Image from https://www.dreamstime.com/
“When is it too right but too wrong to be right?”
― Dominic Riccitello
He raised the glass to his lips and took a long swallow and as he placed it back on the bar sighed deeply and felt the tension begin to leave his body. It had been a long day and now he coil drelax with a few drinks before going back to his room and catching a few hours of sleep before it all began again tomorrow.
It was the exquisite perfume that caught his attention and he turned to look at the woman who had sat down on the next stool. She was dressed in a way that was classy but just sufficiently revealing to suggest that this was a woman who was comfortable in her own sexuality. She was also at least 20 years younger than him.
He knew that his looks had not completely faded but the paunch and the world weary demeanour were turn off even for women of his own age - even his wife. But even so he smiled at the woman and noticed she didn’t yet have a drink while his own glass was now empty. He asked her what she would like to drink and told the server to put in on the bill for Room 208. They chatted in a desultory way over the drinks and then he took his leave and went upstairs.
30 minutes later he was in his room watching some soccer on the TV when there was a knock at his door. To his surprise it was the woman from the bar holding a bottle and two glasses. “I wanted a nightcap and I never drink alone,” she said.
The glass she poured him was large but quickly disappeared only to be followed by another equally large. He wasn’t sure which was more intoxicating - the wine or the presence of a beautiful woman in his room who seemed unaware or uncaring about the fact that her dress had ridden up to reveal that she was wearing stockings.
Somehow the conversation had turned to films and she interrupted his description of how wonderful Liza Minnelli had been in Cabaret “I made some movies my self a few years ago but you probably won’t have seen them.”. He had to know and asked her to tell more.
The movies had been hard core porn he soon learned. “My speciality was taking two fists - front and back” she laughed “Sometimes a girl would put two in my cunt while a man put two in my arse” she added.
He could hardly believe what he was hearing from her - or from himself when he said “Can you still take a fist?”. Her reply took his breath away “I’m not sure - shall we find out?”.
When he emerged from the bathroom having washed and undressed he saw she was now lying on the bed, legs apart, wearing only the stockings and clothes and handbag were on the table. The tube of lube, rubber gloves and condoms on the bedside table surprised him “I always come prepared” she said “because you never know what life has in store”.
Early the next morning he lay in bed thinking back - had he really fisted a beautiful woman something he had only ever fantasised about? Yes he had and he had gone on to put his cock in her mouth and her vagina as well before ejaculating in her anus. Perhaps it had been a fantasy really but then he noticed the lingering scent.
At that moment his mobile pinged. It was early and that might mean it was important so he picked up and opened the message.
“I hope you enjoyed last night and that this little movie will remind you about it. My bank details are below and if you would be so kind as to deposit £500 on the first of each month your wife need never see your debut as a movie star!”.
Ah the sisters of mercy, they are not departed or gone
They were waiting for me when I thought that I just can't go on
And they brought me their comfort and later they brought me this song
Oh, I hope you run into them, you who've been travelling so long
The touch of her hands, her lips, her body calms me, nourishes me, gives me energy that sustains me long after we part. She is beautiful and her body shows the care she takes of it. I remember so clearly the first time we were together. She opened her legs and the beautiful, fragrant, private place she shared with me reminded me of A, who was in my life for a few, extraordinary months two decades earlier. She explored my body without hesitation and took me to a place that only a woman’s touch can.
I know I am not alone in spending a few, short hours with her. She sometimes speaks of others and some see her more frequently but I don’t feel envy. I know that her gift by its very nature needs to be shared. When we meet for coffee or speak on the phone she is both funny and business like, sometimes exasperated and occasionally angry. Far too often she encounters people who simply fail to understand or value what she offers.
When we are naked she visibly relaxes, a smile spreads across her face and her body softens. She is in her domain, the place where her hard won skills and natural warmth work together to create something remarkable even magical as she makes my fantasies real. I have lain naked with many women - sometimes I charmed them from their clothes but others I paid. Some had a sexual energy that permitted no inhibitions, no nervousness on my part but it had been years since I experienced the pure release that such openness brings. Now I know I speak about my secret desires without being afraid that she will shrink away and it is an unexpected joy. She does not always consent but the conversation and sometimes negotiation encourages me to keep asking.
At times she displays a charming modesty. She never asks to be pleasured but I know she has needs of her own and I try but there are times when my incompetent fumblings fail to take her to orgasm and she has to do it for herself. She then apologies quite unnecessarily but it is such a sweet thing to do.
She does make clear what she expects from her lovers and it is deeply disappointing that she is let down by men who fail to recognise her for the superb professional she has become. She describes herself as the “Ultimate Courtesan” and she is right to do so indeed she would not have been out of place in 16th century Venice catering to the needs of the city’s rich and powerful.
