Back from school and getting on with the chores, I thought you'd like to know that my red panties have reappeared in the laundry basket. I wonder what will attract my son's erotic attention next?
My son was masturbating, watching one of his father's gay porn videos. I couldn't see his cock - which every month grows more and more manly - as it was covered by some red material. He stopped for a second to shift slightly, and I recognised it as a pair of my red frilly see-through sting panties. I hadn't noticed they were gone, but then Jack often takes some of my things to try on.
And so what is a mum to do? Make a scene? Embarrass my boy. Forbid him form exploring his obvious sexual interest in women's clothes? Well, now that wouldn't be very me, would it? But it is a worry. If my son is going to grow up to be a transvestite, or homosexual, or transexual - well that's fine on a personal level, I certainly have no problem with that. But as mum I do worry that my kids will have a happy life. And life - simple ordinary uncomplicated "normal" life - is tough enough, without picking some of the excotic life options.
Oh well, to be a mum IS to worry. It's just part of the deal. I'll just have to wait until my panties reappear in the laundry basket, with something of my son added to the wash.
I was trying to eat my tea and watch something about the gas chambers on the History channel. But my rutting daughter and randy brother-in-law where making it impossible, as Laura, on all fours, head on the carpet, arse in the air, was being arsefucked my her uncle straddling her high buttocks. I have no idea how they got from "Of Mice and Men" - which Robert had come round to help Laura with - to anal sex on the livingroom floor. (I'd been in kitchen just fixing myself some cheese on toast, as you do.) But it was bloody distracting.
I turned the TV sound off - what was the point trying to listen above Mr and Miss Grunty over in the corner. So I decided, if you can't beat them, make them cum quickly. I know what you're thinking, "what! what! why didn't you get your kit off and join in for a threesome, blah blah". Yes, well, normally. Fine. But I was tired and hungry and I had marking to do later, and it was my period, and I just wanted a little sit down and a bit to eat and watch man's inhumanity to man on the telly. Sexual gymnastics have there place. OK, they have many places. But this wasn't really one of them for me.
So I went over to my whoring daughter, knelt beside her, reached under her tummy, and pushed my hand along till it met the moist folds of Laura's small pussy. Laura expelled simpering noises, mixed with "ohhhhhhhhhhh mummmmmmmmmmmmmy" and the grunt grunt grunt of Robert pumping her arse. I reached over with my other hand, and formed an O round the shaft of Robert's hard cock, giving him extra friction as he fucked down through my hand into Laura's bottom. He liked that too.
I reckoned they wouldn't last two minutes with my skilled attention.
Ten minutes later, my arms are getting tired. Laura had cum several times, but like the proverbial energizer bunny, they keep on going. Suddenly Robert pop's his cock from out of Laura's presumably score arse, grabs the sides of my face with both big hands, and thrusts his unwashed cock firmly and steadily straight into my mouth. Forcing it all the way down to my slightly surprised throat.
He fucks my mouth, squashing my cheeks with the force of his hands, for a minute before thumping my face with his groin as his ejaculates down my throat. I choke, cough, splutter and force my head back off his cock involuntarily, crumpingly to the floor in a coughing fit as a wad of cum must of gone the wrong way. I cough up the cum on the carpet, and sit up, flushed.
Robert is already zipping up himself and Laura is wriggling her knickers up. "You all right?" Robert asks, as Laura has me some tissues. I nod.
They go up stairs to work on the computer, and I hands and knees it over to my chair, to resume my peaceful break. But my tea's gone cold and I realise my pussy is wet. So I open my jeans, turn the TV to the video. One of Anthony's tapes is already in. Good, I find watching gay porn quite exciting (and I don't have to get out of the chair).
One be-muscled buffed-up stud starts arsefucking another gym-obessed macho-boy. I watch, trying to diddle my clit just enough to hover just before orgasm. I slide my other hand down the back of my jeans and round my bum, to just place a stretched finger on the entrance to my own arsehole. It's uncomfortable, but I do care. It makes me cum. And for a long minute, a lay slumped in my chair, deeply at peace.
