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!😉🤭

  • A sexless blog – Reflections on “The Dice Man”, memories and more recent purchases

    You know that thing where you’ve not thought of something for years, then get two reminders of it, in two days? – that type of thing? Well, I saw a copy of the 1970s novel “The Dice Man” in Oxfam and then read an Observer magazine review where the subject commented on its influence on him at a stage of his life. I guess along with “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle maintenance” it was one of those novels that spoke to a certain section of those who were into alternative stuff although I believe it was widely-read it did feel cutting edge and alternative and is seen as a cult classic – find out more on Wilki or your trusted information source. Basically, the autobiographically styled novel reveals a life that literally goes in the direction indicated by the throw of a die. There has to jeopardy in each throw. It was originally written under the name of the protagonist, but I notice searches come up with the actual author’s name.

    I remember few details, except it felt macho; the basic premise as outlined; and the fact that rape was one of the optionson one of the throws. The book has stayed with me, mainly for a strange encounter I had that came back on seeing the book. I once met a woman when I was in my forties I think -so 80s to 90s – and at a meal for volunteers. We got chatting and she told me her three books – not sure if they were favourites, or most influential or her desert island choice, or whatever – and I’d read all three, and she didn’t believe me at first! No idea of the other two books but possibly a sci fi novel. It seems I was the first person she’d met who’d also read the three. Weird how the oddest things stay with you , but fragmentary and free-floating. I only remember one other encounter with her – she and her partner had a party and I attended with a friend who knew her partner. I remember finding her mesmerising and a bit intimidating…

    I am mainly a hoover-upper of fiction of all sorts, but got tempted this month in a Devon shop that seemed to be queer culture/feminist/alternative/spiritual/weird – my favourite sort of place. I came away with “Wise Women – Myths and stories for midlife and beyond”; “Sluts”- an anthology of writing about being “sexually promiscuous” and “Lady Sapiens – Breaking stereotypes about prehistoric women” – an interesting haul!

  • Irritating post warning – due to unexpected sex…

    I don’t know about you – but I hate those smug gits who say the way to get: a partner, a job, thinner, happiness – is to just stop looking. Annoying, yeh? Well – this may not be your favourite post so far…

    So as I approach my 71st birthday I am still getting amazing sex. Irritated yet? Sorry… BUT we spend a lot of time eating, watching episodes of “Bones”, walking, playing Rumikub, having days out etc and I love it! As ‘polyamorous-friends-with benefits-who-are-sort-of dating’ of pensionable age and who have been seeing a lot of each other for ten months, we can have a lovely time without sex. And I have been planning to write about this.

    So – I’d not seen him for a couple of weeks and made enquiries about the cock cage, but he wasn’t up for it this weekend. Fair enough. We’d both had busy weeks and had a theatre trip and a meal with a friend on the agenda. And the weather was vile. So I made a casserole, and prepared for a chilled time.

    And since we’d met, he’d had a very successful session with his Dominatrix, and I’d had my first erotic encounter with another man since we’d got together. So, we had a lovely time lolling and chatting, eating casserole and watching TV. And we were reflecting on our time together that jokingly felt like a bit of a review, and all seemed well, as we co-ordinated our diaries and I discovered his plans for a walking holiday and a kink event for Dommes and subs. And we agreed to book our planned naturist break in the Spring. It was lovely.

    And Saturday was full of a Welsh language chat group and a theatre visit and a birthday meal for me in a restaurant new to him, and changed since my last pre-Covid visit. And in the restaurant we continued our “review” and reassured each other of our mutual enjoyment of whatever we do together. The mix of space, freedom and separate lives with times of shared friendship, intimacy, sex, erotic play, domesticity and everydayness works for both of us. We both care about the other’s pleasure and fulfilment while enjoying what we have apart. And much as I hate the cliché, I cannot escape the fact we have both had quite a journey in the time we have known each other, as reflected in my ramblings here.

    We also got into some sexual practicalities. I’m very aware of how easy it is for me to have sex, but also the vagaries of penises and the cost of the male orgasm in terms of energy and effort. I was struck by how chilled and also high he said he’d felt after his last session with his Mistress – which he finds enormously erotic and exciting although no actual sexual activity takes place. And I was very aware of the times either or both of us had enjoyed erotic play without orgasm and not felt deprived. The magic of endorphins, brain chemistry and “stuff” still amaze me.

    So, I decided his penis was his and it was up to him if and when he had orgasms if Wicked Willie put in an appearance! We’d probably been acting that way, but I thought it useful to say so. And we both decided it didn’t matter if we had sex or erotic play or not. He’d noticed my toys, but neither of us had done anything about them, and we rolled home full of contentment and curry to watch more “Bones”, and had a snog and settled down happily for sleep.

