cock, it is in seeing another two people aroused by watching me, my lover and our sexuality exposed.

Another fantasy would be having another man watch us. Again, this is not an absolute and not the preferred fantasy. I am not sure that my lover would like it. However, I think he would appreciate my enjoyment of seeing another man’s erection that had occurred because he had seen us having sex.
At the moment, I don’t have any desire to have two cocks simultaneously. It doesn’t feature in my fantasies but it has done in the past and I am sure it might re-emerge in the future.

Now all of these fantasies are exciting in themselves. They turn me on and they are part of the expression of my sexuality. But what really makes them special is talking about them. It is no good having them locked in a box in a subconscious part of my mind. What I want, and what I enjoy most is sharing these thoughts with my lover.
That is what I mean. These things may never happen but there is utter, total, overwhelming bliss in being able to share them and then even plan for an opportunity to make them happen.

My friend is a sexy woman. I know that. My lover knows that. She had already discussed with me some of her sexual desires and there was always the outside chance that she would have liked to join us in a spot of recreational sex.
To be honest, it may be better to have sex with someone who doesn’t know either my partner or me that well but taking that aside, there was a total delight and an extremely excited and invigorated couple of people who thought and planned and decided how such a situation may arise.

Whether this is with this friend or another woman, we really enjoyed considering a scenario, and in discussing this potential situation, both my lover and I had an orgasm.

My partner suggested that I could talk to the woman; maybe we could invite her to watch some porn with us, clearly explaining that we had quite rightly never watched porn together without having a need to fuck one another, and well, this woman needed to be aware that if porn was watched then my lover and I would need to fuck.
We imagined how she would feel about that. Maybe she would finger herself discreetly, or maybe she would be more explicit and lift her skirt, pull her panties aside to reveal her moistening cunt to us both.

We continued the plan and discussed how we would both feel if she wanted to have penetrative sex with my lover or with me. And in that planning, our minds fucked one another continuously and passionately, never ceasing from the desire to envelop and develop one another’s sexual appetite.

You see, the fantasies are wonderful. They are invigorating, naughty, saucy, sensual, arousing, exciting but they are brought alive not by the actuality but by the coming together of minds.

Now that really is something very special indeed.

Exhibitionism, Voyeurism and Future Fantasies Part One

Exhibitionism, Voyeurism and Future Fantasies

I have a dream, a hope, a fantasy.
It is a recurring fantasy to some extent because whenever I have flown off to fantasyland and imagined myself with some sort of unattainable, there has been a consistency in that I have enjoyed having sex in front of other people, whoever the unattainable may have been.
I don’t know when it started but I blame Jilly Cooper! I never read all the usual light porn books of Jackie Collins etc but I did finally succumb to Jilly Cooper after a friend said that I really must read one of her books. I think it was called “Riders” and it was about a show jumping community and a posh, good looking bird called Helen, who was sexually insecure and inexperienced.
Anyway, at one point in the book, Helen was with her man, Rupert Campbell Black (oh dear, it is all coming back to me) and they were in their garden. She was appalled when the other couple revealed themselves and started to have sex, with Rupert looking on, getting a sizeable erection and wanting Helen to undress in front of this couple. She, of course, was horrified and ran away from the scene in floods of tears, stating that her man could not possibly love her if he got a stiffy from looking at another woman.

More of that particular scenario in the next blog, but for now I want to concentrate on the fantasy. Having read about this couple having sex in front of their closest friends, I have always rather liked the idea. I am exceptionally turned on by having someone watch me enjoying sensational sex, hoping that they in turn will be excited enough through this voyeurism to either masturbate themselves to a very pleasant orgasm, or grab their partner so that I, together with my partner, can get off on the reciprocated pleasure of viewing others enjoying sex. Alternatively, we can all join in together with mutual wanking or fucking, or if there is only one person watching, then maybe they can join my partner and I in some delightfully sexy recreational sex.

I have thought about this scenario on many occasions and I wouldn’t want people to think that this happening is a necessity for fulfilling my ultimate sexual dream. Like many fantasies, there is as much, if not more, enjoyment in the imagination as actually realising it. But it is a pleasant thought nonetheless.

I am so enamoured by my newfound sexual appetite that I really feel a need to share it with others, hence, I suppose, one of the purposes of writing these blogs. I feel a need to tell people about how glorious my sex life is right now, and obviously, I am unable to do this in the usual day to day conversations with the trusted people in my life because of the secrecy of both my sexuality and the relationship that I have with my lover.
So in many ways, this desire to be viewed is inextricably linked with the secrecy that I have chosen for myself, for ourselves.

This is quite an interesting issue for me.
Recently, I realised that whilst I am having this fantastic, bliss-giving sex, nobody other than my lover knows about it. We haven’t so much as kissed or embraced in front of other people in “normal” circumstances, and maybe this is fuelling my desire to fulfil this ongoing fantasy of being watched having sex. Obviously, we have kissed and embraced and fucked and wanked in front of one other person but that person did not know about our intimacy and our relationship with one another. In that instance, I was the ‘other’ person, and I am really beginning to think that my desire to be seen is a desire to have the acknowledgement from others that my lover and I have a relationship of sorts, if not in the conventional way; almost an acceptance and understanding of our affection for one another from someone other than ourselves.

