For all I know, grilled rook might be a national delicacy in Holland.
Odd people, the Dutch
Chicks With Dicks 2
2 hours ago
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Grilled Rook, Anyone?
Heather got this rather marvellous multi-storey multi-purpose barbecue/smoke oven/grill contraption from her brother for her birthday. I was rather bemused by the Dutch description on the box.
The Heat Is On
The heatwave is continuing over here. We've got proper summer weather at last. Being stuck indoors all day, the only sensible course of action at 5.30 is to drop everything and head for the coast, it is just too hot to stay in town.
So last night we went out swimming again by the summerhouse, only this time we had Daughter and her bestest friend in tow so no chance of getting our kit off. Even at 11 o'clock the water was just so warm we stayed in until it was almost too dark to see our way back.
This time I took my camera with me to see if I could capture some of the atmosphere.
So last night we went out swimming again by the summerhouse, only this time we had Daughter and her bestest friend in tow so no chance of getting our kit off. Even at 11 o'clock the water was just so warm we stayed in until it was almost too dark to see our way back.
This time I took my camera with me to see if I could capture some of the atmosphere.
Monday, July 28, 2008
From Here To...Somewhere Else
Well, it was a thoroughly pleasant weekend, as it turned out. Summer is back with a vengance and the sun has been blazing down from a flawless blue sky. We went down to the summerhouse on friday night, partly to ferry plates, glasses, cutlery etc. across to Heather's parents in readiness for party next day, but also for relaxation after a hectic week. A good roll around on the bed has a wonderful therapeutic effect on the psyche - who'd have guessed?
The party was a pleasant, relaxed sort of a do which everyone enjoyed. I'm not quite sure what time we got to bed Saturday night, all I do know is we went straight to sleep although we made up for it on Sunday morning with a slow, lazy, sunlit fuck in our own summerhouse before going over to enjoy a slow, lazy, sunlit brunch in the marquee.
Sunday evening we were back at our summerhouse, just mellowing out in the gathering twilight. It was still hot; I was just wearing shorts and sandals (you will be relieved to hear that I subscribe to the view that summary execution is too good for men who insist on wearing socks with shorts and sandals).
"Let's go for a swim". I suggested. We might have gone earlier, but Heather couldn't find her bikini and the beach had been unusually crowded-I counted a dozen people at one time. Heather changed into shorts and t-shirt, we grabbed a couple of old towels and waded out to the sand bar.
There was nobody about. The only clues to any other human presence were the harbour lights from the village, twinkling against the inky black sky. We dumped our towels in the hollow of a small dune and peeled off our clothes. Despite it being 10.30 our naked bodies were caressed by a warm breeze as we walked hand in hand down the beach and into the gentle waves.
I couldn't take my eyes off her. Her pale skin took on an almost luminous quality as it was caught in the last blood-red rays of the dying sun. Her pubic hair, dark wet and straggly, looked like a clump of seaweed that had found its way between her legs. We splashed and fooled around. We held and kissed. She warned me not to float on my back for fear I should be attacked by a predatory seagull on the lookout for a tasty little morsel.
The party was a pleasant, relaxed sort of a do which everyone enjoyed. I'm not quite sure what time we got to bed Saturday night, all I do know is we went straight to sleep although we made up for it on Sunday morning with a slow, lazy, sunlit fuck in our own summerhouse before going over to enjoy a slow, lazy, sunlit brunch in the marquee.
Sunday evening we were back at our summerhouse, just mellowing out in the gathering twilight. It was still hot; I was just wearing shorts and sandals (you will be relieved to hear that I subscribe to the view that summary execution is too good for men who insist on wearing socks with shorts and sandals).
"Let's go for a swim". I suggested. We might have gone earlier, but Heather couldn't find her bikini and the beach had been unusually crowded-I counted a dozen people at one time. Heather changed into shorts and t-shirt, we grabbed a couple of old towels and waded out to the sand bar.
There was nobody about. The only clues to any other human presence were the harbour lights from the village, twinkling against the inky black sky. We dumped our towels in the hollow of a small dune and peeled off our clothes. Despite it being 10.30 our naked bodies were caressed by a warm breeze as we walked hand in hand down the beach and into the gentle waves.
I couldn't take my eyes off her. Her pale skin took on an almost luminous quality as it was caught in the last blood-red rays of the dying sun. Her pubic hair, dark wet and straggly, looked like a clump of seaweed that had found its way between her legs. We splashed and fooled around. We held and kissed. She warned me not to float on my back for fear I should be attacked by a predatory seagull on the lookout for a tasty little morsel.
Eventually we made our way back to the beach again. I managed to persuade her, against her better judgement, to lay down on the sand and spread her legs for me, but what they don't tell you when you're watching Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr going at it in 'From Here To Eternity' is that lying on cold wet sand is pretty much a buzzkill.
Anyway, they were wearing swimming costumes, so they never got a million grains of sand washed up into their important little places. We gave up.
"Are you sure we've never done this before?" She asked as we waded back
"Quite sure". I think I would have remembered.
"It must have been with Jesper I did it then... Before I met you". She hastened to add.
It hasn't been for lack of hot summer days that we haven't done this before, but this has really been the first summer where the kids have not wanted to be with us when we go to our summerhouse. Also, there might be something in what Heather says about feeling less inhibited now than she has been since she was a teenager. I was expecting to have to coax her out of her clothes on the beach, but she was stark bollock naked and waiting for me before I had even dropped my shorts.
Having said that, this might be the only chance to go skinny dipping this year. We're losing a daughter, and gaining one, next weekend. A good friend is visiting us from UK in mid-august, and then the summer will be over.
We're just going to have to invent some kinky indoor fun for the autumn and look forward to next summer.
"Are you sure we've never done this before?" She asked as we waded back
"Quite sure". I think I would have remembered.
"It must have been with Jesper I did it then... Before I met you". She hastened to add.
It hasn't been for lack of hot summer days that we haven't done this before, but this has really been the first summer where the kids have not wanted to be with us when we go to our summerhouse. Also, there might be something in what Heather says about feeling less inhibited now than she has been since she was a teenager. I was expecting to have to coax her out of her clothes on the beach, but she was stark bollock naked and waiting for me before I had even dropped my shorts.
Having said that, this might be the only chance to go skinny dipping this year. We're losing a daughter, and gaining one, next weekend. A good friend is visiting us from UK in mid-august, and then the summer will be over.
We're just going to have to invent some kinky indoor fun for the autumn and look forward to next summer.
Friday, July 25, 2008
What I Need Right Now
Postings are likely to be a bit sporadic here for a while. Sorry about that.
Through a miracle of forward planning, our entire staff are away on holiday this week and next, leaving Heather and myself to run the place alone. Where one would normally expect it to be quiet (our potential customers really ought to be on holiday as well after all) it has in reality been so busy at times that we have struggled to cope. The current hot weather seems to have made our customers more than usually demanding, impatient and just plain bloody difficult.
On top of this, there is a party to organise for the weekend. Heather is having one of those birthdays that are divisible by 10 this year, in early August but after daughter has left for Brazil. She was really sorry to be missing it so we decided to bring it forward a little. Heather’s father is 75 a few days before Heather’s birthday, also requiring a big turn out of the usual suspects, so it seemed a good idea to roll the two events into one: Marquee on the summerhouse lawn, outside catering, all that stuff and only one event to organise between the two of them. As it turns out, almost inevitably, it is Heather, working all the hours God sends already, who has had to do all the organising. Composing and sending the invitations, finding the caterers and all the rest of it. Her father, retired of course but still perfectly capable if he were inclined, has just been sat on his fat arse drinking beer and letting it all happen.
Daughter is off to Brazil on Monday week. There are obviously a lot of things that need to be organised before that, plus we are receiving an exchange student from Japan at the same time and the house is nowhere near ready…
So, we went to Heather’s brother’s birthday barbeque yesterday evening. Pleasant enough as it happened, but still a bit emotionally charged. His wife has just moved out after being caught out having an affair with a work colleague. Heather’s brother used the occasion to explain exactly how things stood. Then we talked about the situation of a good friend of all of ours who has been diagnosed with a brain tumour. Benign, right enough, but virtually inoperable. Slowly growing and occupying space inside the head. She has just learned that she will slowly lose memory, motor function, sight, hearing….. However, if they attempt to operate there would be a risk of her waking up having lost all those things at once. If she woke up at all. How do you begin to make a choice like that? She’s our age ffs. We saw her in the shop last week, seemingly quite normal. But she has a tendency to say the same thing several times, there are small lapses of memory. The whole family, including grown-up children are going away on holiday together while they still can, somewhere warm and sunny. They can’t get any sort of insurance for her so a circle of the closest friends have decided that they will get together and scrape the money together to bring her home should the worst happen.
