The Spinster's Exploits

Sex, sensuality and possibly spanking after seventy…

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about

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!😉🤭

  • Reflections on the Sub and Switch ‘Journey’ and Curiosity – Strap in for some rambling navel-gazing! Part 2

    My breasts have always been a source of pleasure for me and I knew that the right attention to them made me very acquiescent to my partner’s whim – whether to spank, beat, pleasure or fuck, I was happily compliant

    My first surprise was how somehow that compliance grew and I found myself genuinely willing to make a cuppa when he jokingly asked while playing with my nipples and dissolving me into a mush of desire. He didn’t make a serious request for a drink but I reassured him of my willingness. I pride myself on my good hostess skills, but this was something else.

    And then there was the unexpected incident of my gorgeous lover completely taking unplanned and surprising dominion over me with the help of a casually picked up hazel switch and an unexpected command as outlined: https://spinstersexploits.blog/2025/07/14/switchy-shivers/

    And once the power was unearthed, it seemed he was able to  to simply switch it on when he chose as I thrilled to his unexpected command and found my erotic desire utterly dependent on his whim: https://spinstersexploits.blog/2025/07/15/spicy-vanilla/

    So I adore being submissive to him, but it is not an automatic reaction at the very sight of him. He plays with my breasts or issues a command, and if I am in the right frame of mind I become submissive to him. I could refuse to ‘play’ or he could change his mind, or have enough. I have decided it is like hypnotism – both of us have to choose to engage. As new lovers and players, we’ve not refused so far, but – like every activity – there has to be ongoing consent that can always be withdrawn and must be respected.

    My submissiveness is very ‘situational’ – for want of a better word and is not an overall desire I feel about him or with him in general. It is something that gets switched on as described and is not the essence of what we have together. I was very surprised at the depth it reaches however, when he recently took control as outlined in my last post. As I wrote: “And my pleasure and joy deepened with my submissive journey as he presented his gorgeous cock for me to suck as I was bent over the chair with my bottom throbbing from the measured thrashing I received. And for the first time I took a man into my mouth with gratitude and as an honour from Him to me rather than as a sexy temptation, a gift from me to him and a desire to please.”

    It was an interesting experience, particularly as I had recently explained to a Dom man that oral sex was an area that to me proved my lack of subbiness – as I could not imagine enjoying being told to suck a cock as outlined above. I know that any Dom/me worth their salt ensures that their sub gets what they want and need from the relationship. That means that – depending on level and type of submission and relationship – usually they ensure any agreed sensual and erotic needs of the sub are met. And the Dom/me can also simply be “serviced” and make use of the sub’s services without considering any of the sub’s desires, other than the desire to serve. I think I’ve got that right, but I am an observer with subbie moments and not a sub!

    I have truly – hand on heart – never before felt honoured or grateful when sucking a cock – and writing this feels strange, but I absolutely know what I felt. So – I appear to be a sensualist/hedonist spankee with a very powerful sub who can be released at a (literal) stroke in the right place or a command if I choose to let it happen – and as it is so thrilling I cannot imagine not choosing without good reason.

    And then there’s my surprisingly eager baby Domestic Domme who we’ve decided has earned her capital D! It would seem he enjoyed me taking control of him and beating him, And – like me ceded control when I stood up to the metaphoric plate. I loved the way he turned the tables on me the first time as Wicked Willie chose to take over. I was determined to keep control the second time and absolutely loved it. Playing with him sexually and teasing him, between beating him was a delight and power trip. I made a conscious decision to keep control and he responded beautifully. My nipples discovered they needn’t be the gateway to submission but could be objects of worship and and domination, as ready for homage as his cock had been when he had dominated me.

    My ecstasy at the attention and slippery cunt were ample proof of just how much I enjoyed my trip to SwitchLand. And deciding to get beaten for my own pleasure with absolutely no submission was thrilling as I took charge of the proceedings. And the fucking at my command – subject to a glorious erection and his consent – was utterly fabulous.