So, we have finally revealed ourselves to another, not explicitly, not full blown sex but we have kissed, held hands and touched one another in front of another person who really appreciates the depth of our feelings and passion.
And here is the interesting thing.
I am always pretty turned on whenever my lover touches me. I adore being greeted with a kiss and a none too subtle grab of my tits. I adore the urgency and desire that he conveys with a mere look on his face when he sees me but when he touched me, kissed me, fondled me in front of my friend, I was aroused even more than usual.

As he gently placed his hand firstly on my tit and then inside my bra, I found myself really wanting my friend to see what he was doing, yet simultaneously turning slightly away from her in case she was offended. I blatantly had my hand cupping his cock and balls without needing to caress them explicitly. Both of these things are pretty basic touches but I was exceptionally aware of how desperate I was for him to fuck me. I knew how close my orgasm was and he hadn’t even caressed my inner thighs let alone fingered my cunt in his usual, expert way.

Part of me wanted to turn to my friend and show her how my palm was covering his cock and how a mass of horniness was increasing with my proximity. Part of me wanted to turn around so that she could see how his hand was within my bra, taking deep handfuls of tit, exciting him as he wriggled his fingers around.
Part of me wanted him to pull my shirt and bra away, so that she could see my boobs being caressed by him, so that she could see him finger my nipples and she could realise just how much enjoyment he got from the sensual intimacy that we share.
Part of me wanted to undo his zip so that she could see the size of his ample and growing cock that springs to life when it is handled by my eager hands. Part of me wanted to go down on him so that she could see just how much he delights in me sucking his delicious fuck juices that dribble out of his divine erection whenever my head is bent towards it.
Instead, as I said, I turned my body so that she could merely guess as to where our hands really were, although it took little imagination to ascertain the actuality.
And even this excited me beyond belief. My arousal was such that I had two choices in front of me.
Either I told my friend that I was going to have to remove my lover from the room so that I could have some serious nookie, or I was going to have to tell her that I wanted to fuck him there and then, and it was up to her whether she remained where she was to watch or remove herself from the room. Whatever choice I had, I knew that an orgasm was impending one way or another and I simply had to satisfy the need to shoot my stuff out somewhere.

I chose the former, not due to a sudden bout of timidity but more because I wasn’t sure my friend was ready for such explicit behaviour but I really, really wanted her to see how fucking marvellous our sexual togetherness is. And I need to reiterate that this is not about some showiness or competitive spirit. I just want people to see good sex and see what it does for me and my partner.
I want to celebrate our sexuality and what better way to celebrate than show how utterly divine a good, sexual partnership can be.

I am so enamoured, so liberated by my sexuality that I just want people to know why and how this has happened.

Anyway, the orgasm did arrive. Starting immediately outside the room with a swift hand down the trousers, I knew that I was about to gush everywhere. I loved the idea of my friend sitting behind a door and listening to what could only be an emission from my cunt, but again, being sensitive to her comfort, I decided that we may need to go a little further afield. At the top of the stairs, I rapidly whipped my trousers and panties off just in time for him to curl his fingers inside me and feel my fuck juices erupting over his hand, his arm and his stair carpet. His extremely erect cock was within me quickly and he fucked me some more as I came again and again, and still I was overwhelmingly aroused knowing that my friend knew exactly what we were up to.

I am always aroused by my lover. I am extremely fortunate that we have this mutual love and acknowledgement of our sexuality, and the capacity and capability to turn each other on so much but if this heightened arousal comes about from merely imagining the potential of exhibitionism, then I do wonder what on earth is going to happen when we are in a situation when our fucking is viewed by others.

My fantasy still awaits realisation but the discussion, the thought, the planning and the nearness of it fills me with utter excitement.

More of this later but I am afraid that as ever, I have aroused myself to such an extent with the memory of this event that I need to get some fingers inside me and slop out yet another gushy orgasm before I retire for the night.

Webcams

I was once called a Luddite because I had expressed sincere and heartfelt frustration at my computers inability to function in the expected way, mainly because it hadn't been serviced appropriately by the persons responsible for its upkeep -not me! Well, I take offence at being called a Luddite because I think I positively embrace technology. I revel in the delights that technology affords me in many aspects of my life. I have already mentioned the wonder, joy and sensual pleasure that I can get from advancements in photography and digital cameras. My photographs that I took the other day are extremely clear, and zooming in on my own body parts, being able to look the symmetrical patterns of my pussy, and knowing that others also delight in this vision, give me immense pleasure. But just for a short while, let us get away from sex, just for a short while. I also love the fact that I can use the computer to look up and research on moreorles anything that I choose. I adore the fact that you can go out, have an evening out or a conversation with a group of friends, and then you can return to the computer to review a fact, to find information about something etc. My mother had a line from a poem that she remembered. She couldn't remember which poem it had come from, and the context within which it was written. Within half an hour, we had found out who wrote it, where it was written, what the subject matter was, how it had come to her mind recently. Isn't that fantastic?