We were looking forward to getting back home in reasonable time so that we could spend some quality time together. Something we simply haven’t had for many days now but, just before we left the party, Heather was struck with a crippling migraine; something she has only ever had two or three times before in her entire life. This was the full show, with blinding headache, projectile vomiting, the works. Stress? Food poisoning? Who knows?
So I’m stealing a few moments in work time to write these thoughts down, more as a sort of therapy than anything else. Sorry if it seems like one long whinge.
Now, I’ve lived a very sheltered life really. Even through university days, my only contact with psychotropic substances was that I was at a party once where someone was smoking some weed in the next room – I promise I didn’t inhale- and the time I was offered a joint or two by a grubby little man in Piccadilly Circus. I was proud of Son on the two occasions I know of when he has turned his back on his friends and removed himself from their company when they have started rolling up. Despite his piercings and his heavy metal persona, he has always said no to drugs.
But… my hands are shaking, my heart is pounding, I’m stressed beyond reason and there seems no end in sight. I know I need to chill out, but don’t know how. What I think I need right now is a FUCKOFF big spliff.
Anyone willing to share one with me?
Through a miracle of forward planning, our entire staff are away on holiday this week and next, leaving Heather and myself to run the place alone. Where one would normally expect it to be quiet (our potential customers really ought to be on holiday as well after all) it has in reality been so busy at times that we have struggled to cope. The current hot weather seems to have made our customers more than usually demanding, impatient and just plain bloody difficult.
On top of this, there is a party to organise for the weekend. Heather is having one of those birthdays that are divisible by 10 this year, in early August but after daughter has left for Brazil. She was really sorry to be missing it so we decided to bring it forward a little. Heather’s father is 75 a few days before Heather’s birthday, also requiring a big turn out of the usual suspects, so it seemed a good idea to roll the two events into one: Marquee on the summerhouse lawn, outside catering, all that stuff and only one event to organise between the two of them. As it turns out, almost inevitably, it is Heather, working all the hours God sends already, who has had to do all the organising. Composing and sending the invitations, finding the caterers and all the rest of it. Her father, retired of course but still perfectly capable if he were inclined, has just been sat on his fat arse drinking beer and letting it all happen.
Daughter is off to Brazil on Monday week. There are obviously a lot of things that need to be organised before that, plus we are receiving an exchange student from Japan at the same time and the house is nowhere near ready…
So, we went to Heather’s brother’s birthday barbeque yesterday evening. Pleasant enough as it happened, but still a bit emotionally charged. His wife has just moved out after being caught out having an affair with a work colleague. Heather’s brother used the occasion to explain exactly how things stood. Then we talked about the situation of a good friend of all of ours who has been diagnosed with a brain tumour. Benign, right enough, but virtually inoperable. Slowly growing and occupying space inside the head. She has just learned that she will slowly lose memory, motor function, sight, hearing….. However, if they attempt to operate there would be a risk of her waking up having lost all those things at once. If she woke up at all. How do you begin to make a choice like that? She’s our age ffs. We saw her in the shop last week, seemingly quite normal. But she has a tendency to say the same thing several times, there are small lapses of memory. The whole family, including grown-up children are going away on holiday together while they still can, somewhere warm and sunny. They can’t get any sort of insurance for her so a circle of the closest friends have decided that they will get together and scrape the money together to bring her home should the worst happen.
We were looking forward to getting back home in reasonable time so that we could spend some quality time together. Something we simply haven’t had for many days now but, just before we left the party, Heather was struck with a crippling migraine; something she has only ever had two or three times before in her entire life. This was the full show, with blinding headache, projectile vomiting, the works. Stress? Food poisoning? Who knows?
So I’m stealing a few moments in work time to write these thoughts down, more as a sort of therapy than anything else. Sorry if it seems like one long whinge.
Now, I’ve lived a very sheltered life really. Even through university days, my only contact with psychotropic substances was that I was at a party once where someone was smoking some weed in the next room – I promise I didn’t inhale- and the time I was offered a joint or two by a grubby little man in Piccadilly Circus. I was proud of Son on the two occasions I know of when he has turned his back on his friends and removed himself from their company when they have started rolling up. Despite his piercings and his heavy metal persona, he has always said no to drugs.
But… my hands are shaking, my heart is pounding, I’m stressed beyond reason and there seems no end in sight. I know I need to chill out, but don’t know how. What I think I need right now is a FUCKOFF big spliff.
Anyone willing to share one with me?
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Short Joke
"Mummy, Mummy, how do lions make love?"
"I don't know dear, your daddy's friends are all rotarians"
Best I could do today... busy... sorry.
"I don't know dear, your daddy's friends are all rotarians"
Best I could do today... busy... sorry.
Sugasm#141
The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #142? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form.
Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.
This Week’s Picks
Comedy vs. Tragedy“Are you on your period? What? Did he just say…”
Ian, or, Sometimes Sex is Hilarious“In short, it isn’t sex blogger sex.”
A Wish“I wish that you could know the indescribable pleasure of being enfolded in your warm, gentle wetness.”
Mr. Sugasm HimselfSugar Bank
Editor’s ChoiceRoad Rage
More SugasmJoin the Sugasm
See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.
Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
Forgetting
How Do You Flirt With Milk?
The Hunt
I Don’t Usually Date, but…
I have huge tits.
Men on Pointe
My Femme Cock
Nibbles and Bits: Vegetarian? Really? Doh!
Present and first love making
Sex Advice
How to Make Her Want Anal Sex
Play Safe
The Power of Suggestion- And How It Helps You Meet Women
NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio
Gisele Bundchen Topless and Nipple Slip Pictures
HNT - Purple Lace Part Two
Lady Sascha Does HHNT
Marta - Professional
Once upon a time HNT
Pornsaint Tara Tainton
A rose by any other name would smell as sweet -HNT
Sam Bound
Sex Humor
It did not work
When your mother has more sex than you do…
Erotic Writing and Experiences
Can’t Get Enough
Fiction - The Wrong Smith Girl
Getting to fuck the neighbor 15
Harder…
In any language,…
Le Cadeaux
Nine: of nasty names
Oh Honey, Make Yourself Cum for Me
The Parking Garage
Pointless
The Ride.
Rub a Dub Dub
The Second Time Around
Slow.Soft.Hot.Perfect
Spin the bottle-the conclusion
Tits~n~Teets 2
TNT - Part 2
The WantingWrithe
Sex News, Reviews & Interviews
Can A Film Prostitute In 1930’s Shanghai Fare Any Better Than One Of The 100,000 Prostitutes Working The Streets In The City?
Donate To Satine Phoenix’s Tantric Exploration
Escort X: Find great escorts
Spanking erotica interview with Alison Tyler
The value of erotic blogging
Wanted: Your Orgasms Caught on Tape
BDSM & Fetish
Auction of a Slave
Changing Cravings For Pain: A Survey
A Beautifully Cruel Predicament Bondage Scene
Cuntwriting
Fitting Punishment
The house in Vienna
July MVK: Play piercing
Leather Retreat 2008 – The Toll Booth
Mz Berlin Gets The Bastinado And Rack Torture On Hogtied
Necessary Roughness
Routine Maintenance, pt. 2
A Scene in Three Parts … (part III)
Taken and Collared as a Sex Slave while her husband sleeps
Telegraph
Trying on new shoes, Friday night edition
Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.
This Week’s Picks
Comedy vs. Tragedy“Are you on your period? What? Did he just say…”
Ian, or, Sometimes Sex is Hilarious“In short, it isn’t sex blogger sex.”
A Wish“I wish that you could know the indescribable pleasure of being enfolded in your warm, gentle wetness.”
Mr. Sugasm HimselfSugar Bank
Editor’s ChoiceRoad Rage
More SugasmJoin the Sugasm
See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.
Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
Forgetting
How Do You Flirt With Milk?
The Hunt
I Don’t Usually Date, but…
I have huge tits.
Men on Pointe
My Femme Cock
Nibbles and Bits: Vegetarian? Really? Doh!
Present and first love making
Sex Advice
How to Make Her Want Anal Sex
Play Safe
The Power of Suggestion- And How It Helps You Meet Women
NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio
Gisele Bundchen Topless and Nipple Slip Pictures
HNT - Purple Lace Part Two
Lady Sascha Does HHNT
Marta - Professional
Once upon a time HNT
Pornsaint Tara Tainton
A rose by any other name would smell as sweet -HNT
Sam Bound
Sex Humor
It did not work
When your mother has more sex than you do…
Erotic Writing and Experiences
Can’t Get Enough
Fiction - The Wrong Smith Girl
Getting to fuck the neighbor 15
Harder…
In any language,…
Le Cadeaux
Nine: of nasty names
Oh Honey, Make Yourself Cum for Me
The Parking Garage
Pointless
The Ride.
