Blown off course

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Q: Your man is hard at work in your downstairs region, trying his best to bring you to the boil, make your whistle blow. What, at this crucial, almost climactic moment, would be the worst thing to happen?

A: All your muscles relax and you let out the loudest, rip-roaring fart, just inches from his face!

He is then so shocked that he jumps off as if receiving an electric shock while you are so embarrassed/ashamed/mortified that you put your hands over your face and laugh hysterically.

I should know, readers – this recently happened to me.

Bearing in mind that this is a new relationship and we haven’t crossed the passing gas in front of one another threshold yet – in fact, I would say that we need at least another month to reach that point, if there is a socially acceptable timescale for this. But now, I have completely blown it in more ways than one.

I was so mortified that I had to lie face down on the bed, letting out high-pitched, slightly insane giggle that I’ve never heard come out of my mouth before. He meanwhile looked on in stunned silence.

I am not sure whether he felt more awkward about my overwhelming embarrassment or the incident itself.

All he could say was: “When I said I wanted you to pop, that wasn’t what I had in mind.”
While the only thing I could let out between high-pitched squeals and titters was: “I think I need to get dressed and go home!”

I couldn’t actually look at him for ten minutes, just wanting the bed to swallow me whole and spit me out at home.

When I finally caught his eye, he seemed quietly amused, but his smile could have been out of pity or even smugness that he had not been the first to crack (in the flatulence department).

It does make me wonder why we are still so embarrassed about trumping. We are all guilty of holding it in at work or with friends and yes, the noise and smell are not welcome, but is there anyone in the world who doesn’t need to do it? Even the queen must have to guff from time to time, even if one of her footmen has to apologise and pretend the parp was his.

But, this thought did not help my extremely cringe-worthy moment. While it isn’t something that preoccupies me when I meet someone new, surely it’s better that the man breaks wind before I do, then it makes it ok to happen to me, right?

I did the only thing I thought would make him forget about it – something to completely distract his mind and senses; the best possible fellatio. After that, it was never mentioned again…that day.

Letter

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Dear __

I write this letter, because in speech I am often inarticulate and clumsy, or the words fail to make the journey from my brain to my mouth.

Don’t worry – this is not to bare you bad news. This is not a ‘dear John’ letter – quite the opposite.

I just wanted to say that I don’t know what has happened to me since I met you. Before you appeared in my life I was cynical, jaded and had all but given up hope of ever finding someone to enjoy, to make me feel whole, with whom I could have fun, share passion or even just watch TV.

I had just about had enough of the ill-matched dates, the nice-but-not-quite rights, the downright unsuitable and those I liked who wanted better. You were my last ditch attempt and I was sure you were out of my league, so I entered the whole thing half-heartedly.

But whatever spell has been cast has been potent with lasting effects. We met as total strangers, without even the usual exchange of emails or phone calls. I was a bag of nerves as I got off the train, waiting to see that flash of disappointment in your face, as you caught sight of me. I could not even give eye contact, as I spotted you and walked towards you.

But your smile and your “don’t worry, I won’t bite” were enough to allow me to exhale. From then on, the climb became a level stroll and the two hours we planned to spend together became eight. And the only time I checked my watch was when you took me back to the station. For the whole day we had drifted into our own time bubble, we talked and talked and kissed, held hands and the stranger became the only person I even noticed.

It has been a few weeks now and still I think about you whenever I can. I don’t feel I deserve your affections when I am guilty of so many misdemeanours. Maybe you will find out more about me and change your mind. Maybe I should enjoy it while it lasts.

At least if it all ends tomorrow, I can thank you for showing me someone cared for and believed in me one more time, that someone kind, caring, sexy and beautiful gave me a chance, took me back to a place I haven’t visited in many years. You have made me feel like I matter, that I am not just someone who cooks, cleans, works, advances to middle age and solitude… And I know you have loved and lost, but if you hadn’t I wouldn’t have you now and your open, generous heart. I will give you mine and more, if you stick around and see beyond my flaws.

Here’s to hoping this does not end.

Yours,

Me xxxx

Tall story

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Today, I tried wearing high heel shoes for the first time in months. They ripped my feet to shreds and I now have blisters on two of my toes. I’ve never been a good heels-wearer – I teeter about like a man in drag and find my toes and balls of my feet are in agony after a few hours. If I ever tried out being a dominatrix, it would have to be in steel toe capped Doc Marten boots…

So, why put myself through this agony? I’ve met a lovely, gorgeous man who is quite a bit taller than me so thought I would try ‘rising to the occasion’.