    Although our Domestic Discipline fun was very different from his experience of full sub-mode with his Dominatrix, he still had a powerful sub experience as he confirmed along with the messages I’d been receiving from his attention-seeking cock!

    As he’d been so good at meeting my needs and reminding me how much being a spankee made me complete, I had thought about switching for his pleasure. I am so lucky that I too had an amazing time, and my dormant DD is eager to come out to play!

    I know so many absolutely hate labels, but they can be useful. Not sure of mine though… Hedonistic sensualist spankee and switch with strong submissive  and developing Domestic Domme tendencies with the right person?

  • Reflections on the Sub and Switch ‘Journey’ and Curiosity – strap in for some rambling navel-gazing! Part 1

    Don’t you just hate how we’re all on our mythical ‘journeys’ and stepping out of our ‘comfort zones’ as we push ahead with our dancing on ‘Strictly’, walk despite blisters on the latest pilgrimage reality show or brag about our latest beating on a BDSM site? I do! I roll my eyes and sigh at the self-indulgence of it all and am hugely cynical about the televisual appeal of the smashed comfort zone and how we all enjoy a good journey while loving the voyeurism of it all…

    So, this is all somewhat embarrassing, but I do want to be as honest as I can be about what is going on in my life as a newly awakened seventy-year-old on an erotic and sensual [cringe-pause] journey after a year’s dormancy.

    So I’ll start with the confession. I have been very judgemental – and defensive – about some of the BDSM/erotic journeys I have encountered. I think it was because I felt a whiff of superiority at how they were apparently growing or even self-actualising because they could take a harder beating/had gone from spankee to sub/become swingers/had their first same-sex experience. ‘So what?’ I muttered – ‘you’re just self-indulgent and thrill-seeking’.  And they are – but why my prejudice and annoyance? My attitude was that some people just got bored and enjoyed seeing themselves as transgressive or liberated and were merely thrill-seekers looking to liven up their lives and find new highs – the erotic equivalent of a mid-life crisis – very judgy of me!

    If we do no harm – why shouldn’t we be self-indulgent thrill-seekers? I think my primary guilt at my politically incorrect fantasies and desires, along with the same guilt about my possible nature had transmuted – I began to see my spankee self as my true nature and part of my essential being. In the words of the great philosopher, Popeye, I told myself I yam what I yam… I got irritated when spankos became more widely BDSM and implied that ‘mere’ spankos were less evolved – and some really did seem to think that – and I internalised and resented the message. It reminded me of recently uncloseted gay friends in the seventies convinced that others were also gay – just not yet acknowledged/come to terms with their true nature. It may well be true of some but never of my very sexually satisfied camp hetero friend. And so with the vanilla/kink/BDSM world.  I decided – and still believe – that celibacy/monogamy/spanking/BDSM/vanilla/swinging/whatever – is the source of happiness  for many and if they are getting their needs and desires met and have no wish for anything else – they are truly fortunate! But I now also believe that those fancying a comfort-zone-busting journey are equally fortunate if they are in a position to follow their desires.

    In my work life I was introduced to the concept of ‘curiosity’ as a fundamental underpinning of so many professional roles. Without it, science, policing, social work, counselling and so much more would fail to discover the things that need addressing and ultimately the workers would fail to carry out their tasks. And in the historic and evolutionary science programmes and articles I love, the idea that it is curiosity that makes us human and underpins our evolutionary leaps and development is central (And – yes – of course many animals are curious and on their own journeys – but that’s another story!)

    So, it follows then, that curiosity and seeking new erotic and sensual pleasures is part of the rich tapestry of humanity and being human. And some of us are seekers and some are not – all fair enough.

    And reading “The Ethical Slut” reinforced these ideas. Why wouldn’t you maximise pleasure and have fun if you had the opportunities to do so with minimum damage to others?

    So – here I am – a sensualist who loves sex and being spanked who’s met a sub man and read “The Ethical Slut”, enjoying a very exciting journey and amazed at the joy and pleasure that I am finding.

