All Posts – Page 303
The tragedy of older women
I suspect this might be a first time this warning’s been put on a sex blog, but the following post contains spoilers for this year’s Doctor Who Christmas Special. I promise you it’s relevant.
My Mum finds it hard to get served at the bar.
I’ve seen it happen: she’ll be there for twice as long as most other people. She waits, purse in hand, trying to catch the eye of the bar staff, and making sure that she’s standing assertively. She’s not shy or nervous, hanging back or offering her place in line to other people – she’s just there, prominent yet invisible. Unnoticed. And people around her – younger people, and older men, nip ahead and throw their orders in.
And she waits.
Almost fucking on Christmas Eve
It’s fucking hectic behind the bar. Every drink comes with a second, because the regulars are feeling generous, and he, I and a bunch of other staff are lining them up. Landlady’s insistence: we’re allowed to drink on shift. And it’s Christmas, so no one thinks about saving the money, we just say ‘ta’ and line them up:
Vodka and cokes: have one yourself. Have six yourself. Slur ‘Cheers’ as you’re pulling the next pint.
When I rush round tables to collect glasses, Steve (a regular – skeezy and greasy and ‘harmless’ depending on who you talk to and how many pints he’s had) sneaks up behind me. He follows me around until I’ve got four, five glasses in each hand. Then as I turn to take them back to the bar he grips me round the waist. Hard hands, insistent squeezes.
The topless snowball fight
Hovering near the top of my ‘missed opportunities’ list, somewhere just behind ‘never getting round to that gangbang dinner party’ is a snowy afternoon in the early noughties.
Remember that time in your life when you were most carefree? Happiest? Most content in your body and intensely, hornily desperate to use it? Well, mine was around about then. Just before I’d started shagging, but long after I’d discovered boys. My weekends and evenings were spent huddled in whispering, weed-smoking, cider-swilling groups, competing with each other to contrive more imaginative ways we could get touched up by our equally-horny peers.
I miss those times.
Guest blog: Latex fetish wear
When people send me guest blogs which so beautifully capture the delight and desire in a very specific fetish, I go a bit weak at the knees. I don’t think you have to share a particular fetish, or kink, in order to enjoy hearing about it – one of the things I love most about fet is the twinkle in someone’s eyes as they wax lyrical about the exact reasons why they love something. I might not understand the fetish in itself, but the passion and delight with which someone explains their desire is arousing in and of itself. I think so, at any rate.
So when this week’s guest blogger – LatexLegs – sent me ‘part 1’ of a story about his fantasy night dressed head to toe in latex fetish wear, the delicious intensity with which he described his arousal stood out pretty strongly. It’s fantasy rather than real-life, and there’s an aching longing there which reminds me of certain wistful stories I wrote before I had the opportunity to fully embrace the sex I wanted to have with a partner. As I say, this is part 1, and I’ve had a sneak preview of part 2. I don’t usually publish more than one guest blog from each person, but this covers something which I can’t talk about with the same degree of fiery passion and hotness, so if you like this leave a comment and I’ll squeeze part 2 into the new year.
No pain, no pleasure, all the joy – anaesthetic sex
This post talks about anaesthetic sex – detailing a super-hot fuck I had while I was a bit ‘out of it’ and asked a guy to take advantage of that. It was fully consensual and negotiated between both of us before I took the anaesthetic, but if the idea of intoxicated sex makes you uncomfortable, please don’t read on.