These boots are my favourite. The loveliest, sexiest I have bought. They hug my calves a treat and they make my legs look slim and elegant. These boots have a fine heel, that makes me taller than tall. Probably too tall for Master, since I tower over him when wearing them. The heels don’t look that high, but I am already taller than him when in my stockinged feet.
But I love these boots, because they make me feel sexy. They look great with a short skirt or dress, especially with sheer stockings or tights. I think they are wonderful boots for a night out and then afterwards you could wear them to have sex. If that was what floated your boat, and we would probably find it did.
These boots are really comfortable to wear, so long as I spend the evening sitting down and only have to walk a short distance to and from the car. They are fine for a dinner date or the cinema, but not if I have had to walk far to get there. Once I wore them to travel by train and to walk to a date (pre Master), they nearly crippled me.
Sadly, while these boots look and feel great and while I love to wear them, I need comfort. If I have to walk anywhere, then I need my boots relatively flat. I find they pinch my toes and hurt the balls of my feet. These boots might look elegant but it annoys me that really don’t feel it if I have to stand for any length of time. It’s a shame, because these boots really are my favourite boots. I have had them a long time, and will probably continue to love them. I just won’t really wear them. So they will remain my favourite boots!
I was nearly 50 before I had my first experience. Of sex with a man other than my husband and of anal sex. We had known each other just a few weeks and had met just the once. In a probably not to be recommended encounter, I met, had sex and slept the night with a man I had only chatted to online and by phone. But things went well, we got on well together. Enjoyed each others company as well as lusting after each other. What is more, the sex was better than anything I had experienced in a long time. Perhaps ever.
A couple of weeks later I went back for more. This time I travelled to his place. I sucked him, he fucked me senseless and then we had anal sex. He knew I was an anal virgin and I knew that he wanted to take that particular cherry. We had discussed my willingness to have anal at length and I had trained myself for those couple of weeks with a butt plug.
My only experience of anal sex before meeting S was in some of the kinky books I read. Generally the dominant man considered taking his submissive girl’s arse as the ultimate prize. Perhaps the same was true of S. While I in turn wanted to give it a try, to learn and experience new things.
He was clearly experienced and led me gently through the build up to the main event. He attended to my orgasm needs, stroked me, kissed me and made me feel like I needed to feel his cock in that forbidden place. Any pain I felt on that day (and I am sure it did hurt a little) pales into insignificance when I consider the lasting benefits. That first experience helped me see the intimacy that can come from anal sex. The trust that is needed so that I could relax enough for him to find his way inside that most secret of places. Then the resulting orgasm that seemed in some way different from any other.
That first experience probably paved the way for me to become the submissive I am now. S and I continued to have great sex and for him that tended to include anal. I enjoyed it and complied. But there were problems with the relationship, mainly that we wanted and needed different things. Looking back sex with S was predictable, starting with me on my knees sucking him and some time later (hours or the next day) with anal.
I don’t suppose any partner wants to think of their lover having sex with an ex. But Master says that he is grateful to S for teaching me about anal. It meant I was ready, able and willing soon after we met. For us anal is something very special. It brings out the slut, the bitch in me. It is dirty and forbidden but it feels the most intimate of sexual acts. We don’t do it often, indeed we haven’t in some time. But when we do it is one of the ways in which Master expresses his ownership of me, his slave.
This post is cross linked to Wicked Wednesday for the prompt ‘The Ex’ and to Kink of the Week for the prompt ‘Anal Sex’.
There is something romantic about the idea of winter. Beautiful crisp days, the sun reflected off of the white of the snow. Evenings sat by the fire cozy in your pullover and socks. Enjoying a wonderful casserole or stew, proper comfort food.
In reality winter round here is mainly just plain grey. Sometimes it is cold and you get dressed up in your scarf, hat and boots. Then a few hours later the temperature is pushing 15c. Maybe it is raining and you reach for your brolly, only to find the wind has blown up and your umbrella blows inside out. Rarely it snows, looks beautiful but is cold, wet and difficult to get about in. The snow freezes over night and you find yourself skating about in your regular shoes or boots. The car windscreen frozen. The trains delayed due to snow and ice.