Rub a Dub Dub
The Second Time Around
Slow.Soft.Hot.Perfect
Spin the bottle-the conclusion
Tits~n~Teets 2
TNT - Part 2
The WantingWrithe
Sex News, Reviews & Interviews
Can A Film Prostitute In 1930’s Shanghai Fare Any Better Than One Of The 100,000 Prostitutes Working The Streets In The City?
Donate To Satine Phoenix’s Tantric Exploration
Escort X: Find great escorts
Spanking erotica interview with Alison Tyler
The value of erotic blogging
Wanted: Your Orgasms Caught on Tape
BDSM & Fetish
Auction of a Slave
Changing Cravings For Pain: A Survey
A Beautifully Cruel Predicament Bondage Scene
Cuntwriting
Fitting Punishment
The house in Vienna
July MVK: Play piercing
Leather Retreat 2008 – The Toll Booth
Mz Berlin Gets The Bastinado And Rack Torture On Hogtied
Necessary Roughness
Routine Maintenance, pt. 2
A Scene in Three Parts … (part III)
Taken and Collared as a Sex Slave while her husband sleeps
Telegraph
Trying on new shoes, Friday night edition
Sunday, July 20, 2008
I Love This Blog But...
...I'd still rather be doing it than writing about it.
Under the circumstances you are going to have to pardon the occasional typo or grammatical slip. I'm still shaking a little, fresh from a little afternoon delight.
I had intended to devote the time to a new post. I've got a title for it and everything. It's called 'Taken' and it's very good, but at the moment it only exists in my head. It is going to have to wait a bit before it sees the light of day.
It has to be admitted that having having daughter home from school has cramped our style a bit. No more 'Martini Sex' (you know-'Any time, any place, anywhere'). Definitely no noisy or boisterous sex. Nothing where we can't disengage in an instant and lie side by side with hands on top of the duvet as if butter wouldn't melt in our mouths at the sound of a tap at the bedroom door. Tying-up and dressing-up games have been right out. No taking off to the summerhouse whenever the whim takes us and shagging like bunnies.
Today, however, we had the house to ourselves. Heather dropped daughter off about midday at the edge of a muddy field on the outskirts of our local city round where a rock concert was taking place. I was waiting for her at the back door as she returned and greeted me with:
"Do we have lunch now, or do we fuck?"
"Why don't you go upstairs and make yourself ready while I have a quick shower to freshen up?" My reply was rehearsed.
Exactly seven minutes later, clean and glowing and still slightly damp from my shower, I strode into the bedroom and lifted the duvet to reveal her in all her gorgeous pink nakedness. She giggled as she apologised for not having found anything more exciting to wear, but I sraddled her so that my cock nestled on her tummy, kissed her on the forehead and told her it didn't matter a bit.
I sat more upright on her so that she could take a proper hold of my cock, leaning back just a little so that I could reach down between her drawn-up legs.We pinched and pulled each other's nipples.
"You're going to have to be a bit more gentle with my cunt than you have been lately" She said. "You've been too keen to finish me off or something and then you tend to rub me too hard and that has the opposite effect"
I knew. Stress, late nights, too much to do. They all eat away at the quality of sex, not just the quantÃty.
I rolled over so that we were lying side by side and thrust one leg in between hers. She responded by clamping that leg in between hers and grinding herself into it. I reached around her bottom, gently parting her crack until I found what I was seeking. I rested the tip of my finger over her puckered little arsehole and pressed just slightly. Not enough to push it it, the finger was dry in any case, just enough to elicit a little moan of appreciation. I started circling that finger, not sliding it across the dry, sensitive skin, just gently moving the point of pressure around the circumference of the rim. Around and around.
And all the while we kissed. Long, slow, deep kisses lasting minutes at a time. Kisses that brought lips, tongues, teeth, even fingers into play and all the while, in that tangle of limbs she pulled on my cock and ground herself into me so that I could feel her dampness seeping through her mat of pubic hair and onto my leg.
A spot of lube does wonders. Trying not to break the rhythm too much I reached out behind me for the sachet on the bedside table. Just the tiniest dot on the fingertip and it was in her arse without me really even intending it, with almost no pressure at all. She was so wide open there, almost expectant. She let out a long satisfied "Aaaaah!" as the finger slipped deep inside her. I had toyed with the idea of making this an 'arse only' session after what she had said about her cunt and her clit, but with my middle finger in there, the ring and little fingers slid naturally into her sopping cunt and she registered her appreciation with longer, harder pulls on my cock.
We knelt up, facing each other. I like this position beacuse it pushes her cunt lips wide apart. Heather isn't so sure as her orgasms are often so intense that she doesn't trust herself not to fall over, so she wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me close to her as I gently slid my hand back and forth in her soaking cleft. I could have easily let her come then, in hindsight perhaps I should have, but I wanted to fuck her arse, and I think she was probably expecting that, and she is always hyper-sensitive after she has come, which can make it uncomfortable for her.
She seemed to be reading my thoughts because she went onto all fours on the bed. I took up position behind her and took a few exploratry dips into that luscious cunt. I still wanted her arse, but in the end the feel and the smell and the very thought of her enveloping me drove me over the edge. I simply lost all control. I dug my fingernails into her shoulders and just banged away into her until there was no more juice left to pump into her, before throwing myself down, laughing, on the bed beside her.
She was very patient with me, but she just had to make sure that I hadn't forgotten that I still owed her an 'O'. Besides, it was way past lunchtime and she was getting hungry. I knelt up beside her as she lay on her back and spread her legs. I let my fingertips dance lightly over her engorged, seemingly huge, clit. Mindful of her earlier warning I was very gentle, tracing little figures of eight over the head, trapping the stalk ever so gently between two fingers and rubbing to either side, mixing it up with excursions into her arse with my little finger (otherwise kept well clear of the action) with two other fingers paddling in our heady cocktail of juices as I tickled her g-spot. I was lightness and delicacy itself.
But her nipples, now that's a different story. I pinched and pulled and twisted, and she writhed and roared and at last came with shouts and sobs and strange wailings. The intensity of her orgasm unnerved me for a moment as it rolled on and on. And then all was quiet and she was lying there, naked and defenceless and shivering on the bed where I was perspiring so that drops of sweat were falling on the sheet beside her. I lay on top of her to share my body heat with her but she soon found that my sweat, evaporating off her skin, was making her colder still.
She giggled as we carefully peeled ourselves from each other and made our way to the bathroom to clean up. However, despite soap and hot water, I'm glad to say that I am still enjoying the smell her on me now as I type these very words
Under the circumstances you are going to have to pardon the occasional typo or grammatical slip. I'm still shaking a little, fresh from a little afternoon delight.
I had intended to devote the time to a new post. I've got a title for it and everything. It's called 'Taken' and it's very good, but at the moment it only exists in my head. It is going to have to wait a bit before it sees the light of day.
It has to be admitted that having having daughter home from school has cramped our style a bit. No more 'Martini Sex' (you know-'Any time, any place, anywhere'). Definitely no noisy or boisterous sex. Nothing where we can't disengage in an instant and lie side by side with hands on top of the duvet as if butter wouldn't melt in our mouths at the sound of a tap at the bedroom door. Tying-up and dressing-up games have been right out. No taking off to the summerhouse whenever the whim takes us and shagging like bunnies.
Today, however, we had the house to ourselves. Heather dropped daughter off about midday at the edge of a muddy field on the outskirts of our local city round where a rock concert was taking place. I was waiting for her at the back door as she returned and greeted me with:
"Do we have lunch now, or do we fuck?"
"Why don't you go upstairs and make yourself ready while I have a quick shower to freshen up?" My reply was rehearsed.
Exactly seven minutes later, clean and glowing and still slightly damp from my shower, I strode into the bedroom and lifted the duvet to reveal her in all her gorgeous pink nakedness. She giggled as she apologised for not having found anything more exciting to wear, but I sraddled her so that my cock nestled on her tummy, kissed her on the forehead and told her it didn't matter a bit.
I sat more upright on her so that she could take a proper hold of my cock, leaning back just a little so that I could reach down between her drawn-up legs.We pinched and pulled each other's nipples.
"You're going to have to be a bit more gentle with my cunt than you have been lately" She said. "You've been too keen to finish me off or something and then you tend to rub me too hard and that has the opposite effect"
I knew. Stress, late nights, too much to do. They all eat away at the quality of sex, not just the quantÃty.