She does so much more than give me a few hours of pure pleasure. She gives something which sustains me long after we have parted and I return to my wife. A wife I love deeply though our sexual needs and appetites have changed. There have been times when a work colleagues offer of coffee and lingering touch have been an unmistakable invitation. But I know what happens when an affair begins. I have been in that place before and I know the risks and they are risks I am no longer willing to take.
And so it is that this extraordinary woman helps keep that marriage alive. She is not the only courtesan I see and she encourages me to meet others. She knows how I have this need to fuck masked strangers but it is Julia that I return to and talk to about my adventures. She listens, shares and helps open me up to new experiences but always she gives me nourishment, warmth and that sustaining energy I take away with me.
She is special and I count myself fortunate to have found her. The English language does not provide the right words to describe what we share - I give her money when we meet but she gives me things that have no monetary value. I know the day will come when her life takes her elsewhere but until then I will continue to relish my minutes spent with this sweet sister of mercy.
When I left they were sleeping, I hope you run into them soon
Don't turn on the lights, you can read their address by the moon
And you won't make me jealous if I hear that they sweetened your night
We weren't lovers like that and besides, it would still be alright
At first I thought this was going to be an opportunity, then I thought it was becoming a challenge and now I realise nothing is going to be the same again professionally or personally.
I knew things were going to be difficult when my wife mentioned that lockdown might be an opportunity to have sex (for the first time in 9 months). I had planning a visit to my regular (and very kinky) escort until bloody Boris Johnson interfered.
I thought it would be proper to pay anyway and got in touch to let her know. Of course for her this is a very scary situation. Her entire business collapsed overnight and she has no idea when or if it will start up again. Since then we have been swapping emails, texts and speaking much more than usual as she looks for alternative sources of income. Finding an opportunity to talk to the person you have sex with but shouldn’t while you are locked in 24/7 with the person you don’t have sex with but should is very tricky - thank goodness we are allowed out to visit the shops occasionally!
Of course sex workers of all kinds are suffering during the lock down but I have yet to see any mention of this in the mainstream media. For those who do sex work to feed the kids it must be a nightmare - my regular isn’t in that situation but it is still very worrying - she is a sensible and responsible person who pays her taxes so she has applied for Universal Credit but I doubt if that is going to help very much. I’ve been donating to a hardship fund set up by the Sex Worker Resistance and Advocacy Movement and if you feel so inclined this is where you can find them https://www.swarmcollective.org/donate
Weirdly the lockdown seems to have unearthed some dirty little fantasies that have been buried in my subconscious for years and I dread to think what it says about me but as you are all proud perverts too I guess you will understand. One of them involves a masked, latex gloved, uniformed woman entering the room where I am lying on a bed. She straps me down without speaking but I am sure that behind the mask there is a pretty face smiling at me. I tell her she fill the uniform beautifully and she slaps my face hard. She lubricates her hands and begins to masturbate me but decides it is taking too long so pushes a dildo into my arse. I am now fighting to stop myself coming but can't help thinking about her cunt beneath that uniform. I imagine it clean shaven and very wet and so I start to come while she collects the semen in a test tube. She removes her gloves and strokes my face gently and I think she is going to speak. I make a gentle murmur and she takes her hand away before striking me again even harder. She leaves the room and I start to wonder, and hope, that she will be on duty again the next day.
I wrote a full length version of that fantasy but I can't find it and that has alarmed me greatly. Until now I have thought that the risks involved in having a web site where I talk honestly and openly about my sexual activities past and present were very small. I even imagined lock down would enable me to finish a number of posts, some factual, some just pure filth, but we are having to share IT much more than usual so that we can both keep on WFH and I have started to fear I am going to make a mistake and she will spot either my secret email inbox or, even worse, the address of this web site which isn't password protected.
The other day I opened a page on a shared device and to my horror the address of my web site was offered to complete a drop down box. It wouldn't take very long to realise who wrote if you know me well and the consequences would be devastating. The last few days have been spent trying to clean up the machines and make my personal lap top impenetrable to anyone with only casual IT skills.
I don't post much but I have enjoyed being a part of a community where I can be completely honest about my sexual urges and activity and engage with such lovely and supportive people. But now I think I have to take the site off line soon though I will continue to follow many of you and read your posts - and perhaps use Twitter a bit more.
Back in real life lock down is a pain but work goes on and I have done some volunteer food deliveries so I don't feel completely useless. But it is increasingly clear here in the UK that some terrible mistakes have been made and when we are out of the COVID 19 crisis there will be some dreadful consequences to deal with. A mental health crisis is undoubtedly developing - its hard enough if you live in a large property with a garden - I cannot imagine what it is like on the 18th floor of a tower block with an entire family trapped for the duration. It puts concerns about my web site into perspective so in a few weeks it will be close.
