The Spinster's Exploits

Sex, sensuality and possibly spanking after seventy…

recent posts

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!😉🤭

  • Jane Austen Anniversary – Lady Susan

    It’s 250 years ago this week that Jane Austen was born and she’s being celebrated on the Beeb and elsewhere, so I thought I’d re-read the “big six”. On checking order, I came across “Lady Susan”, an epistolary novella that pre-dates the big hitters. I think I’ve read it before. But it made less of an impression on my memory than the others, which I’ve read several times.

    It’s rather interesting having a “bad” character at front and centre and no authorial voice. We only know the characters from what they say about themselves to others in their letters, and what others say about them!

    I’m beginning to think that Lady S is either a thwarted Domme or a potential emotional and cerebral dominatrix who takes pleasure in the submission of others and her belief in her own innate superiority! Very entertaining so far – and I don’t yet know if she gets her comeuppance. Austen was a very moral writer I find, who likes goodness to win, but also a very clever and intellectually thwarted woman. She must have had great fun creating Lady S!

  • Some (welcome but) unexpected Domliness – and a further battle in the War of the Soxes…

    So it’s been a while since I blogged – sometimes life gets in the way of writing and of sex and play, but I love the way sex and play can be in one’s connection with one’s lover – and so it is,  even when we don’t do more than have a quick snog or a lovely cwtch or cuddle every now and then.

    And life is so often complex, and shit happens as they say – as does lovely stuff – but that too, can be as time-consuming as the brown stuff! So – I have some time to reflect and write, which is fabulous…

    The last-but-one visit of my lover was somewhat focussed on me getting Christmas-ready – not an easy task but – for me – a fun one. And he was lovely about it and supportive. On the day of his arrival, we did have a lovely time in bed for cuddling, snogging and chilling – and I had a fabulous orgasm with my lovely vibe thanks to his thoughtful and sexy ministrations. And then we were somewhat overtaken by my Welsh chat group, food, as many episodes of “Lucifer” we could sanely watch and the palaver that is my Christmas Wonderland – everything from my 50p “tasteful” ornaments from purveyors of bad taste to my latest pop-up nativity scenes and through Christmas gonks, a candle arch, woodland creatures and lights galore – all needing fetching from the attic and lots of sorting…

    We had a lovely weekend and both were dressed very sensibly for our demanding tasks. And so we were chilling after putting up various lights outside – including hog-tying my naff golden fawn to my porch! Slight exaggeration – but he does come with his own bondage kit and it did take two of us to secure him to said porch!

    And there I was in my sensible loose ankle-cuffed pyjama style trousers warm top and socks when my lover suddenly told me to kneel! Now I am seventy, but – as previously said – quite flexible – kneeling however, is a bit of a challenge. I was nevertheless, immediately turned on and wondering what was possible… Luckily, he was thinking of my fabulous bucket chair so I was able to excitedly “assume the position” as they say, kneeling on said chair and bending over the back of it, immediately afire with lust.

    Now I do like to put a little planning into my sex life, but I do also love spontaneity and sometimes(!) doing as I’m told. So me dressed for practical stuff and no toys at hand is not ideal – but what the heck! – he was in charge and I was very excited…

    I was ordered to pull down trousers and knickers and not to move. I happily but nervously complied as I heard him go upstairs in search of the instruments to cause me pain and both of us pleasure…

    And he returned happy with my compliance but ready to give me some punishment anyway. He was quite fierce, but read me well enough that he didn’t make me ask for it to stop or lessen, but got me close to it several times.

    When he was satisfied with his work I was ordered to remove my knickers and trousers. And I was so tempted to push, but did a half-push instead and I did ask about the sox… And of course he said they were to stay as I knew he would, amused at my anti-sock aesthetic. He managed to keep a straight face although he clearly heard my muttered “Bastard!”

    And so I ended up sat on the sofa in my top and sox with his gorgeous cock in my mouth which was amazing despite the bloody sox!

    And then, still socked, I was ordered over the back of the chair once more for an amazingly hard fuck. I must admit – I did forget all about the sox at that point…

    I think I’ve already said that I am very clitoral and don’t get vaginal orgasms but enjoy the sensation of a cock inside me. And that sensation can be amazing – especially after a good beating and the opportunity to worship his lovely cock before being rudely fucked from behind over the chair where I had received said beating.

