Friday, August 30, 2013

Good Service

I was flicking through my Tumblr this morning and I came accross this image. I thought I would share what went through my head after that


On the last day of their holiday, Lucy and John planned to spend their day visiting their favourite places one last time. The first stop was the café where they had breakfasted almost every day. As they walked through the door they were greeted by the young waiter that had been there almost every morning they had visited. Efficiently he showed them to their table. As he pulled out her chair Lucy stepped past him, allowing her body to brush his. She let her gaze linger over the athletic body under the crisp white shirt before falling down to the apron tied around his waist. As she sat she leaned back a little, letting him see her nipples hard against the thin fabric of her sun dress. Across the table her husband smirked. 

The waiter finished filling her glass and turned to fill her husband's. Lucy took a moment to take in his fantastic arse. It was the thing she liked most about him. Mainly because the long black apron that he wore covered his other best part. 

"Do you want to order now or did you need a moment?" The waiter's voice interrupted her thoughts. She looked up at him noting the faint colour on his cheeks.  

"Just the usual thanks," Lucy smiled up at him. Across the table her husband agreed. The waiter made a note in his pad and turned and walked away.

Lucy stretched back on her chair, enjoying the sunshine. All around them the café buzzed with people starting their day. 

"I know what you are up to," her husband interrupted her thoughts.

Lucy took a sip of her drink and looked at her husband over the rim of her glass with wide innocent eyes,

"I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about." She pressed her hand against her breast. "I am just here enjoying this fantastic sunshine. 

The waiter appeared with their breakfast placing the plates carefully on the table before turning away to go and fetch their coffees. Lucy inhaled the smell of perfectly cooked omelette before she delicately cut into the fluffy eggs. Coffee appeared on the table in front of her and she looked up at the waiter, letting her fork rest on her lip for a moment. He shuffled awkwardly and looked downwards. Lucy reached down with her spare hand and lifted the hem of her dress to give him a glimpse of smooth tanned thigh. 

Awkwardly the waiter shuffled, "Was there anything else?" his face was flushed and his hands clasped over his apron. 

"Not right now, thanks," Lucy moved her shoulder slightly and the strap of her dress slipped downwards. 

"Ok then," the waiter's eyes were fixed on the neckline of Lucy's dress, "I will be back later to make sure everything is OK then." There was a pause before he turned and walked away. Casually Lucy let her fork fall on the ground. 

"Honey would you get that for me?" she looked across at her husband with wide innocent eyes. 

"Sure." With a smirk her husband bent down from his chair to retrieve the fork.

"While you are down there," Lucy quipped. Her gaze travelled across the café to where the waiter was attending to another young couple. She leaned back on her chair as she felt the first tentative touch of her husband's lips on her pussy. As his tongue made its way into her slit she was happy that she had taken time to shave that morning.  She lay back a little further allowing her legs to spread further apart. Across the room she locked eyes with the waiter. He finished taking the new couple's order and made his way to the kitchen. Under the table her husband slid his tongue deeper. She gripped the arms of the chair as he lapped at the hot wetness that was pouring out of her.

"How is everything?" The voice of the waiter interrupted her thoughts.

"Everything is just perfect," Lucy gasped. She lifted the table cloth aside so that the waiter could see the outline of her husband's head as it pressed into her groin. She slipped the strap of her dress down, allowing him to see her nipple hard with excitement. Under the table her husband slid a finger into her hot wet cunt tilting it expertly as he pressed his tongue against her hard node. The familiar warm pressure began to build in her belly. Lucy slid her finger into the neck of her dress and pinched her nipple. She looked into the eyes of the waiter as she came muting the sound of her pleasure to a whimper. 

Her body sagged against the chair as her husband re-appeared on the other side of the table with a fork in his hand. 

"Found it." He announced cheerily wiping the wetness from Lucy's cunt from his chin with a napkin. 

Without speaking the waiter wrote on his pad and passed the page to Lucy.

"I am glad you enjoyed your breakfast." He smiled to her as he turned and walked away. 