I love the personal nature of the internet. I love the fact that you can disappear into an imaginary world of your own choosing. I like following threads, starting with an innocent look for some factual information on wikipedia that takes you onto various links to further your own learning. I like taking information, thinking about what I have learned, seeing how it affects me, identifying how I might use that information to change the way I function or behave, the way I think. I like this tool as a means of embracing my learning, and of challenging my attitudes.

And there are certain technological advances that I embrace more than others. I love webcams. I really am fascinated by watching webcams of places where I have been, all over the world. I love the idea that I can be sitting in my lounge at the end of the day, putting my feet up and surfing the net, whilst over in the USA, people are beginning to gather at the bars where I have sipped some scrummy cocktails, where live music is beginning to play, and 4000+ miles away, I can revel in this strumming almost as though I am sitting there in the warm sunshine, relaxing with the natives, and generally chilling out. Obviously, it is not the same, and some might say what is so special about that? Surely, since the age of cinematography, we have been able to capture a moment and you can review it by watching television, videos etcetera. Well, you can, but I really gain pleasure from knowing that somewhere out there people are getting on with their lives and the images I have in front of me are in real time, their lives are functioning there and then. I can see people walking down the street, I can see them enjoying a social drink with one another. I can see people looking up in awe at the Eiffel Tower just as I may have done a few months previously. Wonderful. But of course, as Zenpuss writer, I am not a Luddite because I use all of the benefits to my own advantage and to enjoy specific sexual moments that without the aid of these great inventions, I could only imagine.

Am I a visual learner? Is my preferred mode of gaining information through the eye? Well, I am not sure. Depends on the time and circumstances. A telephone call with some arousing, carefully composed, lusty language has a significant arousing effect upon me. My pussy pops up, alive at the prospect of the insinuations that are flowing down the satellite telephony links. I have an instant urge to grab myself and familiarise myself with what moisture I know is growing inside my knickers. The audio is perfect. I don't need any visual stimulation to get me going. But when it is on offer, then the added bonus of the visual to accompany the great words, or indeed to muffled and sensual silence, is an absolute, total turn on, and I can be as horny as hell within a very short space of time. I am, of course, now talking about a more personal webcam. The one that I have, whereby I can be seen by the person who is on a video call with me.

Maybe I have always been a voyeurist! I like, as you know, to look at photos of sexy people, but this is a relatively new thing for me, and I would like to write more about how this has developed for me. Maybe I have always had a very sexual mind, that has had considerable periods of dormancy, so that now I have an opportunity to embrace it, I am somewhat impatient at wanting to use it to positive and rewarding effects. I say this because when I first got my webcam, I wasn't entirely sure to what purpose I was going to use the thing - a bit of a gimmick really, taking video shots of yourself sitting at the computer. Gee! So what! And then along came skype. It is wonderful to be able to talk to family and friends whilst watching them hundreds of miles away, sitting in their rooms, sipping cups of tea. It is bizarre and amusing to share visually with my family - looking at the gap in my niece's mouth, where she proudly shows her first tooth has fallen out, for me to look at the camera in a new outfit and ask, "Does my bum look big in this?" and for my sister or friend to give me an honest opinion. And whilst I was having these first experiences of webcam communication, there was a little devil of naughtiness sitting on my shoulder saying, "Hey girl, you know what else you could do with this, you horny beast you?"

Oh yes! I knew exactly what I could do with this. I knew exactly what I wanted to do with this. And it started quite innocently, seemingly, though I think I was very clear where the developments were going to take place.

I liked the fact that just because I couldn't drive around to a friend's house, there was still an opportunity for him to 'see' me, albeit through a slightly stilted visual link. We had communicated through Skype a couple of times, more than a couple, and I had explained that I had this webcam, that he could see me. And I had chatted with him, unable to see him, but he could have a look at me - not that this is particularly inspiring, but if he took some satisfaction at seeing my little face smiling at him, then that is positive. Having had a few conversations via this one sided video link, I took a step further. This sounds as though it was very contrived but it wasn't planned. It just happened naturally, in exactly the same way other elements of the friendship had developed.