    As previously noted – my then-future lover presented as a sub man and I as a slightly defensive sensualist and hedonist who liked being spanked but had been living a mainly vanilla – and very enjoyable – life and was really interested in sex. Luckily he liked and was missing sex and intimacy and was quite capable of spanking. We didn’t exchange CVs but he had an ex and they had regularly spanked each other.

    And sensuality, intimacy  and fun came first for both of us and I had an amazing time with him as we explored spicy vanilla and he got to use my toys on me with increasing effect as I was reminded that I am definitely still a spankee! I was also getting intrigued at possibilities of switching and taking command of him.

  • Neutral with lingerie, stilettos and a much needed cuppa…

    After my amazing experiences with a very successful time dominating my lover with chastisement and glorious sex – plus his choosing to take charge of me for pleasure and pain – it seemed like a good idea to reset the dial to neutral – with added lingerie and see where we’d end up…

    I’ve got very excited by the rediscovered fun of lingerie – I love the ritual of getting ready and the joy of his reactions – he is so a man of his era – stockings and suspenders and the rest – bring it on!

    As well as getting to air my lovely, cherished items I have been tempted to buy more. My latest was described as a ‘babydoll’ and was a lovely deep green froth of net and lace. It was very cheap in price although not from one of the Chinese sites, but was flimsier and cheaper looking than expected – definitely Chinese but through a third party!

    Long story short – ruder and sluttier than it had looked – especially with 44-inch boobs! – but fun and sexy in a tartier way than planned – but no problem! I decided to find out what he thought of it teamed with a lovely red suspender belt, black fishnets and my fabulous red stilettos. I added silky red and black knickers, but decided to underpin with the absurd triangle of green net g-string/thong underneath – the scrap of nonsense arrived with the babydoll garment.

    I greeted him at the front door (no neighbours in sight!) in this fabulous ensemble and he was entertained and interested. And being a good hostess – I am sometimes not so, when things heat up quickly – I offered a cuppa after a quick snog on my wobbly heels. I was very proud of finally having greeted him in my towering, sexy shoes. We sat down and joked about the tea as we were both very interested in each other by now, but I reiterated my willingness and he’d had a long journey….

    And so I made him and me a cuppa! And although we were – in my head – in neutral in terms of powerplay and I was merely being a good hostess – I was making and serving him tea dressed in tarty underwear and fuck-me shoes… While I would have failed the Playboy bunny dip of serving drinks, I succeeded in making and delivering two cups of tea without damage to tea or either of us!

    And we sipped our tea with some decorum as he stroked my fishnetted legs and I admired my discreetly crossed ankles in their lovely strappy heels at rest over his lap. So, I can’t say when we slipped out of neutral but he decided to take charge and he needed to rearrange my furniture –  And of course I let him.

    It seems he’d been thinking about my bucket seat and it wasn’t in the best position! So he moved it to where he thought best and ordered me onto it, leaning over the back, as we’d both done the week before. And of course I complied. And the initial spanking and rearranging of clothes have disappeared into a sexy haze but I do remember his amusement at the discovery of the g-string and me becoming very aware of the thin ‘t’ of elastic dissecting my exposed bottom seeming even ruder than just my lowered knickers.

    And I felt myself glide from spankee to sub when told to stay in position while he went upstairs and I took pleasure in my obedience as he got the instruments of his choice to use on my vulnerable bottom. And I slid further at his satisfied “good girl” on his return.

    And once again I disappeared into a sexy kaleidoscope of sensation as I was spanked and beaten and stroked for his and my desire and pleasure but entirely at his whim. And my pleasure and joy deepened with my submissive journey as he presented his gorgeous cock for me to suck as I was bent over the chair with my bottom throbbing from the measured thrashing I received. And for the first time I took a man into my mouth with gratitude and as an honour from Him to me rather than as a sexy temptation, a gift from me to him and a desire to please.

    My reverence was somewhat undercut when I began to suspect how hard it was for him to control himself – never mind me! He chose not to come in my mouth as he wanted to fuck me. And he did – and I loved being fucked where I’d been beaten and holding that position over the back of the chair in my absurd finery, with my knickers down and the gstring pulled aside so he could enter me. 