    It was a really positive mind-fuck with the most amazing physical sensations. And having someone who cares about my pleasure choosing this time to simply satisfy himself through me was mind-blowingly sexy. I have just paused and sighed at the memory – as I have done several times since then…  I know I’m not a sub, but I love how I enjoy my sub times with him as part of our fabulous fun repertoire.

  • Some Vanilla Thoughts…

    I tend to watch catch-up TV and I pay ITV and Channel 4 catch-up to be ad-free. Now Netflix are showing some ads and I’ve watched some live TV recently, I am now taking part in that great British pastime – moaning about the ads! The one I absolutely hate is the one with people appearing to have ice-cream cones as phones! I just didn’t get it – until my polyamorous-friend-with-benefits-who-I-am- sort-of-dating explained that the advertisers were showing that all other phones were vanilla compared with theirs!

    I had noticed this cultural shift where anything safe – and possibly boring – was now being labelled sniffily as vanilla! Obviously, we’re all so cool now (or hot or whatever) that we cannot possibly stomach the blandness of the so-called vanilla!

    As a kink who loves vanilla I come to praise vanilla and not to bury it in an unmarked grave of shame!

    There was a fabulous piece I once heard on the radio about just how complex vanilla plants are and the trouble it takes to get decent Madagascar vanilla beans. Personally, I love the smell and taste of good vanilla whether it is a fragrant ice-cream, that delicious staple – Bird’s custard – or a decent slice of madeira cake.

    Apparently one of the joys of ‘nilla (and I’m still talking food…) Is that it brings out other flavours. I think it’s a shame that such a lovely sensual flavour is so often seen as a non-flavour – You can get dairy ice-cream which is the plain sort – and from the right producer is also delicious. But vanilla is definitely a proper flavour in its own right!

    The radio programme also featured an experiment where people thought they were getting plain yoghurt, but were given vanilla – and their satisfaction/reward receptors registered their delight.

    And I feel the same about the choices in the erotic repertoire – yes – there are all sorts of delicious flavours out there, but a really good quality vanilla is fabulous on its own and goes very nicely with other flavours without losing its own delicious sense of self.

    I would rather not be looked down upon because I like getting my bottom smacked; dissolve into a puddle when my lover chooses to tell me what he wants me to do or I have enjoyed tying him up and hitting him.

    And I hate the thought of some kinky folk thinking they are more cutting edge or in some way superior to others who can get their kicks through conventional sex. All flavours – including vanilla – should be equal and we simply get to experiment or find ourselves irresistibly drawn to our particular flavour.

  • Try a little tenderness…

    I am reminded of the great Otis Redding song composed and written by Woods, Campbell and Cornelly. An unexpected weekend made me take time to think about friendships, relationships and love in its many varied forms.

    My friend Nina who is a whole six months my senior, is having health problems that are potentially life threatening and the treatment is causing her challenging levels of pain. I know I can take knowledge of her pain, but I can also make her laugh. Both are important.

    And I visited my lover’s home for the first time. For reasons that make perfect sense historically and emotionally it felt like a big deal. I arrived for a Thursday evening enroute from my sister’s and prepared to stay for a few hours or overnight, depending on how he found my invasion. I’d suggested the visit as an ice-breaker and he had seemed keen to agree so I was feeling positive but open to all possibilities – or so I thought…

    Previous to this extra-curricular visit we’d arranged for him to come to me on the Friday for the weekend.

    Meanwhile I’d been feeling smug at my resistance to his germs until I awoke on the following Tuesday morning at about 2a.m with sniffles and a scratchy throat! I had a duvet day, but travelled to my sister’s for a couple of days on the Wednesday as arranged.

    And so I arrived that Thursday evening full of non-serious but frustrating and energy sapping lurgy…

    And I was welcomed warmly to the smell of home-made casserole at my lover’s pleasant but imperfect (as are most – including mine!) home which was in far-better nick than I’d imagined. Not only wasn’t he bustling me out of the doorway but he’d texted asking if I was staying overnight. I’d said yes please, with a warning that at that stage of my cold my snoring may be supersonic… And then the welcome got extended to the weekend which made more sense than him coming to me as I was already at his…

    He was fine about my cold – as I’d been about his. And it’s the little things that touch one I think – like him chopping the mushrooms so finely that they added to the casserole without the mushroom “mouth feel”.