I rolled over so that we were lying side by side and thrust one leg in between hers. She responded by clamping that leg in between hers and grinding herself into it. I reached around her bottom, gently parting her crack until I found what I was seeking. I rested the tip of my finger over her puckered little arsehole and pressed just slightly. Not enough to push it it, the finger was dry in any case, just enough to elicit a little moan of appreciation. I started circling that finger, not sliding it across the dry, sensitive skin, just gently moving the point of pressure around the circumference of the rim. Around and around.
And all the while we kissed. Long, slow, deep kisses lasting minutes at a time. Kisses that brought lips, tongues, teeth, even fingers into play and all the while, in that tangle of limbs she pulled on my cock and ground herself into me so that I could feel her dampness seeping through her mat of pubic hair and onto my leg.
A spot of lube does wonders. Trying not to break the rhythm too much I reached out behind me for the sachet on the bedside table. Just the tiniest dot on the fingertip and it was in her arse without me really even intending it, with almost no pressure at all. She was so wide open there, almost expectant. She let out a long satisfied "Aaaaah!" as the finger slipped deep inside her. I had toyed with the idea of making this an 'arse only' session after what she had said about her cunt and her clit, but with my middle finger in there, the ring and little fingers slid naturally into her sopping cunt and she registered her appreciation with longer, harder pulls on my cock.
We knelt up, facing each other. I like this position beacuse it pushes her cunt lips wide apart. Heather isn't so sure as her orgasms are often so intense that she doesn't trust herself not to fall over, so she wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me close to her as I gently slid my hand back and forth in her soaking cleft. I could have easily let her come then, in hindsight perhaps I should have, but I wanted to fuck her arse, and I think she was probably expecting that, and she is always hyper-sensitive after she has come, which can make it uncomfortable for her.
She seemed to be reading my thoughts because she went onto all fours on the bed. I took up position behind her and took a few exploratry dips into that luscious cunt. I still wanted her arse, but in the end the feel and the smell and the very thought of her enveloping me drove me over the edge. I simply lost all control. I dug my fingernails into her shoulders and just banged away into her until there was no more juice left to pump into her, before throwing myself down, laughing, on the bed beside her.
She was very patient with me, but she just had to make sure that I hadn't forgotten that I still owed her an 'O'. Besides, it was way past lunchtime and she was getting hungry. I knelt up beside her as she lay on her back and spread her legs. I let my fingertips dance lightly over her engorged, seemingly huge, clit. Mindful of her earlier warning I was very gentle, tracing little figures of eight over the head, trapping the stalk ever so gently between two fingers and rubbing to either side, mixing it up with excursions into her arse with my little finger (otherwise kept well clear of the action) with two other fingers paddling in our heady cocktail of juices as I tickled her g-spot. I was lightness and delicacy itself.
But her nipples, now that's a different story. I pinched and pulled and twisted, and she writhed and roared and at last came with shouts and sobs and strange wailings. The intensity of her orgasm unnerved me for a moment as it rolled on and on. And then all was quiet and she was lying there, naked and defenceless and shivering on the bed where I was perspiring so that drops of sweat were falling on the sheet beside her. I lay on top of her to share my body heat with her but she soon found that my sweat, evaporating off her skin, was making her colder still.
She giggled as we carefully peeled ourselves from each other and made our way to the bathroom to clean up. However, despite soap and hot water, I'm glad to say that I am still enjoying the smell her on me now as I type these very words
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
A Wish
It’s funny, the thoughts that run riot in your head when every nerve is jangling, every sense is shouting for attention and the whole reason for your existence seems, momentarily, to be to push yourself as deep inside her as possible...
”Every woman should try having a cock. For 24 hours at least. It is only fair that you, My Beloved, should know how it feels when hard and proud meets soft and yielding. I wish that you could know the indescribable pleasure of being enfolded in your warm, gentle wetness. Then you would understand why I pause, right on the brink, slide in slowly but only halfway, pull almost completely out again and then slide in once more, only even slower this time. That sensation of flesh first parting flesh is so exquisite that it is enjoyed to its fullest when taken a little morsel at a time. Frustrating for you, perhaps, but heavenly for me.
Only if you had tried having a cock could you fully appreciate the true worth of the treasure that you possess, to be freely given - or withheld. Only then would you understand why it is I will never tire of taking what you so gladly offer me.
You might then begin to understand how privileged I feel that you have chosen, times without number, to lie back and gaze up into my eyes, your soft body so vulnerable, and share the most precious and intimate gift that you have in that ultimate, perfect act of giving.
That you have chosen to share it with me, and me alone”.
”Every woman should try having a cock. For 24 hours at least. It is only fair that you, My Beloved, should know how it feels when hard and proud meets soft and yielding. I wish that you could know the indescribable pleasure of being enfolded in your warm, gentle wetness. Then you would understand why I pause, right on the brink, slide in slowly but only halfway, pull almost completely out again and then slide in once more, only even slower this time. That sensation of flesh first parting flesh is so exquisite that it is enjoyed to its fullest when taken a little morsel at a time. Frustrating for you, perhaps, but heavenly for me.
Only if you had tried having a cock could you fully appreciate the true worth of the treasure that you possess, to be freely given - or withheld. Only then would you understand why it is I will never tire of taking what you so gladly offer me.
You might then begin to understand how privileged I feel that you have chosen, times without number, to lie back and gaze up into my eyes, your soft body so vulnerable, and share the most precious and intimate gift that you have in that ultimate, perfect act of giving.
That you have chosen to share it with me, and me alone”.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Well Bugger me...
Heather was reading her horoscope in the paper this morning. 'Leo: By the end of the week you will find the extra energy you need to organise that big family get-together...'
How the hell did they know she has a birthday coming up?
Spooky, that.
How the hell did they know she has a birthday coming up?
Spooky, that.
London Calling
Well, our trip to London was a great success. It was just Daughter and myself because Heather had to stay behind and run the business. It was rather a strange feeling, coming straight from work on the Thursday afternoon, hopping on a plane much as you would get on a bus and suddenly being back in England, as if you old life was there just waiting for you to pick up the threads again.
Friday we spent shopping locally in Bournemouth and on Saturday we caught the train up to London. We had tickets to see the musical ’We Will Rock You’ which, although not too intellectually challenging, was a lot of fun and Daughter enjoyed herself tremendously, never having seen a West-End show before. We also visited the exhibition of Linda McCartney photographs which was fascinating. In between times we just wandered around the West End. She just wanted to see all the places she has heard about: Piccadilly Circus, Leicester square, Theatreland, Chinatown, Soho (No, we didn’t actually venture into Soho, I just showed her where it was). She learned to use the Tube with confidence, where to read if the next train was for the Edgware Branch or High Barnet, and, as we wandered in the general direction of Covent Garden, she let me know that she loved London and was fascinated by it. This was good to hear; despite having been away for protracted periods I have always felt at home in London. It is my home town after all, and I’m happy that daughter feels the same way. Who knows? She might even get to study over there when the time comes.
All too soon it was time to leave. On Sunday afternoon we were plucked out of our little bit of escapism and neatly slotted back into the reality of everyday. Not enough time to visit everybody, or indeed anybody, but a nice little weekend break and a chance to bond just a little bit more with a daughter who is changing so fast just at the moment.
We’ll be back!
Friday we spent shopping locally in Bournemouth and on Saturday we caught the train up to London. We had tickets to see the musical ’We Will Rock You’ which, although not too intellectually challenging, was a lot of fun and Daughter enjoyed herself tremendously, never having seen a West-End show before. We also visited the exhibition of Linda McCartney photographs which was fascinating. In between times we just wandered around the West End. She just wanted to see all the places she has heard about: Piccadilly Circus, Leicester square, Theatreland, Chinatown, Soho (No, we didn’t actually venture into Soho, I just showed her where it was). She learned to use the Tube with confidence, where to read if the next train was for the Edgware Branch or High Barnet, and, as we wandered in the general direction of Covent Garden, she let me know that she loved London and was fascinated by it. This was good to hear; despite having been away for protracted periods I have always felt at home in London. It is my home town after all, and I’m happy that daughter feels the same way. Who knows? She might even get to study over there when the time comes.
All too soon it was time to leave. On Sunday afternoon we were plucked out of our little bit of escapism and neatly slotted back into the reality of everyday. Not enough time to visit everybody, or indeed anybody, but a nice little weekend break and a chance to bond just a little bit more with a daughter who is changing so fast just at the moment.
We’ll be back!
Thursday, July 10, 2008
What's The Weather Like In England?
