The Making of a Threesome: Part Three

The Making of a Threesome: Part Three

We drove to his house and switched on the computer. There I was lying down in the grass with Jill’s hands on my tits. The look in her eyes was pure excitement. She appeared to be eagerly leaning in towards my breasts. Had James not made that noise, I am sure she would have been sucking my nipples within seconds.

He’d got some great shots, as though his camera had been on automatic fire. There was a sensational one of Jill with her fingers arched around her cunt. Clearly, from the position of her hand, her fingers were deeply imbedded inside her. How he had got that shot with us both lying down, I do not know but it was fucking horny. As was the photo of us just coming together for a kiss with both of our mouths slightly open waiting for a subtle tongue invasion. Who was going to do it first? Who did it first? I cannot remember.

“She’s a horny beast”, I said. “I so want you to fuck her. I want you to get her to orgasm as quickly as you move me to cum!”
Jill had spoken years ago about how she had a propensity to orgasm but she did not shoot glorious fuck juices out of her body. I wondered whether this was still the case or whether fucking a woman regularly had triggered something different in her sexual responses or whether just being that bit older had opened her ducts. I couldn’t wait to find out.

I reached for my phone and together we concocted a message for her.
“So good to see you earlier Jill for all sorts of reasons. So good to feel you & be felt by you. Incredibly turned on. Wish we’d stayed on the grass longer. Tomorrow! Can’t wait xx”

Almost instantly the response rang through. James peered over my shoulder as I read it.
“I’m in shock. Didn’t know you liked cunts as well as cocks. Fucking unbelievable luck that we bumped into one another. Need to talk about all of this but yes, definitely looking forward to tomorrow. Send me his address. Kisses. Jxxx”

I returned with James’s address and told her that we would be in all morning. She should come round at any time but for goodness sake don’t forget the lingerie. She responded to say that she was concerned about how I was going to broach the subject of the two of us fucking as well as her fucking him. In fact she was concerned about how we were going to naturally flow into this sexual activity at all.
I did feel a little guilty at James and mine dishonesty. It was somewhat sneaky to do what we did this evening, taking those photos without permission and I did feel slightly unnerved and worried that she might recognise the dog walker instantly when she met James. All this was happening far quicker than I had anticipated.

When we had first come up with the idea that James would take some photos, we thought that we were living in fantasy land. We’d tried to initiate some sort of threesome before and it hadn’t really taken off. To think that he had been able to take photographs, that we, Jill and I had kissed and that everything else might be happening the very next day was somewhat alarming.
If Jill did recognise James, we’d just have to make something up. We’d just have to tell her that I had instantly told him that I was attracted to her so he had decided he would come out and see for himself; an instinctive response to my arousal. Loose, I know, but I couldn’t think of anything else.

As it happened, my worries were unfounded. When Jill arrived the next morning, there wasn’t a glint of recognition not even when the floppy Labrador came bounding towards her.
James and I had spent the morning discussing the ways in which we were going to initiate this and what we would do, dependent upon Jill’s responses.
We fucked one another to pieces as we talked. How words still make me cum! How my bisexuality still excited him! How anticipation is a perfect aphrodisiac!

If she was nervous, she didn’t show it. She walked straight into the house, greeted me with a kiss on the mouth and then approached James with the European two cheek greeting. She smiled at him and he reciprocated, waving his arm towards the front room where I sat on the settee and Jill placed herself on the chair diagonally opposite, within touching distance, I hoped.

“What have you told him?” she whispered as he walked out to make coffee.
“I haven’t told him anything about last night” I said, which wasn’t strictly a lie. He had seen everything that had happened.
“Is he not going to be slightly surprised if I suddenly start kissing you as well as him?” she asked.
“Delighted and deeply turned on, I would think” I responded. “Jill, he knows that I am attracted to women and when I first mentioned about seeing you again and what I had suggested, he was utterly delighted. He was almost proud that I had been so assertive and creative in approaching the possibility of us all having recreational fun together”.

Jill paused and thought.
“And does he know that I am bisexual?”
I responded to say that I had mentioned that, in the past, she had had affairs with both men and women but I didn’t know whether that was still the case. I told her that he had suggested that it might be worth finding out.

“And what about our friendship?” she asked. “This all puts it on a slightly different level”.
“Does it?” I asked quite genuinely. “It alters nothing as far as my feelings for you. I’ve always cared deeply for you and was disappointed when we lost touch. We’ve always been open and honest to one another and we have always been explicit about our sexual desires.
All we are doing here is enjoying one another with another person involved. We are extending the physical intimacy to the place where our emotional intimacy is. As far as James is concerned, this is all perfectly natural. We are merely exploring and enjoying our sexuality; all of us”.

She looked at me, hard, as thought trying to determine whether there was some hidden agenda. Did she feel used? Was she beginning to think this was some sort of stitch-up?
Without her asking the question, I could not alleviate her concerns, if they existed.

James interrupted the slight invasion of tension and brought our coffees into the room.
He sat down on the settee next to me and reassuringly placed his hand over mine, gathering it in his as he began to speak.
“Abi has talked about you in the past Jill. I’m glad that you bumped into one another again.”
“Did Abi tell you where we bumped into one another?” she asked.
“Her favourite sex shop!” he responded immediately; not one for beating around the bush is James, well, not when it comes to words, though of course he adores beating around certain bushes.

Jill continued to ascertain how much James knew about her purchases and about what I had suggested.
“Abi has learned to be a little more upfront and assertive” he said. “I think she was genuinely suggesting that you show me the underwear to help you with this man of yours. There is no compulsion to continue with this. If you don’t feel as though you would like to parade in front of me, then that is absolutely fine. If you chose to do so, I would happily let you know whether your choice of lingerie was doing the trick, though obviously I may have different arousal points to your man”.

Jill smiled and pondered.
“Of course, you may have gathered from Abi” he said “that she would be more than happy to watch too. We have a healthy respect for one another’s sexuality and I know that she is as turned on by bras and panties as I am. But as her friend, I am sure that you know that”.

Jill looked at me and I hopefully gave her a subtle sign to say it was alright to disclose anything she wanted to. She responded to say that she hadn’t known that I had bisexual tendencies until we were discussing it last night. She then went on to say that as we had left that evening, she had felt very turned on by the prospect of me being there as well as she performed her little striptease.
The only thing that she felt very nervous about was potentially being the third person in what was evidently a perfectly contented relationship. She didn’t want to rock the boat in a negative way. She didn’t want to be an extra without feelings for others. She accepted that she did not know how she felt about James having just met him but that she cared for me, and this could alter our relationship profusely.

It was James who stepped in to give the reassurances that I wanted him to verbalise.
Abi and I have an intensely intimate relationship, he explained. We adore one another’s sexuality and we are aware of how we want to extend one another’s sexual boundaries. We have had sex with other women, and we have also had a foursome with another couple that we meet up with every so often. We love sex. We love seeing other people aroused. This in itself arouses us. We adore watching porn together and seeing the utter passion of other people’s sexuality. We both love cunts and their incredible, alluring constitution; so very different from person to person. We accept that we will both want to have sex with other people from time to time but this will not take anything away from our own relationship and desire for one another.

It was at this point that Jill intervened.
“How can fucking another woman not take something away from your relationship with Abi?” she asked.

James continued to explain as I had tried to so many times before.
“I love women. I love their cunts. I love having sex. What Abi has realised is that just because I love fucking , it doesn’t suddenly make all other women and their delicious cunts unattractive. What we have is an honesty that goes beyond the conventional expectations. Abi realises that I need to be free to look, touch and even fuck other cunts. It may also be that I develop feelings for another woman, that I develop an emotional as well as physical attachment. She probably doesn’t want this but she knows that it could happen. Trying to avoid this by having a completely monogamous relationship is not going to eradicate the alleged fear or the potential of it happening. If anything, for me, the insistence on monogamy is going to ensure that it happens!
I am who I am. I look at you, see a perfectly beautiful woman with a very attractive body and I want to see more. The fact that I may be able to do so with Abi is just too exciting for words.”