    And finally a well-deserved siesta where we continued to pleasure each other and rearrange my fabulous Chinese tat and carefully chosen lingerie.

  • Some Pleasure and Some Table-Turning

    After a long and pleasant day at Brecon Jazz, we awoke for a chilled Sunday morning.

    And after reviving with a cuppa and a cuddle, my gorgeous lover gently took back the reins, as a casual stroke of my breasts reduced me to the chaotic and turned-on confusion he has mastered so well. He decided to be kind and delivered much pleasure rather than demand a second cuppa – if he had – I would have acquiesced, albeit somewhat unsteadily and in a daze – but he didn’t and between us I had an amazing orgasm focussing on his attentions, what we’d done to each other and what we may do in the future… And that future featured his promise of me at the receiving end of a cane…

    And as he prepared to leave he reminded me of his earlier promise and asked me to draw the blinds. And it was my turn to kneel on the bucket chair and lean over the back with my bare bottom in the air. I think I protested it may not be the right height for me, but he brushed my pathetic protests aside and it was my turn to receive a very firm cold caning at the hands of my lovely switchy lover. It was very painful but incredibly sexy being in his power again. And rather wonderful to be off for lunch with the Women’s Guild with a stinging bottom and fabulous memories of an amazing weekend.

  • Sexual Domme-ination…

    So my gorgeous switchy sub seemed to respond well to my direction and had an exquisitely striped and reddened arse when I thought I’d earned a little break. Determined to keep control of him and his very perky cock, I decided it was time for me to be pleasured.

    Now I adore my nipples – they give me such pleasure – especially in his hands and mouth – but they are not to be relied upon as they seem the gateway to my submissive streak. Attention to them brings me pleasure and even ecstasy, but I find myself spineless and acquiescent and even willing to forego further pleasure once my traitorous breasts are in his hands both literally and metaphorically – and in his mouth – I am a lost cause.

    I would have girded my loins – or pulled on my big-girl-pants – if I wasn’t wearing my rather fetching silky knickers. I think I’d got him to get me out of the skirt and blouse and I was very happy in corset, said knickers, stockings and suspender belt.

    He hastily moved aside the cushion where he’d been beaten and loosened the upper part of my corset ribbon to gain access to my breasts that I demanded he pleasured. And he did – beautifully. And it was utterly gorgeous, and I felt totally in control – and it felt like he and his cock were fully at my disposal as I gave the odd stroke to his body and continued to receive his worship of my very demanding breasts.

    I could feel my excitement at his beating, submission and now very close attention to my eager nipples and wondered at the state of my very tingly fanny, so decided he should check it out and he did. As his fingers slipped and slid in my wetness I felt deliciously wanton and naughty and decided I too needed a thrashing. I demanded a hard, cold caning from my obedient slave which he immediately set to deliver.

    I have no recollection of what we did about my knickers, but I received some – for me – eye-watering strokes of the cane on my unprepared but eager bottom and they were delicious and took me to the edge of my endurance as I decided how many more I would take before returning to the pleasuring I had interrupted which was now so much sweeter with my throbbing bottom.

    I was definitely in my knickers at this point as I decided I wanted a hard fucking over the cushion where I had beaten him. I was kind and generous enough to check if he would like to fuck me, and it seemed he would…

    So the cushion was put back to present me for my pleasure at his cock.

    And it was glorious as he moved aside the damp knickers and fucked me hard and I claimed his orgasm for our joint pleasure.

    I think that may be where I ceded control as we collapsed in an overheated mess and we got us out of my corset. I honestly can’t remember if either of us gave me an orgasm or not – but I was in a very happy – and amused – place as we discussed what had happened.

    There is no way I could ever be a Dominatrix – and don’t really want to be one. But being a Domestic Domme was fabulous fun and appeared to have done wonders for both of us. We decided I could have that capital D for my efforts! It seemed starting with a cold caning was a master stroke – or more… I’m very amused by how turned on I was being in total control of him and the proceedings – but of course – with his consent as he has mine when he is in charge.