It’s been a while since I have dated anyone over 5ft 11, so I am out of practice in the challenges presented by those extra inches. So here are some of the pros and cons of dating a taller man, in case you are going through the same thing, considering one, or you are a taller man yourself:

Cons

– Kissing gives you a very stiff neck when you have your head constantly tilted upwards

– Standing on tiptoes can only remedy this for a few seconds before your feet start to ache

– He gets a completely different view of things to you, so you are never quite looking at the same horizon.

– Walking together, holding hands or arms around each other can get a bit wonky and disjointed as his stride is twice the length of yours – rather like being matched to the wrong person in a three-legged race.

Pros

– Standing next to a tall guy makes you feel like a dainty little lady, however big you are – the joys of proportions-

– He completely wraps you up in a cuddle, as you fit into his chest and are enclosed in his long arms like a swaddled baby

– He has a totally different view of the world to you so can probably spot rain clouds or seagulls before you do

– His feet are massive, so your shoes next to his look like little doll shoes

– He can reach things off the top shelf so you don’t have to climb up on that wobbly kitchen chair again

– Lying down on the bed, you are both the same height, so size differences don’t matter

– (I’m only guessing on this one, but) performing a blow job won’t be so taxing if you don’t have to kneel down – it is going to be higher up, isn’t it?

Ah, it seems there are more pros than cons, so maybe tall is the way to go, but I have dated my fair share of short guys, so could draw up similar lists for them. Maybe I will see how it goes with my lovely tall man first…

Contradictions

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I want to be strong and independent alone
But yearn to be held in the arms of someone
To spread myself out in my double bed
But to wake to a cuddle and kiss on the head
Have the kitchen to myself and cook what I please
But for someone to make me a cup of tea.

I want to have the remote to choose my own telly
But snuggle on the sofa, my head on his belly
To wear my pyjamas from six thirty
But be passionately kissed and talk dirty
To eat what, where and when I wish
But to cook up a feast for a handsome dish.

I want to look out the window and drift away in my mind
But for someone grab me for a squeeze from behind
To relax with a film or book without distraction
But to be led upstairs for some steamy action
To sleep soundly, without a snore beside me
But for sex-whipped sheets to make a stormy sea.

I want to have my own space to be free
But for someone to want and need me
To be the one in charge and fight my own fight
But someone to say it will all be alright
So, can one be together and apart,
If anyone comes to claim my heart?

Bus job

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We were on the bus, sitting at the back. It was late, no one was there, save for an old man near the front, holding a carrier bag on his knee.

But he and I had lost all sense of the outside world, the drink warming and melting our insides, warming and melting most of our inhibitions. We had chatted all evening about our hopes, dreams, places we wanted to see (missing out the places on our bodies). We had laughed, brushed hands, reaching for our glasses, exchanged that special secret, knowing, burning smile and the unspoken, but shared thought.

And now we were on the 30 minute journey home. He knew I would get off first, he knew we only had a few precious moments together. And he knew I had my mum babysitting at home and children asleep upstairs. So, he knew there was no way he could come home with me.

The bus engine hummed and growled its base tone. It was dark outside, so we could only see smeary hand prints on the glass and a reflection of the bus interior and our faces.

He reached out to stroke my cheek, run his fingers through my hair, all the time, his face moving closer to mine. I leaned towards him, making the journey to my lips a little shorter. His perfect soft mouth at first lightly caressed mine, then became more urgent, more aggressive; his tongue finding its way in and my tongue reaching for his.

As our kiss became more intense, our bodies pressed together, his arms at first holding me close were now pressing me to his torso. Without any thought, I turned to straddle his lap – all this twisting sideways was starting to feel an awkward kissing angle. And I wanted him against me, to feel whether he was aroused, crotch to crotch.

He breathed heavily, sighing into my mouth, as his hands slowly trailed down my back, curving out around the shape of my hips, eventually resting his fingers under my denim encased buttocks.  As we got lost in our kiss, our groins unconsciously thrust together and our breathing became heavy.

He released one of his hands to stroke and explore what he could of my breasts through my clothes, checking their shape, their firmness. His hand descended to my crotch, fingers curving under me, leaving me tingly, light-headed, even though he was outside my clothes.

I mirrored this on him, feeling a solid, substantial erection and he sighed heavily, moving to guide my hand to his zip and fly.

“We can, if we’re quiet – go on,” he whispered. So, I deftly unzipped and reached for the firm and ready penis within. First slowly, my hand moved back and forth, exploring every inch and ridge, then faster, as he moaned quietly under his breath. Then, looking over my shoulder to check there was still just the old man at the front of the bus, I slid off his lap and knelt on the floor, bending over my willing prey.