He continued to explain further.
“What you and I might have is recreational sex, especially the first time. We’ve not met before today. We may have sex today and we may not. We may feel that we would like to get to know one another before having recreational sex. But the first time, it will be just that. I don’t need to have sex with you. I have a fucking wonderful sex life already but why deny a greater one if everyone concerned is content? My fucking you will not take anything away from my desire to fuck Abi. I can assure you of that.”
He leant over and swept his hands between my thighs, outrageously moving his thumb so that it clearly lodged itself into my panties.

“As for taking something away, we feel that this is a very narrow view of relationships. It is only taking something away if there is an expectation of exclusivity. We have turned this on its head and said that we don’t expect exclusivity as the fundamental part of our relationship. The underpinning values of our relationship are respect, honesty and integrity. All of these amass to a level of intimacy and understanding that far outweighs the usual conformity of couples.
I have sex with you, Jill, with or without Abi present, and that is fine as long as I let her know that this has happened. If she cannot accept it, then we have to reassess, and I have to decide what is most important; my feelings for Abi or my liberty. It really shouldn’t be an either/or.”
He really was laying our philosophy down.

He finished his spiel with a final flurry.
“One day Jill, you and I might meet up and fuck when Abi isn’t around. It could happen. It doesn’t have to happen, it just could. What could also happen is that you become an extremely important friend to both of us. It may be that the three of us spend more time together and not just having sex. It could even be the case that I want to spend more time with you than I do with Abi. I cannot envisage this right now but the point I am making is none of us have any notion about what is around the corner and we should be prepared for all possibilities.
Right now, I fucking adore Abi, I adore her sexuality and I adore her exploration of her sexuality and her respect and recognition of mine. The fact that she can bring a gorgeous woman into my house in the full knowledge that I would like to fuck her makes me respect her all the more.”

I was exhausted and even turned on by this, especially as his thumb had been moving around within me throughout this speech. I really did need an orgasm with an almighty ejaculation now. He looked down at me, recognising how swollen my pussy was, and kissed me.
I leant over towards Jill, and gently stroked her arm.

She smiled.

“I thought as I drove here” she said “that you may be using me in some way. What you have said makes sense. It does not alleviate my concerns immediately, but I will think on it and I trust the pair of you are being honest with me as well as yourselves. I am an extra, whether you like it or not, but I am happy to be that if it does not detract from any other aspect of our relationship” she said, looking directly at me.

“You are an extra” said James “in my relationship with Abi, at the moment but you are not an extra in your relationship with Abi. One could argue that I am the extra there. But what is this talk of extras? We are only extras in the conformity of how the world views monogamous and exclusive relationships. We are different”.

She looked on at us both, almost as though she had a huge amount of mistrust. She looked at James intensely, as though she was trying to illicit some obvious flaw in him and his sexual ideology.
Then all of a sudden, she got up, walked towards me and stroked my head. She then turned to James, took his head in her hands and shoved her tongue down his throat.
He released his hand from my cunt and wrapped it around her shoulders, responding enthusiastically to her assertiveness. As they continued to kiss she opened her legs and sat on his lap. I watched in awe at her brilliance.
They stopped kissing and as they did, James reached out for another. Jill reciprocated. I continued to watch. James then stopped and turned to me, leaning over to include me in the proceedings. Jill looked on as he smothered me with an orgasm-inducing kiss, deliberately intended to reach my soul as well as the back of my throat.

She jolted out of his lap, placing her palm on her pussy.

“I want to play” she said. “I want to show you both my underwear. I want to strip off here and I want you to both help me in getting this man of mine to want to fuck me. But first I want to stand here and watch you fuck one another. I love being a voyeur and I have only once stood in front of another couple as they fucked. I want to see this cock going deep inside you Abi”.

James was already robbing me of my shirt and his hands were all over my breasts.
“Are you going to wank whilst we fuck?” he asked as he continued to massage my nipples into erections.

“No!” “Stop!” yelled Jill.
“Stop”.

Fear gripped me. My cunt was on fire. If I didn’t cum soon I was going to explode. How could she be okay one minute and suddenly screaming stop the next? What the hell had I done, bringing this erratic woman into our lives?

With her hands on her hips, she glared at the pair of us as we sat side by side; my shirt undone to reveal my transparent bra, his cock not open for all to see but clearly very, very erect.
She stared first at the outline of James’s arousal and then to my vast tits that really needed to get out of the confinements of the bra.

“Let me be your foreplay” she said, and with that she moved her hand over her breasts and with one swift movement, removed her t-shirt to reveal the familiar item that I had seen in the shop a few days before. James urgently pushed my legs apart as she unzipped her jeans. He whipped up my skirt as she climbed out of her trousers and stood in front of us with her hands back on her hips so that we could see this slender beauty in front of us. She slid her hand around her arse, up her waist and over her boobs once more.
James slid his fingers into my cunt and as he did so, she imitated his actions by going down her own panties into her cunt in exactly the same way.
With his other hand, he unzipped his trousers and took out his deeply engorged cock. The sight of his dick and her rubbing was enough for me.

I erupted with the most incredible force and cascaded my juices straight over Jill’s legs before me.
“Fucking hell! Fucking hell!” was all she could say. “What the fuck was that?”
James was bashing away at my cunt knowing that there was more to come and sure enough another spurt of ejaculate rushed out. Jill giggled with astonishment. I don’t think she had seen anything like it. She continued to massage her clitoris, begging us now to fuck hard.
James laid me on the settee as he removed his trousers and pants. He didn’t hesitate and prodded his cock straight into me, hard and dramatically.
At this point, Jill dropped to the floor to continue her wanking. James meanwhile was really fucking me hard, grabbing my tits and watching Jill fuck herself as he did.
I too was watching this incredibly sexual woman, doing herself over. What utter joy in seeing someone else’s sexual arousal. Porn does not even get you near the bliss of seeing that for real.
I flew another huge orgasm all over James’s balls and the settee to the noise of more “fucking amazing’s” from Jill.

Each of us was lost in our own excitement and intertwined in one another’s.
Jill let out a moan that was instantly recognisable as a satisfied response to her own stimulation. As she lay on the floor with orgasmic writhing, she looked on at us some more. Once recovered from her orgasm, she came up closer to see every movement of James’s cock entering into my pussy.

“Want to feel it going in?” he asked.
“Not yet” she said as she knelt once more with her hand in her crotch.
“Keep going”.

It was my turn to shout stop. I was now fully naked as was James and he was really very near to cumming himself. I was dying to touch Jill but she was insistent that she wanted us to fuck. For now, she wanted to watch.
I climbed off the settee and kissed her head in appreciation. I then leant down on my knees parallel to Jill and wanked in time with her.
James held his cock in his hand and the most beautiful of grins on his face.

I dived towards his cock and swallowed him whole. I gagged and spluttered on his juicy one, spilling more sexual pleasure on the carpet below me.
“I want to suck you to moisture” I screamed as I bobbed in front of him almost biting his helmet such was the force of my arousal.
Jill encouraged me with every motion, willing me to make him cum. I held his balls in one hand, squeezing tightly as I ran my other hand up and down his shaft. Jill stopped wanking and lifted herself onto the settee to kiss James behind his ears. It was such a beautiful thing to do. She whispered into them, encouraging him to release and spunk into my awaiting mouth.
Which he did emphatically.

We all crashed out. Jill flopped on the settee, still clad in her underwear. James rocked his head back and I flopped mine on his left thigh.
We remained that way for several minutes.

The silence was broken by Jill moving across the room to retrieve her jeans. She placed them back on as James leant across to stroke my head. She took her t-shirt from the floor and then swept back towards us. She leant over and kissed James on the mouth and then headed for his right leg so that she could kiss me too.