I had been to work in a cream coloured top that, unbeknown to me, was quite transparent. I hadn't really checked what I looked like before I went out. Despite wanting to look presentable in life, I am not particularly vain, and don't tend to spend more than a fleeting glance at the mirror before I go out. So off I went to work, in this cream top, pleasantly attired and relatively confident. All day I wandered around the office, and nobody mentioned anything, or noticed anything untoward. Well, they possibly did notice but certaintly weren't going to draw attention to it. It was only when I got to the school playground to collect my child, when a friend suddenly screached at me, "Blimey, I can see right through that! You can see your nipples, you hussy!" And sure enough, as I looked down, there were two very distinctive, large and obvious round, dark circles where my nipples were revealing themselves to the world. So, as I returned home, I phoned my friend and recounted this story about what a naughty, sexy little beast I was that I was apparently compelled to go out into work with the centre of my tits on display. As we were talking, I switched on the camera to show him my t-shirt and the dark circles within. Yes, he said, you can certainly see the nipples. Maybe it is a 'problem' with the bra you are wearing. Maybe that is too transparent. And so the conversation continued. Maybe my friend would like to see the bra I had on and judge for himself whether that was the issue. So I removed my shirt to reveal my bra, in all its transparent glory. Yes, he could see quite clearly that my nipples would indeed show through that material. Infact, he could see quite clearly that my boobs were very much encased in the aforementioned bra, and that my nipples, dark, wide and distinctly energised, were possibly protruding further as we spoke. Maybe my nipples needed a bit of a release after a long, arduous day stuck in the office. Of course they needed release. So I suggested that maybe I could just undo my bra for a while, or maybe I could lift my chunky, voluptuous left tit out of its cage. There! Can you see that, can you remember what it looked like? Did it give you an instant hard on? Did you quickly shove your hands down your trousers to feel your cock growing in your hands? I went on. I took my bra off and clutched my breasts together and leant towards the camera, so that my friend could get a close up of my naughty nipples and the mounds of flesh where they live. I reached my arms above my head to raise my tits up, to imagine them being licked and sucked and fondled. I wet my finger in my mouth, and gently circled my nipple, making it erect and excited at the memory of another salivating at the sight. I listened as my friend encouraged me to consider where else the camera could be placed. What knickers did I have on that day? If I took the camera down to below my tummy, would he be able to see what lay underneath my knickers? Would he be able to see my pubic hairs, covering the sensual mass of overt sexiness? Maybe, I would like to reach into my panties and touch myself, and explain to him what I was feeling. How moist was I? Did I want to finger fuck myself? Could he watch me doing this? Of course I wanted a finger fuck. Maybe he could talk me through it, tell me what to do. How many fingers would he like to see inside me? Would it excite him to see me pushing hard, to see dribbles of excitement pouring out of me? Would he like me to squat down, taking the camera with me to see the gushes of sexual orgasm being released? Would he like to have his fingers inside me? Maybe next time we met up, we could both have our fingers inside me, we could both push and pump and search for that divine spot that once stimulated pours its juices everywhere. We could both have our hands submerged inside me, smothered with wet, sticky, girly cum, dribbling down our arms. And after I was excited and wet and engorged, he could slide his stiff, needy cock inside me and fuck me till I came some more.

He has his own webcam now. I think I need to see more of him on it. I want to undress in front of the webcam again. I want to carefully and slowly take off my top and my bra. I want to lift my tits up and shove my nipples towards the lens. I want to stand there and remove my skirt, so that he can see me in just my panties. I want to turn around and show him my arse, as he imagines touching it, spanking it with his hand or an excitable cock. I want to push my knickers down to reveal my pubes. I want to take my pants off and reveal my luscious labs to him.I want us both to be very naked, standing infront of our webcams. I want him to undo his belt, take off his shirt and stimulate me by his raw nakedness. I want him to take off his trousers so that he is standing there in his pants and I can make out the shape of his satisfied cock underneath the material of his knickers. I want him to reach into his pants and pull out his amazing, erect, knob, oozing with juices that excite me and pleasure me. I want him to pull down his knickers and turn profile to the camera, so that I can see his erect penis standing in full, majestic glory - protruding from his body in eager anticipation of stimulation. And then I want us to look at each others fucking, horny, sexual, motivated bodies and watch each other as we wank away, urgently and needily, talking as we do about what we would be doing if we were in the same room. I want us to describe the development of the orgasmic reactions, explaining to one another what is happening to our bodies, describing the sensation of our own touches. I want us to excite one another, so that the orgasm is a shared moment of total satori.

And I want him to cum, in a flourish of excitement, splashing white, sticky, semen all over the camera as though he was squirting his delicious spunk right into my face.

Don't call me a Luddite

Swimming in Sex

Water is invigorating, refreshing, cleansing and clear. It is transparent. It hides nothing. Water smothers you. In warmth it envelops you. In its coldness it reignites your nerve and spirit. Water has so many significant meanings throughout our lives. Water tinkles along. It flows and gushes in a forthright manner. It is the epitome of life.

I love water. I can lose myself in water. When I lie in a steaming hot bath, I close my eyes and disappear into an array of pleasant, dreamy thoughts. I lie, soaking my body, releasing all the tedious day to day occurrences and drift off into memories and thoughts. I meditate in the bath. I am whole. I think I also like the nakedness of water. I love the fact that, in usual circumstances, you are lying in a bath alone with just your own skin and body. It is possibly the only time in people's busy lives where there is legitimacy to their nudity. There are still, I believe, very few people who contentedly walk around their own house naked. What might the neighbours see? Well, in my humble opinion, if the neighbours are so intent on looking in, voyeuristically sighting me in all my naked glory, then they are welcome to decide whether they want to continue watching or turn away in disgust.

Back to water. I love photographs of water. I like taking photographs of water. It is that constancy that I particularly love. It is never still, always floating along, rippling, waving. A true symbol of the living moment. Always living and always moving. I love all types of water but I am especially fond of the sea. The vastness of the ocean is my haven. I often think that if there is an afterlife, I will probably spend most of it just sitting calmly watching the seas around the world, waves crashing and cascading into the earth. I may do other things as well, if I am allowed in my afterlife!