    Meanwhile I got a text from Nina telling me how awful she was feeling and promising to update me if I was willing. I told her I wanted to know, and wanted to “gallivant” with her as soon as possible – anything from an hour to a fortnight – whatever she could do. She has a concerned and loving family who I suspect she is protecting. I also told her I was at my lover’s home for the first time and he didn’t appear to have a dead mother in a chair upstairs and I’d fill her in when she was ready for silly gossip.

    I made her laugh and she christened my missives as “The Spinster’s Mystery and Imagination Series”

    The next missive informed her that I survived the night “and sent him down to make me a cuppa, I am invited for another night so will be here for Hallowe’en. He DOES have an attic and no mention of a dead mother but apparently there are sex games – watch this space!”

    I later informed Nina I was still alive and she said she was glad to hear it and hoped I was “having a jolly good seeing to!” I responded that “not so far – I’m full of a cold and in danger of coughing myself to death – we’ve taken turns to be poorly and we’re on  promise for future naughtiness.”

    Her lovely response was “Well, tenderness is nice” and I couldn’t agree more.

    Nina has a way of putting her finger on things for me – hence my musings on tenderness. She added that “she hoped that things are progressing in a satisfactory manner…” – so Nina! – and that she hoped he made me feel good. And he does – as I believe I do him. We may not be conventional and I’m still amazed at how open to things I feel, but we have a lovely time together with scorching sex, and no sex and with simple walks, TV, mooching, domesticity, cuddles, chatter, silence and giggles.

    I am blessed to have amazing people in my life.

  • The Spinster meets the swingers…

    I was once between relationships and ended up agreeing to go to a sex party. This is how it happened:

    At 29 I met – and confused – some West Country Swingers. I religiously bought and read Forum magazine to keep me informed and open-minded, but my alternate sexuality as a wannabe spankee was still well under wraps. One day I saw an ad from a man wanting to meet open-minded women for friendship. His ad had a number and I rang – the first woman to do so. I suspect Steve hoped for more, but the chemistry wasn’t there for me, so we met as friends for evenings out.

    I knew he wanted to go to sex parties but as a single man he wouldn’t be welcome. Now I happen to be a very nosy cow and have I already said that sex fascinates me? So I agreed to be Steve’s partner for such an event. We went to a pre-party meet with the hosts and several other new couples. At 29 I was the youngest and from memories and photos at my peak of attractiveness – as well as being a dab hand with the make-up brushes! I got a lot of attention, particularly from the host. Steve and I explained I wasn’t interested in partaking of activities but happy to be there. This seemed a little confusing to our hosts but was accepted. I said I wanted the experience to socialise with liberal-minded people and Steve wanted to be part of things.

    And it did seem all terribly liberal and ethical – all based on consent – and very civilised. Then at some point Steve realised we were missing a couple of people – a man from one relationship and a woman from another… Our host leapt up in pursuit and returned rather miffed as they were in a bedroom with a locked door! With reassurances that I didn’t have to join in we were accepted for the next party subject to a financial contribution to food and drink.

    The evening came and I was very excited. I wore a basque top and layered skirt and stockings and a suspender belt – sexy underwear always made me feel good even when keeping my knickers on!

    Our fellow guests were mainly in their forties and fifties and – ordinary – but nicely dressed tending to the sexy as perhaps for a hot date. I got into a conversation with a handsome and fascinating business man who’d started life as a Barnardo’s boy and politely refused his offer for a trip upstairs. Meanwhile our host started muttering darkly in earshot about the possibility of me accepting – so much for consent and liberal values!

    The atmosphere changed as an older couple sashayed in – he bollock-naked and she in nothing but heels, pearls and hat. Apparently, they were well known in certain circles. At some point she disappeared upstairs, and this tall, naked man approached me. I politely refused and he asked why I was there. I said to meet people and thought consent was central. He immediately agreed and so I found myself sharing a large armchair with a naked man in his sixties who proceeded to tell me how much he loved his new wife!