“And this afternoon” she said “we all fuck. Together”.

The Making of a Threesome: Part Two

The Making of a Threesome: Part Two

I rolled over in bed, opened my legs and pulled his fingers towards my cunt. He foraged through my pubes and pressed hard on my clitoris, whilst manipulating himself into my pussy.
He raised his hand to my cheek and kissed me as an almighty surge of excitement passed through my stimulated body.

“And then what happened?” he asked.
“I told you. She laughed. She looked at me in disbelief and said that she was impressed at our openness but disbelieving of the fact that I could be remotely comfortable with watching you having sex with her.”
“And how would you feel, watching me put my fingers into her cunt? How would you cope with me shagging her? How would you like it to see another woman responding to my cock inside her? How would you feel knowing that my cock was aroused and ready to fuck another?”
I responded instinctively by soaking his cock with a huge rush of ejaculation and an enormous pussy erection that nearly pushed his cock clean out of my juicy one.
He grabbed hold of my butt and drove harder inside me in response to this complete and affirmative response.

“So what happens now?” he asked.
“We don’t fuck it up!” I said. “We take this carefully and slowly. I am meeting Jill on Wednesday to do some more catching up and also discussing the possibility of you looking at her in the bra and panties that she bought the other day. I will suggest that she dresses in them and walks in here wearing them, that you will take some photos of her and that you might suggest that she puts her hands down her panties, or removes one of her tits from the bra cup. I will tell her that she must respond as she feels fit, as her instinct directs her, that this is the way!”
“And what will you be doing?” he wondered.
“In a way, that is up to her, and you. I know that you are fine about me watching you fuck another woman but I’m not sure how she would feel. Also, if you really felt you wanted to be on your own with her, then I would accept that too. Obviously my preference is to be in the room when all of this is taking place. I enjoy my voyeurism and I could be merrily wanking away at the same time. You and I can fuck one another any time before, during and after your time with Jill.”

He seemed content with the response and continued to fuck me with that glorious juxtaposition of determined force and sensuality, cumming in a great force of energy that erupted spunk all over my cervix. Clearly, he was stimulated by the ideas that I had put before him.

We talked and planned some more and I left his bed reluctantly. We could have fucked all night, so turned on were we both by the prospect of sharing our sexuality with another.
................................................................................................................................................

Wednesday arrived and I was on slight tenterhooks all day. The excitement of meeting up with Jill and the potential of this sexual action between James and her was keeping my organs well and truly moving all day. By the time the evening came, I had to change my panties as the thoughts that had been circulating all day had made their mark down below.

I drove down the side lane and arrived at the ford by the river a good ten minutes early.
I looked around for the familiar car and waited.
I raised my skirt and inserted a finger to see what was happening. I was so engorged, it hardly had room inside me but as I did so, the gluey lubricant stuck quickly to my fingers.
It tasted incredibly sweet.

Jill arrived in a new car that I did not recognise. I watched her as she walked towards the pub, looking so beautiful in her long summer dress and flip flops.
Good, I thought. She’s dressed for the occasion. You never know. This evening could take the desired turn.

I got out of the car, smiled at the view of this very English setting and circled my eyes around to see the various pathways that could accommodate our walk later.

Jill warmly embraced me once more. Her eyes definitely focussed on my cleavage as I leaned over the bar to get our drinks.
We talked about the boys, about work, about a book that I had just written, about the interior design she had just finished for some “posh tart with too much money and no creativity” according to Jill. We meandered around politics, around the news of the day and she finally started to mention the man who she intended to strip off for; hers that is, not mine.

He was a man that she had been commissioned to do a design for. He had a fabulous house not far from where we were and he had wanted his entire ground floor re-worked. She explained that he had floor to ceiling windows that looked out onto the river about a mile and a half downstream, and that she had shaped this subtle veil over the shutters to feminise the effect of what was a bachelor pad extraordinaire.
I was interested but was desperate to get onto the task in hand. I was waiting. He was waiting. We needed a response.
But I wasn’t going to rush it. We had an opportunity that both of us, all of us could really enjoy. This had to be handled with sensitivity.

“No look, Abi. There’s something I have to tell you”.
Disappointment spread across my face. I felt certain that she was going to reject my suggestion of James taking photographs of her in the hope that she would strip off and fuck him.
“I have to tell you that I am most concerned about you. Do you really want to be with a man who wants to fuck other women?”
“Yes!” I said. “I want him to be sexual. I love his sexuality. I adore sharing porn with him. We love looking at tits and cunts and cocks going deep into satisfied, horny women”.

I was suddenly conscious that I had gone too far. I had overstepped the mark a little and Jill’s wide open eyes were alarming me.
“You look at porn together?” she asked. “You like looking at women?”
How was I going to pull this one back without giving too much away?
“I like sharing his sexuality. If he likes looking at nubile women and it turns him on, then I am only to pleased that he feels he can share that with me. How many people do you know who are under the assumption that their partner’s do not look at porn? How many people do you know who are in committed relationships where they can share the fact that they look at porn let alone share the actual porn?”

My stance was verging on the defensive. She smiled. In fact she did more than that. She threw her head back in a guffaw just as I had seen her do on the weekend in the shop with the bra and panties.
She picked up her glass of wine, finished the dregs and plonked it on the table.
“Come on. Let’s walk and talk” she said. “I still have something to tell you and I would rather do it outside”.

I walked with her and we followed the path around to the right as I had hoped. This pathway was quieter. A man walked by with his dog but other than that it was pretty deserted.
Once we were completely alone, Jill asked me to come and sit down just a short distance from the track.
I followed her with a seriously, almost painfully swollen cunt.
Keep calm, keep calm.

“I have to tell you that I have just come out of a long term relationship” she said. “I have to tell you that it was the most sensational relationship and it was with a younger woman”
I wanted to kiss her there and then but I couldn’t just jump on her unexpectedly. So I contained my excitedness and asked her about the bra and panties. Were they really for the bloke with the floor to ceiling windows or was there another woman in her life?

“No, I really want to fuck that man. I love cock as much as I love cunt and I haven’t had penetrative sex for ages”.
I leant over and hugged her, dropping my hand to her thigh after we had embraced.
“Then come and meet James” I said. “Come and meet him and if you feel comfortable and if the conversation veers that way, then you could have a practice run of showing off your lingerie for him. It would be fun!”
“But what do you get out of it Abi?”
I left my hand on her thigh as she moved her leg ever so slightly ajar from the other one.
“I get to know that my man is enjoying himself. I get to see my friend getting sexually excited”
“And you’d be there as well whilst I paraded my bits in front of your man?”
“That is up to you Jill. If you feel comfortable with me being there, then yes. Otherwise, I will be in the house or if that is too much for you, then I will disappear for a while whilst you and James have your fun”.

A pause, when neither of us moved, when both of us glanced at one another searching for the truth behind one another’s eyes.
“I want you there” she said. “I want you there if you can genuinely tell me that you would be okay about me flaunting myself so outrageously. I want you there to tell me to continue or ask me to stop, assuming of course, that I am remotely attracted to your lover”.
“Of course” was all that I could splutter out.
“I want you there because I would very much like you to be part of it all” she said.

And with that I threw my arms around her once more.
Only this time, I did not withdraw my hug. It remained for a moment too long.
Our cheeks came together slowly as we moved apart and we looked at one another as we kissed.
She let her hand wander down my arm and skirt around the perimeter of my boob. I directed her onwards and she grabbed a handful as she continued to kiss me.
We lay down together in the grass, with our legs intertwined, oblivious and unconcerned about who might see.
She raised her skirt as she fondled my tit and pushed her hand into her thongs to wank away as she touched me. She opened my shirt, removed my tit and leant down to kiss me.

