The Spinster's Exploits

Sex, sensuality and possibly spanking after seventy…

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The Spinster is a 70-year-old South Walian who doesn’t believe sex, sensuality and fun stop at seventy. There is more to growing old disgracefully than wearing purple 💜- although she does love purple! She considers herself to have dual sexuality as she loves vanilla but something gets unleashed when she is spanked by the right person… She is excited to have reached this significant milestone and thrilled to discover erotic possibilities can be there for the taking. Oh! And she can be a touch up herself and talk about herself in the third person – but nothing a good spanking won’t cure!😉🤭

  • Non-orgasmic sex

    There had been misunderstanding, confusion, tiredness and travel. She was unsure what to expect but was reassured at the sight of him as they renegotiated their boundaries. They decided they were polyamorist friends-with-benefits who were sort of dating – maybe! And with that were relieved and content.

    And despite her genuine concern for his well-being, and the thoughtfully prepared spare bed, he decided he would spend the night with her. And despite her stated intentions and continued concern for his well-being, the erotic charge touched them as soon as they lay on her bed. And as she wrapped herself around him, she was driven apart from him by the heat, but they kissed and repossessed each other.

    And at the now familiar kisses and touches played their sweet havoc with her nerve endings, sense of self and emotions, she lost herself in him again. And they lay there aroused, linked and separated giving themselves and each other pleasure and erotic stimulation. And she felt her own excitement as she touched herself and her fingers slipped and slid in the slipperiness they had caused together. And she lost and found herself and him in her arousal. And she was with him on her bed in the sweltering heat of the day, and with him as he had beaten her and caressed her and fucked her and she remembered his power and hers and the gorgeous switchiness they had created.

    And she loved the feel of herself under her fingers and was astonished at the plateau of quiet contentment as her fingers continued their exploration of her openness. And the quiet contentment enveloped her and she realised it was enough as the peace and quiet joy filled her and they continued to lie in each other’s presence.

  • More on habits

    This is a nice, safe boring post just to garner likes while avoiding my other posts and drawing attention to your blog – knock yourself out.

    Today I am blogging before 8 and before my morning cuppa and ablutions. Radio 4 is burbling from my bedroom and later I will be doing tai chi and keep fit.

    I may do some laundry as I have a backlog of bedding.

    This is a blogpost that feels very appropriate for a seventy-year-old…

  • More switching – Sort of…

    She was getting a little obsessive about the hasty, outdoor switchings she’d received on her last day out with him. She was also – embarrassingly – getting weak-kneed at the sight of the rather battered hazel switch shoved in the urn; and her vibe was getting far more use than was dignified for a seventy-year-old she thought with a private grin.

    She could not wait to see him again and had been thinking about potential walks where such activities may be possible and getting disconcertingly swoony every time she reimagined that casual swishing of the switch as they walked along sedately between the moments of attention from her switch-swishing Switch…

    She was thrilled to hear his voice before their next meeting and enjoyed the effect of his phone call on her; despite the fact he would be later than first planned.

    She was also amused by his reaction to a piece she’d written sometime back – fiction but a reflection of her life then. It was the complex lingerie that had amused him. So far, she was always knickerless and braless and in a frock that soon disappeared as soon as they reached the bedroom – other than the time he’d told her to open the door to him naked – and she did…

    She’d not had a lover into lingerie for over a decade and so far they could never wait to be skin-to-skin as soon as possible but she got the impression he may not be averse to such underpinnings – on her!

