I was young once and when a strong desire to fuck a woman manifested itself it was easy to deal with. There might be a warm body next to me or someone nearby who would respond quickly. Sometimes I would go out and use only my charm to find a woman who would return with me and open her legs willingly.
Later I learned that there were places in the city where I could find women who for a fee would allow me to fuck them. Later still I found other women who would respond to my telephone calls and arrive within the hour ready to be fucked. But the years passed and I began to understand that my desires were not so simply expressed or met. I wanted to dominate, to have complete control of the woman and have her agree to penetrated in different ways, to be brought to orgasm and even be hurt simply to enhance my pleasure. And sometimes I needed to change places, to submit and accept that whatever I had once thought normal was not what my body now craved. I found a woman who needed to feel the crop sting her before she could come. I found another who was by nature submissive and who desired me and whose every orifice was available. But the years passed and she became less and less responsive. Things she had gloried in became sources of conflict and I took less and less pleasure when having her. Now I am old and there is a woman that provides me with sexual services regularly. The things we do seem ordinary to us now but many would find them kinky even perverted. I enjoy her and we have learned how to make each other's bodies respond and so we give and receive pleasure that can be exquisite at times. I have learned much about my sexual needs in those years and once in a while I need to have sex with a total stranger but sex which is unapologetic and has few limits. A date came clear in my diary a few weeks ago and I began to think about using it to satisfy this lust. At first I looked at some of the women I had met before but they were not available and I was on the point of settling for something more ordinary when a social media platform suggested I link up with a woman I knew nothing about. In a few days time I will stand outside a door behind which she is waiting. I have never seen her face or heard her voice yet she has agreed to be masked until my penis is inside her vagina when she will reveal it. I have asked her to plan our session and fully expect to have my limits pushed - she is expert at practices I have never taken part in and I have invited her to choose whatever she wishes. I have read the information she shares and she has interests that are rare these days but suggest that this is a woman of substance, intellect and perhaps humour. I have seen photographs that give an impression of an exceptional body and she has hinted at hidden things that only excite my imagination further. Anticipation of sexual debauchery with a total stranger is a pleasure that occurs rarely and when the actual events exceeds the anticipation it is something that sustains me for many months and through difficult times until I begin to imagine once again what it would be like to meet a woman for the first time and within moments be taking part in sex acts that once I thought were only possible in my fantasies. I am a lucky old bugger!
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Half imagined stories come and go without being written down. The garden is awakening and demands attention. My guitar stands idle and dusty as my finger tips soften. And now when I should be out running to clear my mind to work through Sunday I decide that I want to visit Wicked Wednesday and finally post something again. When I do I will learn of your stories and challenges and however briefly and distantly share something with kindred spirits. There has been a part of my life lived in secret for many years but the warmth and honesty of this community has helped me to not only come to terms with that but share the pleasure it brings.
These last few months have been hard. I know that these things are relative and try to keep a sense of perspective - I have much to be grateful for and the horrors that have happened in this same time period to others make my travails feel insignificant. But still I have a nagging sense that I am not coping as well as I should and that I am making mistakes that only make things worse. Writing this is a displacement activity, of course, because the deadline is approaching to finish something that I took on without any thought to help someone out. If I can finish it I will be paid but I really don't believe in what I am doing. Any yet to not finish it will not only let people down but will damage my sense of self worth so in an hour or two I must try again. I have almost recovered from the fall now but everyday I am reminded that two months without exercise takes a considerable toll on a body this old. I still don't understand how or why I fell and that nags at me too. My wife's illness is debilitating for us both. It may have been developing for years but still came out of a clear blue sky. It isn't life threatening but she can no longer do the things that she enjoys, things that are good for her mental health and help her keep the drinking to a manageable level. She is determined not to be disabled but watching her pain come and go is difficult. We will shortly begin the process of seeking surgical intervention and we know it is the only way to restore some of her mobility but it will be a hard road and impact us both for many months to come. The plans we had been making for a post Covid world are all now on hold and we increasingly live in the present. As I always do I have taken on too much work and some of things I agreed to do have not worked out as I hoped and I spend long hours trying to deal with them. Failure, even, when it is through no fault of my own is not something I accept easily. My libido has been dropping out for days at time but hasn't gone away completely. As always it can be triggered in unexpected ways but in the current circumstances that isn't always the welcome