As she did, we heard the rustling of grasses and she shot away, giggling at her naughtiness.
I rebuttoned the shirt slowly. I was not concerned about passing people. If they wanted to see two women enjoying one another, then so be it. But of course, we could possibly get arrested!

We sat up, our hands interlocked, our cunts full of life, in silence.
“What now?” she asked.
“Come to the house tomorrow. I’m not sure I can wait any longer. Come and wear your lingerie for him. He will think that you are doing it just for him. You and I will know that there is more to it. Eventually we can let him know that we both want him to fuck us and we both want to fuck one another, if I am understanding your mood correctly?”
“You are” she said, clutching my hand once more.

“Tomorrow then. Tomorrow. And you are completely sure that you don’t mind him fucking me?”
“I don’t mind at all. I want him to. I want to see the satisfied look on your face when he does, and I want to see you cum, and if you are not that attracted to him, then so be it. You and I can fuck and he can joyously watch on”.

She got up, offered me a helping hand and we walked back to the cars in quiet contemplation. She smiled gently as she got into hers and drove off in contented silence.

I returned to the car and waited.
I was too excited to drive off.
I just wanted a moment on my own to savour what had just happened.

The door opened.
“And?” I asked.
“Fucking adorable baby. Fucking adorable tit sucking photo that I can wank off to tonight right after I have filled you with my spunk. Look at the state of my cock”.

I unzipped his trousers, felt the extent of his hard on, whilst simultaneously opening the door for the dog to jump into the back seat.
We drove off with his hand on my inner thigh and my pussy still dripping.

The Making of a Threesome: Part One

I turned around and saw her. There she was looking bewilderingly beautiful with her waves of black hair and an exceptionally fit body. Her arms were toned but without bulkiness. Her legs meandered on forever and she looked confident in the short straight skirt that she was wearing with infinite ease. She smiled at the shop assistant and tossed her head back in a guffaw as she handed over the money.
“I’ll do my best” she said. “If this doesn’t get him going, nothing will!”

I was so pleased to see her. I hadn’t seen Jill for nearly five years and I had no idea why it had been so long. We hadn’t had a disagreement, or not as far as I was concerned. We hadn’t moved to different parts of the country. We hadn’t got any reason why we had not spoken other than the fact that we both had busy lives and there never seemed to be a mutually acceptable time to meet.

Certain friends should always keep in touch - friends who knew as soon as they met one another that there was a bond; a connection like no other. This was how it was with Jill and me.
We met via a mutual friend. We did not know that we had anything in common whatsoever. We had different backgrounds. We were in quite different relationships; me being married, her being separated for a couple of years and in a relatively new relationship with Dave. She was brash and scarily to the point. I was politically correct and empathetic to the point of losing all sense of assertiveness.
Yet, somehow we clicked and it was a very short time before we were talking intimately about body parts, sexuality, orgasms and fucking.

Jill phoned me up one day and screamed down the telephone.
“He’s fucking someone else. I’ve counted the condoms!”
I tried to calm her down, to reassure her that she must have made a mistake. Dave adored her and the boys. He wouldn’t do that to her. He was incapable of being unfaithful. But Jill being Jill was adamant that he had been playing away from home and was determined to have it out with him. I tried to calm her once more, telling her to just be a little steadier, telling her to check everything out carefully before she blew her top unnecessarily.
She phoned back a day or two later to tell me that she had found the missing condom down the back of the chest of drawers. She wanted to thank me for stopping her being an impetuous twit.
Imagine that!

Of course, Dave was fucking another woman and Jill couldn’t cope with that. With a distinct lack of discussion, which would have been my exact response at the time too, she packed him a suitcase and chucked him out. He didn’t want to leave but she said that she was not prepared to share his dick with another pussy. She didn’t like sharing dicks.

Interesting really, because Jill was not exactly the most faithful woman in the world. Whilst she had been married she had had numerous affairs, with men and women. She was always encouraging the sexual side in me, not in a suggestive way, but just by telling me that what I really needed was a damn good shag. That would sort out my gynaecological problems.
She was right!
And I told her so.

We met one evening and she told me about her new partner; a younger person who turned her on like no person had ever done before. She looked at me and knew instantly that something had changed.
“What’s he like?” she asked.
At first I denied and scoffed at the very notion of me being unfaithful but she knew and there was little point in pretending any longer. I trusted her implicitly and congratulated her on her wisdom regarding her insistence that I needed sex.

And boy did I need sex. I still do.

Imagine this. Imagine finding a pot of gold that gave you just about everything you ever wanted only you couldn’t tell a soul. You had to hide this hidden treasure away from everyone you knew. Sometimes, there was an occasional glint of the gold but you had to tuck it away or pretend it was costume jewellery.
That is sex and me. I hide it from everyone except one or two people who I trust implicitly to know the truth about my newfound pot of gold; my lover, his closest friends, my closest friends. They are the only people who know.
That is fine but sometimes, being a relatively altruistic person, I want to share my pot of gold. I want other people to benefit from this discovery and not being able to share this is sometimes thoroughly frustrating.
It is not about boasting about my find, or my exceptional fortune at being with someone who understands me and is appreciated in return. It is not about that at all. I just want other people to know what they could have, if they opened their eyes (and other parts of their bodies) and discovered the pot of gold without even realising they were looking for it.

Jill would understand this, which is why I told her when she asked. I just said that I had met someone, that I couldn’t really explain what had happened, that it wasn’t lust, it wasn’t some steamy affair that was just about recreational sex, that I wasn’t in love, that it was just completely unique and I couldn’t possibly explain what was happening to me, other than the fact that there had been some serious awakenings in my nether regions, and despite only having had penetrative sex with this man once, I was really quite needy as far as wanting some more.

“About bloody time” was her response.
And after that, we drifted apart.

And here she was in the shop; a shops that I wouldn’t have dared walk into when I last spoke to Jill but my life has moved on immeasurably.
“It’d get my man going if he saw you dressed in that!” I said.

“Abi!” she yelled, and raced towards me to give me a very warm embrace.
“And how would you feel if I paraded myself in front of your man in this?” she asked mischievously.
“Delighted!” I responded to her surprise.
Her jaw dropped and she said that I couldn’t possibly mean that, and anyway, who was this man of mine?
I told her there was no “man of mine” but that there was certainly a man in my life and that it just happened to be the same man that I had told her about five years ago.
“Still!” she said in astonishment “Must be a good fuck”.
She said it was my eyes that gave away the truth.

She said we ought to meet up. I agreed and said that I wanted to hear whether her naughty purchase was going to work on her man, and if it was, perhaps I could borrow it for mine.

She then explained that she hadn’t exactly got her man just yet but was hoping that when she did, this would be the first thing that she put on. I suggested that perhaps she ought to check it out with a third person beforehand, once again offering the services of my lover to cast an eye over Jill in these garments.
She thought I was joking but I reiterated that I wasn’t.
“You’ve been with him for five years Abi? Don’t you love him? Doesn’t he love you?”
I responded to say that of course there was a mutual love there. There was also a mutual love and appreciation of sex and sexuality. I adored his sexuality and he adored mine. I could think of nothing more exciting for him than to see a fit woman dressed up in a beautiful set of bra and panties, parading in front of him for his expert advice on whether it was going to get her man aroused.
I could envisage her doing this and I could see him asking her to turn around in a certain way. I could see him reaching for his camera, telling her that he would be happy to snap a few shots that she could “accidentally” leave around the place. I could imagine him reaching into his trousers and grabbing his cock for a gentle rub.
She looked at me once more in astonishment. I assured her that it would be fine.
Perhaps we ought to discuss it further.

We went for a coffee and quickly returned to the subject of her lingerie and my lover. I reiterated once more that I would love her to strip off and parade around in front of my lover in the bra and panties that she had bought a few days ago. I told her that if he suddenly decided to kiss her or wander his hands over her pert tits, then that would be perfectly fine by me. Preferably, I would like to be in the room to see his reaction, to see if it excited her too, being looked at and longed for by another very sexual being.

