Monthly Archives: September 2009

The Reverse Cuckold With Double Twist

TummyI’m confused a bit here. Can someone please explain the meaning of the term and the appeal of cuckolding. It gets bandied about a lot but I really can’t say I understand it very much.

As I understand it it’s about having sex with someone other than your partner in such a way that it is obvious to your partner that they are being unfaithful. Now I can’t get this as an arousing concept. Not at all, not a bit, for either half of a couple. For the partner out in the cold it is I suppose the ultimate in humiliation, so I suppose it would work for submissives who get off on humiliation. So therefore the flip side would be dominant partners enjoying the power rush from seeing their sub crushed. Is that it?

Anyway. My double twist would be this. I can see a variant on the cuckolding thing.

Imagine Suze sat at the side of the bed under strict instructions not to move from the chair. She can touch herself but not me or … her best mate who I’m making love to. Now it doesn’t have to be me, Suze and her bezzie mate. It could be any theesome.

Problem is that when I think about it. The couple on the bed shagging away and the jilted third person frigging themselves senseless while watching I can think of one outcome. A huge horny threesome with everyone sampling the delights of the other’s bodies.

Nah, I don’t think I’ll be cuckolding soon. Well not without a double twist.

Fucking Your Girlfriend’s Best Friend

Fetish DressThe number of surveys that pop up especially before major consumer events like Christmas is quite startling. You notice I mention Christmas as a major consumer event not a festival, LOL, that’s because most surveys these days seem to have an agenda. You have to be pretty naΓ―ve not to notice and after all they do make for some amusing reading in the tabloid newspapers and in their online equivalents.

It seems there’s never a day goes by without me receiving one survey or another claiming to show that a need exists in the population for some new adult product. Or that we’re all shagging our partner’s best mates.

They’re all harmless so long as you don’t take them too seriously.

What they tend to do, and I find this interesting, is “research” a premise that we all find intriguing, or a slightly taboo behaviour that we’ve all considered before but never had the guts or opportunity to pursue. The girlfriend’s best friend is a good example, the ultimate taboo, dangerous if it goes wrong. What if she rebuffs you and tells your girlfriend. What if she shags you and then tells your girlfriend?

Then there’s the forbidden fruit thing with fetishes like bondage and S & M. I know this isn’t a survey but look at the Max Mosley “scandal”. It was read rapaciously by consumers of the media and pounced on by the press who seemed initially oblivious to the invasion of privacy and only later acknowledged this point when it became apparent they were not going to be able to nail Mosley as being a Nazi.

My advice. Take all things with a pinch of salt if you suspect something other than total impartiality and enjoy most surveys for what they are, marketing.

Receiving Oral

Horn and bustyIf you have been paying attention you will remember that I visited the dentist yesterday. I could have walked but I didn’t want to be all hot and bothered by the time I arrived in his chair. Lol

One of the benefits of being a patient at a private practice is that you don’t have to wait for an appointment very long either when you book or arrive. Gone are the days of waiting months to see someone but I suppose it also helps that I can now attend any time they can see me since working from home.

We aren’t members of the practice by choice, they used to be an NHS practice but because of the changes made by government to dental practitioners they opted to opt out as it were. And if they didn’t offer a monthly plan we simply wouldn’t be able to afford to go.

But I have been a member of the practice on and off for most of my life and when you build up a trust with your dentist you don’t like to change. So I’m stuck with having to pay in to a dental plan. He is good though.

One thing he does possess which makes the visit enjoyable is a wicked sense of humour. He has me rolling about every time I visit and he always makes you feel welcome too. We got on to the subject of electric toothbrushes and I very nearly made a huge mistake.

Whilst discussing which type we prefer he said he liked to use his Oral B every couple of days because he believes they are better than the sonic brushes for stain removal. Then Suze very nearly added that she likes her sonic brush too much now and that the Oral B has been consigned to being a clit vibe.

Can you imagine his face if I had come out with that. It is strange how you can become so comfortable in conversation with someone that you forget they aren’t in the same line of work as you. Lol

If you are wondering what I am going on about, I have a head which fits on to my toothbrush which hits the spot every time. πŸ˜‰ Just don’t tell my dentist.