It had better be good, because me and Daughter are coming over for the weekend!
Nothing like waiting until the last minute, is there? I booked the tickets on Tuesday, We're flying from our local airport after work this evening and my Mum is meeting us at Gatwick.
We've got tickets to see 'We Will Rock You' up in town on Saturday and we're flying home on Sunday afternoon.
It's for Daughter's sake really. She wanted to see my mum befoer she sets off for Brazil, she also wanted to see the Queen Musical (she's crazy about Queen) and the exhibition of Linda MacCartney photography (she wants to be a rock groupie/celeb photographer-nothing wrong with having a bit of ambition!) so I said I'd take her. So I won't be posting for a few days!
Despite hefty fuel price rises and so on, I managed to get us a flight that suited us perfectly for around £150 return. That's about the same as Heather paid when she took her first trip to London, in 1977.
It's also less than the Standard Cheap-Day Return train fare from London to Cardiff.
Nothing like waiting until the last minute, is there? I booked the tickets on Tuesday, We're flying from our local airport after work this evening and my Mum is meeting us at Gatwick.
We've got tickets to see 'We Will Rock You' up in town on Saturday and we're flying home on Sunday afternoon.
It's for Daughter's sake really. She wanted to see my mum befoer she sets off for Brazil, she also wanted to see the Queen Musical (she's crazy about Queen) and the exhibition of Linda MacCartney photography (she wants to be a rock groupie/celeb photographer-nothing wrong with having a bit of ambition!) so I said I'd take her. So I won't be posting for a few days!
Despite hefty fuel price rises and so on, I managed to get us a flight that suited us perfectly for around £150 return. That's about the same as Heather paid when she took her first trip to London, in 1977.
It's also less than the Standard Cheap-Day Return train fare from London to Cardiff.
What Just Happened?
The Weekend. The fine weather promised to hold out until halfway through Sunday, at least. Both kids away doing various things. The two of us in need of some heavy-duty relaxation. The perfect recipe for some hot lovin’ action hidden away in our little summerhouse, right?
Wrong. You couldn’t be more wrong.
After a leisurely lunch on the terrace I came forward with a more-than-usually-indecent proposal. As far as Heather was concerned, it was bad timing. She just wasn’t up for it there and then. She just needed to wind down. She went off to find a sunny spot on the lawn to read her way through her stack of magazines and absorb some rays. I busied myself about the garden working out my frustrations with various petrol-driven appliances for holding back the inevitable advance of nature. I admit that over the last few weeks the weather has been so good that we have been too busy fucking or just lazing about to do much with the garden with the result that the grass has been growing out of hand and the wild roses which fringe our plot have been advancing insidiously on the house.
OK, I could have downed tools at any moment and dragged her off to the bedroom and she wouldn’t have complained very much, if at all, but I don’t take rejection very well and in any case, it’s nice to be dragged away yourself every once in a while instead of always having to do the dragging.
Supper came and went; there was something on TV we both wanted to watch. Not too long after that, Heather was stretched out on the sofa, snoring.
I spent the next day somewhat bewildered; disappointed; rejected. We’d missed out on a good opportunity for some fun sex and Heather was seemingly indifferent. We didn’t get the chance to talk things over properly because Daughter had joined us by then.
It was Monday evening, in bed, before we had a chance to talk: This is the downside to being very busy at work. She told me she had read my most recent post and had wanted to comment, but hadn’t. I told her she could comment all she wanted face to face. We fooled around with each other a little but, being 2am, sex was clearly out of the question…
She was tense and dry. Tentative fingers seeking down between her legs were just causing her irritation. I steered her face towards mine, planted my lips full on hers and very slowly slid a hand over her face until it was smothered, insidiously pinching her nostrils and pressing my mouth harder onto hers until she was struggling beneath me. I released her to allow her to take gasping breaths and then repeated the treatment. Over and over again. She became soaking wet in no time and I was soon able to reposition myself above her, hoist her legs up over my shoulders and fold her in half as I skewered her. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of the first plunge into a well-lubricated but still unused and tight cunt. The closeness and smoothness, the smells, and ths sounds of her gasps. I wetted my cock thoroughly in her and then pulled out, intending to finish her off quickly by hand. As I knelt up by her head I curled one arm around it and pulled her up into my lap, pushing my glistening cock, heavy with her juices, between her quivering lips.
Now Heather hates this. Hates the taste of herself, but did nothing to resist. She licked and sucked in a resigned sort of way. I laid on top of her in a full-on ’69’, ramming my cock down her throat and burying my face in her juicy cunt. Then I fucked her again, hard and relentlessly, with the express intention of coating my cock in her viscous juices so that she could have another mouthful. I knelt up beside her like before and rubbed her clit to some kind of an orgasm – she was tense and I was rubbing too hard in my enthusiasm, edging over to the wrong side of that fine line between pleasure and pain. But any cries of protest were lost in the fleshy, slippery gag that was filling her mouth.
A third time I spread her legs and fucked her, shivering and limp like a ragdoll. A third time I shoved my cock into her face, coating it all over with her juices this time, tracing around her lips, slapping her cheeks. She lay there with eyes squeezed shut, shaking her head and mouthing ”No” again and again, but doing nothing to resist. I pummelled her cheek with the top of my fist as I wanked myself hard and at last released a flood of spunk all over her face.
This, for Heather, is the ultimate humiliation, and yet she lay there and let me do it to her. I regretted it almost as soon as the deed was done, patted her face gently with tissues and put eyedrops in her eyes as they react very badly to semen. I expected recriminations, but there came none; neither at the time or the next morning. It is as if, in the middle of a hectic life with many decisions to be taken and many burdens put upon her, she needs a space where she is led places she doesn’t want to go, where she is dominated and, yes, humiliated.
In the little fantasy kingdom that is our bedroom, she needs me to be the king.
Wrong. You couldn’t be more wrong.
After a leisurely lunch on the terrace I came forward with a more-than-usually-indecent proposal. As far as Heather was concerned, it was bad timing. She just wasn’t up for it there and then. She just needed to wind down. She went off to find a sunny spot on the lawn to read her way through her stack of magazines and absorb some rays. I busied myself about the garden working out my frustrations with various petrol-driven appliances for holding back the inevitable advance of nature. I admit that over the last few weeks the weather has been so good that we have been too busy fucking or just lazing about to do much with the garden with the result that the grass has been growing out of hand and the wild roses which fringe our plot have been advancing insidiously on the house.
OK, I could have downed tools at any moment and dragged her off to the bedroom and she wouldn’t have complained very much, if at all, but I don’t take rejection very well and in any case, it’s nice to be dragged away yourself every once in a while instead of always having to do the dragging.
Supper came and went; there was something on TV we both wanted to watch. Not too long after that, Heather was stretched out on the sofa, snoring.
I spent the next day somewhat bewildered; disappointed; rejected. We’d missed out on a good opportunity for some fun sex and Heather was seemingly indifferent. We didn’t get the chance to talk things over properly because Daughter had joined us by then.
It was Monday evening, in bed, before we had a chance to talk: This is the downside to being very busy at work. She told me she had read my most recent post and had wanted to comment, but hadn’t. I told her she could comment all she wanted face to face. We fooled around with each other a little but, being 2am, sex was clearly out of the question…
She was tense and dry. Tentative fingers seeking down between her legs were just causing her irritation. I steered her face towards mine, planted my lips full on hers and very slowly slid a hand over her face until it was smothered, insidiously pinching her nostrils and pressing my mouth harder onto hers until she was struggling beneath me. I released her to allow her to take gasping breaths and then repeated the treatment. Over and over again. She became soaking wet in no time and I was soon able to reposition myself above her, hoist her legs up over my shoulders and fold her in half as I skewered her. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of the first plunge into a well-lubricated but still unused and tight cunt. The closeness and smoothness, the smells, and ths sounds of her gasps. I wetted my cock thoroughly in her and then pulled out, intending to finish her off quickly by hand. As I knelt up by her head I curled one arm around it and pulled her up into my lap, pushing my glistening cock, heavy with her juices, between her quivering lips.
Now Heather hates this. Hates the taste of herself, but did nothing to resist. She licked and sucked in a resigned sort of way. I laid on top of her in a full-on ’69’, ramming my cock down her throat and burying my face in her juicy cunt. Then I fucked her again, hard and relentlessly, with the express intention of coating my cock in her viscous juices so that she could have another mouthful. I knelt up beside her like before and rubbed her clit to some kind of an orgasm – she was tense and I was rubbing too hard in my enthusiasm, edging over to the wrong side of that fine line between pleasure and pain. But any cries of protest were lost in the fleshy, slippery gag that was filling her mouth.