The mistrust on her face was almost amusing. How could I possibly want this man that I cared for to be ogling her?
I told her once more the fact that he was such a vibrant sexual being was one of the things that I found attractive about him. How could I deny that sexuality if he felt it with others? What right had I got to tether the beast, which in my opinion was far from beastly? It made no sense. It makes no sense.
Why can’t people understand that?
There is no need for it to be a problem unless it is deceitful or hidden or made a secret. If there is honesty then how can it be problematic? If it does not take away but actually enhances the sexuality and the feelings for one another, then it can only be a good thing.

Jill continued. What if she was aroused by all of this? What would happen if she looked down and saw that he had an erection? How would I feel then?

I told her that if she was aroused then she ought to let him know. That if she wanted a kiss or a finger fuck, she should let it be known. That if she saw his cock was aroused, then perhaps she ought to get it out and see just how engorged he could get. That if they then wanted to fuck one another, then this was obviously the thing to do.

“And what about you?” she asked.

“How do you mean, Jill?” I responded.

“What about you Abi, how would you really feel if I was fucking your man?”

“Aroused” I replied truthfully.

“Look, you clearly don’t believe me” I said. “Perhaps we ought to discuss this further. Perhaps you would like to meet me down by the river on Wednesday evening. Perhaps we could thrash this out once more so that you can be perfectly assured that I am not going to disappear into a fit of green smoke, burdened with jealously and fearful that my lover will never want to fuck me again.”

She laughed and said that she would be delighted to meet up on Wednesday whether we walked about her parading her tits in front of my man or not. She would go away and have a think too but most importantly she was glad that we had met up and ecstatic at my sexual growth.
It may have been wishful thinking but I thought I saw her eyes dip towards my cleavage as she said this.

We hugged again, moved away from one another and I left in the divine knowledge that the mere thought of her standing there in front of my lover, irrespective of whether they had penetrative sex or not had sent my clitoris into over drive. I needed a wank and so I returned home to do just that.

The Sexual Quadragenarian

Footnotes and Snippets

Footnote to Older Models

I forgot to include this during my past blog and therefore am including it now before I forget.

What actually is the real word for thirty somethings? An octogenarian is eighty years old and it is a word that is frequently used in our society; more so with increased life spans.
So what is a thirty something called? And for that matter, what is a forty something or a twenty year old?
Good old Wikipedia does its masterful work once more.

When I was one
Life had just begun.
When I was two
I am nearly new.
When I was three
I was hardly Me.
When I was four
I was not much more.
When I was five
I was just alive.
But now I am six, I’m as clever as clever
So I think I’ll be six now for ever and ever.

A A Milne

Look at that poem. It’s one of those poems that people will probably have heard at one point in their lives. For some it is a very poignant and memorable chant from their youth. For those fortunate enough to have been brought up on Winnie the Pooh, it is a poem that resonates with times gone by.
So why have I included it on this piece of writing? All will be revealed and please forgive me for bastardising this beautiful little ditty.

A denarian is one who is aged between 10 and 19 – a word that we ought to be using as the attributes of being a teenager spreads ever earlier.
A vicenarian is a twenty something. Lots of vice in immaturity. Lots of naughtiness in the twenties.
A tricenarian is the name for someone in their thirties, not a trigenarian as I had suggested previously.
A quadragenarian is a forty something – again a word that we should be using more frequently. Zenpuss is going to rescue this word and set it in a delightful expression or phrase so that it epitomises the peak of female sexuality.
A quinagenarian is fifty and so forth until they get to the glorious decade of the sixties.
A sexagenarian, lucky people, are in their sixties.
A septuagenarian is aged between 71 and 79.
The octogenarian has already been mentioned.
A nonagenarian is a lucky ninety something.
And a centenarian has made the hundred mark.
Anyone over 110 years old is a supercentenarian.



Now here is an interesting thing. If you write these words on a word document, the first five and the last are not recognised as real words. They have a spell check line that emerges beneath them. Clearly there is not enough use of these special words.

So I have found out what a thirty something is but I have an alternative.
If a sexagenarian is a sixty year old, then maybe a thirty year old could be seen as half of a sexagenarian or a half-sex!

This is probably the case for women, even if it may not be so for men. I think there is the strong possibility that women, who do not come into their own sexually until the thirties are all but disappeared, are possibly only firing on 50% of their sexuality at this age. Thus they are a half-sex; one that is not fully fledged, one that has so much to look forward to.

If this is the case, then does that mean that those women in their sixties are fully fledged, full of sex, full of their sexuality?
I’d like to think so. I can see some major positives of sex in the sixties that is not about Woodstock and burning bras. With no prospect of pregnancy and a delicious lack of concern about leaking bodies, I can see some very fruitful experiences ahead of me as I turn towards being a sexagenarian.

I appreciate that women come into their own sexually at the age of forty but I am pretty determined that this is the start of a new sexual awakening that remains with these enlightened women for a lifetime. It should not stop as the bodies change, sag and diminish.
Men are perfectly adept at having sex in their sixties, seventies, eighties and so forth right up to the Supercentenarian if the will and the ability is still there. And even if they cannot get their tadgers up, they can still think and feel sexual. If this is accepted as perfectly natural, with the possible help of little blue pills, then why can it not be perfectly natural for women too?

I think Zenpuss will have to push this point home in a decade or so. Her lifetime of work will not be complete until there are masses of sexagenarian women happily confessing to visits to Ann Summers and an admittance to loving the sight of two nubile bodies having a fuck.

So I return to A. A. Milne’s famous poem. Scroll back and look at it again, and then multiply each section by a decade.
When I was one(ty), I had just begun – Denarians have the onset of puberty and their first sexual experiences. How exciting!
When I was two(ty), I was hardly new – Vicenarians have been around a bit now for those who are sexually enlightened. Sex is not a new experience but there is still more to come. So much more! Yum!
When I was three(ty), I was hardly Me – the tricenarians might think they know everything about themselves. They may have arrived at where they want to be professionally. They may be parents and feel as though they have reached a pinnacle but they are “hardly me”. Certainly women, as suggested previously, are merely half of what they could be sexually. They are indeed hardly me.
When I was four(ty), I was not much more – but I was beginning to break out and realise the potential of what was out there, sexually, spiritually, sensually. Forty somethings learn well.
When I was five(ty), I was just alive – Having not reached Quinagenarian status yet, I cannot comment but it appeals to me to consider that life doesn’t begin at forty but at fifty instead. Phew! I suddenly feel incredibly positive and anticipate with much excitement the onset of my next decade.
Now I am six(ty), I am as clever as clever. So I think I’ll be six(ty) now for ever and ever – Clever as clever, meaning I have embraced an intelligence around sexuality that could not be known in my twenties and thirties, and that security of sexuality will remain with me forever. Well, that is what I think.

So whilst A.A. Milne may not like having his writing scrutinised with this sort of explanation, I can see some worth in it, and I apologise to all Tigger fans who are offended.
Personally, I think Pooh would see some logic to it all.

Bisy Backson

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Becks

They love him don’t they? Women just go all juicy at the very thought of him.
Of course the majority who are moistening their panties do not know that they are doing it. Or rather, they think that they are about to pee when in actual fact, they are probably hugely close to an orgasm.

You can, of course, have an involuntary ejaculation without having a full blown orgasm. And you can certainly cream your knickers up without having a complete flood of ejaculate.
It really is about time that people got this into their heads and did not suffer revulsion at the prospect.

Which is why it was so very, very good to hear Mr. Beckham talking about his wife’s panties.
I’m not sure the comment was even acknowledged properly but I certainly heard it loud and clear.

