Well Kate, most muppets can fuck - after a fashion - but only a few can write about it, so I guess it's harder. Mind, I didn't expect to spend half the weekend documenting your sex life! Still, glad you're having a bit of fun again. I'll move it to the main website later. Oh, and Laura is worried that you had unprotected anal sex. I told her you might have left such petty details out :)
Robert had some important ad clients from the boondocks (where ever they are) who wanted to do the whole glam Manhattan friday night out thing. And I got dragged in to be the eye candy, and simper hanging off Robert's arm. After dinner, the guys very much wanted to go to a tittie bar and very much worried that I would not be cool with that. Since Robert had asked me to look something up on the net, I was able to wow them with my detailed knowledge of mensclubguide.com (not enough reviews to make it really useful). Of course, none of these guys could ever pass the dress code of any serious fetish club. I fancied a club with something for the ladies. I did think of organising some strippers to come round to our place, but Ii couldn't think of anywhere to farm out my boyz - you wait to they're just that bit older and ready for sleep-overs. I asked the lads if they wanted to keep on drinking. They all "yeahed" loudly at that. So I took them to Legz Diamond, which was one of the few nudie bars that sold drink.
I love the title "gentlemen's clubs" (oh please!) - the way guys get all excited about being totally ripped-off just because they're going to see some attractive girlie flesh. At least i get treated with a bit of respect. Robert's clients were by now totally in awe of me, for taking them to a nudie place, not just a tittie bar.
So the guys get this black chick to dance for them. Now I'm not huge on black women. Black men, oh yeah. I think it's 'cos when something is black and it's standing proud, it really stands out. But when it's delicate folds ... i don't know, little Jap girls don't really do it for me either, though I do like Indian women... perhaps, i'm just some stupid blonde bimbo who doesn't get it.
Anyhow, this sistar is quite cute: slim and slithery, with perky B-cups that point at the ceiling like mine, really tight cropped hair, and very cute flecks across her chocolate face. and she's giving it that oily lap dancer's dance - the usual no touchy one (unless you count sticking $20 bills in her garter as touching). Working the boys real well, getting them going with that boggled look they get when the glimpse a bigger life. I'm shouting a tipsy "go gal, go" above the din of the club while she stuffs her fanny [english fanny - cunt, that is, Emily] within smelling distance of my husband's nose.
She's laughing, having a good time (ie, making a stack of money) - "you want a piece of this?" she asks me. "Well I'm sure there's a few guys round here who'd be willing to show their appreciation if you danced for me". And it like starts snowing dollar bills. And perhaps I've had one to many vodkas, but big fat tears are rolling down my cheeks I'm laughing so much. My new "sistar" is grinning and laughing too (ka-ching! for her). As she dangles her titties in my face and lets me sniff her cute sweaty arse.
So now everyone is really jacked up, but Robert and I have to go - babysitters. So the boss guy - Danny - kids why don't they go back to the hotel, and I could come with them, leaving poor Robert to deal with our kids. These guys are getting well above themselves. So Robert asks the lads to come back to our place. And I give Robert a look - I don't fancy being up all night if the boyz wake up - excessively practical, I know, but who do you think the boyz want? mummmmmy.
We get a limo back to the apartment. The guys give scores for great tittie bars they've been too. Guys always like to rate things out of ten, why is that?
I put the lights on real dim. Light some candles. Pour some neat vodkas. Put some smooth jazz on. Get the place real quietly comfy.
The lads carry on with their pay for sex rating, moving on to hookers. It's like they've forgotten I'm there, or I've attained temporary lad status. We finish the first bottle of vodka, and I get the other one out of the freezer. It tastes real good. I haven't had a major blow out like this since New Year, and it feels good.
The lads are slouched on sofas and I'm spinning round the room, dancing real slow to the fuzzy jazz downbeat notes, waving the vodka bottle poetically in the air.
"I think you're beautiful wife is totally smashed" Danny remarks. The guys all start laughing at me slow dancing alone - and I start laughing. Laughing so much I tumble over the ottoman. "Whoopsie" I announce and stagger back to my feet.
I've got all their boozy attention now, as I slo-mo dance around.
"Who would like me to dance for them, hmmm? ... who fancies a closer look?"
I slowly lift the hem of my skirt up the side of my thigh. up and up and up un till they can see the white elastic string of my panties looped high over my hip.
Kevin totters unsteadily, brandishing a wad of notes, "whoa yeah, sure, I'd love to see some real classy English hot piece of ass!" - he'd hardly spoken all night. I had assumed he was a bit of retard ... oh well, it's always the quiet ones, so they say. He gets on his knees and stuffs the money into my knicker elastic, coping a quick glance at my satin white panties stretched tight over my pussy bone.
And I'm laughing still. It takes me back to the days in London when I was a Escort Girl. I'd forgotten that absolute moment of control you have over a herd of randy guys, when I can just glide through them and do anything I want ... a n y t h i n g.
I push Kevin off his knees, so he's laying on wooden floor. I stand right over his head, and start dancing. Kevin's looking right up my skirt as I sway with the beat. I look at Robert and wink. Robert grins back at me.
Oh yeah, he's cool. He's got his hand down is trousers, and he's stroking himself watching me whore myself. "Go baby" he says quietly, "Go show 'em what a little pig slut you fucking are ..." his eyes glaze into mine as I stand with my legs further apart over Kevin, and slowly bend at the knees.
Kevin "wooooooows" as he watches the white cotton of my thong stretch tighter and tighter over my sex as I lower myself over his face. and there's a collective "ooooooooooh ffffffffffffffffuck" as Kevin's face disappears under my skirt, and I sit on him.