    She did send a pic of the lingerie drawer just to prove possession of frills and furbelows, and did wonder about dressing up for him, imaging her lovely Switch swishing a switch at her door…

    She loved the fifties look and found the frothy petticoats a fun piece of silliness she always enjoyed. She’d worn her petticoats with a fifties-looking dress the evening before she was seeing him and loved the swishiness of another kind imaging wearing such clothing for him and having her petticoats lifted for his attentions…

    As she lay in the bath soaking in vanilla-scented water she contemplated dressing up in a basque with stockings and her petticoats and giving him some unwrapping and unveiling to do and still she thought about the sting of a switch. And her thoughts again wandered over how lucky she was to receive so much attention and her concern that he was not missing out. She knew she was no Domme – and he had one – but she could perhaps try and make an effort and provide something a little different, but hopefully of interest…

    And she amused herself with the idea of feeling neglected at his delay on seeing her, to watch rugby in the pub. And the idea of taking the initiative and trying her hand at switching entertained and excited her. Her 50s household fantasies always featured her getting spanked, but being in charge might just be fun… Why couldn’t she deliver a spanking and then demand attention from a willing bedroom slave?

    And she sent a message saying she may have been too accommodating at playing second fiddle to the rugby and excitedly rifled her lingerie drawers.

    Her black and purple basque of choice lacked its detachable suspenders and to her annoyance, the loose suspenders she found did not match. She would have to discard the lace-topped pale stockings she had thought suitable, for the black hold-ups with the ribbon lace-ups on the shiny wet-look stocking tops. Some black lacy knickers – the first knickers she’d worn for him – completed the first layer. And then of course her gorgeous flouncy net petticoats in red and black. She was happy to rock red and purple! And once the important underwear was sorted a plain white blouse and her lovely red and black circular skirt almost completed her look.

    She grinned to herself as she found the pretty half pinny and dug out her granny slippers – very fifties and she had plans for one of those slippers. As she had never delivered a spanking or beating, she grabbed a hairbrush and the rather nasty – in her opinion – bathbrush and tried to calm herself as she went downstairs to wait for him.

    He had messaged her, but she found herself all over the place psychologically, but very excited to be sat in her finery awaiting his arrival.

    She opened the door to him and as he leaned in for a kiss, she surprised him with her withdrawal and possibly her attire as she told him she was not impressed by having to play second fiddle to the rugby and having to put up with a non-functioning doorbell and lightbulb. And suddenly she was telling him to remove his clothing and he obeyed.

    It was hard for him to take her entirely seriously as she told him not to even think about taking off his jeans before his socks as she was aesthetically offended by trouserless men in socks. While attempting a case for the defence on practical grounds he soon lost shoes, socks and jeans. She told him he could keep his shirt for the time being.

    And ordering him over her lap was surprisingly easy and surprisingly sexy. As was the taking down of his pants.

    The hamster wheel of her rules and ethics, however, whirred and interrupted her so she made a clumsy attempt to get his assurance that any marks she may make would not cause him problems. And as she had ambushed him, she was aware of his lack of agreement.  She knew however, that he would not allow his own abuse. So she told him he was to be spanked and beaten for his neglect, but he could stop it “if he couldn’t take it”. All somewhat awkward and unimpressive, but it made her feel better. Meanwhile his Wicked Willie of a cock was signalling “Interesting – what’s happening now?”!

    And for the first time she had a half-naked man across her lap presenting a bare bottom for her attention and her first experience of switching was surprisingly satisfying. His reactions to the handily hidden hairbrush and the dreaded bathbrush pleased her enormously, but he was better at containing his reactions than she was and not a single expletive escaped him – although they both knew he was made of sterner stuff than she was – as he later confirmed!

    Never-the-less, he did end up with a nicely reddened bottom and she surveyed her work with some pleasure.

    And she decided that a chastened man may be a bit of a waste and so she ordered him to the bedroom to make up for his neglect. And she was silently impressed and amused by his eager cock standing to imposing attention.

    And she instructed him in the removal of her pinny and blouse and skirt and stepped out of the slippers she’d forgotten to use and lay back awaiting distraction as she ordered him to pay attention to her breasts. And both were aware of the novelty of her encased flesh and as he eased them out of the confines of her basque and they rudely presented themselves for his close and serious attention.