Lucy looked down at the paper before handing it to her husband with a smile of triumph.

"Perhaps we will find something new to enjoy today after all."  

Something for the weekend

 Make sure you check out the other weekend goodness at Yummy's page here.

Monday, August 26, 2013

TMI Tuesday - Fuck Like a Porn Star


This week's questions were again contributed by several TMI regulars. Thanks guys for some great questions! As usual make sure you check out the other entries on the TMI Tuesday Page.

1.What sex act have you seen in porn videos / films and have never done but want to do?
I almost never watch porn so I don't have any porn inspired fantasies. Most of my to-dos are related to situations and scentarios rather than particular acts. So I guess the answer to this question is no. Although this looks like it could be fun.

2. A lot of porn is remakes of old ideas. It is difficult to be creative because it is all basically about the same thing. Everyone is starved for ideas and if some new idea is successful it's immediately swamped by knock-offs. Do you have an idea for something even a little bit new in porn?
Most of the porn I have seen is terrible and very unimaginative. If I were making a porno and had an unlimited budget it would feature a story line about a woman who has a rather long fucket list and proceeds to embark on a journey to tick off all of her items. 

A second idea would be a secret camera planted at an actual sex party featuring real people not the perfect porn stars. Normal sized fucking in a drunken orgy. 

3. Whilst ideally we'd all like to say our partner provides us with the best orgasms, what is really making you see stars?
a) masturbation
b) sex toys
c) my partner(s)
I would have to answer (c) partners. I do see stars when I have sex with Jake. Not every time but some times. If he has some help then yes stars are very likely. 

4, Have you ever 'cheated' on your partner, and did they know / find out? Would you want someone to tell you if your partner was cheating? Define what you consider "cheating".
Once in the dim distant past I did cheat on Jake. It is a very sad tale that involved alcohol and a work collegue. He did find out very soon afterwards because I told him. That was a significant turning point in our relationship and really the source of the brutal honesty that I feel is our trademark today. Our definition of cheating is quite different from the mainstream version. Basically we define cheating as doing something that you don't want your partner to find out about. That could be a text, a photo, a conversation or sex or all of it. It is lying about something.

In terms of someone telling me if Jake is cheating. I honestly can't imagine being in a situation where he was lying to me about anything like that. Given that he has permission to have sex with other women and we have the brutal honesty thing going on I think I would know if he was hiding something. I don't think I would like a well-meaning person poking their nose into my relationship because most people don't have a good handle on how things work between us.

Bonus: Give us 2 -3 erotic Paragraphs incorporating the following words; Magnificent, Nero, Licks, Hard, Nipples (No you can't use them all in one sentence).

Nero unzipped his jeans and pushed them down over his ass. The thin fabric of his boxers stretched tightly over his bulging cock. He smiled as he looked down at her, keeling expectantly waiting with her hands bound behind her back. Her wide brown eyes looked up expectantly, her body was almost wriggling in excitement. 
Slowly he slid his fingers into the waistband of his shorts, she bit her lip in anticipation and wriggled forwards a little.

"Be still!" he commanded. 

She stilled herself and looked downwards drawing his eyes to her nipples that were hard and standing to attention. Her eyes, more demure now, returned to the prize in front of her face. Slowly he eased the fabric downwards to reveal his magnificent cock. She inhaled a little making a visible effort to restrain herself. Pleased with her restraint he stepped forward and stroked her lips with the head of his cock. She opened her mouth a little to lick the precum from the head of his cock. He resisted the urge to take her hair in his palm and press her face down onto him. Instead he tilted his hips and presented his balls to her. She responded well massaging him with licks and taking each ball into her mouth before releasing him and moving up his shaft.


This Dual Life

Most swingers conceal their activities from their family and most of their friends. Some even go so far as to hide their 'real' identity from other swingers to make sure both worlds don't collide. In some swinging circles this is frowned upon. Swinging is about being true to yourself and swingers in general are a pretty honest bunch. I thought I would tell my story and explain to the world why I choose to live the dual life. 