Sex Toys In The Strangest Places

Fleshlight VibroAfter my review of the Fleshlight Vibro last night I washed it out and left it in the batch to drain and dry.

When I got back yesterday evening I found it on my bedside cabinet. While I’m used to seeing sex toys around the place all the time I was surprised and rather amused. It made me realise how incongruous they can looka nd at the same time how at home I am with them.

Anyway, tidy person that I am I packed it neatly away and now need to find somewhere to stow it before our nephew arrives this evening.

If you want to read my review of the Fleshlight Vibro you can read it here, and see my video of unpacking it here.

Shakira She Wolf – The Video They Didn’t Want You To See

ShakiraUntil Suze pointed me at the She Wolf video from Shakira today I hadn’t heard the track. Having listened to it I’m afraid my life has not been particularly enriched. Not one of her best.

However it did inspire this video.

Now I saw the spoof video first, then the original. I Thought the spoof looked awkward, but the original is a close contender. Pity cos I do like Shakira, but then I suppose we’re all entitled to a few clangers in our lives.

Watching Men Playing With Their Balls And Their Middle Stump

Penis DragonIn my humble opinion and experience of the opposite sex, they don’t need telling twice to masturbate. Lol I once went out with a bloke who must have feared that someone would try and attack his cock because he constantly had his hand down the front of his trousers, even when driving.

I can only conclude that it was a comfort thing because it wasn’t like he was having a crafty wank or even fiddle with himself. Perhaps someone can enlighten me as to why men do this and I know he isn’t the only one to do it. Lol

This post was prompted by me reading that the head coach of India’s star cricketers. He has sent a document to the head coach for the team Gary Kirsten giving details of how they should keep themselves sharp.

It recommends a busy sex life, the relevant chapter entitled “Does sex increase performance?” says “Yes it does, so go ahead and indulge”. The team are currently competing in the ICC Champions Trophy in South Africa.

I’m guessing there will be a lot of solo action taking place with that middle wicket. πŸ˜‰

Sexual Grooming

PeekAs you may know I have spent quite a lot of time recently hanging out with the readers on social networking sites. I love to get the feedback and interaction that you cannot achieve to the same level without. The readers enjoy getting closer to me and the ability to speak to me about things.

And to be honest I like the private interactions too, those little emails telling me how they perform certain acts whilst thinking about me. Lets face it who wouldn’t enjoy knowing that they are part of a mans fantasy and that he likes to pleasure himself whilst thinking about them. πŸ˜‰

This can all be taken slightly tongue in cheek and what I am about to say is in no way making light of those who do pray upon the weak and in some cases gullible women online.

I have, let’s say, attracted the attentions lately of someone who believes that a good chat up line is to repeatedly tell you that you are sexy and have a sexy body. Once, maybe twice it’s nice to hear but when it is the total sum of their chat up repertoire it becomes boring and not at all complementary or arousing for that matter.

Well Mr Lover Lover continued to send me message after message with the same old content every day he obviously thought it was winning me over because I would send him a reciprocating message by return. I don’t like to offend people when they obviously have no social knowledge or etiquette.

Finally it all came to a head this afternoon when after receiving several of his sexy emails he asked if I could give him my phone number. Yes, it was as unsubtle as that. This is exactly what he said “suzanne i like what i see can i have your number love” Lol

Well, it worked for me, NOT! I kindly informed him that I don’t give my number out to anyone. Strange, I’ve not heard anything from him since. πŸ™‚

Hand Job

Wet ShortsNot being a bloke I can’t say I have ever acquainted myself with the difficulties faced by left handed men when it comes to underwear. It really isn’t something that crossed my mind.

In fact until recently I didn’t understand the rules of “dressing” for me, to me they were a little like the off side rule. Lol Alex put me straight on that, I’m glad we girls don’t need to consider which way to place our bits and pieces.

However HOM had addressed the problem of men wearing Y-Fronts struggling to get their winkies out. They have created a range that unlike conventional underwear which has a vertical opening has an horizontal one just under the waistband.