distraction it can be in better times. My wife's illness may well mean that our sex life which has been intermittent as best these last few years is over completely. I have found solace with Julia many times and while our relationship remains one of service provider and client we talk in between meetings and I know that she too has had a very difficult time during Covid. Each time things seem to be looking up she has encountered a fresh obstacle and her grit and determination in the face of adversity are extraordinary. I need the physical solace she offers me and I need it soon. They way she gives her body when we are together helps me mentally ans well as physically. I sometimes feel guilty that I feel no guilt but the title of that book from the 70s - The Joy of Sex - sums up what she gives me. (And to be honest I never got to do some of the things I read about in the book until I met Julia!) This was supposed to be about a Limited Edition something I have one of two examples of and I enjoy that feeling of slight superiority that their ownership offers but right now the Limited Edition I really crave is a day all to myself to relax, enjoy music, food, the trees, the flowers that beginning to emerge and then to have utterly uninhibited sex with Julia. Somehow before this day is over I will finally finish this damned piece of professional writing and then scour the diary to find a few hours when I can escape and let Julia work her magic on me. Creator: Silver Screen Collection | Credit: Getty Images Copyright: 2016 Silver Screen Collection When I was a young man I watched the movie Cabaret and fell in love with Sally Bowles played by Liza Minnelli. On stage Sally exuded self confident sexuality but off stage she was sweet and vulnerable. I was so taken with the world the film portrayed that I began to read the Chistopher Isherwood books it was based on. The city described by Isherwood was living on borrowed time and the Nazis destroyed that freedom and in the years that followed the Soviet Union imposed a drab authoritarian regime on half the city while the western half was an isolated outpost of capitalism.
If I had been a time traveller I would have headed for the Berlin of Isherwood but in the real world all I could do was watch the film again and again and fantasize about Liza/Sally (I’m sure that is where my love of a woman in stockings and suspenders started) And then the wall came down and the city came back to life. In the years after I had to visit the city often for work and explored it’s bars, cafes, galleries, museums and inevitably its brothels. There was an enlightened view of sex work that meant it was legal and well managed. There were numerous brothels which had none of the seediness that was common in London and the women who worked there were treated well. I had only a little German but most of the girls spoke English and I had some wonderful relaxed afternoons that made me love the city even more. Many of those brothels have gone and there are now some mega brothels in their place. I haven’t visited them myself and they have no appeal to me. I have it on good authority, however, that if you are young and enjoy sex there are plenty of places where you will find like minded people. Sadly I while I enjoy sex and still love pushing my limits an apparently respectable old man is unlikely to be welcome in such places. The extraordinary Templehof airport in the city centre where we used to land and walk straight to our hotel (and where the planes flew in during the Berlin AirLift) is long gone and the city itself has changed at a staggering pace though it still retains some of its charm and some extraordinary historical reminders. Sitting in the national stadium watching Hertha Berlin play just a few yards from where Hitler had addressed those huge crowds was a strange experience. I rarely visit these days and when I do my wife is with me. But I do miss the sex. Having illicit sex felt like I was honouring the tradition of decadence that Berlin had for so many years. One of the old style brothels does survive though. Liberty rather splendidly is just behind the famous KaDeWe department store on the Kudam! When we visit that store I hope my wife doesn’t notice the wistful look on my face. I keep hoping that something will come up requiring me to visit the city alone one more time - even a day trip so I could relive one of those afternoons of 30 years ago would make an old man happy!.
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 Leonard Cohen 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 Leonard Cohen After midnight We're gonna let it all hang out After midnight 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! Picture by Soragrit Wongsa on Unsplash 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..... 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.... Newspaper headline "Middle East Deadline" Jazz musicians are down on the breadline Soho (needless to say) I'm alone on your streets on a Friday evening Soho (needless to say), Al Stewart This week's prompt is "Unmentionable" and while some of the things Carla and I did might be unmentionable in polite company that isn't the link. The very fact that I had a joyous two hours with her is unmentionable to my friends, my family and in particular, my wife, which is a shame because it was a lot of fun but at least I can share it with you! PS - Isobel will be back next week Picture of Carla James used with her permission It felt good being back in Soho with sex on my mind but the nerves that usually reach a crescendo as the time of an appointment approaches were strangely absent. I was about to spend the afternoon playing out an extended scene with one of London's most accomplished role players yet I wasn't nervous! Had I known what the next two hours would involve I would have been but Carla's warmth had shone through our email exchanges as we worked out the roles we would play - I the "Master" and she the "Submissive" albeit one who knew what she wanted and how to get it only too well.