When Jake and I first walked through the door of that club those years ago we never really thought about assuming a fake identity. As we explored we learned that many people hid their activities from the world at large in various ways. We are naturally reserved people and so keeping things to ourselves comes naturally to us. The idea of using an alias or having a separate Facebook account seemed way too complicated.  

As time went by we became more relaxed in ourselves about what we were doing. We didn't really advertise what we were doing but at the same time we didn't actively hide it either. I am a fundamentally honest person. I don't like to live a lie. That didn't mean that I wanted to go around with a sign on my head that says "I am a big fat slut swinger" but if asked a direct question I would answer honestly. With some people I would be vague and if I felt they really couldn't deal with the situation I would tell them not to ask questions because they might not like the answers. 

Consequently most of the people that are close to us, including both of our sets of parents, know on some level what we get up to. On the whole they don't ask questions. Depending on the person, I avoid discussing specifics. I know some people feel that this is splitting hairs but I have never actively lied to anyone about where I went or what I did.  My parents are a little judgmental but they have been told quite pointedly on one occasion that it really isn't any of their business. Everyone else is the way the people closest to you should be. Accepting and loving you for who you are. In our circle of friends we don't care to have anyone who isn't. 

When I started writing and blogging Gemma and Jake came into existence. Their main purpose was to keep my actual name from being blazoned across the internet to be Googled for the rest of the eternity and to protect myself from crazy stalker types turning up at my front door. To deceive the people I knew personally or to have an alter ego that has adventures that the real me never would consider was not and never became my objective.  

Over time my blog grew into something other than a way for me to introduce my writing to the world and my social network accounts grew into something other than advertising for me. Gemma became a woman who was all sexy and did all kinds of things that some people wished they could.  During that timeframe the 'real' me has trained to become a Biology teacher. I have had some confronting moments when I have looked deep into myself and asked "Am I really a suitable person to be in charge of adolescents?" I have often pondered about the way my lifestyle fits into the other parts of my life.  

Through my study I have been made aware of how one-eyed and judgemental people can be of teachers. I have read articles and been told stories of terrible injustices done to teachers because a disgruntled parent made unfounded allegations that ended up in the media. I have had moments of terror that I will one day be confronted with the front of my blog and a "Please explain" from a principal because of a complaint from a parent. 

I avoid writing about virginity and teenage sex for this reason. Even though it is something that I think could have great value to young adults. I believe the popular media is very lacking in positive sexual images and story lines that give teenagers something to base their sexual education on. Instead we protect them by preventing such material from making its way into their lives and leave them relying on hard core internet porn and stupid soap opera story lines. Because of all this I have buried Gemma's 'real' identity down to the point where there are people in the world who know me personally only by the name Gemma Jones.

The question I ask myself often is, "How removed from Mrs Biology Teacher is Gemma Jones?" There is a line drawn in the sand between them. Gemma Jones NEVER sets foot through a school gate no matter how fabulous the fantasy might be for some. But there are people who think it goes further than this. They think that when I walk through the door of a club or party I morph into someone else, that the Gemma alter ego is a way for me to live a life that the real me cannot justify. 

The reality is more complex. I cannot switch Gemma off and on like that, and I don't want to. I am who I am. Things flit into my head all the time. I have just learned not to dwell on them or act on them except when it is appropriate. I take the morality and ethics of the real me wherever I go. To say I am a different person given the situation I am in is unfair. If I am more flirty and sexual in a particular environment that is because I feel more comfortable in that environment and I think that the people I am with are grown up enough to be able to handle that part of my personality.  In the "real" world people are just not that adult and cannot help but to fling the stones of their ill-informed judgements around without considering the damage they might be doing to some undeserving people. 

Having an alias is not about having an outlet to be naughty with no repercussions. Nor is it about feeling guilty about what I do. It is a self-preservation technique. Of course I could stop blogging, I could stop writing and 'being Gemma' and then I wouldn't have to worry about being judged for not conforming. But that would be like making the last five years of my life a lie. Worse than that, it would make me unhappy and incomplete as a person. I am this person. Don't judge me if I choose to hide it from some people.  