It is can also be quite sexual. No really. I have fond memories of sexual encounters associated with water; attempts at penetrative sex in the sea, lying in a bath with a handsome bloke as he fingers me, opening my pussy and stimulating it so that there is a dual flow of juices in and out, stripping off and dipping in a painfully cold sea with a group of pissed up friends. Okay, so the latter was not specifically sexual in so far that there was no group sex or orgy taking place but it is still incredibly sexual seeing your friends teetering off in semi darkness to invigorate themselves in the splashes of the Solent.

And then there is skinny dipping. I have only actually done it a few times in my life but I can vividly remember how erotic it was, how horny it made me feel and how in touch with my own body I felt.

The first time I went skinny dipping, I was probably about eleven years old. A group of us had been for a meal as an end of holiday treat, and we decided that we would go for a night swim. One of my friends, the oldest in the group, suggested that we remove our bikinis. I hated it because I was terrified of putting my bathers back on, only to find tiddly fish had decided to join me. However I do remember being very excited at the nakedness of it all.

The last time I went skinny dipping was in th Caribbean, in our swimming pool. We had been for another meal (Blimey, do I eat all the time?) and we returned to the house after a serious amount of alcohol was consumed. I was pretty wasted. Again, it was the last day of the holiday and I was merry on the booze. It was a warm, sultry evening and there was a glorious pool just begging me to jump in. So I did.

I think my friends were somewhat shocked when I nonchalantly removed my clothes and stood there in my knickers and bra. Feel free to join me, I’m going in, said I, and then walked away towards the steps, turned my back on them, removed my underwear and swam. I remember the utter delight and the total freedom that I felt as my naked boobs bobbed around in front of me. I remember the sweet sensation of opening and closing my legs in the rhythmic breast stroke, feeling the water gushing in and out of my vagina, feeling my labia doing their own repeated little strokes against the warmth of the water. I remember lying on my back unashamedly revealing my naked body to my friends, who had they chosen to do so, could have seen my big, bold tits pointing towards the starlit sky, with the moonlight shining on the darker shades of pubes that were wriggling free with liberated expressiveness.

And all of that was very pleasant but not massively sexual other than a dismissal of my own inhibitions which aroused me and made me feel sexually alive.

But here is the real thing I want to share with you. It is my one of my favourite sexual fantasies. It is swimming and sex. It is horny and luscious. It excites me enormously, and one day, I hope my fantasy will be realized in truth.

I am on holiday in a private villa, possibly owned by some mutual friends. There are four of us; two couples who know each other relatively well. All four are very sexually enlightened and acknowledge the physical attributes of one another. We are all eating an evening meal (food again). The villa is on a cropped hill top, preferably overlooking the sea but out of sight of prying eyes. We finish our meal and relax in the dusky night, taking our drinks to the poolside, continuing our discussion about a range of interesting and stimulating themes. Our hosts then explain how they like to swim together at this time of night and would we like to join them. No need for swimming costumes. Dive in as nature intended, and don’t be panicked if you get turned on. Just go with the flow. Feel free to do whatever feels natural. So we all undress without any inhibitions. There are no particular commentaries, no kissing or cuddling. We all just dive into the pool and swim around, still continuing the conversations of the evening, popping out every so often to restock on the drinks. And we are all aware of a growing desire.

I swim to the pool steps and float around, extending my arms above my head, horizontal in the water, and my lover swims towards me. At the other end of the pool, our hosts have swam towards one another and are standing together, silhouetted against the lights in the pool, gently embracing one another. We can just make out the arches of their backs as they lean into each others bodies. And my lover stands in front of me as I lie there looking up at him. He strides towards me, gradually emerging from the depths of the pool. First his chest, then his stomach and soon, directly in front of me, he is standing there with a cock so huge and erect that I can almost feel its forcefulness even though he is a yard away from me. He takes his hand out of the water and clasps his cock, elongating it even more and strides towards me. He leans over and smothers me with his kisses, his cock tapping my stomach. He sinks into the water again and swims over me so that I can feel his excitement touching me. And then he whispers in my ear, telling me that he is desperate to feel his body inside mine. He pulls me out of the water and stands me on the steps of the pool, and then he kneels back in the water and sucks at my pussy, molding his tongue into the thin line of my outer layers of skin, nibbling on my clitoris. Our hosts have moved out of their embrace and are standing at the other side of the pool, watching with interest our sexual act. No words are spoken.

He climbs out of the pool and lies on the sun lounger, legs astride, pulling me on top of him, ensuring his cock is ready to enter me. I straddle him, lean back and ride his cock as he continues to manipulate my clit, subtly moving his hands from my pussy to my tits, grabbing them, swirling them around, shoving them in his mouth and sucking hard. And he fucks me powerfully and silently in the darkness of the night, with just enough light in the patio area to allow our hosts to see every movement, to see me raising myself up and down so that they have glimpses of his delectable dick as it is entering in and out of me, time and time again.

I turn around, with my back to my lover but facing my friends who are now in a different embrace. The man has his back to the pool, still facing me. The woman stands in front of her man. He clutches at her tits as he kisses her neck. She has her hands submerged in the water but clearly pressing against her own pussy. I continue to ride this heavenly cock, my hands arched above my head, my tits tossing around with the urgent movement of my body and his cock reaching far and deep inside me.

Our friends swim over to the same side of the pool as us, and they continue to watch us having sex as they find each others essential body parts. They stand next to us, touching one another, still watching us having sex. Still no words are spoken.

