The old man was an imposing figure and as he looked down at Michael he felt an involuntary shiver. The deep voice only added to his nervousness. “Do you have anything to confess?” Michael knew that his whole future would be decided in the next few minutes and so he thought very hard. After several minutes he replied “I did once take a train ride without paying”. Saint Peter paused and looked at the old man before him more closely before asking “Were you faithful to your wife, sober in all you did and never lusted after other men or women?”.
“Er..I guess that's right” Michael replied “I did work very hard and always avoided being alone with other women, I didn’t take drugs or ever drink more than half a pint of shandy or a small glass of champagne a few times at weddings.” “Very well, in you go.” said Saint Peter “You will find a few like minded souls there already but don’t expect to have much fun!”
Michael awoke with a start. For a moment he had thought he was standing at the pearly gates being judged. His life had indeed been blameless so far and all he had to look forward to was more of the same it seemed. He was alone in the bed as his wife was away seeing her ageing aunt and he had been planning to clean the flat thoroughly and surprise her on her return with a nutritionally balanced vegan meal. A noise from the flat upstairs reminded him about the new tenant.
She seemed to be a single young woman who had quite a lot of visitors, sometimes quite late at night. He had been taken aback when they had passed in the hall while putting out the rubbish - she had been wearing a very short skirt and a top that emphasised her large breasts. He had tried hard not to look and focused on her face which despite the makeup was pretty and her smile seemed warm and genuine.
He had been polite but nothing more but she had said “I like to get to know my neighbours so why don’t you come up for a coffee sometime?” as she ascended the stairs. He had mumbled something non-committal and tried not to look at her arse but she had turned and added “or something more if you like.” He had pretended not to hear and hurriedly returned to his own flat feeling his face turn red with embarrassment.
Despite his good intentions he had found himself wondering what she meant and it had taken a great effort of will to turn his thoughts to other matters like the charity fundraising work he had signed up to do later. As he tried to process his dream and its implications the image of her arse came back into his head and unconsciously his hand moved to hold his cock which started to stiffen. And suddenly he knew what the dream meant - living a blameless life meant missing out on a lot of fun so tonight he would take up her offer and perhaps, finally, do something he could regret.
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
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.
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!
Now all the boys down at Smokey's Bar they could easily understand
How Judy left without a word, but not without a man
That old routine that she had going was like the sun so sure
That by surprise just may not rise but it always has before
And I still remember what was on the jukebox as she turned:
The dobro part out of Cheating Heart. She never has returned
I cannot hear Nic Jones' version of Jeff Deitchman's ballad, "The Jukebox as she turned" without my thoughts turning to A and remembering how she held that pub entranced but left with me. By chance it was on the car stereo this morning and then I saw the Wicked Wednesday prompt of "Mental Health" and knew what I had to do.
It wasn't her pub, but she started coming in with one of the regulars she was seeing. When she arrived early and took her seat at the bar there wasn't a man in that pub, and some of the women too, that didn't look for a reason to start a conversation with her. It wasn't just her looks though when she walked across the room in those tight Capri pants the wiggle took your breath away, it was the way she took control of the room without even trying.
Now the boyfriend was gone but she kept coming. That winter I had a new girlfriend, G, and things were going well. She had started wearing high heels and stockings and had not only agreed to try anal sex but now positively enjoyed it. I was still working through the implications of my split with the long term partner the previous year and trying to understand why men in general and me in particular behave so badly.
Then came the night A chose to sit down at my table uninvited. I was there for a quick drink after work and G was off somewhere putting the world to rights. We chatted about her work with children and my work with the public's money and maintained eye contact for what felt like hours. I knew how this worked so I offered some common ground and said we could share information and if we exchanged numbers.
When I called next day she came straight to the point - was I still seeing G? "That's history" I lied but by the time she walked into the pub that night it was true. I treated G appallingly and still regret it but it wasn't the first time I behaved like a shit and it wouldn't be the last. I probably deserved what happened over the next six months.
Sex with A started brilliantly and then got better. After 3 weeks she and her cat moved into my flat. One day she found a riding crop belonging to my ex from her riding days and brought it into the bedroom. I asked her if she had ever been whipped and she just smiled, turned around and lifted her skirt. This was new to me and I knew no better than to give her six hard stokes without any warm up. She made barely a sound but after the sixth stroke turned back to me with tears rolling down her face and said "You hurt me - now you have to fuck me". I had barely entered her when she came with a force I'd never seen before. Over the following weeks I came to understand that for A pain was foreplay.
Its impossible to think about A without remembering her vagina. Women's vaginas are beautiful and as distinctive as their faces but A's was simply quite, quite beautiful. Her inner labia were long and thin and dangled a good inch below the outer lips. I could play with them for hours and years later still wonder if she ever did get round to having them pierced.
A and I spent almost all our time together when we weren't working and I began to take her to meet my closest friends and without exception they fell under her spell. I realised that I was falling in love with this woman who was both beautiful and the best fuck of my life. Then I had to go away on family business for a few days and left A behind in the city.
The phone rang just after 11 pm at my parent's house. It was A - she sounded down and said she was missing me. I promised to be back early on Sunday evening and told her to be waiting, naked and holding the whip which seemed to cheer her up.. I think it's merely hindsight that lets me think that the call left me uneasy but 15 further calls in the next 36 hours most certainly set the alarm bells ringing.