Friday, August 23, 2013

Sing a Song of Sixpence

Something for the weekend

After the Wicked Wednesday prompt this week I was all inspired to write a second issue. So here it goes!

Sing a song of Sixpence.........
The sweet voices of the choir outside drifted through the window. I added my own chorus with moans of pleasure as I sprawled over the settee in the salon gripping my lover's hair as he licked my cunt.

A pocket full of Rye...........
He always brings me a gift when he visits. Tonight it was a pocket full of tiny seed pearls which he showered over my naked breasts before bending to pleasure my nipple. 

Four and twenty naughty boys baked in a pie.........  
One of the most delicious things in the kitchen is the sight of those naughty naked boys bent over Cook's knee whimpering as she paddles their soft white bottoms.
Source: Sammies Art
When the pie was opened the birds began to sing.......
The scullery maid and the chamber maids stood against the wall with their skirts hitched up and their legs spread wide. With red bottoms the naughty boys kneeled in front of them licking at them until they screamed in pleasure. 

Wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king?
The ladies of the court were impressed by the naughty boys. The butler collared them and they crawled on their hands and knees out into Father's feasting hall licking and sucking whenever a lady lifted her skirts and spread her legs for them.

The King was in the counting house counting out his money......
Father does love feeling his gold. I haven't watched but I have heard that he loves to fuck the scullery maid on a bed of gold coins. I prefer a softer bed. 

The Queen was in the parlour eating bread and honey.......
For the record the Queen bathes in milk and honey, because she thinks she is Cleopatra. Then she gets her favourite naughty boy, the one with the largest cock, to lick her dry before he fucks her pussy and then her ass with his big long cock.

The maid was in the garden hanging out the clothes.......
It was a beautiful sunny day. The Captain of the Guard was loitering in the garden. Not surprising really. The laundry maid had loosened her corset and her dress had slipped. As she reached up to peg the royal knickers her full round breasts peeked out of her bodice teasing the nice Captain and his men.

When down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose....
The Captain of the Guard should have known better though. The laundry maid has a thing for the black slave that landed with the visiting party from Africa. When she was finished hanging out the clothes she lifted her skirts and bent over the garden wall watching the Captain and his men while her lover pleasured her with his big black cock.    

The original version of this rhyme contained the line "four and twenty naughty boys" as opposed to the later black birds. Of course that is where the connection between the original version and my interpretation ends. 

Please make sure you visit Sexual Adventures of a Married Woman to see what everyone else is up to this weekend.         

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Little Jack



Like Curious Muse. I just started with the line of the nursery rhyme and the story seemed to come out all by itself. It is strange how that happens sometimes. 

Little Jack Horner sat in the corner. He was there every Saturday night sitting in the same corner, making the furniture look like it belonged in a doll house. Seeing him there drinking quietly by himself had become part of the Saturday night ritual. We took our usual table near the dance floor. My friends ordered their usual frilly cocktails with pink umbrellas. I ordered my usual glass of wine. Something about cocktails didn't agree with me. My friends tried not to look too patronising. I knew that I was their little project. The dorky slightly fat girl they took under their wing to try and mould into one of them. I didn't care. At least I was out on Saturday night and not home watching the Notebook and Jerry McGuire by myself. 

As usual they sat around and talked about the talent. No one asked me who I had my eye on. It was understood that there wasn't anyone in the room who would even consider me for a sympathy fuck. Let alone a relationship. As usual within half an hour I was left to mind the bags and the drinks while the rest of them went off flirting and dancing outrageously. Every male eye in the room looked at them longingly and every female in the room looked on jealously. I amused myself by studying the patrons, the bored couple out on a 'date' trying to inject some life into their dead marriage, the young boys trying to pretend to be real men and score for the night and my 'friends' in their too short dresses like predators seeking out the opposite sex. Then my eye fell on Jack, not for the first time, I wondered about him. Where did he come from and why did he come here every Saturday night alone? The last drops of my drink touched my lips as Maria entwined herself around the dark guy she had scoped out as soon as we walked in the door. I contemplated fetching another glass. 