I felt Kevin start to lick the cotton of my panties, and I rock across his face to the rhythm of his tongue. I look round the room as I ride this young ad copy writer's face. He's the only one not now touching himself. I lift up my skirt to my waist, so everyone can see the round fleshy tanned expanse of my arse, with only the thin strip of the thong covering my most tender spots. They can all see Kevin licking me. They can all see me pushing myself on to his tongue.
I lay myself down over his body, pushing my pubic bone into his mouth. I lay my head on his groin, just in front of a large prominent bump in his trousers. I push the flat of my hand over the bump - a muffled "oooooooooooh" leaks out from underneath me. Kevin's hard-on seems bent double in his underpants. I unzip his fly, and delicately extract his throbbing seven inch bendy-banana cock. His fat purple head winks at me. I blow softly across it. I feel a shuddering under me. I touch it with the tip of my finger. Another shudder. I pull back on his cock, to open the hole in its head slightly, stick my tongue out, and just place the tip of it in eye of his cock. He judders, using his powerful thighs to push his cock on to my tongue. I crane my neck slightly, open my mouth wider, and lower my lips around his shaft.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaarrggggggggghhhhhhh" cries come from between my legs as fumbling hands fight with my thong to dig it out of my arse crack and drag it over one of my cheeks. I suck strongly on his cock, waiting for the taste of a tongue on my cunt. Kevin seems to struggle forever - how hard can it be to concentrate with a woman sitting on your face, sucking your cock.
Suddenly I'm gasping as a stiff tongue launches into my vagina. I swish my long blonde hair to one side so everyone can see how deep I'm taking Kevin. But as I do so, I find another kneeling man pointing his rock-hard cock greedily at my face. I don't have to look up. I can recognise my husband's erect penis easily enough - hey, spot the cock, sounds like an idea for game show. With one hand I rub Kevin's bendy cock, while I attach my face to Robert's cock. He strokes himself slowly as I glide my tongue under his foreskin - just the way he likes it.
I feel a fresh pair of hands on my buttocks, and the soft sloshing of a straining tongue in my cunt be replaced by something altogether harder. I take my face off my husband's cock for a moment, and look behind me. Christian, the fat account manager, is kneeling with his trousers round his ankles. he sort of sneers at me, and starts to pump me.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah" I simper at him, "fuck me, yeah fuck me hard ... ooof yeah ... do it!" Boys love all that slut talk.
I return my head to my husband's cock, and let it easily flow through my mouth and down into my throat. Robert groans loudly above me. He puts a big hand round my back of head, and draws me in even deeper. I feel his other hand join mine in jacking off Kevin. Fuck! He knows how sexy I find that - guys jacking each other off. And then I realise Kevin's tongue is still attacking my cunt, and that he must be licking off Christian's cock as it enters me. That sends me right off the scale. I'm cuming on the end of Christian's shafting pole. I'm cuming on the tip of Kevin's tongue. I'm cuming (and gagging) on my husband's cock. I'm cuming sliding a hand up and down Kevin's slimy bendy cock.
As I cum Christian smacks my arse with a stinging "yeah fucking bitch, go for it! grunt like a whore". and Robert grabs a yank of my hair and picks up the chorus in between the hard slaps on my reddening arse. "Yeah pig fuck slut, you nasty little bitch, cum like a fuck whore." He starts ejaculating directly down my throat, making me gag involuntarily, snatching my head back so I could cough up his cum from my lungs. And he slaps me across the face, shouting "fuck you bitch, take it, take all" and he rams his cock back into my mouth and offloads spit after spit of heavy lumpy cum on to my tongue and over my lips and chin.
Christian likes that, likes the slap, and off loads his own spunk deep up my cunt in a set of deep butt slamming cunt pumps.
For a moment everything is still. Christian and my Robert slack themselves back to their seats, exhausted. Then I feel the little tickle of kevin's tongue on my hot pussy. I return my head back down on to his cock, and let it gently slide through my mouth, my teeth lightly grazing it, lubricating his cock with my husband's cum. As I nestle my rear-end back full in his face, and allow Christian's cum to ooze out of me and on to his busy tongue.
We stay like that for what seems a long while, till I feel a hand on my shoulder, lifting me up off Kevin's cock. It was Danny, the boss. "Come on babe."
I let him lead me off Kevin to lay down on the sofa. Kevin follows, kneeling beside my face, one hand slowly jacking himself off, one hand stroking my erect nipple through the material of my bra and blouse - things had got so out of hand so quickly I never removed them. While Danny lifts up the flap of my skirt, lifts my ankles on top his shoulders, and carefully enters me.
I nibble at the tip of Kevin's cock. After a few moments Kevin shoots his load over my face and neck in three heavy thick long lines of cum. I lick him clean. Drained, he goes to sit down, rest, watch and finish his drink, while Danny very very very slowly fucks me stupid.
We get into groove of the music, and it's good. Danny is totally hard for me, totally focused. He lets me reach inside the walls of my cunt and allows me the ride my own slow rhythm. I cum for him. Quietly, with a pillow stuffed in my mouth, it was so intense. He ignores me cuming. He continues to focus on fucking me steadily, each stroke a measured one, each thrust angled to pleasure me. I cum for him again. Loudly, arching my back, gasping for breath. fucking fantastic. Danny still rides me steadily, remorselessly. Then for a moment he pulls out of me and strokes his cock gently.
"You're wet babe" he remarks.
I lift my legs up high to pull up the round of my bottom. "you can put in somewhere dry" I burble coyly.
He considers me, considers my arse, then pushes his cock down with his hand so that it engages in the puckered opening of my shit hole. He starts to push his gleam wet cock into my tight dry arse. Nothing happens. He pushes harder, firmer. Still nothing. He gradually raises the pressure as he leans his weight into fucking my pinky-chocolate anus. It's hurting. It's a good hurt. I can ride it. But it's hurting. I whimper with the pain, but raise my hips higher and open my legs a fraction wider and try and relax.