David was being questioned by Jonathan Ross about his OCD problem: obsessive compulsive disorder. Beckham stated that he had to have drinks set out in two’s with the labels facing exactly the same way. He said that if there was an extra bottle or can out, then it would have to be removed and replaced in the cupboard. Weird!
He continued to say that he spent hours tidying up, explaining that he and Victoria worked well as a couple because he loved to clean and she created the mess. (I wonder if he tidies up after her with a huff and a moan!)
Ross then asked if he had to tidy up Posh’s panties, to which David confirmed that she did tend to leave them around the place. The conversation went on about whether he could actually find her panties, being that they are probably exceedingly small. This was preceded by the statement by Mr. B that he was particularly partial to her dirty ones.

There was a giggle from the audience; a slight guffaw but the subject changed quite quickly.
Now if I had been an interviewer on my last night for the BBC, I think I would have been tempted to go for it and delve a little further into this subject.

Readers, I do not want you to concern yourself with the fact that there is a specific person being mentioned here. If you are repulsed at the thought of Victoria’s used ones, then do not read on but if you are a person of sound mind, accepting that everyone is entitled to being a sexual person, then bear with me.
Becks is a rather sexy man, and I like the fact that he is a sexy man who finds women’s dirty underwear extremely horny, even if it is Posh’s.
I wanted to know more. I wanted to know what he did when he found a pair of disused thongs that belonged to his wife as he vacuumed the bedroom shag (I’m making assumptions here!). I wanted to know whether his OCD led him to storing the aforementioned underwear in a particular place in their bedroom. Being such a rich bod, did he have a special “Victoria’s Secrets” draw where he kept her panties until the aroma had dintegrated?
Or did he stop hoovering when he found a pair of panties, allowing himself time to sit on the edge of the bed and take a good noseful of his wife’s essence?

David, you would be doing the world a hell of a favour if you came out of the closet as being a panty sniffer. Being honest and delighting in one another’s sexuality is the only way we are going to get this show on the road, and with the vast exposure and incredible respect that this man fosters, there could be no greater person than to spread the word about the raw simplicity and wonderment of sexuality.

............................................................................................................................................................
How much would you pay for sex?
How much would you charge for sex?

To be honest, if the person asking for sex was attractive then I am not sure I would bother with a fee. Sex, however, is far more than skin deep. I would seriously fear that a good looking person would be nothing more than a facade and that beyond that pretty face with a well-toned body there was a person incapable of reaching the climes that I am used to.

“If so and so offered you £10K for a fuck, would you do it?”
The real answer is highly likely if there was a glimmer of sexuality and excitement in doing so but I am not sure that I could have sex with anyone, not even for £10,000.

Instead of denouncing prostitutes, consider them having to have sex with some pretty horrible characters. That is not a pleasant prospect. I am not sure how they manage to do so.
I can understand wanting to have sex for fun rather than a mutual desire and love for one another. I get recreational sex. I enjoy recreational sex but only to a point. Real sex is not recreational sex in my opinion. It’s good. It’s hard – in a positive way. It’s horny. But it is not all engaging and for me, sex will never be complete without the whole mind, body and soul stuff.
I also know that some people think they can get that through recreational sex but it’s not for me.

So yes, if someone offered me some money to have sex with them, then I would certainly consider it. If someone suggested to me that I would enjoy having sex with other people and that it would take nothing away from my primary sexual relationship, then of course, I would be more than interested in participating.
It is so utterly liberating to know that someone is interested in me being a sexual person and wants me to explore and develop my sexuality in whatever way I choose to do so.
Respecting my decisions on my sexuality and my sexual journey is equally important, and if it so happens at this moment in time that I find the greatest of sexual excitement and enlightenment with one person, then that should/is respected also.
That is incredibly important.

I wouldn’t want money though. I’d be crap at being a prostitute because I feel so passionately about sex that I really don’t think it should be sought out of need alone. There should be some desire there that is not steeped in the urgent need for a fuck.
I’d happily explore my sexuality whilst simultaneously exploring the sexuality of another without any desire for payment.
Giving life to another human being has to be the most incredible experience ever but giving sexual life to another can be extremely rewarding.
I am finally, possibly, beginning to get a glimmer of thought that I can actually give someone else sexual life, longevity and excitement but I don’t need paying for it and I don’t need to pay for it either.

In summary then, I would happily be paid for sex, though I would not see payment as a necessity.
Rather, I see myself as being a much better pimp!
Now there is something that I could well and truly enjoy.
More later.

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And finally.......

There is no finally. The world of sex does not have a finality. These are but a few comments in the month of July in the year 2010 but the finality of the subject and the sexual enlightenment of the masses is a long way from here.

This sexual quadragenarian is off to think about David Beckham sniffing knickers and working out just how much I could offer a sexy man out for to those who would be prepared to pay good money for an orgasm, with me holding the camera to capture it all.

It’s a good old world out there really if you are prepared to look for the positives.

Model Behaviour for the Older Woman

Model Behaviour

There are two articles in the Guardian this week that tell a similar story without even realising it.
The first article is about older women and how they have stepped to the forefront of fashion magazines. Apparently, the older look sells after all. People will flock to buy magazines and products that feature or are endorsed by the likes of Madonna, Elle McPherson, Christy Turlington, Halle Berry and Kate Moss to name but a few.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2010/jul/13/rise-of-older-models

In direct contrast, or so it seems, there is another article, written the day after, about the appallingly crass reality television programme where judges are creating “Britain’s Next Top Model”.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2010/jul/14/michael-hann-britains-next-top-model
Here, they have a range of younger women who are desperately seeking stardom through the flaunting of their very beautiful little bodies and learning all the sordid tricks of the trade.
The article concentrates on the group of girls who were told to pose as a threesome with some strange bloke to sell panties. As it turns out, although they were scantily clad in their negligee, it was the male product that they were trying to sell and not the garments that the girls were wearing.
See the results for yourselves and see what you think.
http://www.fred-and-ginger.co.uk/news-events/britains-next-top-model/

So what is the similarity between these two articles apart from the bleeding obvious that they are both to do with the fashion industry?
Essentially, although they probably don’t actually realise it, they are both appreciating the fact that sex is something for the older women. That is not to say that younger women cannot participate. I mean everyone has to start and learn somewhere but subconsciously, maybe they are both saying that sexuality is a more comfortable concept for the older woman; that older women are more in tune and at ease with their sexuality and therefore it is more natural and more vivid to use their sexuality in adverts than the falsehood of an imposed sexuality that we see when younger models are used.

Let us look at the two articles separately.
The first article explains how there seems to be a growing interest in the use of older models. The writer explains that as a thirty something woman, she felt ignored and invisible as she walked down the street. Prior to becoming a trigenarian, she felt noticed, whereas now she had entered into a new decade she had lost her oomph. Yet, all of a sudden, she was discovering the fact that there could be a second coming; older women are beginning to be seen as attractive once more.
The article moved on to explain how many older women were selling products that younger models could not do in such an authentic manner.
Older sisters are doing it with encouragement from a range of brothers.

As some commentaries on the article suggest, the cynical response to this is that it is purely down to economics. For example, one commentator stated that this is merely a financial issue and that they wouldn’t be using these older women unless it sold their product. Such a comment totally misses the point as to why it is that older women are “selling the product”. They are selling the product and being used by these magazines because their maturity sells things. And why? Because they are confident and comfortable with themselves and with their sexuality, and this confidence and assuredness comes across in their stance, their posture, their very essence, thus giving you the confidence and assuredness in whatever they are selling.
It’s quite simple really.

There are some fantastic quotes in the article from people who seem to know what they are talking about. Two Dutch photographers, Inez Van Lamsweerde and Vinoodh Matadin, say that they prefer to use older women because they have the experience that can be reflected in the shot.
No manner of acting can give reality to something that real experience can.
This reminds me of that glorious conversation between Dustin Hoffman and Laurence Olivier during the filming of “The Marathon Man”. Hoffman had been up all night, getting into his character using Strasberg’s method acting. His character was devastated by the loss of his brother and had allegedly been searching days on end to find the truth of his siblings disappearance. Old Oliver saw him and said “Good God man, whatever is the matter with you?” to which Hoffman replied that he was fine but that he had been up all night preparing for his role. The master actor rebuffed this nonsense with a quick response “Wouldn’t it be easier to just act, darling?”