I've pretty much had my head down for a while now. OK, so you may have noticed. But it's hard to keep on top of things when you're got a long distance lover. I had no idea how much telephone masturbation would be involved, or how quite stimulating it can be when you are emotionally involved with someone. I did it a few times with guys I'd never met, and it was just too unreal and too ... er ... short.
It's much nicer doing it with someone where you don't have to do it - you can catch up on the days doings, chit chat about stuff you saw on telly and things people said, and, if the mood turns naughty, get into some knicker wetting spicy fantasy talk ... or not. It doesn't matter.
Tess and I have been talking about this silly teacher mum's been banging on about as well. Tess can't believe someone would be so obvious, so clumsy, it was like she wanted to get caught. Of course, Tess and I only have a pupil - teacher relationship by accident. I had no idea Tess was a teacher when I met her in a lezzie night-club, and Tess (claims) she had no idea I was that young.
Anyhow, we going pretty strong together. We had our first major shouting match, and got over it. Tess was being a real needy jerk. Since the new year she's been hasseling me to come and live with her after my GCSEs are done this summer. Do my A Levels at a college near her, and let her nurse me totally (that being her submissive persona). So I eventually freaked. I mean, I'm only 15 and not about to start settling down and making nice housey-housey, and give up all my friends here or even leave home. Just because Tess is all 30 and wants to nest, doesn't mean she can project that shit on to me.
I have to say, I do regret picking up a lad from the pub we were arguing in, and taking him back to Tess's place. Shagging in anger is just a bit cheap. I thought I'd enjoy the humiliation Tess felt - being rejected for a boy. Having that boy in her house. Making that boy assume Tess was my mum. And I nearly did. But since I didn't really do it quite right, it didn't really turn me on. Next time .if . I'll be a bit more picky next time, pick someone I like.
Talking to Rita about that teacher who's in court for fucking three boys at her school, yesterday's post needs to add:
8. Only teachers who are respected and admired are thought to be attractive by the kids. (ahhh, isn't that nice. must mean I'm respected or admired or both!)
9. Girls are more mature, and are much more attracted to mature men and women. So you can have a more mature relationship.
10. Boys are stupid. (Rita's 13, so she should know).
And then, with great responsibility, we had soft cuddly girlie mutual masturbation, with Rita finishing me off with oral sex, in the back of my car - thank goodness for 4.20pm sunsets at this time of year, and for the warm comfort of leather seats.
The papers have been dominanted by stories of a silly teacher who's been caught shaggng three of her pupils: a boy (15), his brother (14) and his friend (15). So here are my top tips for not getting yourself splashed over the tabloid front pages in full shock - horro - scandal mode.
1. Don't shag boys. Sorry lads. But you're boasters and blabber-mouths and just can't be trusted. I guess it must come as such a surprise to you that anyone fancies you, that you just can't help blurting it out. Well, sorry, but you're are your own worst enemy.
2. If you are going to shag a boy, don't also shag his best friend AND younger brother - especially pretty much at the same time. It sort of undermines any sense of a special relationship. We all know boys are sluts, but some have their pride too.
3. Don't do anything like this if you have to get pissed first. Being drunk and good judgement don't classically go together.
4. Don't do anything if they are drunk - they're bound to regret it in the morning and feel abused.
5. Don't start mucking about within the first six weeks of arriving at a new school.
6. Don't go to your pupils parties. Or at least, don't stay long. Otherwise you'll look like you're trying way too hard.
7. Don't risk it all for a quickie fuck, it's so not worth it.
So all you teachers out there. Take care and be discriminating. Lots of teachers have lots of sex with lots of pupils. They're just a bit carefull about it!
Oh, and takes to those of you who emailled to asked if I was OK. I'm fine. A bit busy and a bit under the weather. But fine. It does surprise me that many of you tune in so regularly and notice the slightest absence. But it's a nice surprise. Oh, and yes, I'm behind replying to emails too. Sorry about that.
Well I've been running at periscope depth the last couple of weeks: a little fly fizzing about busily, unexpectedly meeting the windscreen of 2002. Bam!
Had a MAJOR erotic weekend with Lindsey, which I must write up, though it could easily grow into being a full story. So I wont give away the plot - though that's mainly because it's hard to work one out from the sensory overload of a depraved orgy in which everyone's experience was different.