"Ooooooooof!"
My sphincter gives way and the fat bulb of Danny's cockhead pushes its way slowly but irresistibly up into my rectum. "Oooof fuck yeah" I'm semi-speaking, semi-grunting "Oof god fuck it, fuck my arse!" I hiss.
Danny grins at me stupidly, and rides his cock its full length up my arse and back down again.
I feel sort of soporific myself, like i'm in a half twilight world between the tenderest drowsy sleep and the slowest sneaky cum. Danny places his finger on the top of my pubic bone, and moves it to start softly rubbing my clit. I cum again - a wordless cum, just juddering.
Danny slooooooooooowly pulls out of my arse, and kneels upright between my open legs - rubbing his shitty cock intently now. I feel my arse slowly contract. Danny abruptly stops rubbing his cock. "Aaaaarghooooooof" he grunts and shoots his long stringy cum up over my skirt, my blouse, my tittie, my neck.
[Fuck, emily, I'm exhausted from writing, how come it takes longer to write a about sex as do it! Thanks for working on it. Obviously, this is all to the best of my recollection, plus what Robert has told me]
Have you ever thought ... naaaaa, I'm bored of sex, lets go do something else instead. Nope, me neither.
Well fuck it, here I am again ... there was a time when I'd only see 3am when I was either clubbing, partying or fucking like a little bunny with fully-charged batteries!
Oh well, mustn't grumble :) 'cos - the loo broke! And I had to get Mr God-black-plumber with his come-to-bed eyes and his "yess mam" servitude back round. So I bundled the boyz off to their playgroup. Took a very look bath and fixed up a pretty face. Geared myself into that New Yorker queen bitch attitude. Slipped on my kimono - nothing else, open down the front to my navel, so you could see my full tits from the side - if you were looking.
He arrives with these big, oh shit I'm in trouble eyes when I open the door. And I'm like brusque and rude and sassy - and he's all "yes mam, no mam, three bags full mam", and I'm having, oh too much fun. He's dropping his tools and clattering about and as he sits on the floor by the broke toilet, he doesn't really know where to put his face. And I'm standing real close to him - we're taking millimetres. Every time her turns he has to brush against me, pulling the flap of my kimono open at the thigh. And he's really nervous. I'm sexing up to him and it's freaking him out and it feels great. He's so close he must be able to sniff my pussy.
So I start running my hands through his hair and telling him how fit and strong his is, really coming on to him, and he's nearly shitting himself with "Oh mam, no, excuse me mam, really" but I don't let him stand to get away. And I untie my kimono and open up for him. And he's like totally blown away with my snowy white blonde pubic hair - and I'm like saying "So have you ever had real blonde beaver before, homeboy?" and he's so jittering he can't even form a word. And i put one leg up on the toilet bowel to open myself up. Take the back of his head in my hand and pull his head into my pussy. He starts to eat me. Kind of reluctantly - still shy - but I rub myself up against his broad face and I'm really digging it and still pulling his head into my cunt, and with me being so hot for it, he starts to get it.
I am the star of my very own personal porn movie and it's fucking great!
Suddenly his beefy hands are gripping hold of my arse cheeks, tight; and he's pulling my pussy against his face as he laps me properly. And I'm mad for it now and I step away from him - his face all shiny with his spit and my wetness - slip the kimono off - let him take a good long look at me. And then turn, facing the wall, placing the flats of my hands firmly against the wall, arms locked - sturdy - arse out, waiting. "Fuck me" I snap.
He stands, gets his pants down, and takes out his modest 5" cock and shoves it up my cunt. He starts fucking me, slowly. I tell him to do it harder. He does it harder. I tell him to do it harder. He does it even harder. I scream to him to fuck me harder. He pile drives his cock like a jackhammer. He feel his fat cockhead leave me and bang back into me. His hands snake round my front and grip my small pert titties hard. I look down and watch my milk express from my nipples and dribble over his fat black fingers. I cum. Loud. My scream echoing off the tiled bathroom walls.
I step away, letting his cock slip out of my worn pussy. I pick up my kimono, slip it on. "Finish the job" I snap, "and i might finish you". He's really pissed with me, but he's so fucking submissive, he stashes cock in his pants and I leave him to fix the toilet properly.
"Finished mam" a pathetic voice announces. I had thought I'd suck him off. I had thought I'd get really dirty and demand to see the toilet in real use - shit in it and then get him to clean it up. But the guy's a total dishcloth. There's no spark there. He didn't try and fuck my arse. Not even a finger. He didn't try and scratch me or smack me up a bit. He never got as excited and out of control as I was. So fuck him. I'd had my itch scratched.
"You can go" and dismissed him with a regal wave. He looked real bitter and angry with me, cheated as he was. If he'd called me a white bitch whore and raped me, I would gained a bit of respect for him. But he didn't. He just left. What a wanker. Just goes to show - guys can look great and then just fail to deliver. Still, the toilet works.
Well who haven't you offered your milk dripping nipples to, darling! Me? Your Robert? My Laura? My Hubby? Must be quite a novelty to find someone who finds your titties resistible! A bit of bosom nestling might just be the tonic I need. Today's been as boring as fuck. Either that, or some gin.
Woo! Em, you get all the best catches ... i'm surprised your lactation fancier hasn't emailed me, what with me having to get them out every couple of hours.
Oh, and you're right, blogging at 3am is not clever, I'm knackered!