    He had been in a joyless marriage with little sex and then widowed. His new partner introduced him to the joy of sex and sexual adventures. He was besotted with her but also loved their sexual adventures. He was a genuine sexual liberal and a gracious human being. He lived up to my ideas of true sexual liberation.

    I noted that those that had wandered off upstairs tended to come back with just slightly less clothing on their return – mainly their shoes and socks for the men. Mrs Barnardo’s Boy consented to go upstairs with my escort Steve, and more daringly returned nonchalantly in her slip – very 50s glamour somehow! I must admit to inward secret giggles as I thought back to teenage ‘parties’ and get togethers when someone’s parents were away… I was relieved that Steve got his action and despite several trips upstairs I did feel mein host was keeping an inappropriately beady eye on me… And that was it – So much for The Spinster meets the swingers!

    I wrote the above during the Covid epidemic and it was only this weekend that I realised what a change of perspective I’ve had since turning seventy this year and being in my current “relationship”/situation. If and when my lover and I get to such an event, I would definitely be up for “play”! Hence this particular blog that let my lover off the hook!

    Luckily, by Sunday we decided it was safe to kiss and enjoyed some gorgeous snogs and other attentions during a lovely lie-in celebrating the clocks going back – although the extra hour seemed to have disappeared… And ten it was time to watch more “Lucifer” in between cooking Sunday dinner (me) and gardening (him) – we are so fifties household in a “straight” way sometimes that it makes me giggle when I think about the nature of our relationship.

  • “You don’t have to have sex with me,,,”

    …The words I whispered to my lover on the way to the loo in the pub. He immediately burst out laughing and said I should blog my words – so I have!

    And now for the context. He arrived for a weekend with a stinking cold and gave me the option of not seeing him, but I enjoy our weekends and was happy to entertain him. I cooked for us both and we cuddled, played on our phones and watched lots of “Lucifer” – and we were both having a lovely time. We’d not had a proper snog let alone anything more and I was more than happy.

    We tore ourselves away from the TV on the Saturday afternoon and went for a walk that happened to pass by the pub where we met, and we decided to stop for a drink.

    We then started talking about us, our situation, relationship and attitudes. It seems he’d told his Mistress I was – by my own admission – rubbish with a cane! She’d offered me lessons on him – a double Domme-ing session! My first reaction had been amusement, but on second thoughts I wondered if it was something he’d enjoy. I’m enjoying BDSM-lite but She is the real thing and we do discuss their sessions as it’s part of who and what he is. While not “my thing” I love to give him pleasure – as he does me, so I’d be happy to give it a go if he’d enjoy it. But I knew it may also be a bit weird for him as well. He is equally concerned that I don’t do anything I don’t enjoy, but fun and pleasure and reasonable boundary-pushing are our guiding principles so I wouldn’t consider it if I wasn’t ok with it.

    And – as happens – I was reflecting on this unexpected “relationship” we appear to have found ourselves in – a polyamorous-friends-with-benefits-who-are sort-of-dating couple! I didn’t expect to be happily open – and not jealous – with someone with whom I had such a bond – especially at seventy! I then remembered a chap I met who was in his sixties when I was twenty-nine at a sex party. I thought at the time he was fabulous, and I admired him, and understood, but at the time I could not never imagine ever being polyamorous. I decided I wanted to blog about this as I realised I could now totally empathise with his choices although our paths are very different.

    So I had a blog subject and was amused by the idea that my recovering but fragile lover – who was being careful to try not to give me his cold – could be let off the hook of sexual duties! I love our sex life, and I love the reflection that writing about it gives me, as well as providing a lovely record of the fun I’m having. I – of course – do not require regular “servicing” for material!

  • More than moaning…

    I couldn’t resist moaning about him moaning about me moaning – but I had a fabulous weekend with him – as usual.

    He’d arrived tired on the Friday and so I stripped out of my fancy lingerie and we just got straight into bed after the obligatory cuppa and he soon perked up enough to give me some delightful attention.

    We had a lovely day on Saturday with some culture and walking on a visit to St Fagans – a wonderful part of the Museum of Wales with lots of amazing buildings taken from all over the country and rebuilt brick by brick and stone by stone in a delightful setting. And as a bonus they were celebrating Diwali with ten years of working with the Hindu community so we got to see some amazing dancing as well as lots of fabulous buildings.