    So I guess we have both earned our Switching badge! Our feedback session required no questionairres and was more fun than any training session I’d attended! I guess said training sessions would have felt different if delivered while lounging around in just fishnets and susenders!

  • Solo delight/quickie

    Wow – just done something I’d not done in over a decade. Got so turned on while on my own during daylight hours, I actually came upstairs for a wank!

    Now this is something I do solo at night because I’m having erotic thoughts or having trouble sleeping, but a special trip upstairs out of pure randiness – wow!

    I did have an amazing weekend with my lover – as stated and more anon – and writing about my love life definitely makes me revisit, imagine and plan and so works wonders for my libido.

    Today I posted an edited version of my last post – my nascent Domme having fun – on a fetish site and got likes and comments and looked up commenters and their sites and ended up down various spanko rabbit holes. And somehow I went from part-time Domestic Domme to spankee and Domestic Discipline fantasies! I was taken back to my early days of web exploration and the excitement of reading about errant women being controlled and spanked by sexy partners/Spankers/Doms/Heads of Household. Whoops – getting all tingly again!  I guess we all have formative fantasies/erotic ideas that retain their power – and powerful, fair, sexy, loving men meting out well-deserved spankings is mine! And I’m more than happy to have so many other sources of pleasure available in my head and in reality. And any time I need a delicious quick shiver, I can think of the very vivid and real memory of my gorgeous Switch and his switch on that memorable walk…

    So lovely to be in touch with my full kinky/spicy vanilla self in all my twisty, pleasurable glory.

  • Finally, I  get my hands on him…

    …not to mention canes, bath brush, paddle and carpet beater – but I did wonder if it was going to happen…

    So I’d been wondering if I should go for unleashing my fragile baby domestic domme on his toughened flesh and sensibilities. He had enjoyed her first time round, but then turned the tables rather deliciously with a memorable fucking. As previously deduced – more his Wicked Willie of a cock than him, but obviously still him. I was determined to exercise my power for longer.

    Once again, lingerie was going to play its part because dressing up makes me feel sexy and he’s a sucker for such frivolities. I chose a leather look brown lace-up corset with brown frills around the bottom with a creamy suspender belt and pale fishnets finished off with silky brown knickers and my lovely red stilettos. I went for a no-nonsense white blouse and knee-length tight black and white skirt.

    And he was running late again. I was once again all dressed up and wondering where to go. I had no idea why the delay and I was seriously hacked off at the message he was running late. Off went the heels and carefully chosen music as I settled down to watch ‘Mad Men’ and admire Joan’s ultra-feminine charms and powerplay.

    He arrived with apologies into my nicely brewing thundercloud and explained the situation. He had excellent reasons for being late, but we both agreed I needed to have been put in the picture and we then established our future boundaries and rules. And being Welsh we sealed the deal with a much-needed cuppa!

    And after all my planning it seemed a shame not to give him a good beating with those lovely weapons of moderate damage I’d brought downstairs. And he had told me he could take more than I gave him last time…

    And ordering him to kneel on the bucket chair, drop his trousers and pants and bend over the back with his bare bum in the air as I’d imagined, seemed an excellent idea. And he complied and it was.

    I’d imagined delivering a cold caning to his unprepared flesh and it still seemed a pretty good idea. For me when receiving or fantasising about receiving – it is one of those wonderfully shivery experiences of dread and excitement as I take the painful stripes and imagine the lines appearing on my vulnerable flesh.

    And delivering those stripes and watching them appear on his flesh was thrilling.  And the power trip of having my lover so vulnerable while I was trying out my canes, discovering the power of a very thuddy and solid shoe horn and my gorgeous carpet beater was intoxicating. As was his lovely trip into submission to me.

    I ordered him to pull up his clothing and stand up before ordering him out of his lower garments and got huge satisfaction from him losing his socks first! There is something saucy and vulnerable about a man in just his shirt, although a impressively thrusting erection does deliver a somewhat mixed message.