Enough to say, it's nice to know a woman more pervy than me. Also baby Jules is very bonny, very cute, very holdable. But otherwise I've been spending a lot of time with Rob. For some reason I can't quite put my finger on we moved up a gear from sex play things to lovers.
Perhaps it's having more space - Anthony's back on nights. Laura is very wrapped up in her Tess. Jack's been doing several sleep overs and has a residential week away with the school next week. So from hardly being alone, I've been hardly with my family for the passed couple of weeks. Well, I'm sure that'll end. At least Kate's popping over the Atlantic in three weeks time to spend a week here, so I'm looking forward to all your colourful stories of your new job. I'm so looking forward to seeing you, it's been too long!
I think we can all guess that Emily's quietness and the start of school aren't unrelated. come on sweetie, could do better.
Of course, it's easy for me - Owen is back at school and Sam spends the morning at nursery, so Ii'm free free free!
Free to shop. Free to have coffe with my gossipy friends. Free to masturbate for a couple of hours just because I can. Free to go to the beautician and be that picky bitch (I trained as one, so I know the dodges). Free to spend the morning at the health club flirting with the will toned assistants while keeping my bod trim and tight. Plus I've finally sorted out a decent cleaner for the new apartment, keeping it trim. And next week Sam is moving over the an afternoon class so I can be more flexible for Dan's little corporate hospitality scheme.
I've been surprised with just how enthusiastic I've been about the whole thing. Perhaps it's the fat-load of money we'll get. Or chance for some major weirdness. Or maybe the pleasure of weriding out normal people by actually doing the things they only dreamed of. Or just for submerging yourself in the unrestrained physicality of sensual pleasure. Or the perverse pleasure of debasing yourself, utterly. Or perhaps it's that vision of meeting that perfect stranger and having the utlimate clean guiltless sex. Or what's behind door number three - oh look, the meaning of life, woweee, you're a winner!
Anyhow, tummy button gazing aside, it's put a spring in my step. It's also given me a new thirst for getting out there and doing stuff, rather than just being a personal pleasure piggie. So i've been thinking about going back to teaching at one of the local Montessori schools (I'm trained for that too).
So far Dan and I have had a right old laugh interviewing candidates to help with our little enterprise. Think of those search for a star style telly programmes, where they're trying to get to put together the perfect girl group or boy band. So I was teasing Dan that we were looking for scary whore, baby whore, sporty whore, ginger whore. Of course, with my clipped english tones and my jolly good english accent, don't you know, I get to be posh whore.
06:10 Woke up. Wash. Dress.
07:15 Wake up Laura. Leave for School fuelled with two cups of tea and two pieces of toast.
07:40 Arrived at School, parking up just next to Rob the History Teacher
07:45 Go to my class (with Rob)
07:50 Knickers down. Legs up. Cock in.
08:04 Rob cums
08:05 Cock out. Tissue wipes. Knickers up.
08:10 Walk into staffroom for cup of tea and to join the rest of the World.
08:45 Back to my class to take the register and start the new school term. Delicately wipe unidentified spot of fluid off my desk.
If you've read some of my older enteries, you'll know that occassionally I've put my self out for my husband's career - fucking his clients to help close a deal or cement a relationship. It's all very amature and informal. Some clients, especially if they come out from the boondocks or some deeply churchy place kind of expect godless Manhatten chicks to drop their panties at the slightest provocation - I blame "Sex and the City" (just cos it's true doesn't mean we want it advertised!). They get blown away that one of the wivies goes with them to the sex clubs. We go home and have our own inpromptu sex party, if the vibe is right. They go back to hicksville feeling their money really is in the safe hands of big city sophisticates, or something like that.
Obviously with recent events, that hasn't really been appropriate. not many people fancy coming to NYC for fun these days. But business is business. Ii was down the gym when Dan stopped by. Apparently, one of our holiday season clients was impressed by our services, and has offered Dan a contract to supply fetish whores for their corporate events. In the intensely competitive business world, taking the clients to a lap-dancing club isn't enough any more, you have to take them to a brothel. Except in NYC, all that sort of stuff has been hit hard by the mayor's clean-up campaign. And besides, if you want to go one better, don't just get a whore, get a fetish one.