This has been the weather here over the past couple of weeks. Snow, frost, greyness, rain, wind. Cold, mild, cold again, mild and so on. This is why I hate winter. The only thing that you can predict is that it won’t be light until 8am and low and behold it is dark by 4pm. In between anything can happen. Often it does.
I hate the short days. The way the central heating dries out your skin. I love to sit by a fire (not that I have one). But if you sit too close you are too hot and too far away too cold. I hate the lack of energy I have at this time of year. I hate the way that bed feels like a lovely warm place to sleep, but not much else. I long for summer and now the equinox has passed will be looking for signs of longer days. Of spring flowers and of a sign of new life.
Winter sounds fine in theory, but the reality is something else.
These are words I never expected to hear from a lover, let alone to find them any way sexy. But when he says ‘spit into my mouth’, I do. Perhaps it is because it feels kinky, not something the average person would consider. Indeed spitting into each others mouths isn’t something we do on a daily basis. Rather it is something that happens at the height of passion, or after a play session. When he is feeling his dominance over me the most.
Thinking back to that first time I am not really sure what I thought. I remember hesitating as he told me to spit into his mouth. But being in the first flushes of a new power exchange relationship I was trying out a number of new things. I would have expected to find the idea disgusting, but for some reason I didn’t. Even when he spat into my mouth I wasn’t fazed.
This is not a kink I especially share with him. But at the same time I am not revolted by it. Master on the other hand treats it as another way of exercising his dominance over me. It is a form of degradation, a way of demonstrating I am his submissive. It is an act that takes place in private and I am happy to comply with his wishes. However, I am never likely to say those words first.
The events of the weekend seem to have reignited my desire to blog, reminding me that I still have stuff to say. Sunday showed me that, whatever else happened we still have the M/s dynamic. I am his slave and want him to be proud of me. So, for the first time in ages, I am writing my third blog post in a week.
This week’s Kink of the week is about squirting, or female ejaculation. This is my topic for today.
Until about 4 or 5 years ago, I don’t believe I even knew it was possible to squirt. After all, at that time, I was still an orgasm novice. Unless that is I was making myself cum. Generally most of my experience had been through clitoral stimulation, my preference at the time. My reading around this subject tells me that female ejaculation tends to happen through G spot stimulation.
S explored all of my body, attending to my needs as no one had before. He was keen on providing multiple orgasms in a variety of ways. Looking back sex with him followed a specific pattern, often starting with me sucking him and ending up with penetration of some kind. But along the way there were orgasms for me. I think (and my memory grows vaguer as time progresses) I may have once squirted for him. Well, lets say there was a feeling I may have peed myself, though I know I hadn’t. He told me I had squirted and I believed him.
With Master there is no doubt I have come close. Many many times, I have had the feeling I am about to release fluid, to squirt. But for some reason it doesn’t happen. I am often very wet, when he is forcing orgasms from me. Often many orgasms over a short period of time. When he overstimulates my body, while I am restrained and blindfolded. When he is fucking me. When his fingers find my g-spot and make me feel I might explode. But the fact this hasn’t happened over the past 3.5 years makes me wonder if I ever did squirt. If the idea was put into my mind by someone who wanted it to be true, but that it is a false memory.
Anyway does it matter? Isn’t being aroused to orgasm multiple times enough? Do I want or need to squirt for him? Probably not. Though I know that it is something he really would like to happen. Since it is not a conscious act it is not something I can make happen and I think for both of us there are more important things in our lives. Things like a loving relationship, a good sex life, our power exchange dynamic and the fact that he turns me on like crazy. I think that’s enough.
For most of my life I was only called by my given name, Julie. I hated it when people shortened Julie to Ju, it struck me as lazy and uncreative. A family friend called me Jools, and for a while that stuck. As a young teen at the time it felt grown up, and smart, unlike Ju. After my marriage I became JJ and tended not to mind that either. But my parents called me Julie, as did my husband and most other people around me.