A third time I spread her legs and fucked her, shivering and limp like a ragdoll. A third time I shoved my cock into her face, coating it all over with her juices this time, tracing around her lips, slapping her cheeks. She lay there with eyes squeezed shut, shaking her head and mouthing ”No” again and again, but doing nothing to resist. I pummelled her cheek with the top of my fist as I wanked myself hard and at last released a flood of spunk all over her face.
This, for Heather, is the ultimate humiliation, and yet she lay there and let me do it to her. I regretted it almost as soon as the deed was done, patted her face gently with tissues and put eyedrops in her eyes as they react very badly to semen. I expected recriminations, but there came none; neither at the time or the next morning. It is as if, in the middle of a hectic life with many decisions to be taken and many burdens put upon her, she needs a space where she is led places she doesn’t want to go, where she is dominated and, yes, humiliated.
In the little fantasy kingdom that is our bedroom, she needs me to be the king.
Monday, July 07, 2008
There, But For The Grace Of God...
Sunday evening we were back home after another weekend spent in the summerhouse. I was idly checking the e-mails, nothing very special there. Among them was a reply to the invitation to Heather’s birthday, from her brother. I casually opened it.
I sat bolt upright in my chair and called out to Heather. ”I think you’d better see this”
Now Heather’s brother-the older of the two-lives in town, not ten minutes walk from our house, but we don’t exactly live in each other’s pockets. In fact there can go weeks when we don’t see each other. The e-mail said that he, and some of the family, would like to attend, but that he was going through a severe depression at present and was only just holding himself together with the help of medication. He had recently discovered that his wife had been seeing a work colleague for the last 6 months, that she had just moved out back to her parents, taking their middle child with her, leaving him with the two other girls. The older daughter, about the same age as our own daughter, wants nothing to do with her mother and Heather’s brother was just hoping he could find a way to hold on to the house and keep what remained of his family together.
Of course this news was a shock. On the surface they seemed to have a lot going for them: Nice house, three daughters, Good jobs. He is usually quiet, moody sometimes, but who knows what turbulence lies underneath a seemingly calm surface? It’s easy to lay the blame on her, having a fling with another man and deserting her family, but who knows the real story that lies underneath? Was he cruel? Violent? Boring? Has she had a string of affairs he hasn’t known about? More than likely we will only get to hear one side of that story, so it’ll be hard to remain objective. We’ll be expected to take sides, of course, or risk being accused of disloyalty and cause even more family splits.
The odd thing was that, not half an hour before, Heather had asked me if I had heard anything about him recently. She had the feeling that something was amiss but had no idea what. She had suspected he was about to change jobs or something. As things are, with him in such a terrible state and Heather being the big sister, it is her that is going to have to tell the rest of the family.
Thank goodness we’re solid as a rock. Our marriage - our loving, trusting partnership, is as strong as it ever was and we have a rich and fulfilling – not to say adventurous – sex life. Such a thing could never happen to Heather and me.
Could it?
I sat bolt upright in my chair and called out to Heather. ”I think you’d better see this”
Now Heather’s brother-the older of the two-lives in town, not ten minutes walk from our house, but we don’t exactly live in each other’s pockets. In fact there can go weeks when we don’t see each other. The e-mail said that he, and some of the family, would like to attend, but that he was going through a severe depression at present and was only just holding himself together with the help of medication. He had recently discovered that his wife had been seeing a work colleague for the last 6 months, that she had just moved out back to her parents, taking their middle child with her, leaving him with the two other girls. The older daughter, about the same age as our own daughter, wants nothing to do with her mother and Heather’s brother was just hoping he could find a way to hold on to the house and keep what remained of his family together.
Of course this news was a shock. On the surface they seemed to have a lot going for them: Nice house, three daughters, Good jobs. He is usually quiet, moody sometimes, but who knows what turbulence lies underneath a seemingly calm surface? It’s easy to lay the blame on her, having a fling with another man and deserting her family, but who knows the real story that lies underneath? Was he cruel? Violent? Boring? Has she had a string of affairs he hasn’t known about? More than likely we will only get to hear one side of that story, so it’ll be hard to remain objective. We’ll be expected to take sides, of course, or risk being accused of disloyalty and cause even more family splits.
The odd thing was that, not half an hour before, Heather had asked me if I had heard anything about him recently. She had the feeling that something was amiss but had no idea what. She had suspected he was about to change jobs or something. As things are, with him in such a terrible state and Heather being the big sister, it is her that is going to have to tell the rest of the family.
Thank goodness we’re solid as a rock. Our marriage - our loving, trusting partnership, is as strong as it ever was and we have a rich and fulfilling – not to say adventurous – sex life. Such a thing could never happen to Heather and me.
Could it?
Friday, July 04, 2008
Love Makes The World Go Round (But Cider Makes It Go Round Faster) - Part 2
...Continued from here.
When we arrived back at the summerhouse, the first thing I did was turn on the television just to see what was on, as one does. The film ’Golden Child’ with Eddie Murphy was just starting and I sat down on the arm of the armchair half-watching it, as one does. I was completely unaware of what Heather was doing behind me until I caught a streak of pink flesh out of the corner of my eye and turned to see her rapidly disappeaing in the direction of the bedroom.
I stripped off as quickly as I could (socks first-always socks first) and followed. She was already face-down on the bed, head pushed down into the duvet, legs drawn up but spread wide. Cunt gaping, lips glistening. She hadn’t said a word, all that needed to be said was expressed there right in front of me: ”Fuck me now. Don’t bother fiddling my clit or kissing my tits, just get your cock inside me and fuck me hard”.
So I fucked her. Hard. I stretched out full-length on top of her and grabbed her shoulders. My cock found it’s own way into her deep, slick, welcoming hole. Why shouldn’t it? It’s been there often enough before. I was sliding my whole body up and down on top of hers, finishing with a little thrust at the end of the stroke to ram it in a little bit further, a little thrust which pushed the breath out of her with a grunt.
I pulled her back onto her knees and knelt up behind her, taking hold of her back, palms resting just above her rounded buttocks as I pumped into her, my balls slapping up against her cunt lips. The smell of her filled my nostrils and spurred me on. That secret smell, that smell that must be supressed and smothered in polite company, that ’dirty’ smell, the smell of her lust combined with her sweat, and mine. But there is no part of my beloved that is dirty, nothing about her that is unclean. I want to experience all of her. Those primitive chemical signals, drawn deep in with every breath and savoured, touch directly on the most primitive areas of the brain and are as intoxicating as any drug. I slipped a thumb into her arse and that particular aroma was added to the heady brew. Objectionable most of the time, in this context it just inflamed me more. Heather gasped louder and I toyed with the idea of opening her up wider and pleasuring myself in there, but the night was young, we could save that for a second session later on.
I pulled her into a more crouched position and squatted behind her, holding onto the bed-end for balance. I like this position because it is so animalistic, so primitive. She gasped as I took hold of handfuls of her hair and drew her head back as I pulled her to me, jarring her body and making the bed sway with every impact.
I broke away and rolled her onto her side, kneeling astride her one outstretched leg, while the other I hoisted over my shoulder. I paused for a moment so enjoy the view of her wide open cunt, then guided the very tip of my cock so that it rested between her plump, fleshy lips, and rubbed it up and down her soaking cleft, the sensitive head tickled by her hairy rim. Then I shufled forward, gently easing into her inch by inch until I could feel her wetness soaking into the hair at the base of my cock. I hugged her leg to me hard with both arms and shoved myself into her again and again.
I was close to coming, but didn’t want to just yet. I pulled away from her once more and knelt up by her head, with on hand fingering her cunt while the other was pulling and twisting each nipple in turn. Heather was very close. She can’t come just form vaginal penetration but she was very close. In that madness that sometimes overtakes her and causes her to throw away her inhibitions for a few blessed moments she grabbed hold of my cock, glistening and slick as it was from her juices, and stuffed it greedily in her mouth where, seconds later, it stifled the cries of her orgasm.
It is very rarely that she will spontaneously take my cock in her mouth. Even rarer that she will consent to take it when it is covered with the taste and scent of her, and she has certainly never before done that voluntarily and spontaneously. Maybe it was just the effect of the drink, maybe the intensity of the orgasm that overwhelmed her after so many days of not being able to attain one, maybe what she said about getting her life back is true and she is learning to love herself as I love her, every last part of her. Whatever the reason, she took it all as I massaged her clit to a deep and prolonged orgsam.
And then she rolled over and crouched in the foetal position with the duvet pulled over her, shivering despite the heat. I lay on top of her, covering her the best I could, sharing some of my spare body-heat…
And suddenly it was three hours later when we both woke simultaneously from our deep and much-needed sleep.