A full glass of wine appeared in front of me. I looked up into the eyes of Jack. 

"I hope you don't mind, you looked kind of lonely," his looked apologetic.

Up close his size was even more intimidating. I was aware of my mouth dropping open slightly as I looked up into his eyes. I felt as if he could engulf me which isn't something I feel often. It takes a lot of man to engulf a woman my size. Strangely the thought was kind of pleasant.

"Sure," I waved my over the handbags that had been dumped on the table in front of me.
"All of my friends and I would love you to join us." 

His eyes crinkled at the side as he chuckled, making me feel slightly less pathetic.The chair squeaked ominously as he sat down. We both looked nervously around and then we laughed.

"Why do you come here with those girls every weekend?" He leaned over and looked at me earnestly.

I blushed a little and looked away. I noticed Wanda snogging Troy in the corner. His hands were up her dress and her hands were inside his pants. I had seen this before. She would be here soon to collect her bag before he dragged her out of the bar to fuck her senseless in the carpark. Sometime around three she would start with the drunken texts about what an arsehole he was and how she was never going to find a decent boyfriend.

"I don't know," I said quietly. I didn't want to tell him the real reason; that I felt as if this was as good as I could hope for, that I wasn't good enough to have real friends, that watching other people hook up was as close as I got to having sex myself.

"You are so much better than them," he took my hand gently. "They are just slutty trash," his voice was hard when he spoke. "But you are a real woman, full and so fucking sexy."  
He leaned across the table towards me his eyes burning into me with his passion and desire.

Suddenly a fire fluttered in my belly. A feeling I hadn't allowed myself to feel for the longest time awoke in my belly. Warm, burning desire spread through me making my cunt ache. This was different from the normal itch that I scratched with the thick black dildo in my bedside table. This was an ache to be consumed by him and to feel his hands on my bare breasts and his tongue on my bare cunt. I craved the feeling of his huge body engulfing me as he pressed his cock between my thighs, opening me and filling me in a way that a piece of plastic never could.

"Let's get out of here," his voice interrupted my fantasies. "The handbags can look after themselves."

He took my hand and led me out of the pub into the sharp cold air outside. We walked through streets until we found ourselves at the jetty. We leaned against the railing and looked at the lights of the docks across the harbour. We made small talk but all I could really think about was the smell of him as he leaned on the railing next to me. I wanted to strip the clothing off of him and explore his huge body.

Somehow we ended up kissing. It started out slow and soft but then it became intense and aching. The slow burning in my cunt grew into a fire. I would have stripped naked and performed any task he asked of me right then and there just to feel his body pressing against mine. I slipped my hands downwards to cup his powerful buttocks. I thought of him above me on my bed, thrusting into me. I whimpered into his mouth as his hands slid downwards to my crotch pressing against my groin through the fabric of my jeans. He fumbled at my zipper slipping the denim down over my hips as his hungry mouth explored my mound through my panties.

I remembered that I hadn't shaved, for a long time and weakly I tried to push him away. He resisted, slipping his fingers into the leg of my panties to pull the fabric to the side. His face pressed against my pussy as he slid his tongue into my slit. My whimper became a moan and my hands curled into his hair. He pressed my knees apart and delved deeper into me, taking my clit into his mouth and sucking it gently as he slid a finger into my slick, wet, cunt. Hot waves of orgasm shuddered through me and left me limp against the railing. He held me gently for a moment before he slipped my jeans back over my hips and stood to kiss me.
As I licked the salty taste of my cunt from his lips I reached down for his pants to return the favour but he pushed my hands away.

"That is for the second date," he whispered as he cradled my face in his hands. "Now let's get you home safely. 

After you have left your nice comments make sure you go over to the Wicked Wednesday Page and see who else is being wicked.