But right now I really, really need to fuck my beautiful escort friend again!
Life, as it sometimes does, has distracted me from sex itself let alone blogging about it for months now but I did so want to post this week. WW is wonderful thing and as a latecomer to it I wanted to say thank you to Marie who also somehow finds time to encourage us personally as well as doing all the hard work. Thanks to all the others who post, comment and have made a newbie feel at home (and a little less lonely!)
Time, as is well known, sometimes flies like a bird and sometimes crawls like a worm, but human beings are generally particularly happy when they don't notice whether it's passing quickly or slowly.
Photograph by Igor Wrapa, www.wrapashouse
He was utterly aware of the passage of time. He knew exactly how long it took for 400 hours, 24,000 minutes, 1,440,000 seconds to pass and as the 400th hour ended the phone rang.
It was the call he had been dreading, the call he had been longing for yet before he could answer it stopped and he felt physically sick - he had missed the opportunity.
Seconds later a text arrived saying "Be here in 1 hour. This is your first and only chance to please me."
He had been put in touch with her by a Dominatrix he visted who Madam had trained. He had submitted his application and eventually received a reply giving him a time and place to attend. He had been blindfolded on arrival and as far as he knew was never in her presence. He had no idea what she looked like anyway as she had no internet presence and only accepted referrals from those she trusted.
He had been met that first time by a young woman who described herself as Madam's amanuensis. She had told him to remove his clothing so that she could fit him with a penis cage which she then locked. Once he was dressed again she steered him to the door and whispered that after 400 hours he would receive a call which he must respond to at once. She then gave him a package, deftly removed his blindfold and pushed him back out into the street.
The package contained dietary and exercise instructions and three butt plugs of different sizes. It did not contain the key to his cock cage. During the next 16 days he followed the exercise and dietary regime and inserted the plugs each morning as instructed.
400 hours without ejaculation at first seemed an impossibly long time but he settled into a routine and learned that he could even forget that he was caged at least for a few minutes at a time.
He looked again at the text and began to do what he had mentally rehearsed so many times. His heart was pounding - never in a lifetime of sexual adventures had he wanted something this badly and now he was going to give himself to her to do with as she wished.
The same young woman met him at the door dressed in black latex and said "Madam has instructed me to see that you are scrubbed, shaved and given a high colonic. Please do as I instruct and do not speak other than to answer a direct question."
An hour later, satisfied that Madam would approve of her work, she led him into the next room. The cock cage remained in place but a steel ring had been added around his testicles. It had been impossible to stop him self becoming aroused as he was handled by the beautiful young woman and his semi erect penis was pushing against the cage painfully.
She had shackled his hands behind and placed a collar placed around his neck before blindfolding him again. He was acutely aware that his emotions were in turmoil and fear was close to the surface even though he also longed to meet the woman he had fantasised about so often.
At the young woman's prompting he climbed the stairs and halted as instructed. He felt her hand on his shoulder and responded to her gentle push by walking forward several paces. He stopped as she removed her hand and a moment later he heard a door close behind him.
He stood, shaking, for what seemed like many minutes before hearing the door open and then close again. He heard the unmistakable sound of high heels walking towards him and as they stopped he became aware of the heat of a body close by.
"Boy, you will answer my questions by a nod or shake of your head" The voice was warm and slightly accented. He nodded. "Do you consent to be used in any way I choose?" He swallowed hard and nodded again. "Have you ever been pegged? This time he shook his head. "Now take two steps forward" He did and felt something at hip height then rubber gloved hands pushed him forward while pulling his steel encased cock and ball down and below the board he was now lying on.
A strap was quickly pulled across his back and fastened tightly. There was no going back - he was utterly at her mercy. He heard the door open once more and again high heeled footsteps approach. He felt the gag being loosened and was told "Open wide".
The rubber penis was bigger than the gag and was pushed almost to the opening of his throat making him gag before being pulled back a little. "Start sucking" he was instructed by Madam.
As he settled into a rhythm he felt his legs being nudged apart and then the electrifying feel of a finger probing his anus. His cock was instantly hard but again he felt hard steel of the cage prevent him becoming fully erect.
The finger probing his back passage was replaced by something larger and colder that went deeper than he had ever experienced. It felt good but it too was soon removed. And then he felt something a softer and warmer nudging his rosebud. This felt like flesh and he wanted to scream but as if she had read his thoughts Madam said "Stay calm foolish boy - it is a strap on you can feel not some pathetic man's appendage." He relaxed and let it enter him - the strokes were hard, deep and repeated.