When we arrived back at the summerhouse, the first thing I did was turn on the television just to see what was on, as one does. The film ’Golden Child’ with Eddie Murphy was just starting and I sat down on the arm of the armchair half-watching it, as one does. I was completely unaware of what Heather was doing behind me until I caught a streak of pink flesh out of the corner of my eye and turned to see her rapidly disappeaing in the direction of the bedroom.
I stripped off as quickly as I could (socks first-always socks first) and followed. She was already face-down on the bed, head pushed down into the duvet, legs drawn up but spread wide. Cunt gaping, lips glistening. She hadn’t said a word, all that needed to be said was expressed there right in front of me: ”Fuck me now. Don’t bother fiddling my clit or kissing my tits, just get your cock inside me and fuck me hard”.
So I fucked her. Hard. I stretched out full-length on top of her and grabbed her shoulders. My cock found it’s own way into her deep, slick, welcoming hole. Why shouldn’t it? It’s been there often enough before. I was sliding my whole body up and down on top of hers, finishing with a little thrust at the end of the stroke to ram it in a little bit further, a little thrust which pushed the breath out of her with a grunt.
I pulled her back onto her knees and knelt up behind her, taking hold of her back, palms resting just above her rounded buttocks as I pumped into her, my balls slapping up against her cunt lips. The smell of her filled my nostrils and spurred me on. That secret smell, that smell that must be supressed and smothered in polite company, that ’dirty’ smell, the smell of her lust combined with her sweat, and mine. But there is no part of my beloved that is dirty, nothing about her that is unclean. I want to experience all of her. Those primitive chemical signals, drawn deep in with every breath and savoured, touch directly on the most primitive areas of the brain and are as intoxicating as any drug. I slipped a thumb into her arse and that particular aroma was added to the heady brew. Objectionable most of the time, in this context it just inflamed me more. Heather gasped louder and I toyed with the idea of opening her up wider and pleasuring myself in there, but the night was young, we could save that for a second session later on.
I pulled her into a more crouched position and squatted behind her, holding onto the bed-end for balance. I like this position because it is so animalistic, so primitive. She gasped as I took hold of handfuls of her hair and drew her head back as I pulled her to me, jarring her body and making the bed sway with every impact.
I broke away and rolled her onto her side, kneeling astride her one outstretched leg, while the other I hoisted over my shoulder. I paused for a moment so enjoy the view of her wide open cunt, then guided the very tip of my cock so that it rested between her plump, fleshy lips, and rubbed it up and down her soaking cleft, the sensitive head tickled by her hairy rim. Then I shufled forward, gently easing into her inch by inch until I could feel her wetness soaking into the hair at the base of my cock. I hugged her leg to me hard with both arms and shoved myself into her again and again.
I was close to coming, but didn’t want to just yet. I pulled away from her once more and knelt up by her head, with on hand fingering her cunt while the other was pulling and twisting each nipple in turn. Heather was very close. She can’t come just form vaginal penetration but she was very close. In that madness that sometimes overtakes her and causes her to throw away her inhibitions for a few blessed moments she grabbed hold of my cock, glistening and slick as it was from her juices, and stuffed it greedily in her mouth where, seconds later, it stifled the cries of her orgasm.
It is very rarely that she will spontaneously take my cock in her mouth. Even rarer that she will consent to take it when it is covered with the taste and scent of her, and she has certainly never before done that voluntarily and spontaneously. Maybe it was just the effect of the drink, maybe the intensity of the orgasm that overwhelmed her after so many days of not being able to attain one, maybe what she said about getting her life back is true and she is learning to love herself as I love her, every last part of her. Whatever the reason, she took it all as I massaged her clit to a deep and prolonged orgsam.
And then she rolled over and crouched in the foetal position with the duvet pulled over her, shivering despite the heat. I lay on top of her, covering her the best I could, sharing some of my spare body-heat…
And suddenly it was three hours later when we both woke simultaneously from our deep and much-needed sleep.
Quote Of The Day
From Daughter, newly collected from her rock festival...
"You had a good time, then?"
"Yeah, I was hangin' out with the boys and gettin' pissed".
And if anyone wonders where THAT comes from, I would refer to how Heather was at 16!!!!!
(For our American cousins-happy 4th July btw- 'pissed' in English English means 'drunk' and not 'annoyed')
"You had a good time, then?"
"Yeah, I was hangin' out with the boys and gettin' pissed".
And if anyone wonders where THAT comes from, I would refer to how Heather was at 16!!!!!
(For our American cousins-happy 4th July btw- 'pissed' in English English means 'drunk' and not 'annoyed')
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Relaxxxx!
We’ve been through a stressful time. Heather and I, but I think we’re more or less out the other side now:
Anxiety 1: Son and his exam results. Well, he graduated, he has applied for a place at teacher training college which he will almost certainly get. He will have the option to convert to a university course after the second year, with credit given for those two years. At last he knows what he wants and how he’s going to get it.
Anxiety 2: Daughter was ill during the last week or so at school, including some of her exams. She’d managed to convince herself she’d got a Mono infection. We’ll get the blood test results tomorrow, although she seems to be a lot better now, but it is certainly very stressful when she’s crying down the phone because she feels so ill, and you’re powerless to do anything.
Anxiety 3: We suddenly got notice to quit from the lock-up garage we had been renting and where we had been storing the shopfittings from our closed business while we tried to find a buyer. The garage has been sold to a property developer who wanted us out by 30th June. It looked as if we had a buyer about a month ago, but he couldn't give a firm commitment as to when he could come and collect the stuff. The day before we were supposed to clear out, he turned up with a truck and took the lot off our hands, just when it looked as if I would have to break it all up and cart it off to the dump.
Anxiety 4: Daughter’s passport arrived back from the Brazilian Embassy today by registered post, sporting a brand new shiny visa. She is all set for the journey of a lifetime! Pessimist that I am I had visions of last-minute problems and having to make an emergency dash to the embassy on the way to the airport or something.
Funny thing is that, over the last few weeks Heather has been complaining of toothache. She went to the dentist, and he couldn’t find any damage but asked if it was possible that she had been clenching her teeth during sleep. Apparently this is not an uncommon effect of stress. Over the last few days, with the anxieties having disappeared, so has the toothache.
So with any luck we can take off to the summerhouse as soon as we close tonight with a punnet of fresh local strawberries, and just relaxxxxx!
Having written this, I read Giggle’s latest post. The anxieties that her mate Trub has right now make our silly little problems pale into insignificance. We’ve been spared any major anxieties over our children’s health, she could use some love and support right now.
(The promised sequel to this post is further delayed because I didn't get it written last night. Blame it on more cider! We really must stop drinking midweek, it seems like a good idea at the time, but not such a great idea the next morning!)
Anxiety 1: Son and his exam results. Well, he graduated, he has applied for a place at teacher training college which he will almost certainly get. He will have the option to convert to a university course after the second year, with credit given for those two years. At last he knows what he wants and how he’s going to get it.
Anxiety 2: Daughter was ill during the last week or so at school, including some of her exams. She’d managed to convince herself she’d got a Mono infection. We’ll get the blood test results tomorrow, although she seems to be a lot better now, but it is certainly very stressful when she’s crying down the phone because she feels so ill, and you’re powerless to do anything.
Anxiety 3: We suddenly got notice to quit from the lock-up garage we had been renting and where we had been storing the shopfittings from our closed business while we tried to find a buyer. The garage has been sold to a property developer who wanted us out by 30th June. It looked as if we had a buyer about a month ago, but he couldn't give a firm commitment as to when he could come and collect the stuff. The day before we were supposed to clear out, he turned up with a truck and took the lot off our hands, just when it looked as if I would have to break it all up and cart it off to the dump.
Anxiety 4: Daughter’s passport arrived back from the Brazilian Embassy today by registered post, sporting a brand new shiny visa. She is all set for the journey of a lifetime! Pessimist that I am I had visions of last-minute problems and having to make an emergency dash to the embassy on the way to the airport or something.
Funny thing is that, over the last few weeks Heather has been complaining of toothache. She went to the dentist, and he couldn’t find any damage but asked if it was possible that she had been clenching her teeth during sleep. Apparently this is not an uncommon effect of stress. Over the last few days, with the anxieties having disappeared, so has the toothache.
So with any luck we can take off to the summerhouse as soon as we close tonight with a punnet of fresh local strawberries, and just relaxxxxx!
Having written this, I read Giggle’s latest post. The anxieties that her mate Trub has right now make our silly little problems pale into insignificance. We’ve been spared any major anxieties over our children’s health, she could use some love and support right now.