My lover moves. We stand infront of one another and watch this couple as they lie together in missionary style and fuck. She curls her legs around her lover, and his agile body moves in methodical motion, gliding in and out of her for us to see. I lean on the chair to look some more, with my arse deliberately and provokingly reaching out in search of my lover’s cock , and he does not disappoint. He stands full height behind me and fucks me again, watching our friends until I am silently screaming with the pleasures of juicy cum, both his and mine, mingled together simultaneously in my throbbing cunt. And at that point my male friend cums with a sympathetic moan, coating the patio with pools of cum, deciding that on this occasion he would shower his partner with his spunk rather than cum within.

We then turn to each other, and lie together, next to our hosts and enjoy the warmth of the summer’s night; all naked, all fucked, all in a state of harmonious pleasure. And we grab our drinks and resume our interesting conversation that had taken place before our swim and sex.

Still Life

“Are you sure?” she asked him furtively.

“They’ll be fine.” he responded with a chuckle. “They really are absolutely tame, and have had plenty of experience!”

So she reconsidered her initial response and agreed to come along to the home.

Janie had posed before for the local art college, and that is where Ben had met her. He had been lecturing in the evenings, and had decided that his class of fairly able students were ready for the real thing. They had drawn exquisite images of all forms of still life, carefully etching the cellulite skins of the oranges and the variant veins of the bananas. They had mastered the art of drawing intricate and accurate curves of various sporting balls, so it was now time to progress to the beauty and delights of the natural form, both men and women.

It seemed stupid really, but he had no idea where and how he was going to approach someone to model for him. He had considered popping into a local phone booth and detaching one of the copious call cards, but he really wasn’t sure how he was going to handle a sex professional, and it wasn’t what was going to excite him either.

He thought of asking some of the students themselves, but it seemed slightly sinister. How would they feel about being approached? Who would he choose? Well, he could certainly think of a few candidates, like Gemma. God, she had great tits, well what he had seen of them. They were full and hard, and when he bent down beside her to review her work, he allowed his eyes to delve down her cleavage, her two breasts so complete, clutching one another, creating a crevice that he longed to reach out and touch. Yes, Gemma would be a good model. He’d often imagined what her nipples looked like. He knew from his own observations that they were likely to be strong and protruding; they frequently stood erect as she concentrated on her art form. Were they deep brown with speckles of terracotta spots or were they lurid fuchsia with a kiss of red at the nipple opening? His cock trembled at the memory.

And who was going to be the male model? He couldn’t really see Dave agreeing to disrobe, and again from what he had seen, there didn’t seem too much to draw even if he did. Flaccidity was all he had noticed on that one! As for Andy, well, he may have been a contender, but, to be honest, he didn’t really do anything for him, so what was the point?

No, he had to be professional about this, and work out some other way of identifying the models required.

Ben decided to ask a few colleagues who had more experience of such issues than he. An A4 paper was handed to him with email addresses and mobile phone numbers.

Luck was with him. Janie had been his first call and she was more than happy to come in the very next week, along with her business partner Marshall.

No major interviewing took place. They just arrived, bathrobes in hand, strolled into the class, strewing their rather sensational bodies over the two chairs on the apron of the stage and sat there, contentedly for two hours, still and stagnant in their open sexuality.

Ben tried to remain professional and detached, weaving his way around the room, glaring at the gorgeous bodies from the secondary view of his students’ masterpieces. Gemma, nipples standing hard against her white shirt (yes, they were definitely not pink!) was clearly revelling in this new experience. He wondered if he reached down between her thighs, whether there would be a trickle of excitement dribbling out of her. She had portrayed the rigidity of Marshall’s buttocks incredibly well. The smooth, athletic arse was clearly visible on her paper, gently rubbed round the curvature of the outer edges. Ben clambered to contain himself, trying to rid himself of a growing stiffy, surreptitiously shaking his leg to avoid it having contact with his hard-on.

Lydia, bless her, had coyly captured the pert form of Janie’s ample bosom, with her pan shaped nipples that flatly dominated her delightful shapes. Ben desperately wanted to sink his teeth into those nipples, right now, hungrily devouring them, tasting their gorgeousness.

And that was how he met them. And despite all the sexual fantasies that had ensued from that and subsequent evenings of modelling, he had never once betrayed his professionalism, steadfastly ignoring his growing desires.

That had been four months ago. In his day to day job, he had another group of students, incarcerated in the local mental institution. By day he was an art therapist working with some of the strangest minds in South London, in a setting that reeked of disused aestheticism. But the joy and spirit that sprung to life from these poor frazzled beings, as they took up their media tools, was truly inspiring.

He had decided to ask Janie to come along, not to be unveiled in all her naked divinity, but just to sit there, fully clothed, with different facial expressions so that the inmates could explore a range of feelings and emotions through the study of this perfect little specimen.

So, in the make-shift studio, Janie sat there, gurning away, pulling her face into idiotic poses, chucking her head back in gleeful laughter, drawing her eyes down to bashfully glare at the clients as they sat in awe of the wondrous creature sitting in front of them.

So here they were in a tawdry setting, the defunct wallpaper and flaky paint dissolving in front of them as the flakes painted.