But acting is not always possible. Real experience is often required. For example, just as masturbating with a decent dildo is fine, it pales into insignificance compared with the reality of two people making love with copious orgasms all round.
Real experience is far better, and I am now beginning to wonder if Meg Ryan had ever had a real orgasm before her “When Harry Met Sally” spectacle.

The Dutchmen state

"models like Kate [Moss] and Daria [Werbowy] are mature, they've grown up, they're women who have had a life and experience. For about five or six years now we haven't shot anyone under 18 for that reason, but also for the fact that, we feel the modelling business should not promote girls working under this age. They're not out of school – their bodies haven't developed yet and they don't have a sense of self. Sometimes they haven't had sex yet. It's hard to project all these things on someone who hasn't had that experience."

I’d go further than that. It is not hard to project these things on someone who hasn’t experienced it. It is almost impossible to do so.
It’s like seeing actresses “giving birth” when they have clearly never done so in real life. They scream and push and get chronologies all mixed up. They sweat buckets of moisture and finally relax as the baby’s head appears miraculously after half a minute. What they never portray is the relentless boredom, the insufferable pain, the tears of frustration and fear and the total horror of the event in its non-Hollywood reality.

The article continues to quote other fashionistas. Francisco Costa from Calvin Klein states

"The woman who puts my clothes on needs a certain level of sophistication. We wanted to acknowledge the women who have always worn our clothes: women who have their own identities, have full lives, have kids."

He is stating the bleeding obvious that the industry has clearly ignored for too long.

So within this article we have a celebration of maturity. We have an acceptance that older women have an unwavering confidence that is clearly captured on film and that this certainty sells products. The older woman has a sexual confidence about her. Take a look at the Dolce and Gabbana photograph of Madonna and a younger man and you have no doubt, despite the ubiquitous cross around her neck, that this woman can fuck. How appropriate that they also have a young man who is probably at the prime of his sexuality too.

Turning to the other article, the theme is also about age but points fingers to people who are making younger people do something that they are not ready for.
The article talks about a bizarre programme called “Britain’s Next Top Model”. I haven’t seen the programme and have no intention to do so. It sounds like a horrendous idea and a horrendous show with a mixture of would-be’s and has-beens all trying to give the fashion industry the gravitas that it evidently does not deserve. They are a sleazy bunch all-told.
In some ways, I think they are far sleazier than their pornographic counterparts. At least porn magnates admit to what they are trying to do. These people are potentially even more manipulative than the Heffner’s and co of this world. Why? Because they try and get young women to be sexual via the back door, so to speak. They are not up front about it. That is not pleasant.

The article continues to explain how the candidates for this unbelievably stupid title were asked to do a photo shoot, as stated earlier, for a famous lingerie company. The girls did not feel comfortable. They found the pseudo lesbian poses and the kisses that they had to do unbearable. It was obvious, according to the writer, that they did not want to be doing these things.
He continued.

What we saw on Top Model – the pressuring of young women into providing masturbatory fantasies for men – was more than modelling. Of course, modelling has always been about selling sexiness, especially lingerie shoots. But this wasn't selling sexiness, it was selling sex. Forget the sizzle, these girls were the steak, nothing but pieces of meat. And it was final proof that the celebrity trend of recent years – the faux lesbian kiss – has passed from being a desperate bit of attention seeking into a forced rite of passage for young women who might wish to make their living from their looks.

Now there is a certain amount of political correctness going on from this middle-class, middle-aged Guardian writer. He is hardly going to come out as being a fan of porn is he? And the whole article suggests a certain primness about the whole notion of sexuality. His attitude towards porn is evidently from a 1980s feminist standpoint.
But I suggest that he is onto something here without even realising it. He is so determined to be all high and mighty about same sex kissing that he misses an essential point about the whole notion of photographers working with these younger models.

He continues in the piece to criticise all the celebrities who have “kissed a girl” for the sake of sensationalism and creating a media storm. To an extent, I would agree. Feeling another woman’s tits or giving her a good tonguing purely for the sake of selling your latest film or record is a bit sick. However, if these woman are doing it because they are celebrating the vastness and multiplicity of their sexuality, then good on them! They do not warrant such criticism.
His criticism is also loaded with a hint of contempt for bisexuality too. He does not even consider the possibility that Scarlett Johansson or Penelope Cruz might have enjoyed their snog with one another. He does not contemplate the fact that Sandra Bullock was turned on by kissing another woman. He cannot accept, it seems, that these women found the whole experience very horny.
I have to say, I wish I had been in the room when Scarlett and Penelope were getting it on. There might have been quite a few trips to the loo for me!

But here is the real crux of the issue. If Fred and Ginger, the lingerie company, had been a little more thoughtful, they would have realised that they were using the wrong models. If they really wanted to sell their panties, they should probably have been looking at the older women who have that great comfort with their sexuality. They would not have to act or embellish the poses. They’ve been there. They can demonstrate what they have experienced. These poor, innocent and downright naive young women cannot do this.

So in essence, without even mentioning it, both articles are telling me that the time is ripe for older women to not only get out there and flaunt their ever maturing delightful bodies, but also get out there and celebrate the sexuality of their being. It is a sellable product in itself if only people had the foresight to realise.

Celebrating Couples

“I’d like to know who has been creaming up your panties! What or who got you all juicy today?” he said.
“You did!” was her response, “And I did!” she continued.
“How was that possible? I’ve not been anywhere near you?” he retorted.
“Because I have been fucking you all day in my mind, waiting for the opportunity to come here and have you for real. The anticipation is here on my panties to see!”

Oh the joyous and sometimes very necessary pleasures of a mind fuck. Nothing can ever be as sensational as the real thing but anticipation of this sort is a very perfect way to spend a day.

“Who was that man you were talking to today? Did you want to fuck him?”
“No, but I seriously wanted to grab his arse and have a good old fondle, and I would have quite liked it if he had felt the need to smooth his hands over my tits, but no, I didn’t want to fuck him.”

“That woman is a goer and she is giving you very clear signals that she wants you to go and stick your cock up her fanny”.
“Do you think so?” “Should I do it?”
“She looks pretty fuckable to me!”
“She looks pretty fuckable to me too!”

“Hello darling? Had a good day?”
“Yes thank you. Missed you incredibly this morning, though, sweetheart. Had a raging stiffy with nowhere to put it, and then this woman came into my room and just looked on in amazement as she saw my cock in its fullest glory. Had to fuck her!”
“Of course you did. Get any photos?”
“Of course – to add to the collection. I think we’ll put this cunt right next to that cock that you fucked last week in Vienna.”
“Mmmm that was one big cock!”

“What’s on television tonight honey?”
“Nothing worth bothering about – shall we get youporn out instead?”
“Ah yes. I found a really good video there whilst you were at work today. It’s of three women squirting over one another and a bloke trying to fuck them all simultaneously; cock in one, fingers in another, tongue in the last one. And all of them were ejaculating as he manipulated them to orgasms. Fucking marvellous!”

And so it goes on. Conversations that sexually enlightened couples ought to be having across the nation, beyond the seas to other continents and with other people.

It should not be read as shocking. It should not fill the reader with fear. It should not bring forth the oppressive state of antagonism. It should not trigger cries of infidelity and disgust.

As I said, the conversation continues.
“Would you mind if I spent the night with that blonde that we met yesterday?”
“Why? What has she got that I haven’t got?”
“Just a different cunt and a very expressive mind!”
“And my mind is still as expressive as ever, in your opinion?”
“Of course, sweetie. I just feel a desire to fuck this woman, to lie in bed with her and to feel how that feels”
“Okay but I will want to know every last detail, even if she has a better cunt than mine!”