    Ordering my lovely sub man plus his Wicked Willie cock over my lap was a delight – especially as I’d decided to be mistress of both of them. And playing with his cute bum, balls and gorgeous straining cock was an utterly pleasure as I tested my strength on his bottom with my nasty, thuddy bath brush and paddle.

    I took further delight in ordering him upstairs to be my sex slave but couldn’t resist ordering him to place himself over a perfectly shaped cushion on my bed for more beating. My only disappointment was that – unlike me – he is immune to the power of my plastic fly-swat – so I had to make up for it with practically every toy in the box – it was tough – but somebody had to do it. And he did thank me very nicely.

    The only real casualty of this domme-ly adventure was one of my lovely old walking canes – but luckily not the silver-tipped one. I saw said canes in an antique shop many years ago and something was triggered in my spankee brain so I bought them and they’ve been unused until we got together as they are non-flexible and seem unyielding. He was happy to experiment with them in his hand or across his arse – and it was his arse that gave him his first broken trophy from my toy box! My beautiful canes broke and it’s possible I was being a mite over-enthusiastic at having such an experienced and well-beaten bottom – pun intended – at my disposal. It would appear he is no stranger to toys breaking rather than them breaking him!

    And now was the time to see if I was woman enough to control a sex-slave – and it seemed I could. Wicked Willie was very much in evidence and appreciative of the odd touch and caress but appeared to be under my control like the rest of my wonderful, obedient lover. And I discovered the joy of a willing and skilled lover at my command… to be continued…

  • Oppression and all that…

    As a fifties-born feminist I really struggled with my desires and fantasies. I love the way young women and men now accept fantasy and play as just that and it’s all fine. There seem to be no issues between feminism, equality and one’s inner life for young feminists.

    The confusion and battle were brought back to me when I read ‘Melted Down to Stars’ by Sian Michael in Laughing, Not Laughing: women’s writing on ‘My Experience of Sex’ edited by Catherine Merriman, and published by Honno

    “I was fired up with the terrible righteousness of the young. I could see it all now – Craig was my oppressor, the bastard, telling me I wanted it, making me melt into submission, having me spend the whole weekend playing the part of his ‘pleasure slave’. Well, no more!

    By the time I was thirty we had three children. Gravity and childbirth had taken their toll. Politically correct sex was such a bore, but it was all my re-formed mind could allow and, anyway, I may not be one of those evangelical die-hards who tell strangers in public places that they love Jesus, but by then I had joined the church.

    A woman deacon and mother of three could hardly dress only in silk and gauze scarves and play the slave, agreeing to obey her husband’s every sexual whim. Well, could she?

    A feminist theologian who knows all the tricks of patriarchy all the way back to Adam can hardly purr when her husband spanks her tll her backside stings and she promises to be good. Well, can she?”

    Thankfully Sian had a rethink and I am hopeful that she and Craig recaptured the joy and she was once again ‘melted down to stars’ by him and their fabulous fun.

    I too am a ‘feminist who knows all the tricks of patriarchy all the way back to Adam’. And while no theologian I am better versed than average on religion and its control on us from Lilith and Eve onwards.

    Unlike Sian I never unleashed my inner spankee in my youth and had no Craig to rail against. As a well-read feminist I blamed myself and my internalised oppression for my inappropriate fantasies and desires. This is the sort of thing that informed my thinking:

    “And Sister, if you can’t turn on to a man who won’t club you and drag you off by the hair, that’s your [hang up]. Keep your hang ups the hell out of this revolution” – “Lilith’s Manifesto” in Sisterhood is Powerful

    Luckily I too got to rethink and accept my desires and fantasies bring me a lot of pleasure and do nothing to undermine my feminism and passion for equality. And the journey continues as I march into my eightieth decade having reached the age of seventy, still curious and exploring…

  • Fat is a Feminist Issue

    You have to be of a certain vintage to know that this is one of the things that made Susie Orbach famous long before she met the Princess. And the Sad Princess is a lesson in how the most gorgeous of us have body issues.