Hey Kate! How funny is that. I'm just writing a piece here before school starts and you're latest bit pops up, and counting back on my fingers that it's like 3am in Manhattan! For heaven sakes girl, get back to bed. You know you'll be shit in your morning. Strangely, I'm writing about a hopeless bloke and milky tits too - synchronicity sis - but from the other end, some chap wrote to me from India, perfectly polite. His use of English is of course tainted with Indian forms of speech, but that only makes it slightly charming. I've snipped his email down to what he was basically asking.
a) I want to have much information and knowledge about incest.
b) I also have a problem that I like to have sex older women just like you. I think that you are the right person who can solve my problem.
c) You can help me in order to satisfy my self. I like to have relation ship with you.
d) I shall be very thankful to you if you provide some true sex and incest stories of yours please send yours stories with your pics.
e) I also love pregnant women. You can help me if you have pics of your milky and lactating boobs
Now, boys and girls, can we spot a slight flaw in this relationship he'd like me to have with him, hmmmmmmm? Leaving aside some of the more picky-pants answers, like, hey - I already provide an entire website full of passable stories involving incest for free, if I had more, I'd give you more; or excuse me, but why should I expose myself to a complete stranger. There is the whole, he gets a big a, b, c, d, e, deal out of this, and I get .... er, absolutely bloody well nothing whatsoever! Phew, well, it's a tempting offer, but I think I might just pass on this one.
People, I am VERY happy to correspond privately, I really am. One of the main reasons I do all of this shit is to find kindred spirits. And I don't want to sound mercenary, but a relationship (ohhh, look at me, I'm talking about relationships on a porn site, that must be some sort of no no! Ha!) has to be give and take.
You have to make yourself attractive to me too - share your stories or your fantasies or your experiences, offer to proof-read for me, offer to "personalise" family photos, offer to draw kinky cartoons of me (that would be neat), offer to keep a kinky sex diary (real or fantasy), offer to do some coding for me to upgrade the functionality of my site - whatever you can do (you must have some talent!). I can only spread myself so thin, and I am not going to give give give, without receiving (and preferably, without receiving something I can share with all of you).
Oh, I seem to have slipped casually into semi-rant mode. Oh yes, and don't ask to be my best buddy when my period's due. You'll never get anywhere.
PS: Kate, letting your tits go a bit shaggy after breastfeeding hasn't been a problem for my sex life! And besides, you were always very perky!
Well my boyz have woken me up in the small hours again, sucked the mummy juice out of my poor straining tits - OK, actually I quite like breastfeeding, except I'm worried it will drag my tits down to my knees, though I guess that's what cosmetic sugary is for; but I have to say, expressing my milk into a bottle when my nipples start to weep is not one of life's major recreational sports.
Anyhow, the point of this - aside from tiring myself so I can get back to bed - is the old tasty workman story. This guy, arms like tree trucks, shoulders so broad he nearly had to turn sideways to walk through the door, bum as tight as a ballet dancer's, black skin so shiny you could nearly see your own face it. Deferential "yes mam" with a slight down cast of the eyes.
Call me an old tart, but I was all a flutter. I fancy breaking the toilet again just to get him round. Anyhow, I'm trying to work out if he's just being pleasant, or whether he fancies a piece of beautifully spoken blonde English chick. Then this programme on the telly has this baby crying, and I'm trying to look cool and sexy and desirable with this god-plumber when he just stares, I mean STARES at my chest. And he goes beetroot and coughs and stumbles over "er ... mam" and kind of nods at my chest. And I look down and there are two big fat dark wet circles on my white tee-shirt where my titties have been weeping. And I'm like going "fuck, how cool is that then".
I excuse myself and pull my tee-shirt off over my head (kinda making sure he could see me do it as I walked away, perhaps getting a quick side sight of titty, perhaps not, dunno). But when I return, still pulling a fresh white top down over my belly, wondering whether this was just the ice-breaker we needed to get physical. He's so totally uncool and the whole thing. He's got his head down the toilet - pretty literally - and he wont look at me now. When I think of all the guys out there how love lactating women, and his guy had me on a plate, and then he totally blew it. Well, what can i say - well I know what you'd say, Em, that it just proves there is no god. Well, you know I don't think that, but sometimes ...
I was reading that one-in-twenty schoolgirls in Tokyo were involved in the sex business. That's 5%. Not all are doing straightforward prostitution or escort work, but that's a huge number. I was looking at my class and wondering which ones were working. Actually, that's pretty obvious, "Randy" Mandy Reynolds is a girl who believes it pays to advertise - and she advertises blatantly. But still, there are just over 1,000 pupils at my school, a little over half of them are girls. If suburban north of England is anything like Japan, that would make between 25 and 30 of my girls at my school involved in the sex business in some way. And I'd be hard put spot who was active. If Laura kept her business a secret from me, I doubt I'd ever guess.
Then I read that one of the main things they drew Battle of Britain pilots together was drinking and pornography (the things you learn in a poetry book). And I wondered whether the snippets were linked - if the mobile groins of WW2 fighter pilots and the receptive pussies of Japanese schoolgirls weren't linked by some sexual thread that binds our erotic lives through the ages.
Then the bell went I realised I'd been daydreaming again, like I did when I used to be a schoolgirl. My class were giving me that "Miss has gone mad again" look. And I waive them off with a shout of "and do your homework" and a sly smile.
Got no time. Class in 10 mins. Rushed to the loo. Bingo! My dirty little Rita's there. Knickers down, fingers stroking pussies, weeing over fingers, weeing down legs, weeing in mouths, dirty session with dirty little Rita. Still realling - or is that reeling - whatever - brain is mush, pussy is fire, heart is singing - yeap!!!!