5 years ago, when I embarked upon this journey, one involving illicit sex with a bit of kink thrown in. I called myself Joolz on the various websites and on my new blog. The people I met at that time either didn’t know my real name or chose not to use it. To them I was Joolz.
But when Master and I met, 3 and a half years ago now. He saw me as someone else. To him Joolz was someone who was a bit scary, who had been struggling to find her true self. Joolz was someone in transition from Julie to……….. But who.
He wanted me to refer to myself as ‘this girl’. As far as he was concerned, my journey as a submissive needed to include some introspection about what and who I was. By removing the need to think of myself in the first person or as Julie the mother or daughter, the submissive inside would feel more real. At the same time he was of the opinion that Joolz was someone who had belonged to another, someone who had rejected me. By letting go of Joolz, I let go of that part of my past. Gave myself fully to him. Allowed myself to be absorbed into his ownership, to become his property.
Gradually over time this girl has become girl. He called and does call me girl. At times he has admitted that he has struggled to remember that I am also Julie. A 55 year old girl? Yes, but not any girl. His girl, his submissive and his slave. I do still refer to myself as ‘this girl’ but mainly during sex or play. The rest of the time I just know who and what I am, even when people call me Julie. I know I am His girl.
This morning this photo popped up on my Facebook timeline. A photo taken by Master, a year ago as I walked up the steps to board a plane. He posted it later and tagged me with the caption ‘Rear of the day’. I was amused and just a little flattered because a public acknowledgment that he finds me attractive appeals. Some may find this sexist, but coming from him it is something I like. I like the way I look in a pair of well fitting jeans, and love the way it shows off the contours of my bottom. At the same time, I like the way that they hold my wobbly bits in place. They give the impression I have a firmer, perhaps more youthful body than I have.
Do I feel sexy in them though? Well yes in a way because if I feel good and think I look good to others. But do I feel more sexy in jeans than in any other well fitting trousers or perhaps a short skirt? Then no. This is partly because I don’t think Master looks at it that way. He likes the look and feel of my bottom when it is on display in that way, but also likes to see my legs, or my cleavage or my bare back. He loves leather, and I have a feeling that he would find leather trousers more appealing than jeans. However, I am not convinced that they would be very forgiving to my figure.
Having said that, he likes me naked too. With everything hanging out. But naked is not a good look walking up the stairs to get on a plane and I don’t think anyone needs to see me naked on Facebook. Though plenty have seen me naked here.
I know that many people find uniforms on their preferred gender a turn on. The military man, the police officer, the nurse. I am not entirely immune to this, I do find a smartly dressed man attractive, however I have no preference between a suit and a uniform. Attractive, but not a specific turn on.
When it comes to dressing for Master, I am happy to wear whatever makes him happy. I love to wear the leather waistcoats, the harnesses, the little skimpy dresses he has bought me. In the past I even wore sexy lingerie, stockings and heels for a man. At one time I dressed as a maid for the same man, it was a fun game. I am glad though, that Master is not into that kind of thing, and glad too he is not into uniforms.
I wonder what might be considered the most sexy uniform on a woman. A police woman, doctor, traffic warden? What’s the betting on nurse? Odds on I would say. The sexy nurse of the carry on film or the many other soft (or harder) porn movies. Wearing a white dress that barely covers her suspender tops, her ample cleavage bulging out at the front. That is not my idea of a nurse.
You see I am a nurse. Even though I no longer practise clinically I am still on the nursing register and consider myself a nurse. Wearing a tiny nurses uniform to enable another person to get off is not my idea of a good time. I wore my uniform to care for sick, disabled or dying people. I wore my uniform as I gave bad news to loved ones. For me the uniform of a nurse is something to wear with pride not as a sexual tool.
So, while I have few limits and most that I did have are the property of another. Wearing a nurses uniform is a red flag. A limit as hard as they come. Leather kink wear though, bring it on!