He lost all sense of time - surely he always been penetrated by two cocks? Then, without warning both were withdrawn and for a few seconds he thought his ordeal was over but the hard sting of a paddle told him he was wrong. His gag was replaced before the caning began and mentally he counted the strokes. He had never taken more than 25 before but that landmark was soon passed As he tried to avoid tensing he appreciated the skill with which he was being beaten - each stroke somehow finding a fresh piece of flesh.
As his pain intensified he desperately wanted the beating to cease yet he dreaded the last stroke. Once past 50 part his mind began to think about the significance that had been given to the number 400 and he knew that he simply could not survive 400 strokes. But at 75 the caning ceased.
There was a long silence though he was aware of the two women moving about the room and finally Madam spoke but to her assistant not to him. "I am done with it. You can send it on its way or play with it some more if you wish. The rest of the night is yours but I shall expect my breakfast brought to me at 9 sharp."
He realised that he still had not seen her face and now he never would as he heard her heels move to the door and out. The young woman removed the strap, gag and blindfold and he saw that she was wearing a strap on. "May ask which you were" he asked hesitantly and was surprised when she giggled and said "I was face fucking you - Madam always likes to stretch the little rosebud of virgins like you. We'd better get you cleaned up" she said briskly "follow me".
His pulse had begun to slow as she gently but expertly cleaned him and applied salves to his many wounds. Finally she took a key from around her neck and unlocked the cock cage. She washed his penis and held it in her hand. "It doesn't seem very hard now" she said smiling at him which made it twitch a little "Shall I see if its still working properly?" she added as she leaned down and took the rapidly hardening cock between her bright red lips."
And then he realised that while the ordeal might be over extraordinary pleasures still lay ahead before the night was over.
We're gonna let it all hang out
We're gonna chug-a-lug and shout
We're gonna cause talk and suspicion
Give an exhibition
Find out what it is all about
J J Cale - After Midnight
Not really about "Ceremony" WW#390 although given half a chance I make it something of a ritual - not writing much at the moment so sharing this while its fresh
Once, before the internet, I lived alone in a part of town where there was a local paper published every Friday. At the back of the paper in the personals were advertisements for massage parlours and escort agencies. Sometimes I would find myself late in the evening wanting to fuck a woman and the newspaper would call out to me.
Finally I would give in and look at the ads, circle an agency and call the number. The receptionist would begin by letting me know who was working that evening but back then I wasn’t looking for any particular kinks just a good looking woman who was ready to be fucked. Back then I could drink a lot but still get rock hard without any assistance so it was straightforward hard cock in tight vagina I wanted. Once we had established that someone like "Blonde Jennifer aged 25" was available and could be with me in 30 minutes, we agreed on the length of her visit and the price and I put down the phone.
My heart would be racing by now and I had to get ready. I would take a shower but I didn’t pay the same attention to personal grooming as I do now. I certainly didn't shave my genitals but then it was very unlikely that Blonde Jennifer would be shaved either but I would be clean and sweet smelling when she arrived. The anticipation was excruciating as I imagined what she might look like, whether she would be wearing stockings, how she would speak but above all how she would behave. Would she be businesslike and just want to get it over with or would she accept my offer of a drink and chat for a while letting me feast on glimpses of her thighs and breasts before kissing me?
The street door buzzer disturbed my reverie and I felt my cock instantly harden. This was it – she was standing outside the block and I quickly moved to the door and let her in saying I’m in flat 14 on the second floor. It was nearly 1 am and the noise of her heels on the stone stairs seemed incredibly loud as she made her way up. I now faced a dilemma – did I open the door fully and watch her as she emerged from the stair or wait until she was almost outside? Despite my excitement I would make myself wait until I could hear her approach the door.
Now it was game on – in a few second I would see the woman who would be ready to open her legs and let me push my penis into her cunt. The thrill of seeing the face of that stranger is simply one of the best things I did, and still do – what comes later will be satisfying but nothing compares to those first few seconds. This time she is beautiful, she is smiling, she is dressed in a way that emphasises her figure and she is here to be fucked.
I have no idea how many times I did this and albeit in a different ways that thrill is something I still pursue and those escorts who don’t reveal their faces like Jade or Carla have given me some utterly memorable sessions. Two of those encounters from that time stick in my mind. There was the girl with long brown hair who dressed like she was heading for the local pub rather than a sexual encounter. She was pretty and spoke openly about only working occasionally as an escort. She said she enjoyed having sex and if she didn’t have a regular boyfriend she contacted the agency and asked them to arrange a few clients for her. The mind plays funny tricks and I remember clearly that she was wearing a pair of really good fishnet stockings that I took great delight in caressing as I move towards her vagina to prepare it for penetration.