Competitive states are hard to eradicate when they have been ever present in one’s life but that should not prevent someone from trying.
In fact, these sorts of challenges are the very thing to nurture someone’s growth whilst simultaneously revealing far more consideration, love, affection and understanding of another human being than most can ever begin to contemplate.

“I kissed a girl, and I liked it!”
“Good for you, my darling. How did that come about?”
“We were just talking, and she reached out and grabbed my hand. I was so turned on that I just clasped her face in my hand and rammed my tongue down her throat before she had time to think! Once she had got used to the idea that I was kissing her, I released my hands only for her to grasp my face in exactly the same manner. It was sensationally sexy and urgent!”
“Did you wank one another off?”
“Well we couldn’t do that where we were, so I suggested that we went to my car. We drove up to the hilltop and had some sensational snogs. I was desperate to move my fingers over her thighs and to feel how hot she was but was a little timid. She eventually pushed the palm of my hand right onto to her unopened jeans zip which I naturally took as an invitation to delve further!”

Isn’t this allegedly what every alpha male dreams of? Seeing his woman all hot and bothered for another woman, with the delightful prospect of being asked to join in?

“I’m frightened”
“What are you scared of?”
“I’m frightened that her cunt is more enticing than mine. I’m worried that you’re pretty bored of mine which is why you are spending so long with other cunts”
“Honestly, the two are not connected. Your cunt, your mind, your spirit is still as valuable and vivacious as it always has been. I want you as much if not more because of the time I spend in other cunts”.

If the fear arises, there is no point in pretending that it is not there. Acknowledging the darker side, even if there is nothing that you or anyone else can do about it, is a vital part to the honesty of partnership.

“Happy 25th Wedding Anniversary darling!”
“Why thank you sweetheart. I cannot believe that we have maintained such a healthy interest in one another all this time!”
“What shall we do to celebrate? Invite the neighbours round for a foursome? I want to show them the video that we shot last week. Great squirts from the two of you.”
“And the sperm shower was pretty horny as well.”

Nothing HAS to be straightforward. Boxes and constraints can be broken. Relationships and the make-up of established coupledom can be challenged. There is always another way.

In many ways, this would be my ideal way. Like many other stupid women before me, I cannot seem to rid myself of the shackles of conformity completely. I still feel as though I need a special person in my life but maybe that is nothing to do with conformity and more to do with what feels real at a certain moment in time. Maybe what others see as the conformity of a life partner or something like that, is actually just a way of being that fits in with one’s hopes or even needs for life.

The only reason that this sort of living fails is because onlookers cannot cope with the alleged complexities. What about the children, for heaven sake?

Let’s change the last set of quotes slightly.
“Happy 25th Wedding Anniversary darling!”
“Why thank you sweetheart. I cannot believe that we have maintained such a healthy interest in one another all this time!”
Door to the bedroom opens.
“Happy Anniversary Mum and Dad. Got you something special this year as it is your 25th!”
“Wow – tickets to the ‘Hands on Burlesque Show with Front Stage Passes!’
You shouldn’t have spent so much but what a perfect way to celebrate the longevity of our sexuality – with others!”

Farfetched? Why should it be? Once more, people are seemingly terrified or horrified at revealing themselves as sexual beings to their offspring but why is this the case? Not talking, not discussing perpetuates myths such as sexuality being something that we should hide and shield away from the world. In the honestly and value of family life, why should there be the old conformities there as well? Why shouldn’t people be honest about their sexuality with their children to the point of freeing the offspring too?
Freedom, liberty and all of that is so vital in life. Why on earth should expected norms of behaviour not be confronted on all levels.

The openness of a marriage or a relationship could extend to those involved within, including the children. If children accepted from an early age that their parents were sexual beings and that sex was an integral part of life that could not be lived without, then it would make life far less complicated than its current stringencies of brushing things under the carpet and avoiding the tricky situation of the potential for wandering eyes and roving hands.

How I would love to say to my children “Really sorry I cannot be with you today but I really need to go and make love to my gorgeous lover, who in turn really needs me to fuck him.”
The response would be “Fine – see you later!”

And it is not to say that this sort of openness is devoid of problems. Green eyed monsters could still emerge. Fear of loss and separation are never likely to be deleted permanently. People do fall “out of love” or move forward in a way that might leave a once dearly loved person behind. Nothing can staple one human being to another. Nothing can ever make that complete tie; not a marriage service, not a wedding band, not a spoken statement of love and affection.
Why can the world not see this?

“I kissed a girl.... It felt so wrong......It felt so right....... hard to resist, so touchable.......not what good girls do..... hope my boyfriend don’t mind.......just human nature”

I think we would dismiss these writers and the singer at our peril.
Katy Perry looked stunning and extremely fuckable in a plastic outfit that must have taken hours for her to put on. It looked like something out of Dr. Seuss meets Karma Sutra but it was a real turn on and I am sure my need to wank that evening was to do with watching her bopping away in that outfit.

But it wasn’t just thinking of her alone. I was extremely turned on by the fact that she regularly fucks Russell Brand. In fact they have decided to get married later this year, allegedly in India in latex costumes.
I’m not completely sure that I would want to fuck Russell either though I do think he is extremely horny.
I am completely sure, however, that I would like to watch them fuck one another. My pink bits are rouging up at the very thought of it.
Even better, I would be more than happy for them to watch me fucking my lover and I would happily suggest that we help both of them out of their rubber dresses in order to free their sexual organs for a right seeing to.

Horny people deserve horny people to horn off with.
Simple minds should have simple minds to fuck. Complex minds should be enriched by the complexities of another complex mind.

“Don’t they make a nice couple?”
What an ineffectual, stupid comment when nobody can really get into the mind and soul of one person let alone two working together.
“You two look good together. It looks right.” And looks assume every other connection?
But having been critical of such naive and pathetic statements, Katy and Russell do look good together. Yet I am far more concerned with their minds right now.

If I could give them a wedding gift that would ensure that they celebrated their silvers in 2035 it would be this. Read all of the quotes (embellished and made up) and see if this is the type of relationship that you want.
The very best wedding present that you can give to one another is to respect and value the freedom and the liberty of one another’s sexuality. Be mindful of one another’s needs and be prepared, at times, to compromise for the sake of something greater than individual desire. That is the Zenpuss way, I hope.

There is no reason why a relationship such as this cannot last a lifetime as long as they are mindful of one another. Is there really a possibility of these two remaining completely faithful to one another, and yet is it faithless to fuck another person if that has always been the understanding of those involved in the first instance?

People like Russell Brand and Katy Perry have the opportunity to reclaim coupledom and make it something that is devoid of the negative undertones of constraints and chastity belts.
I am not making any assumptions here and I would hate to offend them if they had indeed chosen exclusivity but it seems to me that there are two enlightened human beings here who are respected by generations of folk, and it is people like this who can put a new slant on being a couple.

Being a couple can still mean a commitment to one another that is genuine and expects longevity but it also respects sexuality and the nurturing of that. It appreciates the reality of living and loving. It still values one person, one love by not expecting exclusivity rather than demanding it.

I would like to think that Katy and Russell will consider this openness as part of their marriage. I can honestly think of no greater appreciation of one another than to respect the individual’s right to express themselves sexually without fear of repercussion or loss of a partner that they care about.

Loosening the shackles of expectation and conformity has to be a way forward.
I am so utterly overwhelmed and excited by the fact that I can have these conversations with my lover, even if they sometimes challenge me to the point of those very fears and anxieties that I wish to keep at bay.

Coupledom is not a heinous nightmare if it is rescued from its current form. Today, I celebrate the couple of celebrities who are embarking on a commitment to one another in their own quirky way, and if they want anyone to celebrate with them, well I know a man and woman who can!