Janie sat. She had always seen this as an income generation sideline, and had easily managed to separate her sexual excitement from the fact that she posed infront of strangers in total nudity. Little did those budding artists know that once she had posed, particularly for the evening students of Ben’s, she always scrambled down the corridor to the toilets, firmly pushing three outstretched fingers deep into her pussy until she surged with delight from the liquid release that never failed to occur.

Here she was, sitting her fully clothed and still had that bruise-like sensation growing inside her, raising her clit without any tactile stimulation. Maybe posing per se just turned her on. Or maybe it had something to do with noticing, yet again, how Ben’s shaft climbed and thrust itself towards the zip of his trousers, visibly pushing at the gold metal so that the lip of cloth covering it, leapt forward, and then declined, ready for its next erection.

How many times had she seen his cock rise in his trousers as he walked around his room, taking deeper strides to rid himself of this unnecessary stiffness?

The flakes had finished. It was time for tea. Janie needed to go to the loo. She asked Ben for directions. He’d have to take her there. Not a good idea to wander round here unaccompanied just in case.

Through the labyrinth of dull and dormant doorways, traversing the linear corridors, Ben pointed towards the door to the ladies loo. They must have walked for two minutes and hadn’t passed a soul.

Janie looked at her companion. She leant against the door of the toilet and raised her hands to her cheek. Ben searched her face for a flicker, a sign of what she was thinking. He continued his gaze as he watched her eyes wander down to his waistline, and beyond, landing on his now protruding cock, and he watched her pupils dilate and her lips sliver with the gentle stroking of her tongue. She stared at his growing state of arousal and then, without warning or averting her gaze, she pulled her skirt up, revealing black, lacy thongs that fit snugly round her beautiful, angular and shapely pussy. With her shoulders arched against the flaky wall, she rocked her legs back and forth, shooting her hand down her knickers, bypassing her bush of pubes. With a single press on the erect knob of her clit, she emitted a projectile gush of a cat spraying her territory. The force of her cum soaked his hidden balls, and he felt the warmth of her sexy juices dribble down his trousers.

Still standing there, she removed her skirt and turned to face the wall, hands arched above her shoulders. He was faced with the full and beautiful view of perfect arse, hardly clothed in the thin line of lacy cloth. His cock was dancing with excitement, begging to be released from the tightness of his own thongs.

She slid her hands down the wall, until she was bending before him. With one hand released, she slid her thongs away from her sopping wet hole to reveal a mass of red, flapping skin that screamed out for filling.

“Fuck me, here!” she breathed through her second wave of orgasm that seemed to be coming without any action.

Ben hesitated for a split second, and then reached out, urgently clasping his cock as he tugged on his underwear, and forcefully pushed his ample appendage deep inside her self-lubricated cunt. She leant down further so that he could feel himself gliding deeper and deeper into her excited body. The pools of cum that were springing out of her was something that he had never experienced. They rocked back and forth in a puddle of fuck juices that continued to pour out of her. He shoved hard and strong, pushing his body nearer and nearer, listening to her screams of delight. He wanted to cum but didn’t want to break this moment by asking inopportune, practical questions. He bit himself on his arm as he held onto the impending orgasm, pushing it out of his mind as he slowed his thrusts, leaving his cock alive and rigid within her.

She pushed herself towards the wall, freeing his cock from her cunt. Splashing down to her knees, amongst the juiciness that she had recently emitted, she took his cock deep into her throat, twisting her tongue around his shaft, munching on his pinnacle, sliding his foreskin to and fro, mimicking the feeling that he had experienced within her pussy. She brought her lips to his helmet, and then dived quickly down to bury her nose in his pubic hair, taking his cock as far as it could go.

Ben was unable to control his orgasm. He spunked eagerly and without reservation into her throat and she groaned with delight at tasting his creamy juices sliding down within her.

The sound of pattering feet, worked their way along the corridor. Muted steps became clearer. Ben reached down and picked up her skirt. She grabbed his unclad cock and banged open the door of the toilet. Locking the door behind them, Janie, looked up at Ben’s smiling face, alive at the sexiness of what had just happened. She wrapped her arms around him, kissed his cheek and worked her way to the side of his face, whispering in his ears, “Fuck me again!”.

Could his cock bounce back so quickly? He doubted it but as he cast his eyes downwards he saw that this body had a mind very firmly of its own, and seeing the vivid V shape of her silky black cunt, that he had viewed so frequently, and denied himself so often, he had no alternative. His cock aroused, his mind deeply set on fucking this gorgeous woman, he gladly obliged, looking longingly into her eyes, fixated on the sensual wonder of what he was experiencing.

They lay together in bed that night, having fucked each other senseless for five hours. How they got home, how they kept their hands off each other in the taxi, who knows.

But there was more excitement to come, more energetic love-making, more fucking sensational pussy eating and cock teasing.

And all because the flakes liked to paint!

The Perfect Job

Today my horoscope said the following.

An unexpected communication may come today from someone connected with your career. This is good news, but it may be so off-the-wall that you might walk around in a daze for a while, trying to make sense of it all. Don't agonize too much! Whatever it is that's suddenly coming to you, you've worked hard for it, and you deserve it! Think of it as a karmic reward if you like! Take a friend out to celebrate. Enjoy your day.