The other was a a slim short haired blonde in her early twenties who seemed a little nervous when she arrived and reluctant to remove her clothes. Eventually she confessed that she wasn’t really an escort at all! She was the receptionist and when I called she was knew that all the escorts were busy and wouldn't be making any more visits that night. She was, of course, well aware that they would be paid more for having sex with a single client than she would for a whole shift and she had decided to take the booking herself. My first reaction was to tell her to leave but she persuaded me that she really was happy for me to fuck her and removed her her skirt and knickers to prove it. Strangely she insisted on keeping her tee shirt on however. She proved to be an enthusiastic partner but years later I realised what an opportunity I missed. A young pretty girl was giving me the opportunity to be her first paying customer and I should have given her encouragement and support and taught her how to please me rather than just fuck her. It is something that I really only learned later – the best escorts will be very clear and even matter of fact about sex but if you make an effort to ensure the experience is enjoyable for them too you will be rewarded! I know escorts who have orgasms with me and I am certain they are for real and I am always clear that I am happy to do whatever it is that they enjoy in return for the pleasure they give me. It would never have occurred to me back then that some girls really do get a kick out of fucking men with a strap on but I am glad I found out.
The wider world has changed just as my private world has changed in the years since but the thrill of hearing those high heels clicking toward my door remains with me still. In fact I think I shall have very soon have to go to a hotel and arrange for a complete stranger to come knocking at my door after midnight one more time!
Red red wine, you give me not awful love
Your kind of lovin' like a blessing from above"
Red, Red Wine written by Neil Diamond and released by UB40 in 1983
"Frigid" as the prompt for WW 381 triggered a memory that had been buried for years - and left me with mixed feelings - sad that I lost touch with someone I really liked but also feeling positive about some really good times my younger self enjoyed back then.
Its London, 1985 and the organisation I work for is slowly dying thanks to Margaret Thatcher. My team are young and if we are going down we are doing it in style.
The occasional drink after work turns into all night sessions then weekend parties. We drink from early till late, play UB40 records and smoke marijuana when we can get it. And some of us have sex.
She is a friend of one the team and joins us sometimes. I find myself talking to her in the pub late one evening. She has long dark hair and eyes like deep pools hinting of forbidden pleasures. She wears short skirts that show off legs that go on forever. And her laugh makes you want to hug her.
Nothing is ever said but each time we are out with the crowd we gravitate towards each other. One Saturday after a party I walk her home. She invites me in and it seems rude to refuse. In her bed I finally learn that the promise her thighs have been making is real - they are strong and firm but readily open to let me in.
It is winter but the window is open and the temperature is close to zero. At first the drink and the drugs and her body let me ignore this. I learn that it is possible to be rock hard and shivering at the same time as my cock spread her lips and pushes deep inside. At least it is warm in there.
Our organisation dies. Her boyfriend gets a new job and spends more time at home. She can't sleep in my flat because its too warm. I go to parties alone, get drunk and fuck other women.
We never talked about it but one day I realise it is over a month since I've seen her. Mobile phones are just coming on the market but ordinary people don't have them when the cost £2,000 so I can only call her land line but its her boyfriend who answers so I hang up.
A few years later I'm between jobs and killing time in central London and I hear her voice. We talk briefly but she has a business appointment. Anyway it is summer and she is wearing a long skirt. The eyes still have it but the thighs are not on display. Neither of us calls to fix that drink we said we would have together.
I lie in a warm bed and think about what might have been - would we even recognise each other now - and then I realise I can't remember her name only her face - and those thighs - and that laugh!
Frigid as in bitterly cold? Most definitely. Frigid as in a woman who doesn't like sex? No way - she taught me that even when its freezing sex can be hot, so damned hot.....
"...the one charm of marriage is that it makes a life of deception absolutely necessary for both parties."
The rain kept lashing down and for the first time in weeks I really felt the need to fuck someone. 6 weeks before Julia had given me 15 strokes with her cane followed by a memorable orgasm but once the bruises had faded so did thoughts of sex. Maybe it was because work had been tough, at least tougher than usual. Then the wife and I went on holiday. There was some desultory talk of fucking but her pleasures were being taken elsewhere. Then it hit me - I wanted, no needed, urgently to fuck a total stranger.
I really don't know why this happens - I know a number of escorts who between them meet every sexual need I have - they are beautiful and very, very good at what they do - they are good people and I enjoy spending time with them - my wife and I even manage to give each other orgasms occasionally so why this urge to fuck a stranger?