    The following morning, we lazed around in bed, having a cuppa and listening to “Broadcasting House” while putting the world to right. And somehow, we were continuing our chat of the previous evening, and I was curious about some of his fantasies and his sexual history. And asked about some who/what/when stuff and detail of some historic fantasies when my attention was drawn to his erection.

    I of course, followed my own guidelines and asked what he’d like to do with it when he decided to kiss me, so I went with the flow. And as he gave my breasts some attention I started to think about his fantasies, and what fun it would be to carry them out – me being pleasured while he was bound and gagged and I was very aware of his and my excitement as I considered these possibilities out loud. So I told him what I wanted of him in the here-and-now while we both imagined him as  a restrained and helpless voyeur of my pleasure. And I used my vibe to have a delightful orgasm and checked on his state.

    His erection was very enticing, but I asked what he’d like to do with it, and he was willing for me to choose. He confirmed he was able to fuck me and I liked the idea, very much. I love fucking after an orgasm.  It was a pretty perfect fuck, except he’d disobeyed me and not told me when he was coming – apparently, he was unable to do so, but I did notice it! I had no problems with it, but may choose to use it against him in the future, if it feels like a fun thing to do…

    So having decided sex wasn’t essential for a lovely weekend, we unexpectedly had a rather sizzling session before getting back to overeating – pub Sunday lunch with dessert – and “Bones”!

  • Devastated Septuagenarian in Ann Summers…Well – I may be exaggerating a little bit…

    So I was pretty excited to be with my lover in Ann Summers. I wanted a new cane and I like the Ann Summers one I currently have, but it has seen better days. I have happy memories of the ones that went to the great Cane Field in the Sky after breakage. They are light and pliable enough to bend into a small suitcase and can pack enough of a sting to make me yelp. And unlike some connoisseurs I can’t tell it from my posher official rattan – but then I’m a bit rubbish at knowing what’s being used on me half the time… And if you’ve been following this blog you’ll know I’m not exactly an implement connoisseur!

    I think AS is now more about the lingerie with vibes coming in at a poor second. I searched in vain for the hitty stuff and saw just some jokey crops and floggers. I was however intrigued by the pinwheel and thought this a good opportunity to buy my lover some nipple clamps. And I couldn’t resist a negligée/wrap thing for me as well.

    It was an interesting haul for a pair of pensioners, and I may be one of the few seventy-year-olds to complain about lack of canes to the young staff at Swansea AS!

    I did have great fun teasing him later with the pin wheel while he wore the clamps. The thought of the clamps on me sends shivers of horror, but I am more than happy to put them on him! I found the pinwheel used lightly on me an interesting sensation that like massage or stroking could be erotic or just pleasurable.

    As he’s made of sterner stuff it was great fun dragging the wheel quite heavily all over him – including cock and balls. Absolutely perfect for teasing – especially interspersed with other attentions. Made me realise how much I love all sorts of groans from him, besides the orgasmic… We had fun experimenting and nobody came but it was fun and satisfying and left us quite chilled.

  • All revved up with a destination! (Spoiler alert – not much actual sex…)

    I was super-excited – my lover was taking me to see a Meatloaf tribute act – “Paradise Regained”

    One of the less obvious feminist aspects of my persona is my love of the Album “Bat Out of Hell”. It is totally sexist, but captures teenage sexuality beautifully in the operatic madness of it all. I have said – and I’m sure I really could – write a feminist dissertation on the album. But that didn’t stop me literally bouncing in my seat and joining in with “I bet you say that to all the boys…!”

    So much frustration and mismatch of desire permeates the album. I always knew Steinman must have had so much fun, so it was great when I saw a documentary a while back and learnt that he was deliberately boundary-pushing to see what he could get away with – that might just explain the faded Levis bursting apart and barely dressed seventeen-year-olds…

    But amongst the raw sexiness and teenage angst there are a couple of songs that strike other chords. I have long used “two out of three ain’t bad” as the name of a syndrome that has driven me nuts over the years – those men who are allegedly so hung up on the ex who was “the one”, that they can’t possibly commit to you; but a shag/series of shags would be great while they sigh poetically and keep looking…

    As a seventy-year-old polyamorist I have however decided that being wanted and needed is rather nice – as is liking and respecting our lovers and having fun. If everyone is on the same page, open and honest there is so much scope with two out of three…

    So back to the album – After all the teenage drama and having to walk out of the door because s/he wouldn’t love one back I also adore ending with the equally mad, hyperbolic pseudo-adult “For Crying Out Loud”. I laugh along with the vows to thank, need, serve, want and hold while singing out of tune and getting the lyrics wrong. And then I totally melt by the final “For crying out loud, For that I love you, When you’re crying out loud, You know I love you”.