So dan was asking me if I was OK with that, cos it means an increased committment and organising professional childcare for my boyz (florence who looks after them currently is convinced i'm having an affair, my excuses have grown so thin.) And if I knew of any other interested women. I said I'd give it a go. Ii started all this to have a bit of fun, and I'm not sure I want to work at it too hard, but then I did enjoy the busy holiday period. Annoyingly I forgot to ask which client it was - duh! how dumb is that.
OK Emily, I'll try and fill in a bit of colour to my work-a-day sex life. Just remember, it is a job firstly - so the bit I enjoyed the most was going down 5th Avenue hunting for a pair of gratitiously flash diamond earings as a big thank you present to myself.
Well the christmas party Dan and Ii did was pretty cool, in a kind of take a lot of coke and ectascy to make sure I'm not tongue tied and do love everyone, way. Actually Dan was a bit ticked off with me for being a bit flakey. He didn't say anything, but I could tell. But you know, even I need a bit of dutch courage before I perform initimate sex acts in front of (and with) a whole pack of strange men. Anyhow, I don't remember too much of that gig - wonder why - but Dan says it went better than he expected.
My main memory is sore knees and jaw ache from kneeling in front of ten men while they took it in turns to jack-off in my mouth. I had my eyes shut so I can't give any gory details. But I did remember Dan holding a big dish under my chin (and propping me up) for the full bukkake Japanese thing, and I thought, Oh Yuck! Drinking the cum that had dribbled off my face into that dish was going to be totally gross. But actually, it wasn't too bad. A bit like salty raw egg whites. and strangely enough, back at the apartment, Dan fixed me a hangover cure featuring raw eggs.
The nicest gig for me was the last one. OK, it wasn't the most fun, but it was the easyest - and easy is good. This sweet sweet little old man, shorter than me, bald, wrinkled faced, with silver grey pubes, with this short stubby cock. and I'm sucking him hard (while Dan is poking his arse) - me and all the other me's in this bedroom surrounded by mirrors - and he shoots off in my mouth in just a few minutes. And i'm thinking, ooooops, he'll want to do that again for the money he's paying us and it'll take forever and I know that Dan is flagging - it's our fourth gig of the day - so I'll have to work on him to bring him off to. But the punter says, thank you, happy holidays, and lets us go. It was the quickest big bucks I've ever made.
OK, the best one, the one which had me dribbling with contentment as well as a full purse was on the Saturday before christmas. We only took on one job because we both had shopping to do. The punter is quite old, early 50s I guess, but handsome, wealthy, and beautifully mannered.
Like a lot of punters, he really gets off on me being English. unlike a lot of guys, he doesn't want Dan to bugger him so he can get off with me. Instead he explains that he feels that he can't really satisfy a woman any more - not completely - he can have a good time, but not totally exhaust her like he used to be able to do. So he wants Dan to help him fuck my brains out. (Yeah, I know, and I'm being paid for this too - win / win or what!) So the three of us have a shower together - and Oh Lordy, he is a big boy - I get him interested while Dan gives my botty a good KY-ing.
They then take it in turns to fuck me, first Dan, then the punter, then Dan again and then the punter - each being careful not to cum, and each working hard to drive me further and further up into more intense climaxes.
I start with my knees up. Soon my legs are being held up in the air. And next my ankles are round my ears as Dan first, and then the punter enter my arse. All I have to do is lay there and scream my climaxes one after the other.
Dan takes off his condom and jacks himself off over my face. With my long blonde hair and forehead suitably decorated, the punter shoots his load deep deep deep up into my arse. He pulls out of me, takes off his condom, squeezes out his cum on to my clit, and then goes down on me to eat out my clit. I cum for Britain one more time.
The hotel is only a few blocks away from my apartment, I had intended to stroll back, but I could hardly walk after two hours of pussy and arse treatment. Ii take a cab.