The part of the country where we were staying wasn't known for the volume or quality of its sex workers - at least not the classy, independent sort of woman I needed but as the rain kept falling I opened the AW site anyway, logged on and searched. I found a 28 year old independent who preferred older men and not too far away! Just a few photos - no face but a superb body - described herself as a "personal executive secretary" - my cock was stirring.
I can't really believe that I sat there in the same room as my wife arranging to meet this woman in a few days time without the slightest sense of guilt. Don't get me wrong I do love my wife dearly but I have sexual needs that she no longer shares.
The moment a door opens and I see a stranger's face for the first time knowing that she may take my cock into her mouth within a few minutes is one that excites me and scares me and I was not going to miss this chance let this chance so I confirmed our date. I wrote about the first time with Jade here but I haven't really thought about why I have this kink to fuck strangers - it can't be the anonymity because sometimes I go back and see them again as I have with Jade.
The appointment is fixed and I start to think about how to approach the session - a good shave of course - one of her private pictures shows an attractive and clean shaved cunt as well as a belly piercing which will be a first for me. I will need a cock ring but I wonder how she will react to my glans ring. I wore it the last time I saw Jade who loved it and gave me a glorious blow job while it was in place. Perhaps not on a first date though.
The day dawns and it is now hot and sticky and I have miles to travel. The journey goes badly but we keep in touch and she is very understanding. I eventually get there and I am so exhausted after the journey I am less anxious than usual for the first time. She is as good looking as promised and has tattoos that weren't mentioned - this is a bonus as I think they just make her look even sexier.
The session goes well considering the state I'm in after the journey from Hell and she turns out to be is a very interesting person - considering we have just met I learn a lot about her and her business plan - I like her. Later I think again about why I wanted to have sex with a stranger when I could have seen one of the women I know well and decide that this must be some male biological urge to spread my semen widely but perhaps I've watched too many wildlife documentaries!
The arrival of genuine summer weather has been a cause of joy for many and one of the things it tempts us to do is enjoy an ice-cold beer or more perhaps in a pub garden or outside a Tapas Bar or just on the balcony of the flat. But for many people joining friends for a refreshing glass of lager is fraught with risk because they are among the 7.5m Britons with alcohol dependency problems. But now it is becoming possible to slake your thirst without running risks.
I am not an alcoholic but for many years while I was doing a very high pressure job, I used alcohol to wind down at the end of the day. It never affected my ability to do my job and if I’m honest in many social situations it was essential to help me cope with chronic shyness. Last year I gave that job up and while I still work part time the stress has gone completely. But the use of alcohol had become a habit – a couple of beers followed by a bottle of wine each night was normal. As I re-evaluated my life I realised that I wanted to live a lot longer and enjoy a good quality of life. That meant doing something about my health and cutting back on the booze was a good place to start – except that I didn’t actually do anything.
Then I went away for a weekend trip which involved some monumental drinking and, on the way, back I realised that what I thought was the after effects of the drink was actually a really serious viral infection. For a week I could barely eat let alone drink beer or wine but as I improved, I realised that I had gone a week without alcohol. One week became two then three until it was 5 weeks – the longest period I had gone without alcohol since I had been hospitalised after an accident years before.
As I said I’m not an alcoholic and I didn’t want to be denied the opportunity to have a glass of wine with a meal or to celebrate a special occasion with a glass of champagne. So that is what I did – I now have a couple of glasses of wine once or twice a week and I feel great. I’ve lost weight, my blood pressure is down, I look better and I’ve taken up Pilates (I also seem to have a heightened sex drive buts that for another post sometime).
But I still wanted to be able to drink beer – sometimes quite a lot – how can you watch football on TV without a beer? And that is how I discovered that there has been a revolution in the brewing industry. There were a few “low alcohol” beers available in supermarkets and sometimes pubs that I had tried usually because I was the designated driver – most had a strange after taste although Becks Blue wasn’t too bad as long as you hadn’t already tasted the real thing.
Today, however, we are spoilt for choice and it seems that every week brings new products to the market. There is Peroni Libra to enjoy with your pasta– and Cobra Zero with your curry – both 0.0% ABV but now the craft brewers have joined in and it’s a revelation.
At this point I do need to give a warning to anyone who needs to avoid alcohol completely – please read the small print – some brews are “low alcohol” rather than zero. The two I’m about to recommend are both 0.4% ABV – fine for me but not if you need to avoid alcohol entirely but I’ll finish with a very nice completely alcohol-free beer.
Brooklyn Brewery have produced an American style lager called “Special Effects” and I swear its so good you could drink without realising it wasn’t 5% ABV beer. Brewdog, the independent Scottish brewer offers a choice of two low alcohol beers. The brilliantly named “Nanny State” has been around for a while and is a bitter rather than a lager though best served very cold – it is 0.5% ABV. The same company has recently introduced Punk AF a 0,5% ABV version of their Punk IPA.