    I owned this book when it came out in the late seventies, and also Kim Chernin’s “Womansize”, subtitled “The Tyranny of Slenderness” when it came out in the early eighties. As a feminist of a certain age – seventy, if you’re asking – I have lived the life and walked the talk. But still feel fat and ugly at times. And as a feminist of my vintage – I fight it tooth and nail.

    I love my body for how it works and how it feels when I stretch out, or swim, or when I do tai-chi and most definitely when making love or having the most outrageous body-shaking fuck. But loving my body doesn’t stop me wishing my too solid flesh away at times…

    Like most women of our shared culture, I felt self-conscious when I was a size 12/14. In my youth that was 34/36-24/26-36/38. At size 20 – add ten inches everywhere – I am officially obese. I find pussyfooting, euphemisms and polite alternatives embarrassing and annoying. I joke about being a big bog-standard woman as the idea that being overweight makes one big and beautiful is simply ridiculous. And – yes – of course –  it is lovely that many find such women irresistible and that sexual attraction is so fabulously diverse.

    I do admire the body positive and do my best to be positive – I do not dress to disappear and either aim for comfort and freedom or flaunting of the bits I want to flaunt. I have discovered that having 44 inch breasts stops one being invisible – even at seventy…

    I have been very lucky in my lovers since I gained weight in my thirties and I tell myself that they accepted my body from the start. And I hoped the erotic pleasure we found together imprinted me as the source of such delight as their very human bodies imprinted on me…

    So why am I wanging on about this now you may be wondering? Well – it’s because I’ve come up with another step on my body positive journey – My lover and I are going to stay at a naturist resort! It would be lovely to genuinely lose my self-consciousness and honestly love my imperfect but wonderful flesh.

    As established earlier – we are polyamorous friends-with-benefits who are sort of dating – and spending rather a lot of time together in the bedroom and out. But there is a wider world out there and we both find the idea of sharing the pleasure and pushing boundaries very exciting.

    I have finally got round to reading “The Ethical Slut” as said, and it has been mind-expanding. While my situation as an older child-free spinster is somewhat different from the starting point of the writers, there are interesting issues that apply to many relationships and to those wishing to have a more open sexual/intimate/playful life. And feeling less self-conscious about my body seems like a good step.

    And I do know that nakedness and sexuality do not automatically go together and I will behave appropriately, but being naked with others socially, feels like an exciting part of my mad post-70 journey – What an adventure!

  • My plans in tatters,,,

    …so there I was in all my finery, with discreetly planted weapons of moderate damage when I got the message about the traffic… it seemed I would have to wait for the pleasure of disciplining my lovely switchy sub…  and it is hard to get entirely comfortable in drag queen heels – still – all the more to take out of his arse I thought…

    And he finely arrived – totally knackered! I was all ready to do my stern bit but gave him a hug instead and he asked for time out. So I led him to the sofa but set him to work removing my killer heels, before making us a nice cuppa. We are such a lovely pair of pensioners, sipping our tea, while he stroked my legs through the fishnets and admired my shiny red toenails and copped a feel of my naked thigh above the stocking tops…

    It seemed only fair to ditch my cherished plans, finish our tea and go for a siesta. After all the trouble I’d taken I was in no hurry to remove my finery and nor – it seemed was he… I lost the dress and thanks to the medicinal properties of my bog-standard tea, I had a reasonably perky lover on my hands and a rather vanilla situation as he explored the contents of my so-carefully chosen lingerie.

    And suddenly I was aware Wicked Willie had joined the party and a rather hard fuck seemed an appealing option. I was however concerned about my lover who really had been looking quite shaky with fatigue so recently so I asked if such a fucking was a possibility. It seemed it was.

    And I knew what I wanted – a hard fuck from behind – doggy fashion, with a little support to take the thrusts – and it was amazing. And it didn’t break him! Must be my tea-making skills, camiknickers and fishnets!