    And as she lay there almost swooning with pleasure she became aware of his insistent cock and had vague thoughts about her next command. And as he laughed and explored under the petticoats, she lost her knickers and much will power while his kisses, her awareness of his cock and his power grew as she wrapped herself around him and he repositioned himself and all she wanted was to be fucked. And she was. Beautifully and urgently and completely. Sometimes only a fuck will do.

    And then full of him, they lay in a daze among her rucked-up petticoats and rudely rearranged basque and exposed breasts. And she kissed and licked the source of their recent delight and they kissed. And he paid further attention to her reawakening body and she relived her domination and submission and the satisfying thud of wood on his flesh and her desire to receive the kiss of his desired instrument on hers and she came for him.

  • Switchy Shivers

    She could not escape the images and remembered sensations. Who’d have thought a hazel switch jokingly picked up in a park could have such an effect on her bottom and her psyche?

    They had laughed as he experimentally swished it, And then he told her to lift her dress and she did. And the hurried swipes set off surprising fireworks in her flesh and her head as she let her dress fall and took his hand as they sauntered from the shelter of the willow den. And a surprised gasp escaped her as she realised the willow left an unexpected deep afterglow on her smarting body and inside her whirling head. And her giddiness increased as he casually swished the switch as they strolled back to the car.

    And despite her reasonably sensible driving, part of her remained focussed on the casually held willow as she did her jokey tour guide patter. And never had she wanted a walk in the woods so badly. And never had she so resented other strollers, as she focussed on the casually switching switch, desperate for snatched privacy and the relief of her lifted dress and the bite of the switch once more kissing her eager bottom. And then the pleasure of taking his hand once again with her smarting behind, giddiness and racing desires.

    And the newly discovered park piqued their curiosity, but the swich came too. And as they explored the new place for its history, she wondered at the possibility of enough snatched privacy and baring her bottom once more for a taste of the casually switching switch. And as her dress was raised for the third time for their mutual pleasure she once again felt the power of the commandingly wielded willow across her willing flesh.

  • Reawakening the Mojo: from there to here

    I have considered myself for some time to have dual sexuality. I know I have a kink but I adore vanilla sex.

    I had fantasised about spanking and being spanked since junior school and when I finally masturbated for the first time at nineteen – I was a late starter! – the subject was only spanking – that sometimes led to sex – and remained so for decades.

    Meanwhile I had discovered shared sensuality firstly with fumblings of the usual clumsiness, and then developing skills while attempting successfully to hang on to my virginity until 18. And into the mid-1970s I loved a lot about sex and I loved the power of being desired. Fucking was sexy but non-orgasmic and more about erotic power over my lover and exciting sensations.

    I was very aware of sexuality and possibility and had a lovely time with some fabulous men who figured out how my body worked and all was lovely in Vanilla Land for some time

    Being single in my late thirties in the1990s was a time of reflection. An awareness of the complexities of sexuality, women’s desires and fantasies had not passed me by. I decided I wanted a new partner and would bite the bullet and admit to having fantasies I’d previously found perverse and guilt-making – I would advertise for a partner and mention that I was interested in being spanked.

    I did meet some men and I did get my first experience at the “wrong” end of a cane which was exhilarating. But then I fell for a gorgeous vanilla man. The sex and sensuality were heady and I considered myself fortunate and assumed we would be together into our twilight years – as did he.

    And when things changed for us and I had challenges to my mental health, I chose to turn to creative writing as a means of recovery. My story writing led me to a hidden ambition – writing spanking erotica. After all – I had had complex stories of exasperated men and exasperating women  dancing in my head for decades.

    The words flowed and I felt myself nudged by my libido and the return of my mojo. And then in my late forties and the owner of a computer with access to the Internet my curiosity about others with similar tastes was piqued. I posted some writing and found my tribe. I learnt about brats and subs and schoolies. I leapt into the pit and debated whether spanking was sexual and if it was nature or nurture and discovered the anoraks with their debates about rattan canes and the horror of bamboo and so much more.