One thing did just occur to me, how do you stop you dinkle making a break for it when he is excited? πŸ˜‰

Swinging In The Suburbs

robeEnglish situation comedy is a mirror that reflects the British attitude to, amongst other things, sex. It’s a distorted mirror, but a mirror nonetheless.

If fact I’d go so far as to say that it isn’t as distorted as some of the publicly expressed views about sex that are heard from public figures and earnest documentaries on sex and sexuality.

It’s easier to discuss and depict subjects we are uncomfortable about when there is a protective layer of comedy over them. We can pretend that we’re not quite serious about the whole thing, the humour giving us a degree of separation that is comforting and allows us to dismiss elements of a subject that we find difficult as simple farce.

One particular element of sexuality that was often sniggered about in the 1970s was swinging. The thought of respectable suburban couples throwing their car keys into a big wooden fruit bowl and the wives sleeping with the owner of the keys they pulled out was legend. Everyone knew someone who knew someone who did it but nobody admitted that they or their friends did it. Well nobody that knew my family did anyway. And I suppose at that age I shouldn’t have been listening in to those sorts of conversations a the parties round our house.

The resurgence of swinging and it’s coincidence with the development of home access to the Internet has changed swinging into something else in the early 21st century.

In the 1970s and early 80s I always regarded it as a middle class pursuit. The realm of bank managers and other professionals. You notice how the British class system even figured in what sexual practices each member of our society got up to, LOL. Now it’s much more egalitarian, everyone and anyone can do it.

And if they like post the picture son the Internet.

Sexy Science

Consider this. When you think of an ancient civilisation such as the Greeks or the Romans you see their society as we interpret it from the clues they left behind. The pottery, stone and metal artefacts are most durable. The clothing and items made from precious materials may survive but only if the garments do not rot away (which they usually do) and are not looted and broken up as was often the case for the gravegoods of many civilisations.

We know some things about their sexuality, but what we do know is quite narrow in its scope. Take three civilisations. Ancient Egypt, Rome and Greece. The first three things that probably pop into your mind about them are probably:

Egypt: the pharaohs married they close relatives, mothers, sisters etc.
Romans: Indulged in orgiastic sex.
Greeks: Had a thing for young men and invented anal sex.

To a greater or lesser extent these things may all be true, but they are a gross misrepresentation of each of those societies as a whole.

In Egypt only the ruling class probably indulged in incestuous unions. The Roman plebeians didn’t have the money for anything more than basic sustenance and an occasional jaunt to the Circus Maximus to watch Charlton Heston race chariots and the Greeks would have died out if anal sex was their only preoccupation.

It’s the same with today’s society and the stuff we leave behind as adult bloggers. In fact its true of any blogger, or diarist or contemporary historian. No matter how objective and honest you try to be, anyone reading what we write in a hundred years time will get a very distorted view of us. We don’t document every thing we do down to the last second of every day, you get the edited highlights. Which is of course what archaeologist see when they examine ancient texts.

Then of course there the problem of censorship and editing by the scholars of the future. To preserve reputations of to portray our antecedents in a light that serves our purposes there is always a temptation to place a certain amount of spin on the interpretation of “evidence”. Ascertaining the facts is one thing, but how those facts are used and communicated is another.

With every blogger’s work available on the Internet, and assuming it hasn’t all been deleted in a century or so, do you think that our ancestors will think we’re pioneers or perverts?

Familiar Arousal

SuzeI wonder if we humans instinctively have a homing instinct? Strange question I know but after many years away I have returned to the place I spent my formative years in. Indeed my family home is only a mile away from where I am.

From the age of about 2 to my late teens I spent my time in this area. I know most of it well and cannot walk a street without a memory of some sort related to it. It’s a kind of comforting feeling despite the fact that many years have passed and so have some of the people I knew and loved.

But for me there is nowhere like it. I never left home and did the university thing or took time out to travel the world and when I was unable to stay in the area and had to live within my means I missed it very much.

So to be able to return some years late with Alex was wonderful. I never take a day for granted as I look out of our windows over rolling heather covered landscape. Simply watching the sun rise and set over the hills from our windows makes you feel alive and lucky.