I ran my tongue from base to tip, then from tip to base, carefully licked the head then lowered my mouth on to it, gently sucking, moving up and down and occasionally letting the very edge of my teeth touch it. He gripped the sides of the seat and struggled to keep his moans to a low volume. He writhed and stroked my head, as I set to work whipping him into a ship on high waves.

But I kept on with my mission, up and down, licking around the end and stroking it with my fingers. Then he spasmed, exhaled a “yes” and burst with his climax, grabbing my shoulders and pulling me up into a sated kiss.
Then, we swiftly returned to our senses. I peered through the window, trying to get my bearings. The road looked familiar and I could just about make out the pub near my house.

“Must get off, don’t want to miss my stop,” I called as I leapt up and teetered town the moving bus.
He looked shell-shocked and disorientated, just about spluttering an “ok, bye, then.”

As I prepared to jump off the bus, the driver smirked and said: “You do know we have CCTV on this bus, don’t you?”

It started with a kiss

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Pucker up, folks, close your eyes and move in for that smooch!

Today, we are snogging, necking, ‘pashing’ or just plain kissing. Whether it’s your first ever time or you’ve done it hundreds of times before, your first premeditated kiss with someone is a daunting prospect. I am not talking about a random drunken snog at a nightclub or office party, when you don’t think about what you are doing and all inhibitions evaporated hours ago. This is more about being on a first or second date, when you realise you quite fancy one another, but have not yet found the right moment to make a move. Or you could have a friendship which is about to turn a different corner. Most of us have had someone in our lives with whom we fantasise about locking lips, whether it actually happens or not.

In fact the premeditated kiss is so much harder than the random snog. If it’s someone that matters, you are desperate to get it right, just as much as you would be desperate for things to work out in the bedroom; in fact you are highly likely to get a forecast of bonk-skills from the way their lips work with yours – although I for one can tell you that good kissers don’t always make good bonkers. And bad kissers? I would never let it go any further, so can’t say if this works in reverse.

So, to help anyone else over-thinking a first kiss with someone,  I’ve devised 14 top tips:

  1. Lose the chewing gum – gum-passing is for 14-year-olds, and even some of them will be grossed-out by it.
  2. Don’t eat garlic from at least 48 hours beforehand, unless you have both had it which can enable you to develop garlic repulsion immunity.
  3. Check your breath – go overboard brushing teeth, sucking mints, chewing gum (but see point 1). You have to be fresher than a polar ice cap.
  4. Don’t grab boobs or butt, unless you are 100% certain this will be welcomed.
  5. Don’t ram in your tongue on a first kiss. A small tip of the tongue would be acceptable if you’ve been going at it for more than four minutes.
  6. Move in for the extreme close-up moment as slowly as you can to give the other time to change their mind or avoid the unsynchronised head dodge game i.e. you lunge left, she lunges right, one of you head butts the wall and no one gets a kiss.
  7. Don’t make ‘mmm’ noises – you’re not eating a steak or ice cream and it will kill any ‘buzz’ in a flash.
  8. Try to control your saliva flow (gulping if necessary) – ending a kiss dripping with spit is up there with gum-sharing – something you out-grow at 15 and if she wanted a drink, she’d get one in the usual way.
  9. Don’t bite – at least not for the first kiss – it will just scare off your ‘kissee’.
  10. Don’t wear heavy or over-vibrant lipstick – it is intimidating to your kisser and screams ‘don’t touch me, I don’t want my precious make up ruined’ and most don’t want to wear your lippy themselves (although some may).
  11. If you feel a burp brewing, swallow it back or end the kiss, if it’s beyond your control – having someone belch in one’s mouth is a no-no.
  12. Eyes closed, eyes open? A chicken and egg kind of question. I would say, play it safe and close eyes, but after 30 seconds, you could discreetly peek through one eye to check what he/she is doing.
  13. Slow, soft, gentle, tingly, light-headed – all the things you want to feel, but you can only find out by actually doing it, going with the flow and not over-thinking it (apart from noting the above).
  14. If you are taking this step with someone you want to impress, good luck and remember they will be worrying just as much as you. If you both end up butting heads or missing target, just laugh about it.

Get dry!

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It’s the sexual equivalent of try before you buy, tasting the wine without swallowing it, or test driving a car.

But it’s also something largely done by teenagers, people in a rush or those thinking they are doing something naughty but discreet.

Yes, the dry hump has earned itself something of a seedy, adolescent and slightly naff reputation. But I am starting a campaign here and now to reinvent it as something we all celebrate. Yes, the dry hump is a worthy and perfectly acceptable activity for two consenting adults, whether they are 16 or 56. Go dry humping!

I had a recent re-acquaintance with this much-maligned activity, although, sadly at present, the only dry hump I’m likely to encounter is that on a camel at the zoo…
But zoo animal digression aside, the activity was far more enjoyable and hotter than I had remembered it (as a 15-year-old).