And then there were the masks! I have long harboured a fantasy about sex with a complete stranger while we are both masked - only when my cock is deep in her cunt are the masks removed and we see each other's faces for the first time. By the time I left that particular itch was going to be well and truly scratched. The flat had a delightfully decadent feel while the four poster hinted of pleasures to come. When I emerged from the shower I found "Miss James" standing tall in heels, stockings and exquisite underwear - she looked me in the eye and handed me a collar and leash. I resisted the temptation to lay hands on her arse and spank it because she needed to be collared and then made to kneel before me so she could take my cock between her lips for the first but not the last time that afternoon. I knew Carla could switch and I had given her free rein to take her character where she wanted but there was a palpable tension in the air when Miss James first asserted herself and made it clear that if I was to continue to enjoy her body I would need to let the alpha female out to play for a while. In that mood she was just a little frightening and I really shouldn't have encouraged her read my about the caning given to me by Julia because before long I understood what the four poster was really for as I was first tied to it then flogged. But there is only so much a man can take and I reasserted myself making it clear that it was now time for her to present that marvellous rear for some attention. I let her know that if she behaved herself perhaps an orgasm might just be permissible too Unfortunately for her she allowed herself to come much too soon so now she too would feel the sting of the flogger and the paddle. Yet this punishment only served to cause her to demand yet again that I, despite being the master, should actually submit to her perverted desires. However I have been called a gentleman on occasion and it is rude to deny a lady her wish to have a little fun so I felt obliged to do as I was told. Being half choked by Miss James's strap-on cock as it was rammed down my throat may not have been uppermost in my mind earlier while I wandered the streets of my old stomping ground but here I was on my knees learning what a face fuck feels like. When told to present my arse ready for a serious pegging I knew that I would have to make her regret this outrageous behaviour before we finished. The creator of Miss James had told me during our planning that she enjoys giving A play and she now set about demonstrating just how skilled she is at it (and here I must thank Julia who has been mentoring me for some time - had this been my first time I fear I would have been overwhelmed by the extended fucking I had to take). Nevertheless being penetrated so expertly and deeply was a challenge to my self control and I knew that if something wasn't done I would find my self repeating Miss James's error. So I forced myself to call a halt and once more I asserted my dominance of this extraordinary woman by insisted that it was now her turn to kneel and see just how far down her throat she could take a cock - quite a long way as it turned out! Finally it was time for me to fuck this gorgeous, infuriating and alluring creature - and so I did. After a few deep thrusts into that lovely cunt she in turn mounted me and the moment I had been waiting for so long had arrived. As Carla looked down at me first she removed her mask revealing just how pretty that face is and then removed mine too although this revealed a somewhat craggier visage, of course. In my fantasy at this point I not only kiss the beautiful stranger but ejaculate as I do so. I at least managed to kiss those sweet lips however as for the latter I am man of advanced years who had just undertaken an afternoon of extraordinarily vigorous sexual activity - well that's my excuse. Fortunately another of Carla's many virtues is patience so with more than a little manual assistance from her matters eventually reached a highly satisfactory if messy conclusion. Now out of character we chatted for a while and I moaned about how Soho wasn't the same since Jimmy's closed down like I do while Carla told me about where she spends some of her private time and other matters which are no one's business but ours. Carla James is a very special person - you quickly realise that if you met her in any circumstances her warmth and humour would draw you to her and being in her company would help make the world feel like a better place. I don't know what the path was that led her to become the exquisitely skilled professional she is today but for the time we were together she committed herself totally to making our private, intimate drama become a performance that would have merited a standing ovation had there been an audience to witness it. I am a fortunate man to be able to occasionally enjoy such pleasures and I thank Carla for making it possible and I even have a sufficiently large ego to believe her when she said that she too had found it to be a rather "hot" afternoon. Carla James web site can be found here - she is also a rather good advert for the Kinky London Escorts group (KLE) Savior, Annie Clark aka St. Vincent Royalty free Photograph by Anatoly Tiplyashin When