    And I began my fifties in a fully integrated sexual and spanking relationship. And it was bliss. My dual sexuality braided itself and I found myself in the happy position of not knowing whether I wanted a caning, fucking or an orgasm the most, and not caring as all were delightful. After five amazing years we parted on good terms due to external difficulties that made our relationship more and more challenging.

    By now I had fully embraced the Internet and discovered the joys and frustrations of Internet dating. I have met some delightful men from a spanking site, a “straight” dating site and also from get-togethers of those into spanking and or BDSM.  I saw this as a polyamorous phase of my life. I felt I could only have a full-on relationship with a spanker and with mutual love but had the capacity to enjoy vanilla and/or spanking relationships of a more casual nature.

    And after a dry spell – internet dating is hugely frustrating – I entered my sixties really missing vanilla. Despite my non-orgasmic response to fucking, I did enjoy it. And while my fantasies were still spanking based, I had lots of passing thoughts about very energetic fucking…

    I was fortunate to find several lovely vanilla men and my sixties were very satisfying. One delightful relationship even saw me through Covid and provided us both with a fabulous ‘bubble’ when so many struggled with such hard times.

    I had been open with my vanilla lovers about my dual sexuality, and had incorporated spanking into some of them, but there was always a self-consciousness for me. Although they enjoyed it, it seemed to be about experimentation and transgression, and I was happy to let it lapse.

    I reached my 70th birthday in 2025 after a period of undesired celibacy and missing sex and sensuality. I considered myself to still have my dual sexuality and enjoyed the nudge of my libido as a reminder that I was still alive and firing on all cylinders.

    Meanwhile internet dating had got overwhelmingly ‘swipey’ and even the one I favoured with profiles wanted me to swipe regularly or be deactivated. I looked around but felt disheartened. I did feel however, I needed to be proactive. So I told friends I was interested in finding a lover/lovers and jokingly asked the Goddess and the Universe to provide…And as I had a profile still on a kink site I thought I could give things a nudge there as well. So, I added some discreet pictures and posted some writing to show I was still alive and had some chats and met – and nearly met – some frustrating men – the joys of internet dating once again…

    Although the idea of spanking still excited me, I felt I was more vanilla now. I was concerned about how I presented myself and changed my ‘status’ from ‘spankee’ to ‘hedonist’ and described myself as polyamorous as I did not have an overwhelming urge for an exclusive relationship – just lovely, friendly sex with nice men.

    And after my frustrating meets and non-meets I gave myself a severe talking to and attended a ‘munch’ – a place for people from the site to meet and mingle. I knew from past experiences these opportunities can be friendly and /or cliquey but I had nothing to lose other than a few hours of awkwardness at worst. Feeling so unkinky after all my time in the pleasurable playgrounds of Vanilla Land didn’t help.

    And I met a sub man whose interest was dominant women.  And I liked him. And he seemed interested. And I said I was a spankee and interested in a sexual relationship and he still seemed interested. Being surrounded by kinky people made me very conscious of my recent history.

    I was very attracted to my sub man and may have protested too much about my vanilla nature and worried about whether sex would be enticing and interesting enough. It seemed it was.

    As a holder of dual sexuality, Vanilla just felt safer. And despite a high level of trust from meeting, common sense told me that leaving the hitty things in the wardrobe was sensible for our first time alone.

    And I discovered a very sensual partner who enjoyed giving and receiving pleasure and was able to make me weak at the knees with desire and satisfaction. I did worry about his needs being met, although he seemed quite contented and had a Domme well able to satisfy the itches I couldn’t. And we both appeared to love sex and sensuality and find pleasure in each other. And I was truly delighted at the return of my mojo.