So, when to do it? You have just acquired a new gentleman or lady caller, you have kissed in every way possible, done as much clothes-on fondling as you can muster, but don’t want to hop straight into the sack; this one’s a bit special and you want more than a one night stand with them. But it would be interesting to find out what it might be like, without actually doing it.

So, the snogging gets even more urgent and teeth-clashing and suddenly you end up on the floor (in my case after having hastily shoved toy trains and lorries out of the way). He is on top of you and you both at the same time feel the urge to thrust forward your hips and are both extremely aroused. He pins you down on the floor, your hands above your head, kissing your neck, just down to the top of your cleavage and pushes his groin to yours slowly first, then rhythmically, and you feel his solid erection against you. Again this is another dry hump benefit – if you are resisting handling his member just yet, you at least, now, get a rough idea of size and length.

When your hands are free, you can also check out the quality of his butt and roll over, driving him insane with your thrusts and tantalising cleavage shots. In fact this is an opportunity to showcase your moves and give a ‘dress rehearsal’ of what they might expect, if they play their cards right. And if you are both turned on, it can be pretty explosive – and you haven’t even had to remove any clothing in the process – particularly good if you have body hang-ups and only prefer to disrobe in a red wine fuelled cloud of fuzziness.

This is why dry humping is so great and I encourage everyone to give it a go, with partners new or old, second or third dates, on the beach, at a bus stop, or even by the sink while you’re doing the dishes. But, there are some tips you should consider first:

  1. You both need to be in trousers – if one of you is in a skirt, it’s just too tempting to progress to the ‘wet hump’.  And I would strongly recommend jeans or tough fabric – the friction could be all too much for a linen or viscose number and may result in holes, even ignition…
  2. Not a good idea if either of you have a full bladder, unless you have a change of clothes.
  3. If you are really just going to go this far, make sure you both agree this or those damn jeans are just going to be flung off, anyway, and you may as well have not bothered in the first place. Also on this point, know when to stop, before it gets too hot to handle!
  4. It is fun, arousing, sexy and can be a laugh if you don’t take it too seriously.

So, readers, what are you waiting for? Try a dry hump this weekend – surprise your beau. Meanwhile, I will be checking the zoo opening times.

I just won’t do for you

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I just won’t do for you
I wish it were not true
And the news came as a shock
A most unwelcome, awful knock
When I thought it was going well
You sounded the final knell.

No proper explanation came
“It didn’t feel right”, the claim
Was it the loose post-baby gut,
Or the rather over-round butt?
Did I loudly slurp my gin?
Or dribble some pizza down my chin?

One thing I know is the fault is mine
For you are so right and fine.
What did I do so very wrong?
When I thought we were going strong?
I had dared to hope, to dream
Of the places we might together team.

I asked “could he be the one?”
When you wanted me gone.
Yes, I will get over this fail.
Another wheel came off the rail.
Maybe I’ll never feel whole,
Find the perfect mate for my soul…

You might just do for me

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You might just do for me
I say ‘might’, as we’ll see.
Only time will tell and show
Whether the distance we might go
But there’s something about you
That gives me a rosy hue.

You’re not a film star pin-up,
But I’ll try your essence in my cup,
To taste what you can provide,
To split your shell open wide.
We seem to want the same from life
A lover, friend, but not a wife.

I haven’t stirred in quite a while
Just by seeing someone’s smile
Or a pair of deep blue eyes
The rate of my heart they made rise.
The bar had a busy, noisy drone,
Yet, it felt like we were alone.

I was so awkward and shy
But there was no need to try
For the chemistry was there
The secret formula in the air
We need to meet again, I think,
Prove it was more than just the drink.

So what do you say, lovely guy?
Want to give this thing a try?
Let’s get closer, lose the table
Have some fun, if we’re able.
Let’s have a go, take a chance,
Take some steps in the seduction dance.

You won’t do for me

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You won’t do for me
I’m sure anyone else can see
I had my doubts before me met
Your gushing words made me fret
For just my picture and some prose,
Your feelings for me rose and rose.

But your ex still gives you stress
Your separation remains a mess
She won’t let you see your child
I see that this leaves you riled.

So a new girl is not what you need
Sort all this out or never succeed.
A rebound just sets the wrong tone
Time wasted and you end up alone.

Besides, I just don’t fancy you
To see your face was not a good view
My heart did not flutter
My mind failed to mutter
‘Yes, he is hot, must have him now!’
There was just no sense of wow.

I think you should wait
‘Til you’re in a better state
Then you’re ready to see
Someone else, just not me.