Back home, Robert's been minding the kids, and guess who is Mr Frisky. I want to say I'm all worn out, but it's not fair to let my job get in the way of my hubby enjoying his wifey. So I'm laying down on the living room floor. My two little boys are playing with the toy trains beside me. And above me, Robert is pumping his cock in and out of my sore cunt. It hurts. I grin and bear it, and the grinning and the bearing get more and more intense, and suddenly mummy is cuming all over the floor, thrashing about like some mad thing. And Robert pulls out of me and just holding the base of his cock steady, shoots cum reapeatedly all the way up my expensive dress.
I feel the splash of hot spunk on my neck. It cools and dribbles down and round to my back. I lay there, huffing, for ten minutes, exhausted - totally satisfied - before I can even sit up. My little boys, who'd briefly stopped with the trains to watch their screaming mum and puffing dad, go back to making railways in the carpet.
OK Emmy babe, details enough?
Mum said I had to kiss and tell - or whip and tell - my doings over the holidays, if only because I haven't been home much. Hmmm, where to start?
Well, I guess I should explain where Tess and I have got to in our bumpy lez love life. We've sort of agreed that when we with the "normals", we'll just be a "normal" couple - which is hard enough since Tess is twice my age. Though we did manage to get through the whole Christmas dinner thing with no one saying anything. So credit to my granny and Tess's mum and dad for being cool about the whole thing (or just polite).
I actually got on with Tess's dad very well. He made me laugh a lot. Which sort of freaked Tess a little. She doesn't like it that I'm so comfortable around men. Anyhow - it's pretty hard out there in normal-land, older women / young girl lesbian couples are usually only the subject of porn films, and if anyone finds out, there's this "'cor blimey" sort of thing people do, and find very difficult to get over. Like the guys come over all dreLaura and excited, like they expect us the 69 right there and then. And the girls go all coy and want to discuss whether it's "good for me" dating a woman nearer my mum's age. Makes you feel a bit like a goldfish in a goldfish bowl.
So it's nice to be with my family, who know the deal and have gotten over it. Mum is polite. Dad is not bothered. Jack is a brat. Uncle Robert is a bit 'cor blimey, but tries real hard not to show it. Auntie Kate is all go-for-it-girl. And Mum's ex-toilet slave Puto is full of helpful tips and tricks. So we feel we can be much more ourselves, as Mistress (trainee grade) and her slave, round the house.
Mum even let Tess clean out the cupboard under the stairs, where the hoover and boots used to live, so that it can be Tess's little pen when she comes to stay. When she needs a little cooling off punishment, I order her to the cupboard, tie her leash to the peg, and lock the door. Oh, and after a slight accident, I also stick a post-it note on the front door, just to remind me if I'm going out.
Mum has helped a little with Tess's training. She enjoys punishing Tess and humiliating her in front of me, which I like.. It's important to me that mum accepts my choice of partner. Tess is in awe of Mum, and I like that. So Tess has become like the family servant - which is dead handy for cups of tea and clearing up cat sick, as well as the more loving tasks.
But when we are alone, usually over at Tess's place, we are quite different. I am more like her patient, sick for love, and she is my dotting nurse, who would scarifice herself to give me the love I need. She drinks my pee and lets me shit in her hands so that I don't have to get out of bed and go to the toilet. She sticks pins in ther breats and thumbs so that I can enjoy the taste of her blood when it isn't her period. She licks my pussy non-stop for hours and hours at a stretch. She gives me bed baths. She covers my pillows with rose petals. She feeds and pampers my every whim. I wallow in the warm bath of her total devotion. And I control her ... completely ... she can't eat or sleep or pee or shit or sit or go anywhere or touch herself or touch me or, most especially, cum, without my permission. And she suspends herself comfortably in my careful control.
So far it's all gone beautifully. Tess has really blossomed as my kinda slave nurse. The ultra violent thingy I was into at the beginning has toned down (what with not drinking and domming). And she's only used our safe word once, and that was with Mum, when she told Tess to suck Jack's cock as a punishment - Jack is Lindsey's labordor. Mum was on some power trip trying to demonstrate to everyone who was the most hardcore. So Mum got down on her hands and knees and wanked and sucked Jack's cock, making her point that she's better than Tess. I think it was then that Tess got quite afraid of Mum, which is quite funny really.