Once I was back things returned to the way they were I thought. When we were alone together we behaved like a couple in the first throes of love who just couldn't get enough sex with each other. When we were at work things were fine and in company A was effervescent, the centre of attention yet utterly lovable.
But when we were apart, and both family and work did take me away at times, things went badly and A started to have sudden mood changes even when we were together while her behaviour grew more unpredictable.
Back then I knew little about Mental Health. I knew I had been depressed for a while after the big split up but I had managed to "pull myself together" and since had been enjoying life to the full. Things got so bad I took A to see my GP but I didn't sit in. He referred her to a walk-in clinic and eventually she followed that advice. I now realise she probably had "Borderline Personality Disorder" and may have been on meds but had stopped taking them because we were so bloody happy together!
I simply had no idea how to cope or how to help her and inevitably she walked out one day taking the cat with her. Being back in her own flat seemed to help stabilise things and we kept in touch. I went back to playing the field and visiting Soho now and again. Our sexual attraction was undiminished but the grimness of the way our relationship had ended loomed large. I also had my once and future life partner whispering negatively in my ear despite now being in a new same sex relationship herself.
Its rare that I can date precisely when I had sex but I know that the last time A and I fucked was 15 July 1986. How I know may not show me in the best light but its one of the rare occasions I managed to combine my two passions of sex and football. That day Belgium played the Soviet Union in a World Cup round of 16 game that ended 4-3 after extra time and was one of the greatest games of all time.
A wasn't a huge sports fan but always took an interest in the big events. In fact one of our most memorable dates was on the night that Steve Davies and Dennis Taylor were battling to win the World Snooker Championship. They were still at it when the pub shut at 10.30 which they did back then. A simply found another customer who lived nearby and we adjourned to this stranger's house to watch the finish. I suspect he still remembers the night a stunningly beautiful woman invited herself into his home!
We had sex, watched the game in bed, then fucked again - we very probably fucked at half time too. At times it felt like we were making love but it was merely an after image of what we had once shared or perhaps a glimpse of a future that would never be. Gradually we lost touch until our paths crossed briefly on Social Media decades later. For a few years she drifted in and out of relationships before becoming involved with a man who turned out to be a genuine sadist. He took advantage of her pain kink to physically hurt her quite badly. The upside was she went for therapy in the aftermath and eventually met and married a widower whose family she took on and found genuine happiness.
I learned a lot from the time I spent with A about about myself and how you need to understand someone's mental health if you are really going to build something lasting. I loved A but then lost her. Of course I missed having the best sex I ever had for free but what I missed then and sometimes still do 30 years later is being the centre of the circle of warmth she created around her when she was healthy and being adorable as only she could.
Well goodness me! I submitted this to Wicked Wednesday and the Bibulous One has chosen it as one of the top three! He said "My final pick surprised me most, as it soon became apparent that I was reading a blog my a man who sees sex workers! We (men who write about this) are as rare as, well… something very rare indeed and so I really enjoyed Fear and Anticipation from Old Mike. His writing about his fear and anticipation before a meeting with an escort rings totally true for me. I like his acceptance that the meeting will mean different things for her than for him, and yet: “That laughter has connected us – and we begin to work together to create a few hours of shared pleasure.” Sounds exactly right." His blog is extraordinary and i'm honoured by his kind words.
Fear. Fear and anticipation. Pulse racing, guts in turmoil. Is this a huge mistake?
I am about to stand naked in front of another human being. I have not seen her face though her body is familiar from the photographs on her web site. If it is her body?
I have not heard her voice though her words are now familiar and resonate with what I hope to find. If they are her words?
Memories of past occasions when my fear was wholly justified crowd in but so too do those of times when the next, short, while was better, infinitely better than I could have hoped.
It isn’t the physical that makes me afraid but the question that cannot be asked in advance – will we connect? I remind myself that for the woman I am about to meet this is just another encounter with a new client. For her it will be mundane; her thoughts will be elsewhere. Once I heard them verbalised and learned that considerations of what the children will be given for supper can cause my erection to wilt in seconds.
Today I have requested a mask to sustain the mystery of the blurred face a little longer. And to let me play out my recurring fantasy of fucking a complete stranger silently, anonymously and only beginning to communicate when she is already sitting astride me with my cock buried deep inside her.
As my train crosses the river gleaming in the morning sun a text arrives telling me where to find her flat. I walk back across the same river wondering if any of the people I pass have similar thoughts – are they too planning to seek the thrill that comes with having sex with a stranger and anxious about the fear that comes before the thrill?
I decide that they are not because I need to feel that I am set apart from the workaday world, I am doing something today that few will have the opportunity to do. Of course I know that she will see others later today but as I approach her building I put that from my mind and focus on managing my fear.
I press her number on the intercom and for the first time hear her voice – soft, warm but a little guarded perhaps. Moments later her door opens and there stands a young, slim woman demonstrating that the pictures are real – this is the body that I will soon be touching, caressing, penetrating and it is beautiful! She closes the door and for a moment we stand awkwardly – she almost naked, me in my street clothes – she begins to explain where the shower is but then pauses – and says the mask feels strange - then she laughs – in a second my fear is gone and my desire for her is overwhelming. That laughter has connected us – and we begin to work together to create a few hours of shared pleasure.
She is superbly good at her chosen profession and I feel as though I have known her for years not minutes. The mask is immediately discarded and a lovely face revealed smiling with lips and eyes. This time I have been lucky, so very lucky – pictures, written and spoken words can be faked but spontaneous laughter is always real – and trumps fear every time!
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......