Over the weekend Alex and I have taken to walking again. We spend hours sat on our backsides at the PC’s and rarely take advantage of the wonderful countryside right on our doorstep. This weekend we decided to change all that and engage in more walks for both our health and our souls. πŸ™‚

As Alex returned to work today I kept up the walking and I intend to do it daily until I feel better following this flu and then return to the gym again. But for now walking is talking enough out of me because of my chest infection.

With the sun beating down as I walked across the open field with the birds singing and the butterflies doing butterfly things I felt at peace and to be honest quite randy. Does that seem strange? To be feeling aroused whilst out walking is a tad unusual I know but probably unleashed a whole load of emotions I have been bottling up lately what with everything going on around Alex and work.

I continued my walk which really did take its toll by the end I was sweating heavily a combination of the sun and my pyrexia due to the infection. By the time I got back home I didn’t so much feel like a bit onanism but a shower and a rest. Lol

As the days pass and I feel better I’m hoping to take advantage of this new found locomotive arousal. πŸ˜‰

Fucking G Spot Bollocks

Pigs BallsIf there’s one thing guaranteed to get you some free publicity it’s a journalist who can’t be bothered. Some of you may be surprised to know that such a creature is very easy to find.

So if you’re in the market for some free publicity bear this in mind.

Why the sudden vitriolic flow? Well simple.

A certain national newspaper has published a story created by a national toy retailer about how they are so shocked, horrified, saddened (delete as applicable, by a survey (which I assume they commissioned) indicating that UK women can’t find their G Spot that they “created a new sex toy” designed to stimulate the G Spot.

What load of complete bollocks.

There’s no sign of the mentioned toy in the paper, maybe actually showing sex toys is a bit too much but there are how many G Spot vibrators out there? This has to be the thinnest piece of promotional copy I’ve seen in a long time and the cheapest piece of newspaper copy too.

Retailers used to have to pay for that sort of coverage. Obviously I’m not saying which paper and which retailer as that would be adding to their cheap, lazy and unimaginative publicity stunt.

Much More Than a Kissogram

BulgeYou have to feel sorry for these guys don’t you. These police from Australia decided to run around naked on a stag night and apart from dangling their tackle out when they got a little over excited their only real crime was that they were using a police vehicle for the night out. Frankly the use of a police vehicle for their prenuptial bash is very naughty, but we’ve all got naked somewhere we shouldn’t, haven’t we?

I know I have. Not very often I grant you but occasionally I’ve been known to expose my tackle in odd places.

Not normally where others might see me I grant you but it has happened.

The one that springs immediately to mind was when Suze and I had just fucked in a car in the middle of a field and I needed a pee. Suze insisted that I get out and relieve myself wearing only my boots and long raincoat. Anyone reading and sniggering should please note it was January and frosty. I said stop sniggering.

Suze laughed too, the cow.

One bad habit I have is that during the summer I tend not to wear anything at night and wander around the house naked. That’s great except that our house has a lot of very big windows, it’s one of the thing that attracted us to it. No while our sleepy road is very quite with no passing traffic I suppose I really ought to be more conscious of the possibility of the neighbours looking in.

Visual Masturbation

Girl MasturbatingWhen it comes to soap powders, moisturising products and makeup there seems to be no end to the faux science and outright bullshit the advertisers throw at us in an attempt to sell yet another product which varies little from any of the others on the market.

I think the worst offenders of all are the beauty cream vendors, some of the names they come out with to make their products sound scientifically better than their competitors are usually laughable.

Just to name a few, there is a moisturising and toning skin cream which claims to has urea in it. For the uninitiated that is a component of common or garden piss. If they said the cream contained urine would you still buy it? Hmmmm I think not.

The other one which tickled me because the active ingredient is a right mouthful to say and comes and sounds just as stupid is it contains pentapeptides. What the hell are they? I looked up the Greek meaning of the term and it translates to “small digestable”. Now you decide if you want to apply that to your face. Lol

And just today I happened across this revolutionary new way of applying mascara. No longer will you struggle to coat each lash because this brush actually vibrates as you apply your mascara. Whatever next. lol

Getting Hard Wood

Rebcecca Demornay“Shortcut”

“Be sure to come straight back when it’s finished.”

“Yes mum.”

“I’m serious come straight back, and don’t cut through the woods, it’ll be dark and it’s dangerous.”