Well I hope you're all happy, everyone's taking the piss out of me now. Oh well, can't stop and dwell on what a noodle I am (well it's not exactly news to me anyhow). It's the start of the summer term. As the good weather starts (now please) everyone gets a bit more flirty, everyone dresses more skimpily ... it's a good time to be a teacher ogling tight fit young lads and curvy sexy lasses.
Saw my little sweetie Rita yesterday. First time in over two weeks. She was all over me. So adoring. So tender. So sweet. We couldn't find anywhere private enough to do anything more than a big cuddle and tight wet hungry kisses. Nothing like the power of a tomboyish twelve-year-old's crush to put a spring in my step. To be the object of such emotion makes me quite giddy. As does adolescent hands firmly squeezing Miss' titties. Perhaps today.
Well for fuck sake Kate! You might of said. My audience think I'm a Erotic Goddess. Not some airhead with the attention span of a ... you know ... er ... what was I talking about? How I am going to tell Cheryl, Rose and Lindsey? Oh well, if you do go to that munch, tell 'em there's this dippy English bitch who needs some serious diary training.
Oh, Em darling, how your clubbing night brought back fond memories of my own totally grotty nights blah blah years ago. Do you remember me disappearing for 36 hours. Popping a few uppers and then dancing the night away in some Northern Soul club in Manchester or Liverpool or Huddersfield. God, how to have a good time in Huddersfield! Sounds like the title of down-at-heal play. Feels a million miles away from Manhattan. Not than you can't get ripped off and spate out of clubs here, with nothing to show for the night except for a stain on your dress and a phone number you're never ever going to ring.
Hey, sounds like you had a pile of fun in your masturbate-a-thon! - only thing is, dear sweet very forgetful sister - it's on 20th May, not April! ha hahaha ahhaahaha ahhaaha haha ahahaha. So you'll have to get the girls round again. you wally! Honestly, what are you like?!
Actually that whole masturbate-a-thon thing has got me thinking about becoming more active again - post Sam being born. Been thinking of going to a munch [Munches are meetings, usually in public places, where you can meet BDSM folk to talk about stuff, without toys and without falling into role - Emily] to meet up with some fresh faces and pick up a few loose threads. If I'm organised enough - yeah, right - I'll sort something out before you come in case you fancied doing something a bit BDSM-ish while you're over here. Of course, we can always go to some of the clubs, but if you fancied something a little more intimate, somewhere you could take Laura or maybe even Jack - well, let me know.
Well my big news is - dumb deeee de - Owen has become potty trained. I don't know how it works, how he can reach inside himself and realise - oh look, I can decide not to pee and not to poo - but he has. Hoo-fucking-ray, I mean, sure, i I like sexy scat games, but you can have too much of a good thing. And changing nappies six or eight times a day (with two boys) is tooooooooooooo much. Of course, now he can control not peeing and pooing, he'll have to learn when his mummy doesn't want him to control it :)
Why oh why do we do it. I was having a perfectly lovely evening with Cheryl, Rose, Lindsey and Laura...
On Friday Cheryl and Rose had come round for the charity wank Kate had found - the masturbate-a-thon. You have no idea how many friends pissed themselves laughing when I presented them with the sponsorship form! I'd asked Lindsey too, but she was working.
I'd darkened the living room, got some candles going (no, I mean burning them, silly, not the other sort of "going") and some joysticks burning - some relaxing downbeat music and a totally disgusting German DVD on the telly with the sound down. I'd figured that we'd all feel a bit self-conscious, masturbating in front of our friends. Which I know sounds strange, because we've all be intimate with each other - but masturbating - and the rule was you could only masturbate - is kind of a more personal thing.
I asked Laura if she would be a darling and fetch and carry for us. She wasn't joining us because she was going out see Bridget Jones. So the three of us got comfy on the sofas and armchair, and Laura came round with a tray of toys and lubes, rolled a couple of joints (I thought we'd last longer if a bit stoned) and a few plates of munchies - I was reckoning on this taking some time.
What a fantastic four hours!
I don't know if you've ever tried to wank as long as possible without bringing yourself off. Bet you have :) Well doing it with others is intense. We ended up in this sort of just sub-orgasmic trance - the point at which you're about to cum, but just not yet. Like it's a moment where you are soooooo relaxed you're about to fall asleep, but soooooo charged you're about to explode. Wow! Fucking wow! My pussy burned for the rest of the day.
I've obviously been taking masturbation for granted all these years - something pleasant to feel the time when your in the bath, or on the loo, or at night on a plane or bus or taxi or train. Whatever.
My top tip, however, is only having one joint if you've got a giggly friend like Rose. Still, laughing and cuming at the same time is beautifully weird.
Anyhow, thanks Kate, it was a fab idea.
Because Lindsey whined that she couldn't come out to play, we agreed to go for drink yesterday. We met at a bar in town. Got bevvied up on a quick blitz of treble shorts. Then looking and feeling like a million pounds, we all decided that it would be a great idea to go clubbing. Well, Laura looked a bit doubtful ... perhaps she could see the direction things were taking, but the rest of us had tossed off the mental zimmer frames of middle-age, refused to take our medication, and were Mad for it. Double sweet ... oh yes, we were women on the rampage, and guess who was leader of the pack.
Actually, things fell apart pretty quickly.
Laura quickly deserted us, rather than be associated with a bunch of "older" women behaving badly. She went off the shake her botty in the middle of cattle market ... sorry, dance floor ... with half of England's teenage DNA trying to get inside her knickers.