Back when I was drinking too much my lager of choice was Estrella from Barcelona. What I didn’t know until very recently was that this family owned brewery has been making alcohol free beers for more than 30 years which might explain why their Estrella Galicia Lager 0.0% was such a pleasure to drink in the current heatwave.
It is getting easier to find low alcohol beers too – although there are places that really should know better that don’t – like the Royal Albert Hall – no demand for it apparently! Meanwhile our neighbourhood bar offers a choice of three.
If you want to explore the many other alternatives that are now out there take a look at the web site of the “Dry Drinker” – who offer literally dozens of alternatives and home delivery. Cutting back on the booze doesn’t heave to mean becoming a social pariah and as long as you don’t become evangelical about it (something I know is a risk for me) its perfectly possible to get your mates to understand that you have chosen to stay sober.
My heart belongs to Doris so Isobel will have to wait to make her choice though it may not be any better than Doris's choice of guys was...
At last my heart's an open door
And my secret love's no secret anymore
Secret Love by Sammy Fain & Paul Francis Webster
When I was a child my young heart was captured by Doris as I heard her singing "The Deadwood Stage" on "Family Favourites". I knew nothing of her beauty then only that in those few minutes she created a world I wanted to be part of wearing my cardboard stetson and toting my cap gun.
When I was a young man I lusted for the bodies of women who sang like angels and danced like devils. If Liza Minelli as Sally Bowles had said "Follow me" I would have crawled through broken glass to be with her. But I never lusted for Doris - she was too sweet to soil with my fantasies.
When I was a middle aged man I played her songs to would be lovers and fell in love with her afresh. At Christmas time her songs would soothe and charm and for a few moments I was able to believe that the world was a good and safe place.
Now I am an old man and I have learned many things. Men treated Doris so badly that she chose to give her love to animals who gave her devotion in return and didn't betray her. A few days before she died I watched Calamity Jane through these eyes that have seen the good and the bad of this world.
Doris as Calamity and Allyn Ann McLerie as Katie Brown set up house together one more time as I nodded off. But when Wild Bill Hickok and Lieutenant Danny Gilmartin came calling they were sent packing and Jane took Katie by the hand and led her to the bed where they kissed passionately before beginning to explore each other's gorgeous bodies and then.......
The innocent 5 year old I once was doesn't understand what they are doing and turned away though the old man wondered if Doris might have had a happier life if she had found a faithful gal to spend it with instead of all those faithless guys. And then the credits rolled and Doris sang "Secret Love" and I dreamt that they lived happily ever after.
I was planning to polish the latest instalment in my Isobel narrative and shoehorn it into this week's Wicked Wednesday prompt then I saw that the prompt was "Ritual". I enjoy ritual whether involving sex or not but I am aware that it has also come to sustain the sexual relationship I have with my wife. I found myself thinking about how this had come about and wrote this immediately on rising (getting up not the other!) I haven't really written about my wife here before and I really need to consider why I am sharing this with strangers (even if it feels like some of you are becoming friends) but I'm not going to share it or at least not in this form with her?
Photo of the Lady herself taken by Old Mike
We met as teenagers and soon there was an urgent need to move on from heavy petting to proper fucking but when and how was driven by lust and circumstance. Later we fucked other people but always came back together. Through our twenties and now a proper “Couple” spontaneity was our watchword and subtlety largely absent unless you include the occasional photo session when we made our own version of the spreads found then in top shelf magazines (sadly none of the pictures survive).
Later we worked hard together to destroy the life we had built as we fucked less, spoke less and shouted more. The pressures from the world outside grew and, though then I couldn’t name it, stress became my companion playing its little tricks on us both.
The years apart allowed me do some learning about myself, about sex and about the relationships between people who fuck each other. I wrote about one part of that here. But the connection between us was never fully severed and it wasn't long before clandestine fucking during the hours of daylight was taking place.
Soon enough we were one again a publicly acknowledged “Couple” and then a “Married Couple” and our sex became more adventurous and experimental for a while. Our honeymoon in New York established the erotic power of even quite downmarket hotels. We worked together then – literally running a business for a couple of years – and survived. Spontaneous sex became less frequent but a the first iteration of our ritual sustained a us and for a while even enabled us to explore some mild kinks.
During our time apart we had become used to sleeping alone in double beds and though now married we continued to do so. Practically it made sense as our sleep patterns are different and it also allowed me to indulge in early morning fantasies while she slept on.