“Mother. I’m thirty two. Stop, well, mothering me!”

“OK. Have fun dear.”


The school reunion went well enough. On the whole the class was as she’d expected them to be. Some surprises but mainly people growing up as she imagined them to. On the whole settled, a couple very successful and one complete dick head.

Despite a couple of inappropriate proposals from old classmates, one of them a woman, it was uneventful and Ellen left alone and with her ears still ringing to the sounds of cheery farewells. She decided to cut through the woods and save herself a good half hour’s walk.

The familiar path that she had used so often as a young girl to travel to and from school looked a little more overgrown than she remembered it. Probably because today’s children were more used to being ferried to school in a car than trudging through the twelve acre wood.

An owl hooted on queue as she stepped into the deep shadows under the trees. It wasn’t completely dark, the leaves had all but fallen and the mood was full. But Ellen had brought a torch and used it occasionally on the more tortuous parts of the path, especially as it started to dip down towards the stream that cut the wood in half.

There was a noise behind her. It sounded like the snapping of a branch but in slow motion. It made her start, her heart pounded, thumping in her ears. She laughed to herself and slowly her heart rate decreased until she was accompanied only by the sound of her own footsteps on the deep carpet of leaves.

After few dozen paces she turned on the torch and looked down. The softness under her feet told her that she had left the path. Not a great idea as the ground was slopping steeply now as she neared the stream and the centre of the wood.

Then she felt something rough stroke her cheek. She turned round, hand raised and ready to strike with her long, red false nails.

There was nothing there. Yet she could hear a faint whisper on the breeze that seemed to be calling her name.

Ellen gulped and as is traditional at times like this told her self to stop imagining things. She found the path again and continued towards the noise of the stream.

The old wooden bridge that crossed the water had been repaired recently. Some of the old timbers were still in place but health and safety dictated the handrail was more robust than it had been when she used to lean over the edge and watch for fish as a schoolgirl. As she looked over the edge and took her first step onto the bridge a voice said softly “Hello again.”

Ellen’s heart beat so hard it nearly leapt from her mouth. She was looking at a man. He was about her age with olive brown skin and flowing dark chestnut hair. She shone the torch into his eyes which glittered green in the torch light.


“You probably don’t remember me. I used to walk you home sometimes from school.” He said softly. His words brushed against her skin like a gentle spring breeze.

Ellen tried to work out if she could kick the guy in the nuts before barging past him and running to her mother’s house. However she’d not been to the gym for a few months and he looked fit so it would have to be an accurate kick …

“You don’t remember me do you?” he said. Ellen’s mind cried out “Fucking weirdo.”

It was then she noticed something. His skin wasn’t one colour, it seemed to be composed of a texture akin to polished wood. The contours of his face almost sculpted, the strong neck perfectly carved, his broad chest solid and sturdy. His abdomen flexible but solid, creaking slowly as he moved … and that thick hard trunk of …

“You haven’t got any clothes on.”

“Clothes?” He asked quizzically “Oh, yes, it’s autumn.”

She was transfixed, but not with fear. A strange familiarity lulled her. She remembered a vague presence from her solitary walks home from school. Always at her shoulder, supportive, friendly. Ready to catch her when she fell as she occasionally did on the path …

His arms were around her again now, not in friendship but holding her with a strength and purpose that excited her. His fingers opened her long coat and slipped inside her blouse unbuttoning the front in fluid and brisk movements. She was falling now, back into the soft bed of golden litter. The damp smell of the leaves mingled with the green woody smell his smooth warm skin exuded.

Se felt herself opening her legs and inviting him between them. Her provocatively short skirt, meant to titillate her ex classmates proving to be eminently practical. He was constantly moving, his skin smooth, yet with a rough edge, abrading her skin, slightly uncomfortable against her inner thighs.

The bulk of his torso, broad, strong and muscular spreading her legs was generating a flow of juices from her pussy that rivalled that of the stream only a few metres away. She could feel a thick, long member pressing between them and wanted it inside her.

His hands enclosed her breasts in a way that told her he possessed them, at least for now and he was in control. He rubbed his erect phallus between them sticky fluid oozing from the end, coating her stomach. Her nails ran down his smooth back carving their marks in its surface.