In this photo, a young couple are caught in a moment of lust, on the living room floor. Their clothes are strewn around them, the sofa in the background. Her hand is wrapped around his very large cock while she attempts to push it into her mouth. She straddles his face. He Wraps his arms around her legs, while burying his face into her cunt. Each are caught in their own experience. Of giving and of receiving oral sex. This position of 69, Soixante-neuf, yin and yang, congress of a crow (that’s a Karma Sutra reference incase you didn’t know).
How about us?
Master loves me to sit on his face, or else to go down on me while I lie spread eagle on the bed or indeed the floor. I love the feel of his tongue as it explores my vulval area. Long strokes and then short laps as if he is drinking me. I love the way that the feelings inside of me build, from a localised pleasure to a deep growing arousal. Orgasm control is part of who we are and what we do, and that knowledge helps me to keep control. As the orgasm builds inside me, I have to focus to prevent an explosion happening without warning and permission. It is at those times that having a cock to suck is useful.
Often I find I am not close enough to His cock to take it and have to use my hands to stroke and caress. The smoothness of His cock, the softness of his balls and the way as they harden the skin shrinks and becomes rough. The feel of his bum, pert but soft buttocks, and that little area between his scrotum and anus. These are delicious things that take my mind off of the impending orgasm until it is time.
Sometimes though my mouth can find his cock and explore it with my tongue. I am able to feel the size of it grow and fill my mouth and push down towards my throat and to suck and to lick, using its very presence to divert my attention.
Sometimes though I really don’t want to have my attention diverted. I want it all to be about me, to give into the pleasure and wait for permission to release my passions. I like to have my cake and eat it!
Over the past 3 years we have spoken a few times about introducing another person into our relationship for play purposes. We have discussed the idea of another girl who would play with me and who I would watch having sex with Him. We have also talked about me having sex with another man while he looks on. These things sound fun and sexy in theory, they are a massive turn on to us both. But I know from experience that talking and doing can be quite different things.
My one and only experience of group sex (two men and two women) was about 4 years ago when I was seeing S (you can read what I wrote at the time, it is in two parts, this is part 2). Looking back I can see that it was a fantasy of his and another thing to tick off his bucket list (I didn’t know he had one at the time, but later came sex on a picnic table and sex at midnight on new years eve to name but two). He found someone (a female) online and over the course of a few months we chatted as a three and as a four, plus she and I chatted together.
I have always liked to look at lesbian sex online, and do find it arousing, but have always questioned whether I would really find it so in real life (probably if you need to ask the question then you already know the answer). But I do find the idea of two women serving a man very thrilling, almost as exciting as two men wanting to use me at the same time. But a threesome was not what was on offer, and since I did seem to get on with both parties and since I liked the girl very much I agreed to go along with it all.
On the day in question we all met up in the bar of the hotel we were going to be staying in. They were a nice couple, but I was too nervous to be excited or turned on. After a calming drink us two girls went off to talk on our own and then agreed to go through with things. We helped each other change into some sexy lingerie and then joined the two men in the other couple’s room.
My memory of the next couple of hours is slightly blurry but my gut instinct was definitely right. I did enjoy watching them have sex – both the other couple and watching S and the other girl was a turn on. I really loved sucking her partner while S penetrated me from behind, and I enjoyed being touched by the other girl while all that went on. But I really didn’t want to touch her, or kiss her, though I did.
Funnily enough S and I are not really in touch with each other these days, but I have stayed online friends with the other girl and am even Facebook friends with her. At the time they told us their names were Sara and Darren, I guessed at the time that wasn’t his name, but only realised later that hers wasn’t Sara. Not that it matters but I do find it amusing that I was always Julie or Joolz.
So back to Master and I. Well I would do it all again, but think probably 3 is more than enough company for me. Generally I will do what Master wants me to do, and know that he will only ask me to do something I am comfortable with. A threesome MFM might be fun and maybe I wouldn’t even say no to a FMF arrangement, but I can’t guarantee to want sex with the other girl.