    We visited the wonderful Oakdale Institute and sat and watched the film about its history and removal to St. Fagans. At the end we found ourselves alone upstairs and I couldn’t resist – I just whacked him on his arse. The sound and his utter surprise were both very satisfying and got me giggling. Apparently it was disrespectful – who knew?

    As the day wore on I got the impression he found me rather disrespectful in all sorts of ways – he does have high standards or a fragile ego, I guess…

    On Sunday morning he decided to do something about all this disrespect and decided to have a go with my amateur bondage kit on me – I pleaded the cold weather and he took pity on me but decided to warm me up anyway! As I obediently got over the cushion I was lectured on my lack of respect and just couldn’t stop giggling as he once again managed to use practically every toy in my toybox on me.

    I hate to have to admit it – but he is far better with the cane than me – his lesson from his Mistress was paying dividends as I was paying for my alleged disrespect. And somehow the warmth in my bum took over from the coolness of the room. Not sure if I learnt anything, but it was great fun and hot as hell.

    And being a true gent he gave me lots of wonderful attention as my trusty vibe hit the spot. I returned the favour and we both played with his cock which was both eager and holding back, but worth the wait. Licking cum off my lover’s fingers and spreading it over me was a very sexy ending before he kindly did some gardening for me and I cooked us a roast dinner – another average day for a pair of South Wales village pensioners!

  • Lingerie makes you moan…

    …and not in a good way – more like a Moaning Minnie!

    Men are so unappreciative!

    There I was in a very nice dress and my fancy bra, knickers and suspender belt with fishnets and full of an amazing Greek meal when I collapsed onto the sofa for a bit more “Lucifer” and just HAPPENED to have a TINY gripe about my bra digging into me. I started to say I shouldn’t wear lingerie because it gets uncomfortable when he immediately commented I shouldn’t wear it because it makes me moan! Well! Talk about ingratitude! I have threatened him with my granny nightie and he seemed quite blasé about it and survived an airing of said nightie.

    I love my frills and furbelows but skin on skin is wonderful although now it’s getting cooler he’s threatening me with his winter night attire… Oh dear…

  • Netflix, Cooking, Sex and a Dog…

    What a weekend – as a now fully-paid-up (figurative) member of the Ethical Slut Movement, I am – for the first time – open to the idea of a threesome. I just didn’t expect it to be with my sister’s dog!

    Don’t panic – consent was not an issue as Billy the dog was on top of the bed and we were under the quilt, so no debauchery took place. The fact that said dog managed to worm his way up the middle, ensured a night of decorum. I believe there was an old Welsh custom called ‘bundling’ where courting couples went to bed together but with a divider/bundling board for prevention of actual sex. Billy makes a great bundling board and hogs the quilt! An unusual night for my lover and me…

    So – this weekend was one of dog-sitting for me and a beer festival for him, but he was visiting Saturday through to Sunday afternoon.

    Saturday was pretty chilled once he recovered from his journey of storm-induced diversions and travelled the back lanes of South Wales. We chilled, took Billy for a walk and watched a lot of ‘Lucifer’ on Netflix. We both like quirky stuff and I’d loved ‘Lucifer’ – and now he does, too!

    We did manage a rather lovely discreet session Sunday morning ignored by a dozy Billy on the bedroom floor – I’d fed him before going back to bed for a cuddle. Billy was impervious to our kissing and teasing, my vibe and a rather lovely fuck but seemed a little disconcerted by the spontaneous slapping of my bottom by my playful lover. I don’t think he was traumatised, as he returned to his post-food coma…

    So – there I was cooking Sunday dinner, when my lover could resist no longer and we ended up watching another episode of ‘Lucifer’. And I jokingly accused him of only being with me for my Netflix when he quickly added my cooking and I realised no mention of sex! So I quickly added it in mock offence. We both decided the sex was excellent and I was reminded with some amusement of my initial anxieties about a sub man’s possible interest in sex…

  • Bondage for beginners Part 2 Erratum

    Erratum – Doh! Was week before Storm Amy – my memory was playing up – I am seventy you know…