Rose got romanced off with a smoothie with princely Indian good looks and wearing enough gold to cause joint problems in later life. He obviously fancied a redhead. One minute they were beside us - being all charming and flirty - the next they were gone! [Rose rang this morning - too too early Rose darling - to fill in the scorecard: very swanky car, very expensive apartment overlooking the river, excellent manners, and, it turns out, very well equipped: blindfolds, handcuffs, ropes, duck tape, nipple clamps, needles, weights, rack, hanging hooks - she's going again tonight. I said I might come too, once my head stops hurting.]
Cheryl became visibly more Scottish when this wee Edinburgh lad took her fancy. They soon started exchanging tonsils, and though they remained in sight for quiet a while, they didn't seem to see anyone else.
Which last left me and Lindsey dancing round the old handbag. Actually, it was like dancing with three: her, me, and her DD titties that grooved to a whole tune of their own.
I have to admit, I'm not sure at what point it seemed like a good idea to pull my top up and flash my jittering A-cups to the throbbing gloom of the night club. If I thought no one would notice, the DJ spotlighting me put paid to that.
Instinctively I fled to the Women's toilet and made myself decent.
At the bar this cute guy tried to pick me up. I was going to play hard to get, till he offered to take me up to the decks. I thought he was a DJ. Which seemed cool, in a juvenile way. So I let him take up, but instead of the decks he took me behind the speakers, and indicated that a hot fucking slag bitch like me should be honoured to kneel and suck him off.
Fight, Flight or Fuck. Tough call. I felt a bit tricked, but a blowjob seemed the least bothersome. So I set too - and using my least sophisticated, roughest, most drunken technique - with teeth - brought him off in my mouth pretty quickly. Spent, he lost interest in me. I retreated, found Lindsey and her titties, and fled into taxi before I got into more unsavoury trouble.
On the whole, I'd rather of been Rose.
Pass the aspirin.
Went out. Got drunk. Did a strip on the table. Sucked a guy off. Can't remember his name. Have to lay down now. Don't feel very well.
What was I thinking. It wasn't three fat Japs that pissed over me. It was the three fat Germans. They were much less fun, much more serious. Mind, we talking the late 80s here. Watersports was so ultra extreme in those days. I really fancied myself as being right out there - on the very tip of the edge! Still, bit scary I got those confused. Must be starting to go dotty. Perhaps my boyz are sucking me brains out of my tits, not just litres of milk!
When I used to work, I once walked into a hotel room to find three chubby Japanese Buddha business men smiling back at me and my partner Lucy. They were like balloons - short but wide. They couldn't speak a whole lot of English - and we couldn't speak a jot of Japanese. But they seemed very pleased with us - me cos I'm little and slight like a good Japanese girl - but with white long blonde hair, and Lucy 'cos of each of her titties are as big a head. Lucy and I did our lezzie floor show, to get things heated up a bit. And that was fine. But when we got the baby oil out, things really whizzed.
They were like naughty fat slippery boys. We rolly-pollied around and around having a lot of fun. They were really uninhibited in front of each. They'd paid for pissing on me. I have never been so respectfully pissed on! They were so sweet. The best fat sex i've ever had!
Actually, honey, you gave me £100 for sitting in the bar fending off amorous business men homing in on an attractive lone female, despite having my glasses on and my head very firmly stuck in "Solutions of Past Examination Papers in Mathematics (GCE A Level)" - though it did make for some usual opening conversational gambits. I particularly liked "What are you reading .... oh .... [colour completely drains from face] ... how fascinating ... [body goes into retreat mode] ... sorry to bother you". YES! A small victory for not been molested. Not bad for an evening either.
I just fucked the FATTEST bloke I've ever been with. He must of been 25 stone or more. And it was good! Which just goes to show something. I mean, I always try and fix my face steady when I'm on an outcall. You never know what ugly warty little toad with hair growing out of his nose you're going to meet when you open that hotel door. You just have to steel yourself: it's £300 for an hour ... and Mum always says it's a bit like a social service for frustrated blokes. So, I always fix my sunny smile and big hello and hope that the punter isn't too repulsive.
I don't know if this bloke could see it in my eyes, cos the first thing he said was "you must think I'm really fat?". Well, yeah, obviously, it is sorta the first thing you notice. But I just brushed it aside with a "oh no darling" as I took the money, unzipped him, and stuck my lips on his small cock.
I don't usually rush into it like that - most blokes need relaxing, and actually, I need relaxing too (like it isn't nervy meeting a strange man for sex). But I figured, if I could get him to stop thinking about his self-image, I could stop him from constantly reminding me of it too (yuck). I figured I could close my eyes and do the business. And it worked! But the funny thing is, he was great.
Once his big banana hard-on was going, he was so gentle with me, he was almost girlish. Never crushed me once. Never bashed my brains out with a violent hump. We fucked dead dead slowly for 30 minutes (I did have a fear that his heart would give out if he tried anything too vigorous). And then he came what seemed half a pint of cum in my mouth and over my face, which I snowballed with him. What a good screw.
Which does goes to show, I guess, that if you recognise your weaknesses and work round them - like this fattie was never going to be a ramrod iron pumping fuck machine - you can still do good sex. And he got his rocks off. I had a much better fuck than I expected and £200 to go clubbing with my mates (gave mum £100 for sitting at the bar waiting for me) and learnt something about life! No bad for an evening.
A correspondent wrote [start]:
"Here's an idea for you 'Bog Log'. You are lying back in an armchair being gently fucked with a dildo by my little Laura. You are languidly watching Jack fuck his cousin on the floor near your feet. His lovely cock is sliding in and out of the plump hairless cunt of the skinny child, and you can see their juices shining on his cock. He starts to speed up his thrusts and her legs lift and wrap around his waist in response. As their climax approaches he is veritably slamming into her as she bucks up to meet him and they come with a chorus of yes yes's. You cum.