Well, I have to report the communications today were interesting.

I did have communications today, long communications, and connected to my career for at least some of the conversation, though I am not too sure there was anything unexpected. I am pretty confident that the good news coming my way is subliminally hidden somewhere and that the conversations that erupted and developed today in relation to work, hold a little key that one day we can retrospectively return to, and say, “Ah, yes!”

So in anticipation of the awaiting career development, I have spent the evening fine-tuning some more writing, capturing some more ideas and thinking, thinking and thinking. And I have finally come up with an idea.

It is time for me to write a job description for Zenpuss that captures all the elements that I enjoy so much, all the things that I would like to have in my perfect career, working for myself, in partnership with others. And we must all remember that Zenpuss is only one part of my being, but this JD is going to concentrate on her particular area of expertise.

Job title: Zenpuss: creative thinker and writer

Location: Anywhere where there is a computer to write on, a bed to lie on and plenty of working implements to stimulation the creative juices

Salary: Millions of pounds, earned by people enjoying the writing of a sexually active, contented woman

The main purpose of the job: The main purpose of the job is philanthropic in nature. The applicant should have a fundamental desire to enable people to pursue their sexual journey to enlightenment through quality sexual and sensual writing that makes them want to clutch their cocks or push their hands in their pussies. The applicant should have a vivid imagination and a willingness to share her sexual experiences and ideas with a wide audience of hungry readers. The applicant should be prepared for further learning and should willingly describe on regular occasions how fucking horny she is, with no exaggeration or pretence, because the reader will know!

Person specification: The applicant should

1. Be a sexy woman with an active imagination, purposely employed to entice orgasms

2. Write daily of horny things or interpretations on sexuality with a view to informing a naïve and frustrated population of the joys of sex

3. Be prepared to try any sexual activity, within her comfort zone, in order to further her knowledge and experience of the subject matter

4. Understand the needs of others by employing tact and diplomacy in her writing

5. Be able to write

6. Be willing to work evenings, mornings, at moments of extreme horniness

7. Be prepared to wank regularly as part of the ongoing development of her sexiness with a variety of sex toys; all shapes and sizes

8. Participate in seriously horny pornographic research, looking at many photographs and dvds of hot, horny men and women, gushing spunk over one another, fucking each other with hard cocks and dribbling fannies in order to inform readers of the journey on which they are set

9. Have regular sex with a man who fills her cunt perfectly, ensuring that she has regular reminders of her own cums in order to inform other women about the need to spunk hot juices

10. Be able to give fellatio, sensual snogs and take cunnilingus for same purpose as above

11. Know how to ask for sex in a positive and forthright way, unashamedly admitting to her avaricious needs

12. Be prepared to talk to literary agents about the style of her writing without any embarrassment, for it is a perfectly natural thing to write about.

13. Understand sexual politics and be clear and concise in her continued pursuit of righting the very many wrongs about sexuality in this country.

14. Learn how to fist herself whilst also allowing her sexual partner to fist her into an extreme fuckable state

15. Be prepared to take and participate in a range of media activities including photography and dvds shots of her having sex, wanking or just spreading her legs and opening her cum hole just for the hell of it.

Knowledge: The applicant should have a knowledge of how to excite, with clear references provided by at least one lover in ability to stimulate and arouse. The applicant needs to be sexually active, outlining precisely what form the various sexual activities each week are. The applicant should be beginning to understand her own sexuality to inform others.

Skills: As determined within the person specification, the applicant must know her way around a man’s and a woman’s body, with clear skills in bringing on orgasms. She also needs a basic skill I writing semi-erotic and sexual political writing. Photography skills are desired as is a skill to pose happily for cunt shots.

Experience: The applicant should have a reasonable and up to date experience of mind-blowing sex. She should have experience of a range of sexual activities that inform her writing. She needs to have experience of ongoing fucking good sex; average and consistent sex is not enough. This applicant should have experience of sex that is in the upper echelons of experience and that this sex can be maintained throughout her time in the job. The applicant should have experience of driving her fingers into another woman’s cunt at the same time as giving a man a decent blow job. She should have experience of cumming at regular intervals. Please note that this will be tested during the interview process. The applicant should have a experience of exciting people through different media with experience of and an ability to stimulate a sexual partner even if he is hundred of miles away from her pussy.

Other issues: The applicant should have some unfulfilled sexual desires that she is prepared to carry out within the first six months in the job. She should work on finding an al fresco environment where her sexual partner can get his dick out in the comfort of being undiscovered by others so that she can be stimulated by his deep penetration in order to squirt all over the grass or beach or deserted street as nature intended.

The applicant should be prepared to learn more, ably supported by someone willing to guide and teach her about her own sexuality and the needs of others.

Final determinant: On reading this JD, the applicant should have a protruding labia that is dying to be touched. She should dive into her bedroom and fuck herself till she cums, plying the folds of her inner skin with gentle and yet forceful stimulation to produce oozles of juices. The reader of the JD should also have an arousing effect. Inability to produce a hard on will negate the applicant from applying.

Possibly to be continued or refined by colleague hoping for applicant to cum and apply