(The promised sequel to this post is further delayed because I didn't get it written last night. Blame it on more cider! We really must stop drinking midweek, it seems like a good idea at the time, but not such a great idea the next morning!)
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
A Perfect Day
Today is the day we got our summer back. The sun has been shining out of a flawless blue sky, with barley and rye standing golden in the fields, brushed by the lightest of breezes. As I drove over the brow of a hill, the fjord in front of us was the deepest azure, dotted with little white sails, against a backdrop of rolling green hills. A perfect day.
A perfect day for a rock festival, which was where I was taking Daughter. A good proportion of her erstwhile schoolmates will be there, including the members of her band and she’ll be sharing a tent with a good housemate from last year. The lineup of artists this year is just to her taste, including Sheryl Crow tomorrow night, and the good weather looks likely to continue until the weekend. Not that the mudbath that was last year’s event stopped them from having a good time.
She hugged me as she got out of the car and I watched as she joined the steady flow of people making their way to the main gate. She didn’t look back. She never does. Walking upright and confident with her bedroll under one arm and a rucsack hanging on her shoulder, black t-shirt from the festival where she has recently perfomed, armbands from half a dozen earlier festivals dangling together with a homemade bracelet of bootlaces and ringpulls at her wrist. She looked every bit the seasoned festivalgoer.
I felt a little pang as I watched her go. A little lump in the throat. Was it anxiety? No, I know she’s among friends in a safe environment. Will we miss her? Not really, brutal though it sounds. We’re used to her being away more than she’s at home these days, we’re glad that she’s confident and independent with a wide social circle.
Envy. That’s what it was. I wished I was her age again, enjoying my teenage years to the full, carefree on a hot day at the beginning of the summer break. Yes, I felt envy.
And just a little pride.
(The continuation to the previous post, ’Love Makes The World Go Round…’ will be posted just as soon as I have had the time to do the subject justice.)
A perfect day for a rock festival, which was where I was taking Daughter. A good proportion of her erstwhile schoolmates will be there, including the members of her band and she’ll be sharing a tent with a good housemate from last year. The lineup of artists this year is just to her taste, including Sheryl Crow tomorrow night, and the good weather looks likely to continue until the weekend. Not that the mudbath that was last year’s event stopped them from having a good time.
She hugged me as she got out of the car and I watched as she joined the steady flow of people making their way to the main gate. She didn’t look back. She never does. Walking upright and confident with her bedroll under one arm and a rucsack hanging on her shoulder, black t-shirt from the festival where she has recently perfomed, armbands from half a dozen earlier festivals dangling together with a homemade bracelet of bootlaces and ringpulls at her wrist. She looked every bit the seasoned festivalgoer.
I felt a little pang as I watched her go. A little lump in the throat. Was it anxiety? No, I know she’s among friends in a safe environment. Will we miss her? Not really, brutal though it sounds. We’re used to her being away more than she’s at home these days, we’re glad that she’s confident and independent with a wide social circle.
Envy. That’s what it was. I wished I was her age again, enjoying my teenage years to the full, carefree on a hot day at the beginning of the summer break. Yes, I felt envy.
And just a little pride.
(The continuation to the previous post, ’Love Makes The World Go Round…’ will be posted just as soon as I have had the time to do the subject justice.)
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Love Makes The World Go Round (But Cider Makes It Go Round Faster) - Part 1
”Dad, would you drive me into town, or shall I take the bus?”
It was Saturday afternoon. Daughter was newly back from school for the last time. The day before had been somewhat of an emotional affair, with floods of tears as Daughter and her school friends took leave of each other for the last time. She had been miserable and moping all day, when she hadn’t been sleeping, but one of her erstwhile schoolmates had invited her to stay over at her place for the night.
I was inclined to say ”Take the bus”. Especially with fuel prices the way they are, and wanting to get to the summerhouse as soon as possible but Heather, with a twinkle in her eye, suggested we both drive the twenty-odd miles to Eelfort with her and then we could go directly to the summerhouse from there.
”Maybe we could stop off for a drink on the way back” she hinted.
So we drove into the city centre as soon as we had dropped Daughter off outside her friend’s house and made our way to the English Pub, where we settled at the bar with our pints and watched the cricket on the widescreen TV. The beer was hoppy and fragrant and I could close my eyes and imagine myself in a beer garden somewhere in Sussex on a warm summer afternoon as I necked the first half a glass down without it touching the sides.
Heather, on the other hand, had decided to do some serious drinking. She had ordered a pint of Scrumpy, 7.2%, and followed on with a Perry of only slightly less firepower. She was reeling a little as I led her back to the car. ”Do you remember the days when we could get pissed on a pound with cider?” she slurred. I remembered.
”Shall we take a look in there?” I asked jokingly, as we drove past one of the sex-shops in town.
”Too close to home. I might meet someone I know. If we do go to a sex-shop it will have to be one in another town. I tell you what you can get me; a proper corset, one that shows off all my best features. One where I can be laced up really tight. I want to be a prick-tease, I really used to enjoy being a prick-tease when I was younger, but you’re always so bloody jealous it’s taken all the fun out of it.”
Before I could protest or try to promise to be better in the future or even try to defend myself by saying that even if I was jealous the worst I ever did was to just not talk to her for a bit or interpose myself between her and the tease-ee, she went on.
”Do you know anywhere I can get measured and fitted for a proper corset? It would have to be out of town. I really want to have my boobs pushed right up and wear a low-cut dress and have all the guys look at me. I love the idea of being restrained in a really tight corset. Now the kids are just about to leave home I feel as if I am getting my life back after nearly 20 years. I want to go out and enjoy myself. I want to make guys look at me and I want to tease them a little…”
And so it went on throughout the half-hour journey to the summerhouse. I was quite amazed, For all her many good qualities, Heather very rarely talks about sex, and certainly not unprompted and in such an uninhibited way. I would like to think that what started her off talking about corsets was me showing her this picture. Who knows?
But the talk was nothing compared to what happened when we got back…
(to be continued)
It was Saturday afternoon. Daughter was newly back from school for the last time. The day before had been somewhat of an emotional affair, with floods of tears as Daughter and her school friends took leave of each other for the last time. She had been miserable and moping all day, when she hadn’t been sleeping, but one of her erstwhile schoolmates had invited her to stay over at her place for the night.
I was inclined to say ”Take the bus”. Especially with fuel prices the way they are, and wanting to get to the summerhouse as soon as possible but Heather, with a twinkle in her eye, suggested we both drive the twenty-odd miles to Eelfort with her and then we could go directly to the summerhouse from there.
”Maybe we could stop off for a drink on the way back” she hinted.
So we drove into the city centre as soon as we had dropped Daughter off outside her friend’s house and made our way to the English Pub, where we settled at the bar with our pints and watched the cricket on the widescreen TV. The beer was hoppy and fragrant and I could close my eyes and imagine myself in a beer garden somewhere in Sussex on a warm summer afternoon as I necked the first half a glass down without it touching the sides.
Heather, on the other hand, had decided to do some serious drinking. She had ordered a pint of Scrumpy, 7.2%, and followed on with a Perry of only slightly less firepower. She was reeling a little as I led her back to the car. ”Do you remember the days when we could get pissed on a pound with cider?” she slurred. I remembered.
”Shall we take a look in there?” I asked jokingly, as we drove past one of the sex-shops in town.
”Too close to home. I might meet someone I know. If we do go to a sex-shop it will have to be one in another town. I tell you what you can get me; a proper corset, one that shows off all my best features. One where I can be laced up really tight. I want to be a prick-tease, I really used to enjoy being a prick-tease when I was younger, but you’re always so bloody jealous it’s taken all the fun out of it.”
Before I could protest or try to promise to be better in the future or even try to defend myself by saying that even if I was jealous the worst I ever did was to just not talk to her for a bit or interpose myself between her and the tease-ee, she went on.
”Do you know anywhere I can get measured and fitted for a proper corset? It would have to be out of town. I really want to have my boobs pushed right up and wear a low-cut dress and have all the guys look at me. I love the idea of being restrained in a really tight corset. Now the kids are just about to leave home I feel as if I am getting my life back after nearly 20 years. I want to go out and enjoy myself. I want to make guys look at me and I want to tease them a little…”
And so it went on throughout the half-hour journey to the summerhouse. I was quite amazed, For all her many good qualities, Heather very rarely talks about sex, and certainly not unprompted and in such an uninhibited way. I would like to think that what started her off talking about corsets was me showing her this picture. Who knows?
But the talk was nothing compared to what happened when we got back…
(to be continued)
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