Then finally as she became desperate and she was ready to demand that he fill her immediately she felt her panties pushed to one side and a member of a width and length she had never before experienced thrust into her sopping cunt.

With slow rocking thrusts like the swaying of an oak in a storm she was fucked into a joyous oblivion of orgasm in a few moments. A state that was brought to a crescendo as she came with the cry of a wild night time creature and was filled with his gushing seed.


When the house was quiet and Ellen was snoring gently in her bed her mother crept into the room and gently stroked her tousled hair. She smiled at her sleeping daughter and thought, as her mother had before her that sometimes it did a girl good to ignore her mother’s advice and find out for herself what lay out in the woods at night.

Wild Sex

Marisa MillerI must be feeling a little more relaxed because inspiration seems to be coming easier than it was. Wait until I’ve been back at work a few days and then I’ll be completely fuck and bereft of ideas. LOL

It’s like the story I’ve written for publication at lunchtime today. It came to me in a flash and flowed very easily. Even though the cat was doing his best to distract me by trying to jump all over the desk trying to catch a moth at the time.

I’ve having a lot of thoughts about sex in the woods recently. SO no prizes for guessing what it’s about.

Anyway, that’s up at around noon (BST) enjoy.

Kinky Gob Job

Michelle BarrettAlex wasn’t working today and because the weather was nice we decided to go for a walk like we did yesterday. It was a pleasant day with just a mild breeze, not quite as hot as yesterday when we both felt like we got sun stroke when we got back. Lol

We decided to take in our dentist on the way and book appointments for checkups which were long overdue and because we are now both available at certain points in the daytime during the week we were both surprised to get in so quickly. I must say this working from home does have its advantages.

I’m reminded of this as I sit here at the computer by an article in the Daily Mail. A dentist is at risk of being struck off for his lewd behaviour towards his dental nurses, including parading around the surgery wearing just a leopard skin thong. It wouldn’t exactly work for me but to each his own.

He has tried getting it on with 4of his dental nurses at the practice by grabbing their bottoms, snapping their knicker elastic and undoing their bras through their tunics. Not your standard dentist and if mine tries anything like that when I go he better watch out. Then he is old enough to be my father. Lol

You can read the rest of the story here.

Tit Wank

Tit wankI have been making references to our lack of motivation and energy these past couple of weeks due to this bug we both have. Consequently our lovemaking has been very much straight to the point, no unnecessary extras. Lol

The last thing I feel like when I am ill is long and drawn out foreplay, I just want the act and I want it now. Fast furious and sated, done. Reading that back it sounds so cold and mechanical but I can assure you it only appears that way because every additional extra, side plate if you like, saps a little more energy which could be reserved for the act itself. πŸ˜‰

So last night when I lay with my legs akimbo waiting for Alex to place himself between them and fuck me I was taken aback. Instead of him pushing forward and inserting his cock inside me, he moved up between my thighs and leaned over to position his cock between my boobs.

I was totally naked BTW if you were wondering. Lol My natural reaction to this was to take hold of both of my boobs and push them around his cock, encasing it in my milky flesh topped with brownish pink areolas and nipples. Totally immersed in my breasts he began to fuck them, his shiny head appearing from within them on each in stroke, to quickly disappear between them again and again.

As he made an appearance briefly between my large fleshy mounds I spat on his helmet, ensuring that he was moistened, avoiding abrasion as he fucked my tits. The spit aiding his thrusting. I was now starting to get very turned on by something we haven’t done for a long time. Too long.

I could feel myself getting moist between the legs as I let myself go and started to move my tits up and down his shaft as he fucked the deep valley between my cleavage. Watching him thrust in and out, his cock head glistening and moist with pre cum was certainly doing it for me.

He was now full in to his stride talking dirty, his breathing deep and excited. The pace was now quite rapid and he didn’t need spit any more his cock was leaving a shiny trail on my flesh between my boobs each coated in his pre cum. I could smell him and my excitement was growing stronger.

Alex arched his back and started to make strange gutteral noises, his fucking slowed to a deliberate in and out as he edged closer to orgasm. His eyes were closed and his actions were now primal. He fucked my tits slowly and I watched as he appeared and disappeared from between them.