I was going through puberty I recall having fantasies about being kidnapped and placed inside a box with a hole in it through which people reached through and "did things" to my penis and testicles. I have no idea where I got this from but it prompted me to do some odd and potentially dangerous things to myself and in particular try and find ways to apply heat to my penis without actually burning it - somehow I survived without doing any lasting harm to myself. I had a very ordinary childhood and adolescence - I wasn't abused and didn't see anything I shouldn't have. Of course by the time I was in my late teens I sort of understood some of the jokes about spanking but really didn't give it much thought. It was my encounter with A (Cheating Heart Reprised) that really started me thinking about pain and restraint. After A my then girlfriend, later wife, who was always relatively passive during sex was happy to be gently restrained but wasn't interested in impact play at all. Inevitably I began to look for opportunities to play out some of my kinky fantasies with sex workers. This didn't go particularly well and I usually ended up with quite mixed feelings. I have written about the first of these encounters in the post "Three Lions on Your Chest" but a few years later I had a great experience in Soho with a gorgeous woman who had the poshest of accents and gave me a whipping that I now realise was really quite gentle - the sex after was pretty damn good too. This time I didn't go back because I was afraid I had enjoyed it too much and could very easily get hooked on someone that lovely! I shall pass quickly over the woman who reminded me of the witches in Macbeth and tied me up then asked me if I wanted my cock chopping off (being British I told her that on the whole I would rather not so she used a vibrator instead and as long as I kept me eyes shut it was OK). There was another very enjoyable Soho encounter with a lady in black latex which involved my one and only experience with electrics. The significance of this is that my sexual bucket list therefore doesn't contain the use of electrical stimulation. What it did have on it until today was taking a caning and yes you can see where this narrative is going! Today I visited the wonderful Julia who I have been enjoying some really hot and inventive sessions with for more than 3 years now. Julia is not a Dominatrix and doesn't seek clients who want that service. However some time ago I spotted a couple of canes in the corner of her room and asked about them. She explained that one or two of her other regular clients had requested that she use them and as she always aims to please she acquired the canes. I have to make a somewhat sordid confession at this point - I have watched quite a few caning movies (and worse - though I do try to avoid the Russian stuff - most of it is vile) and really rather enjoyed most of them. I even visited a professional spankee once but frankly wasn't too clever with the cane myself so we did something else which was quite good fun too!. But for years I have felt I need to know what it feels like to have a cane coming down across your arse and trusting Julia as I do I decided that today was the day. Now many of the bloggers who post on Wicked Wednesday are themselves experienced subs or switches - I am in awe of the beatings that The Bibulous One takes and I am very clear that I did little more than dabble today. However after warming me up with a flogger and a paddle Julia delivered 6 strokes - I was then ridiculously pleased with myself when I asked for another 3! It wasn't a severe beating by any standard but it helped me to understand the comment made by Niki Flynn in her book, Dances with Werewolves (1) "It's not the caning itself I get off on: it's the aftermath. I don't actually like being caned; I like having been caned." Afterwards we proceeded to have a really good time the details of which are not relevant to this post other than to say a huge thank you to Julia for a morning I will long remember. When I got home I thought it wise to check for bruising - alright I was hoping that there would be some evidence so I could feel like I really had been caned - and yes there was! (2) Next item on the Sex bucket list is a role play with one KLE's finest but that is still in the planning phase. I know I am trying to turn fantasy into reality but some fantasies have to stay that way - unless anyone can let me have Annie Clark's phone number? Meanwhile despite being inordinately pleased with my marks I will have to spend Easter making sure my wife doesn't see them - so I thought I'd share them with you instead.
(1) - the book was drawn to my attention by one òf the Bibulous One's posts and it really is worth reading - even if you don't have the slightest interest in caning or spanking. You can get it as a Kindle download from Amazon - I rather hope my wife will assume its just another of the Urban Fantasy novels I read and not bother opening it! (2) - in case you were wondering taking a picture of your own arse isn't really all that difficult if you have a good camera! |
Old MikeAn 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...... Archives
November 2022
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