    What can be a better ending for all that mad sex than an orgasm?* And there is something so gorgeously sexy about the sound of a lover’s orgasm – that delicious surrender at the end of a journey and the acknowledgement of pleasure and satisfaction. I have always loved witnessing lovers at that moment of “la petite mort”, the groan from the pit of one’s being, released from the depths and leaving one spent in the most positive way.

    * If you’ve not read some of my previous rants posts – please note – I think sex is amazing and doesn’t have to end with orgasms, solo or mutual – I think of sex as circular and not a journey pounding to the same inevitable conclusion. But that said, orgasms are one of the lovely things some of us can give to others and ourselves…

  • Erratum

    My last post should have read as:

    “I gather cock cages come in different sizes, but must be quite difficult to judge… I’m not an expert on cocks, but I’ve encountered a few, and as a woman – I’m less obsessed with size than a fair number of men.”

    I’d meant to state some knowledge of cocks and not of cock cages! As stated earlier – I’ve only seen the one cock cage and that was confusing enough!

  • Cock cages (2) – Show-ers and growers?

    So as said – the only cock cage I have ever seen was somewhat complex and confusing. But I was quite intrigued and excited when he told me he was wearing it… Only it seems amongst its complexities it has “spacers” as well as the bit that goes around the scrotum and it’s quite difficult to know how to space,,. It did look intriguing on, but it simply slid off without unlocking the cute little padlock – even less impressive than my fluffy Ann Summers handcuffs – which I love, but not exactly something I’d parade in front of serious bondage folk!

    I gather cock cages come in different sizes, but must be quite difficult to judge… I’m not an expert, but I’ve encountered a few, and as a woman – I’m less obsessed with size than a fair number of men. I was recently introduced to the concept of Show-ers and growers which I’d not heard before but made immediate sense. I guess there are those who both show and grow, but based on my statistically insignificant observations, there are those who “at rest” look quite well-endowed and grow to a lesser degree than the resting tiddlers with plenty of room for expansion…

    So I’m guessing more research is needed before I get to engage with a properly caged cock!

    P.S.

    Favourite sitcom moments revived by this post:

    The utter scorn of the fabulous Phoebe of “Friends” at the pathetic nature of the flimsy handcuffs discovered in their flat, followed by thoughts of older previous flat occupant who was probable owner.

      A load of men skinny-dipping insisting that cold water has an extreme effect on penile dimensions – “Sienfeld”?

    1. The Cock Cage – All revved up and no place to go…

      The cock cage remains unused… I’d planned for him to deliver himself to me caged, but circumstances intervened. And who knew that a cold house and ensuing shy balls would render a cock cage unusable?

      And thanks to additional circumstances, our day did not go as planned. I was all dressed up and ready for fun when I discovered he’d not yet left home! I shed my gladrags and waited for him. After a full and frank discussion, we cleared the air and went for Plan B – bed and a naked cuddle. And it was lovely. And I was reminded that his clever fingers could be as effective as my vibe!

      As I have become very dependent on my batteried friend, I have become anxious about my ability to have unbatteried orgasms, so it was a fabulous surprise and delight when he made me come digitally in an early encounter. And fab that he retains the technique and willing to make the effort!

      And later in between episodes of “Bones”, I discovered just how complex a cock cage is! The main part is a relaxed penis shaped perspex container with a an open slot over the head. Then there’s another bit and various sized rods and it all fits together and I was more befuddled than studying a piece of flatpack furniture! I still definitely like the idea of it, though! Apparently a warm flannel to the balls, will counteract a cold house – who knew?!

      A pleasure postponed…

    2. Spinsterly shopping  and pervertibles (spelling?)


      I was just passing Boots on my way from my Welsh class when I suddenly thought about indigestion – as you do. I am lucky that I do not require the Big Guns of serious medication – just a bit of chalk. But I’m fussy about my flavours. ‘Tums’ were my brand of preference  until they disappeared from the shelves. I found them online but they were not the same… I was very happy to find orange-flavoured own brand antacids at Boots – a good compromise. Are you bored yet?

      And then I remembered Boots was also a source of very nice wooden paddle hairbrushes – a rather perfect spanking implement in my humble opinion.  I used to keep one downstairs for those spontaneous moments as well as one in the toybox.

      I love the jokey name for everyday objects that can be used for such fun – pervertibles.

      I also love the sting of a hairbrush – enough to cause a serious squirm without the thuddiness of a heavier bath brush. Hairbrushes, like hand spanking, can hover around the seriously erotic ‘mmmm – more, please’ to the ‘Ouch – stop it!’ and back.