    But with a lover who knew I was a spankee; and with a lot of toys in my wardrobe and chest; and the odd playful squeeze or slap – I couldn’t help wonder and fantasize. And it just seemed silly not to see how out of practice I was at being spanked and caned… And my delightful lover saw all activity as fun and pleasure and was very open to trying new things as I soon discovered as the toybox was well and truly explored.

    And while still insisting I am a spankee not a sub, rediscovering the shivery pleasure of losing my will and bending to another’s on the strength of a kiss, a caress or the bite of a cane was intoxicating.

    And I acknowledged that I love vanilla and I love being spanked, And I am lucky to have my dual sexuality, but it is the blending and the braiding of sex and spanking that brings me fully alive.

    And it is so much more than my libido that has returned to me at the start of my seventies. Once again my dual sexuality has braided itself and I find myself pinned down with lust and desire and that half-remembered joy of not knowing whether I wanted a caning, fucking or an orgasm but knowing all are intoxicating possibilities. And this confusion – that is my true and integrated mojo – is well and truly back.

    And as the images dance in my head, so do the words and ideas as my creative juices also join the party, And they too become part of the joyful circle and positive feedback loop of sex, spanking and writing that add a further strand to the braid of my mojo and brings me fully to life.

    P.s. I didn’t choose to underline, but can’t alter as I’ve not yet got the skills. I am, however, happy with the emphasis.

  • bad habits….

    Well it’s 1.51 pm and I should be asleep but I’m emotionally skittish and couldn’t sleep so decided on some distraction.

    Wonder if this lovely, inoffensive and fairly vacuous post will get liked as did similar thrilling post. Seems my other stuff is not at all popular….

    I wish you all love and good stuff. Take care. xxx

  • SF and Spanking – Dick to Heinlein via Banks….

    I love some of the novels by Philip K Dick – dodgy on women, but amazing imagination and thoughts on the condition of man/the male of the species as well as flowing prose.

    Michael Sheen actually championed Dick on “Great Lives” and like me is a fan of “Do Androids…” and “Flow My Tears The Policeman Said”. Interesting background stuff about drugs, times, and dead twin. Like idea of Sheen using Dick as part of inspiration for Lear.

    I read my first Banks on a friend’s recommendation – “The Algebraist” – but it was a struggle. So I was considering a Dick (provide your own rudery here) but got waylaid by Heinlein instead. I had “Stranger in a Strange Land” on the kindle and whizzed through it – forgotten what a page turner he is. I’ve not read him for decades (literally) – he tended to do short adventure pulp SF tales and long more philosophical bricks of novels. I enjoyed “Stranger” which was about an earthling brought up martian who believed in ritual canibalism. As a result of enjoying it so much – especially after Banks! -I then read print version of “Time Enough for Love” about an elderly male brain being transplanted into a young woman.

    Heinlein has some very dodgy sexual politics that seem based on a fifties fantasy of horny men and willing women – very macho, but at least – unlike Dick – he likes them, even if they are very much fantasy women who fall for difficult crotchety old men…

    Oh! Did I mention the spanking? From my closeted (is there such a word?!) days I remember the thrill from the threatened spankings that seem to crop up in his stories – all part of the fifties fantasy of macho men and sassy girls who like being bossed around. In “Time Enough…” there is an actual spanking and a fair amount of spanking talk.

  • What do women want?

    If you’re looking for the definitive answer, I apologise as I don’t have it!

    That marvellous – and perplexing “debate” arises regularly when editors have a space to fill in the Sunday supplements or lifestyle section of papers – I remember it being brought up by women reading “Shades of Grey” and the “Twilight” novels in 2012 –  the days before the pornification of culture and the porn explosion and I wrote about it at the time.

    Basically, a chap being all confused because he was new and modern and into equality but now women wanted to be dominated… In fairness he was amusing but it felt old hat despite the modern references.

    And – surprise, surprise – there was a woman saying just because we have fantasies doesn’t mean we’re doormats in real life – we can tell difference between real life and fantasy, thanks very much – an excellent message that was good to see. Something that modern women seem to have grasped and find liberating with no qualms about internalised oppression and other concerns that I and others have had – and all power to modern women!