So anyhow, I've been sploit rotten by my lover, who has not let me lift a finger, as she pleasured me in every way she could think of, in every way I desired ... ... ... so ... did you get anything good for Christmas?
Happy New Year, my pervy pervs. I've forced myself to take a week's rest off from the computer (well I did try and do a little blogging on Boxing Day, but blogger.com had been hacked into).
Thanks Kate for your sexy busy-bee thumbnails - feel free to elaborate on any of the more interesting sessions. You can get Vasoline as a spray - but you knew that. Oh, and the tops you gave me were excellent - you know I'm a sucker for anything that makes me look as if I've got grown-woman-boobs. And thanks Laura for the Austin Powers matching Union Jack bra - panties - socks combo. They'll be top of my costume list the next time I have to dress up as a sixties go-go dancer.
Other good pressies included a year's subscription to the BBC's History magazine (hey - I'm not just a one dimensional slut you know), lots of food for my camera (film, folders, filters), a totally disgusting book on death and orgies in the Roman Empire (see how I cunningly combine my interests ...), a book of women's erotica (as recommended by one of your good selves) by Nancy Friday, and an anal vibrator - for the girl who has everything but still likes to fidget.
Talking of good girls gone bad, I popped round to Rita to give her her present - some nice grown up lingerie I picked up in the sales. She was with a punter. (Your not the only sexy busy-bee over Christmas, Kate.)
So Rita's mum, Ginny, took me into the livingroom. We tried having a nice chit-chat, but in the background, we could both hear Rita giving it the little-girl talk we'd taught her to use when she was with a punter: "Ohhhh Mister, you're so big, so very Big!" and "Ohhhhh, you're hurting ... you're hurting, ohhhhhhhh, yes, Yes, YES, do it harder! HARDER!"
50 year-old blokes love hearing that sort of thing as they screw 13 year-old girls. Ginny made a pass at me, pushing her face into my face, her lips searching for mine, her hand squeezing in between my thighs, trying to cup the small bulge of my pubic bone. She caught me completely on the hoop. It was a turn-on to hear Rita working, but I didn't want Rita to find me with her mum when it was her I'd come to see.
I told Ginny this between lip smacking kisses. She agreed, kissing back. She rubbed my pussy roughly through my jeans. We agreed to stop. I rubbed her pussy clumsily with my hand down her trousers. She unzipped my jeans and slid her hand down into the moist valley of my cunt - I wan't wearing any knickers. I pushed my groping fingers under the elastic of Ginny's panties. Together we masturbated each other to background song of Rita's orgasm, just a thin partition wall away, as some pervy bloke fucked her small tight 13 year old cunt with a condomed cock.
Ginny brought me off first. A sudden guilty cum, mouth stuffed in a cushion, hips bucking to thrust my greedy clit against Ginny wet slippery fingers. A wall away, a deep man's voice was getting steadily higher and higher, the gutteral grunts taking on the slight air of panic. Above him, Rita's squeaky girlie voice sung a song of "Ohhh Yeah! Ohhh Yeah! Ohhh Yeah!" over and over.
Ginny joined her daughter's song as she climaxed on the tip of my probing fingers, except my mouth over her mouth mufffled moans and gasps. Hannah, Rita's 6 year-old sister stopped watching her mum and me, and turned back to her colouring book. She was being a good girl, patiently waiting for her big sister to finish "her business with the man" so she could have the telly back on - apparently childrens cartoons are a block on men ejaculating.
The front door chunked and Rita appeared at the livingroom door, her arm out stretched, rather distastefully holding a used condom. "Emily!" she squelled with surprise to see me. "Put the condom in the bin, darling" Ginny told her.
Rita rushed into the kitchen and back to jump into my arms and plant a big fat wet kiss on my lips. I hugged her till her little ribs wouldn't squash any more. I gave Rita her present. She ripped it open. She loved the skimpy black see-through mesh bra and matching thong. She appreciated the sensible lyra grey sports bra (my little Rita is getting less little), and the pack of five mixed black and white string panties for everyday.
And then the door bell rang for her 4pm appointment. So I left, and Hannah had to switch the telly off again. But I returned later with a little present for Hannah, a pair of headphones she could use to plug into the telly while her sister was working.