We were kinder to each other now too and provided mutual support through cancer, accidents, joint replacements, redundancies, family losses and sometimes even the need to cope with success. I knew my old acquaintance, stress, better though he had brought his best buddy, alcohol, to stay too. It became our everyday resort without ever becoming a “problem”. These last few months though I have learned that if you send both those little buggers packing your desire for sex is magically and sometimes rather problematically restored! Looking back I also realise just how many times we spurned a chance to fuck because we were "Too tired" in other words "half pissed by 8 pm".
And so it became our practice to arrange sex “dates” where without naming it we would play out our ritual. Sometimes work would mean we were apart for a few nights and carefully worded texts might lead to some serious fucking on my return. The night she collected me at the station wearing only stockings under her coat (I checked of course) still snuggles warmly in some alcove of my filthy mind. But when we entered the bedroom – always mine as her involved a platform bed 6 feet in the air – the ritual would commence.
And so on into our fifties and for her the menopause. It wasn’t the worst but it still took its toll and looking back I realise that our sexual performances while continuing to be ever less frequent also took on their near final ritual pattern at that point. Today we are in our sixties and that ritual is well rehearsed. It is important because we still find it hard to talk about our sexual needs and it allows us to to make love without extensive negotiations. Sometimes I think I should just accept that fucking at all in our mid sixties is something to be happy about but then I think how our teenage selves would have envied us having the time and opportunity to whatever we wanted when we wanted.
And so to the ritual itself. It begins by fixing a time and place and as the hour approaches I tidy the bedroom, arrange the music (usually Goldfrapp’s Supernature), prepare the candles, close the curtains, clean the toys and cock rings, lay out the lube, wipes and finally put my anal plug in the bathroom so I can nip out and slip it in at some point. We both shower and she opens a bottle of something sparkling. She has a good selection of play clothes which we add to from time to time. There is now a trade off between how they look and the practicalities of fucking however. The PVC cat suit can cause an almost instant erection but has to be removed before serious action can take place. The negotiations to replace it with a more adaptable rubber one are going about as well as those concerning Brexit as I find latex a stimulant while she finds it a turn off!
Usually stockings, heels and some flimsy underwear suffice though I am optimistic that a recently acquired leather dress is going to serve us well. And then we begin. We stand and face each other and I to stroke and probe and kiss her. I remove just enough of her clothing make her her cunt and nipples accessible. After a few minutes she moves to the bed, glass in hand, while I strip down to a jock strap.
I then join her and continue to explore her body, removing her heels, encouraging her to grasp the headboard, spreading her lips and beginning to take her to orgasm. Being a man I think I am quite skilled at this and mix it up with tongue, fingers and a variety of vibrators. Recently we have begun to use the Le Joue Mimi for clitoral stimulation - it seems to provide a very deep buzz that works a treat on her. I would happily lick her cunt and clitoris for a longer time but she has stopped shaving and has never been a great one for giving me feedback anyway. Oh how I wish I could arrange a conversation between her and Julia who recently gave me an absolute master class (or should that be mistress class?) in how to help a man work your clitoris with just lips and tongue all the way to orgasm.
Most times we get there and when it goes well her orgasms are impressive and nearly 50 years after the first time I still enjoy seeing her nipples grow hard and a red flush creep up her neck before she begins to spasm and thrash about. After a brief period of recovery we move to the final part of our ritual. I prepare my cock to be as hard as I can get it these days using cock rings and a plug that puts pressure on my prostate and add some lube before penetrating her.
This time while my cock is exploring her cunt, slowly pushing apart her lips before pressing deep inside is an absolutely critical time for our whole relationship. It is almost the only time we make eye contact and verbalise our love for each other as though we mean it rather than something said as part of everyday routine. These times are infrequent but I believe they sustain us as a couple who have been lovers on and off for nearly fifty years as well as being best friends for all that time.
It is rare that ejaculation takes place inside her vagina as this can take an awfully long time now so the ritual draws to a close with my cum being spread on her tits and stomach. There is always room for enhancement and one day I may take my courage in my hands and spill the spunk on her face then give her a lingering kiss before she has time to say “yuk”.
Yesterday I was made arrangements to meet up with Jade another one of my favourite escorts next week for some uninhibited sex play but thanks to Marie’s prompt I have been reminded that it has been too long since I took part in our own private ritual. I rather think I need to do something about that very soon - possibly even this very evening – but first I just need to bribe the 20 year old to go out for a few hours, not fulminate too much about politics over breakfast, remember to be supportive when she lags behind on the morning run and perhaps swap St. Vincent for Goldfrapp on the bedroom CD player....
An old man called Mike remembers sex in London before the internet, rants about the hypocrisy of today's society and shares some links to the best companions around today......