    She then came up with – surprise, surprise (2) – the idea that women are now so grown up, responsible and busy it is no wonder we/they want to have fantasies about rich, powerful men telling us/them what to do… I remember reading such amazingly original thoughts about High Court Judges and politicians who visited dominatrixes or liked being adult babies decades ago.

    I’m sure there’s something in the escapism from responsibility idea and people (women and men) who toy with such fantasies and sometimes act on them or are thrilled by such tales may well be seeking something “other”.

    But in my experience (as someone with submissive fantasies who has met others with similar feelings) that’s not really the whole picture for many. Seeds of such fantasies/desires are sown very early and most who see BDSM as part of their identity appear to have known about it throughout their life.

    Of course people toy with lots of ideas/fantasies/experiences to enrich their sex lives or stave off boredom and that’s great. So whether you fancy swinging, dogging, a little light spanking or one of these apparently modern crazes like anal sex or hairless pubes – great! Go for it and have fun. But for some it’s not about a jaded palate or a search for novelty – the power dynamic of BDSM is about who they are – not all of them – but a significant and important part of their identity.

    So what do women want? Still a good question. And the men? Whatever it is let’s hope they get it!

  • Good habits

    I do tend to lack these! But vey pleased to have posted by 8a.m. and having drunk a glass of water! A good start to the day.

  • Of canes and anoraks…

    …OK – an anorak test – Did you know that anorak used not to be an acceptable word in Scrabble as it was listed as a foreign word? So now I’ve proved I too am an anorak in the current meaning of the word, what’s this about canes?! And where do the anoraks come into it?

    If your fantasy is caning an anorak-clad woman while wearing your favourite sensible jacket I must apologise for misleading you and letting you down. I want to talk about canes and gently tease those who get a bit precious about their equipment (moving on hastily and doing my best to resist an obvious double entendre…).

    When I had my first spanking relationship, I saw myself as a softie and fantasised about canes, but I did start to wonder about the ‘real thing’. I was too nervous to buy a real cane, so like many, started off with a garden cane. As I’d read stuff on spanking sites, I did know this wasn’t recommended. I was sensible, but private and wanted to start somewhere. I told my then partner he had to read up on caning before he tried it and he did. We knew that garden canes may break (which is why ‘proper’ canes, usually made of rattan are recommended) but as we were only just experimenting, he wasn’t planning on using tremendous force.

    We found the right levels for us and it was all terribly exciting and did me no lasting damage. We both found something very thrilling and erotic about the cane. I then felt courageous enough to buy my first cane – from Ann Summers! Now I know people can be very sniffy about buying stuff from non-specialists, but it was a terribly exciting first step. He then bought a second, slightly heavier cane from the wonderfully named ‘Little Amsterdam’! Sadly this fabled emporium of soft drug and sex paraphernalia no longer graces the streets of that famous Amsterdam of Wales – Neath!

    I couldn’t resist joining in serious noticeboard discussions on real canes and a maker and purveyor of ‘the real thing’ did explain to me at length that mine were probably made of rattan and there were hundereds of types of rattan. If you want more of the techie stuff, others are better qualified than me to provide it.

    Sadly, my A.S cane did break, but being enterprising, my other half simply cut it down so we had a cane that could be used at closer quarters rather effectively.While I think safety and common sense are important, I don’t think one needs a safety certificate to smack a bottom! So my advice is play safe and have fun, but don’t feel you have to attend a masterclass before you can experiment. On the other hand, if you do fancy a masterclass fetish fairs and events can oblige.

    Of course times have changed. I was considering buying some new lingerie and visited Love Honey on line – and couldn’t resist a peek at spanking implements. And then I saw the ads from Amazon who in their march to world domination decided to show me some canes, whips and a very interesting strap – Apparently I could use these for training my horse or in the bedroom!