Then with one almighty roar he pushed his cock deep between them and shuddered as he creamed on me. As he appeared from between my tits a blob of cum hit my chin and then my neck, I felt it cooled on my skin.

I ran my finger under my chin scooping the musky issue from my flesh and raised it to my mouth to savour.

Alex collapsed next to me on the bed breathing heavily and whispering between his breaths his love for me.

Fucking In The Woods

Wood NyphmWe went out for a walk on Sunday and I had this overwhelming urge to drag Suze into the wood sand fuck her against a tree. Well it would have been overwhelming but she had the flu and while mine has come and gone she still has hers.

Working too hard is what I put it down to – testing all those vibrators LOL

Anyway fingers crossed she’ll see the back of it soon and then … well it will probably be too cold to shag in the woods πŸ™

The Girl I Fucked After Hours

The fantasy I’m about to describe is just that, fantasy. However it’s one that’s based on an incident I remember from when I was scraping to make ends meet as a teenager and is based partly on a girl I met and partly on the flood of memories that washed over me on walking into the garage yesterday to get a new tyre fitted.

You see I worked for a time as a motor mechanic, before entering my chosen career, in a small garage. There’s a smell about a small repair shop that the larger places don’t have. The dealerships, while performing the same function tend to be cleaner, more pleasant places to work, while small workshops are dingy, damp, cold places, even in the height of summer. They smell of oil, grease, rubber and degreaser.

So when I smell a hot engine, or a new tyre, or gearbox oil things happen to me.


It was late one March afternoon. The phone rang in the small brick office in the corner of the workshop. A raucous cacophony because it was connected to an ancient bell fixed high on a wall outside.

It was the owner of the dark blue Audi parked in the middle of the floor. He wasn’t going to get back to pick it up today, it would be tomorrow morning. Was that OK? No problem.

The car was still being valetted by the contract cleaner we employed for that task. I left the office to begin securing the place ready to leave for the evening. The sound of the vacuum cleaner scouring the carpets masked my footsteps. I tapped on the glass of the rear passenger window. The cleaner looked up startled, “Sorry” I apologised. She turned the vacuum cleaner off.

“What’s up?”

“He’s not collecting this until tomorrow” I motioned toward the car.

“I’m nearly done, any chance of a cuppa in about ten minutes?”

“I think I can manage that.”

She disappeared back into the car, her round ass defined in a rather provocative way by her green overalls. Not that I was looking of course, OK yes I was looking, a lot. She’d been subcontracting to us for a few weeks and she was hot. Curly brown hair, permed, tied back, but hey that was in fashion at the time, a little mascara and on Fridays, red lipstick. Don’t ask me why Fridays were lipstick day, they just were. She always wore green overalls, which rather than androgynise her served to emphasise her more womanly features. Both of them. Look I was in my late teens, shoot me.

She finished up and came to claim her mug of tea from the corner of the workbench next to the sink which served as kitchen for the workshop. We sat down on the pair of old armchairs, covered in dust sheets, next to the wood burning stove that heated the place.

She clutched her mug in both hands. “Is it Friday yet?” she asked.

“Tomorrow.” I replied, tomorrow was lipstick day. But here lips were fine without it, more than fine. They were kissable, I’d venture to say pouting. Things began to stir as we talked. I was single, so was she, or I thought she was. I’d never been able to figure that one out and engaging her in conversation was difficult. We both worked hard and had little time for chat, until now.

“Brrr, is it getting cold?” she asked. “Or is it just because I’ve stopped working?”

“It’s getting a little chilly. Do you want me to move your chair closer to the heater?”

“That’d be nice.”

So I moved the chair, pulling it nearer to the stove. I turned to find her standing behind me, if she had been nine inches taller we’d have been nose-to-nose, as it was she stared up at me and breathed “Thank you”. She’d done it on purpose of course, but why? Flirting because she’d seen me eying her up? Teasing to teach me a lesson? Or maybe …

I stood to one side allowing her to sit, head now level with my restless crotch. No this isn’t a porn film, no she didn’t whip it out and have a good long suck on it. But she did stare at it, then up at me with dark brown eyes. I sat down in my own chair.