      Now that I have limited experience at the other end of my hitty toys I love the hairbrush for it’s domesticity and nuance – although I did seriously whack him with the old one last time and worried about the effect on the poor old hairbrush! – which is also why a spare one seems like a good idea!

    3. Early vibes – the Non Doctor

      So – I knew how to wank for my own pleasure. Don’t remember that I bothered much, but when I did – it was always to spanky fantasies. I was curious about dildoes and was familiar with banana and cucumber nudge, nudge, wink, wink stuff. Out of curiosity I did try inserting cylindrical objects, but they did nothing for me so clitoral rubbing was it – when I bothered.

      Back in the seventies and eighties there was no Internet, no Anne Summers, condoms were below the counter in chemists and barbers only and sex shops were strictly men only it appeared – and absolutely terrifying. The seventies were also the days of magazines such as Cosmo discussing sex and possibly ads for vibes – but I’m a bit hazy. I think I may have seen an ad for a vibe called the “Non doctor”.

      So – I was in my twenties, living in Cardiff, reading racy women’s mags and also Forum the “magazine of Human relations” so pretty knowledgeable, and curious. I was in a relationship, and we decided to get me a vibe. The only possible place was a shop in a Cardiff arcade selling “marital aids”, so we screwed our courage to the sticking place and went for it. I remember being absolutely terrified, but we did it. We went in and said we wanted a vibrator. So we were shown the famous Non Doctor – all black and sleek and not at all dildo-like.

      I was trying to be very cool and adult about it all and I think my then-boyfriend saying very little. The purveyor of marital aids then set the thing going, commented on the vibration or speed and held it out towards me. I touched it, felt the buzz in my fingers and made what I hoped were knowledgeable sounds of approval – a bit like a car engine or washing machine demo. And so I became the quite secretive owner of my first vibe!

    4. No sex, but plenty of delicious duvet…

      So – I wasn’t seeing my lover this weekend as he had other plans. And I knew I’d miss him, but I liked the idea of an indulgent weekend.

      I had decided to go to my Friday tai chi – I’d missed quite a lot due firstly to a cold, then annoyingly, to the embarrassing hacking cough I’d been left with. I got to my gate, and it was frozen shut! I’d not noticed it being particularly frosty but obviously it had been. A jug of warm water soon solved that problem – and then I noticed my icy windscreen. When I notice Jack Frost has done his rounds, I leave early and defrost in plenty of time to get to my destination. As I’d not noticed, I decided that destiny or the Goddesses/Gods had decreed another duvet day, so happily acceded to the Universe’s wishes.

      I had shopped the day before, so decided that today was a good day for leek and potato soup so spent some happy time making a batch. In between, I caught up with my news podcasts, my daily dose of online Scrabble and my Duolingo Welsh. And then my lovely cleaning ladies arrived and I sloped off with the latest Thursday Murder Club story.

      It’s nice having a clean house, but I hate cleaning! I don’t have high standards, so a four-weekly vacuuming and dusting suits me perfectly. And disciplines me to have at least one tidy a month, although I of course sometimes resort to just shoving things into cupboards and drawers! And I have been known to hide a washing up bowl of dirty dishes in the side passage – but less than half a dozen times so far…

      And then I decided to go and see Hamnet, so booked a ticket for the afternoon after a lovely chat with my lover. We booked for a celebration of the Chinese New Year in Swansea and decided to make a weekend of it, so off to the theatre as well. Should be fun. We’ve not been to a hotel together before.

      Hamnet was amazing. I shared the back row with a bunch of sobbing 20-something women which was quite funny and an odd accompaniment to the sadness of the film. Don’t think I’ve ever heard such open sobbing in a sad film before. As I came out of the loo afterwards, I saw a bunch of red-eyed young women there so just grinned and said “Hamnet?” and got nods…

      And so followed a weekend of indulgence and of boring domesticity, but all very satisfying. I have caught up with a backlog of laundry, made more soup – lemon and cress – rearranged the freezer to make room for soup, finished my murder club book and watched lots of TV and done the admin for my friendship group as well as some blogging….

      Just wondering at my next read. I was thinking of going back to Austen after the murder club antics, but now want to reread Hamnet, but my copy is lost somewhere in  the shelves or among piles of books I consider my décor – all pleasantly bohemian but very frustrating!

      And so, my weekend has been wonderfully spinsterish but immensely satisfying despite lack of intimacy, sex and the fun of my lover’s presence. I do have plans though… At my request he bought a cock cage before Christmas and we’ve not done anything with it yet – it’s outside my experience, but learning and new experiences are so good for us oldies… And he is rather good as a sex slave and getting better at receiving compliments, so hopefully he will enjoy this spoiler…