"And Laura says 'Oh Mum that's the second time you've come'. You reply 'It must be the delightful sight of Jack and (name) his cousin fucking'. On hearing this Laura at once entreats you to 'let Jack fuck you'. Jack hearing this jumps up from off his cousin and begs 'Please lets Mum' . Jack is immediately hard and throws himself on you. You are so randy at the suggestion that your thighs automatically open. Jack slides into the delighted cunt that had produced him 10 years before and commences to fuck with vigour.
"He cannot come so quickly after having (name) his cousin, so you whisper in his ear 'If you cannot come darling, piss'. This Jack does and floods your delighted cunt sending you over the edge to another great orgasm. As you lie in your post orgasmic reverie, you contemplate the crossing of another taboo threshold and wonder what's next.
It's a bit rough but you may be able to do something with it. It's a lift from the first porn book I read. Found in my Parents wardrobe." [end]
It was a brave attempt. But as usual, context in a story is everything. Though funnily something fairly similar did once happen (Oh God, my life is become is cheap porn story ... oh well, there are worse fates) but I haven't had the time to write it up (sex takes so little time, writing about it so long!). BTW, I don't remember magazines having stories like that in my day. Mind you, hardcore then meant seeing a picture with a [British] fanny in it.
Em, try doing your A Levels after just changing a really heavy nappy [diaper] to give your room the full bouquet! Owen was waving my new butt plug round the bedroom this morning shouting "mummy's poo poo" with great excitement- you just can't any secrets with kids! I'll have to see if he likes having his prostate stimulated as much as he likes sword fighting with my butt plug -- love Kate xx
Being too culturally specific can get you into trouble, so to explain: "A Levels" are (a) the hardest British High School exams, pre-university and (b) anal services offered by British escort girls. Sometimes I get the feeling I know too much! I've actually been working on my own A Levels a lot these past two weeks "holiday". Preparing lesson materials for me to teach A Level Maths next year (which I'm very excited about), and servicing the needs of my poor hubby (which I'm very excited about, too). His night-shift working pays havoc with his love life, and for some reason he's suddenly realised that my big curvy girlie botty is functionally identical to any guy's tight arse, so he's been VERY attentive to me. Which is nice.
Oh, and the exam lower than A Level used to be called O Level. Now surely I don't have to explain what that would translate as in British escorting circles?
Hey Kate, that is soooooo very cool. I'm thinking of not even getting out of bed - after all, it's for a good case :)
Pity it's the school holidays, I'd loved to have shown the masturbate-a-thon flyer round a select few in the staffroom. I'm sure team entries are more fun. I noticed on the toys in babeland website that they hold masturbation workshops - I think I'm struggling with that concept. Anyhow, I'm looking forward to doing a bit of shopping in Manhattan- only six weeks away now, perhaps we could get some toys if we're passing.
You remember when Robert went to that club were guys strip off (but keep their socks and shoes on ... guys got no style with nudity) and wonder round wanking each other off. New York Jacks or something. Anyhow, I thought it was a great idea, but of course, they don't let babes in. And I was wishing that there was something for us. Then I went to my favourite toyshop, toys in babeland (a really nice place run by women, no sleaze, very "sex positive" as they like to say - and they really know their bits). My old vibrator is, well, knackered ... and noisy and eats batteries. So the shop recommended a wahl 7-in-1 vibrator - i need a whisper quiet one because of the boys. Its got two speeds - high and higher, seven attachments. Great! also picked up a nice fat, long silicone butt plug.
Anyhow, what got me was that they're organised a "Masturbate-a-thon": you get sponsored to masturbate for charity. WHAT A FUCKING BRILLIANT IDEA! When I think of all those wasted years collecting nonsense for Blue Peter's Xmas appeal [no, Blue Peter is a kid's show on the BBC, from the days when Blue didn't have other popular meanings - Emily].
Anyhow, I've signed up seven mates to sponsor me already, and Nicola is joining me! You get sponsored by the minute! God! Heaven! Once I've parked the boys into daycare, I'm tickling the cherry for charity. It's a pity you're not coming over till half-term, we could have all done it together. Perhaps you and Laura could sign up and try doing it in England if you fancy. But thinking about it, did you ever need an excuse to wank, Em? -- love Kate xx
I can't believe how men think money compensates for a lack of soap. How'd think I'm going to agree to A-levels if I can smell stale cheese [if you're not a poof, it's the boy equivalent of fish smells] without bending over? Also, I can't believe the guys who call you up, make an appointment, and then chicken out. I can't tell you how many evenings I've lost money with time wasters.
I can't believe the money men are willing to part with just for sex. Yesterday a bloke gave Laura £750 in a roll of £20 notes just to spend three hours having sex. Add to that the cost of the viagra he had to take to last that long, and the room-service meal for two he ordered. Plus, of course, the cost of being a middle-aged bloke humiliating yourself in front of a teenage girl by saying some of the most pathetic lines in History. My favourites are:
I have a daughter about your age | oh really, and do you fuck her and give her the £750?
Why do you do this | well I like to meet fascinating new people
How did you start | well I just opening my legs and invited people in
Do you do it with other girls | well if you'd like to bring your daughter next time I'll show you...
Do your parents know | who do you think that chaperone was?
Of course, the main trouble with the three hour appointments is the chaperoning (well you don't think we'd let our fifteen-year-old girl go meet strange men in hotel rooms without a chaperone). It is so boring! Usually Anthony does it (for a cut), or one of Laura's boy friends (for a taste of the goodies). Yesterday, after three hours in the hotel bar Anthony was so tipsy they had to take a cab home, and had found a new friend in one of the barmen, so had a date for later.