“Plans for the weekend?” I ventured, weakly.

“Not yet.”


“How about you Alex?”

“Nah, a quiet one I think”

“That’s a pity.”

“Huh?” I was still undecided, another tease?

She began to unfasten her overalls. Underneath she wore a lemon yellow T and stonewashed jeans. Her womanly charms peaked invitingly out. Oh shit, this was going to be such great wank material for later.

She unfastened her boots and removed them. “Give me a hand with these overalls, would you?”. I didn’t need to be asked twice. She wriggled her arms out leaning forward pushing her breasts against her T-shirt, nipples full and hard against the cotton fabric, then slid them down to her hips. I pulled the legs and with a little hop to allow them to pass under her ass she was free of them.

She drew up her feet, knees under her chin and began to massage her feet. “Shit these are like blocks of ice”. Go for it Alex, I though. I slid out of my chair and knelt on her overalls in front of her chair. She smiled as I took one foot in my hand and massaged it through the sock.

“Mmmmm. That’s nice.”

Now the other foot. She was almost purring like a cat.

After a few minutes I asked “Better?”

“Much better.” She slid her legs around my back, pulling me close as if I was trapped in a vice with jaws clad in skin-tight denim. My face was level with her inviting chest. I looked up, she bit one side of her lip. I slid my hand up inside her T-shirt, the rough skin of my fingers and palm rubbing against the softness of her belly, until I found a soft mound. Cupping it I smiled at her. Her mouth opened slightly as I squeezed my prize, she gasped when I rolled the nipple between my thumb and forefinger.

There’s a certain sensuousness in groping an unseen partner, or touching them without seeing what you’re touching. It’s a pleasure that both parties in the act share. I kneaded her breasts for a while, watching her writhe with enjoyment, a smile playing on her gorgeous lips.

The though of her flesh was too inviting to stop there. I lifted here T-Shirt and unveiled her pert mounds. Cupping one in each hand I licked them with a hard tongue, flicking each nipple.

“Stop” she said suddenly. My heart sank, but she wasn’t having second thoughts, “Lock the door”. I jumped up, ran over to the roller-shuttered entrance, dropped the padlock through the hasp and staple to prevent anyone outside from pulling the shutter up and dropped the latch on the door.

When I returned she was kneeling on the chair, jeans gone, wearing her yellow T and a pair of inconsequential pink panties. I stood in front of her, breathing heavily. Her hands grasped my overalls and one popper at a time opened them. I shrugged the overalls over my shoulder as she unfastened my jeans and pulled them down. My tight briefs were now the only thing between my cock and her expectant lips.

She grabbed the waistband and pulled my underwear down just far enough to release me. Her hands took hold of me, cupping my balls and squeezing them in her palm. The other hand slid back my foreskin to reveal a glistening head. She blew gently on the tip, cooling it, making me clench my butt cheeks and draw up my balls against the grip of her hand.

She drew a wet tongue slowly across her lips. “Fuck me.” Was her instruction.

She turned, still in the chair, kneeling, with her head over the backrest. I pulled her moist panties to one side and pressed myself against her opening. She leant back against me, impatient for my entry. Slowly I pressed forward, stopping when she cried out when only half my shaft was inside her. “Don’t stop, please.”

I pushed a little more feeling her stretch relishing the pressure. She was no virgin, but the sensation was sweet and intense. She cried out again when I was almost fully inside her, but this time I carried on until I was pressed against her buttocks.

My hands grasped her shoulders, I took control, the cold air in the workshop cooling my shaft at every withdrawal, only to have it warmed again by each deep, satisfying plunge into her hot wetness.

It wasn’t a marathon fuck, only a few minutes, but I was in control, which is where she wanted me. Whether my hands were on her hips as I ground into her, or on her shoulders allowing me to pull her back onto my cock with as much force as my intense desire demanded. She came, once, twice? And with a final thrust I came too, gyrating my hips hard against hers as muscular spasms gripped my loins.


I’ll leave you to decide what was real and what was fantasy. Some of the above did actually happen, she did exist, but more than that? I’m not saying.