And £750 what do you get? Laura to give a couple of blowjobs (un-covered) and fuck you a couple of times (covered), and some 69ing, a couple of facials, and to watch Laura masturbate herself with a vibrator, and this guy liked having a dildo up his arse while she sucked him off. Plus the ability to boast about your exploits in a Field Report on www.punternet.com. Which is either fantastic value-for-money or just a healthy sex session.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not knocking it. How Laura treats her body is her business. And I could never afford to wear lingerie form Harvey Nicks on a teacher's pay without an indulgent prostitute daughter and men lining up to throw money at her. But it is just fucking. How could be so expensive! (And yes of course, I have thought of providing some more mature services myself, but Laura says I could only ask £120 an hour or so, and being cheaper than your daughter is a bit too humiliating.) And besides, doing it for free (with someone you want to) is actually a lot more fun. Still, £750!
I thought I might do this for while, give myself some creative outlet in between major upgrades to Emily's Sexy Family - which can be so daunting. Thing is, though ... what if it's boring? Storyteller and diarist aren't necessarily the same skills. And while I'm lucky enough to lead a rich and pretty groovy life for a woman staring forty in the face (and definitely staring back with a "yeah, so " attitude), can I keep it up ... or should that be can I keep it moist and sticky. Well, since I've had a double shock to the system that pushes my life into a semi-soap opera world, now would seem to be the idea point to start musing ...
True Life Confessions - Emily - (chat)
Rant Alert! I get an email from my mate to tell me that she's NOT a space-cadet LA girlie like she said, but actually has that little bit extra: namely, a penis. And I'm thinking, what the fuck is going on?
So for the record, I really didn't want to know that my girlie chum has successfully cuckolded me into believing she was a woman. Now she claims that "inside" she is a woman and has thought of having a sex change - and I believe her. I've chatted to her for quite a while now, and she is as girlie a girl as you could expect to meet. In many ways she's more girlie than me (if being dizzy, over excitable and quick to tears are quintessential girlie qualities? Discuss).
So why oh why oh fucking why is everybody so quick to confess their indiscretions? Is it such a burden to keep silent. Are stiff-upper lips so out of fashion?
Well, boys and girls, Emily's top tip du jour is this: If you have a secret, keep it to your bloody self! Don't hurt the people you love by confessing. It won't make you feel better. It will make them feel worse. It won't really change anything in the past. And it will probably make things more difficult in the future. So just don't do it.
So if you regret not being truthful to someone about your gender, or the rent boy you paid for while you were lonely on that business trip, or the stash of porn you keep on your PC, or whatever ... just deal with it yourself. Don't lay your guilt on the victim of your deceit.
I may be a bitingly intelligent and amusing cyber-chum, but I really can't understand why my chum told me she isn't a woman, but a woman trapped inside a man's body with lesbian feelings - the difference being?
End rantette.
Silly Names - Emily - (chat)
Dick, Dickie, Cocker, Wilcox, Elcock, Nobb, Knobel, Titsworth and Topless. Don't parents realise what a pain the arse it is to be a school child with a "rude" surname. Don't they realise I have to look at them with a straight face during Parent's evenings and talk intelligently about their little darlings, when really all I want to do is ask Mr and Mrs John how they thought calling their son Thomas would help him not be bullied - Thomas John / John Thomas, geddit? (Well they obviously didn't - or perhaps they did, but they just hate children?). Or how about Cathleen Dick or Christine Bott (think of the initials - C Dick and C Bott). Teachers are only human, we need to smirk too you know.
Doing the decent thing - Emily - (FM anal)
I've been quite enjoying my holiday. I've been out with Laura a lot, shopping and watching her in the amateur dramatics dance stuff she's got caught up (from someone she met at her kick-boxing classes, naturally enough). She is really growing up to be lovely girl with a sunny smiley personality that lights up a room when she enters it (and not just because she's a cute babe). And I take full credit. I feel so strongly attracted to her, but have decided to do that (boring) responsible adult thing and not complicate her life with my needs now she's into that full teenage who-am-I, what-do-I-want-out-of-life, what-is-my-sexual-orientation questioning thing. Which is a surprisingly difficult piece of self-denial. But there you go. You can't have everything in life - so you have to focus on the best stuff.
Had sex with Anthony last night, which was nice. Anal of course, I don't think he can get his rocks off any other way these days. But he lavished the whole evening on me - romanced me in a way he hasn't done for a long time, and it was nice - though we're very comfortable we not normally so tender. t's good to be reminded why you get on with someone every once in a while.
Homework - Emily - (chat)
Been chatting to a chap called Roger about doing a bit of collaborative writing. We settled on me setting some "homework". So here's my test paper. I look forward to getting my red pen out (anyone else fancy a go, mail me (remove the NOSPAM).
Please pick one of the following assignments and write at least 1000 words.
1. Teaching Son to be Dirty
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My bi-sexual husband, Anthony, teaches my eleven year old son to be dirty, using me as the object of the lesson, in a public place, using a combination of demonstration and practicals. Write in the third-person. Include at least three perversions. Points will be given for the extremity of the perversity, the realistic-ness of the setting, the intimacy of the descriptions, and for originality.
2. Cleaning Auntie Kate
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My sister Kate and my fourteen year old daughter Laura bath together at home. Describe how a tender bath descends into a kinky enema session, with whatever perversion seem natural on the way. Write from either Kate or Laura's view point. Points will be give for perversity, clarity of the viewpoint taken, intimacy of the descriptions, and originality.
3. Sunbathing at a Family BBQ
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Me and my best friend Rose sunbath as our kids play and our men cook. When we think no one is watching, we get down to some extreme lezzie fun together. From the point of view of one of our families, describe peeping on us, and how the situation develops. Points will be give for perversity, realism of storyline, intimacy of descriptions and originality.