Time capsule 2008

I was looking (unsuccessfully) for a way to truncate the months running down the left margin of this site as the list is getting too long, and realised it’s my third anniversary here. Psst, the third anniversary gift is traditionally leather, so gifts of a harness for a 6 foot 2 man and a buggy whip would be treasured, thanks.

I clicked on the ‘April 08’ link and read the entries. I’m a bit pleased with myself that I was brave enough to start jotting notes from this side of my life and stick with it, but disappointed that I seemed to be a more expressive writer then than I am now. I don’t know, I’m too close to myself to see clearly. Out of curiosity, has anyone been reading since the early days?

Some things haven’t changed, such as my aversion to once-off encounters, and some have, including the Drummer’s reduction and now withdrawal from seeking other sexual partners. MB and I are the closest and strangest of friends and I had lunch with M1 about six weeks ago. I’m not sure what we are as he coyly makes invitations that aren’t but really are invitations but perhaps I’ll master the communication side of things in the next three years.

I hadn’t been fisted, had a threesome, met strippers who hated women, been involved with married men, tried to hook up with a woman, almost choked on bitter semen, broken up with someone over stupid pride and possibly false assumptions, been involved in a sexual assault roleplay, flown several thousand kilometres to fuck someone, hurt myself by continuing to want what I can grasp but can’t have, had a man skew himself on a strap-on (hell, owned a strap-on), developed into a reasonable source of lubricant knowledge and become a creature of the outdoors at nighttime.

And looking at my wish list from April 2008, I still haven’t had sex with a police officer or been involved in group sex with uniformed men. I’m not any closer to those fantasies but I’ve done okay. I have reached A Certain Age and think I have about five years left of this lifestyle before I run out of energy and my tits are sagging somewhere near my belly button, but I said that last year so I’ll take it day by day.

Got/not got


I got the job. My mind is springing between excitement at being given what I asked for, and being petrified at being given what I asked for. Hopefully there’s a happy medium.

I almost got a few hours with Mr OMG, to the point of him suggesting and committing to a night and time (all I needed to supply was the venue), but my period arrived early. I had to laugh about that.

Not got

The Country Boy and I were going to catch up but Mother Nature chose to interrupt those plans as well. He offered to wait on the sidelines until I’d settled into my new job, but I need to tell him my philosophy that if I’m breathing, I’ve got the energy to meet him. I am going to wish for some naked time with him next week.


Sorry, I’m continuing this deviation from my sexual diary again, but I need to tidy some loose ends before returning to the good stuff.


I mentioned at Christmas that my mother was ill. All is good now and she seems healthier than prior to her illness.

I haven’t mentioned The Drummer of late, firstly because there’s been no sexual activity with him for a long time, and because I am caught in a bind about how much to write. I need to express something as my partner is part of the whole story and enables me the freedom to live this part of my life, but on the other hand he’s entitled to his privacy and I find it hard to gauge how much to tell.

We have been working through some bigger-picture issues regarding our relationship and are coming from different perspectives: he’s simpler and more open in his desire to stay together for the longer term, but I look at the last couple of years and have wondered many times if the now is still what I want in the future because we aren’t moving positively from a stagnant situation. Also, I need to seek help with how to manage living with his mental illness more effectively. I don’t know if I help or hinder his (lack of) progress and I believe a greater understanding of my role will assist. It breaks me on too many days to see him a shell of who he was. I’ve sourced a counsellor and am going to start seeing her to help gain a wiser perspective because I’m too close to the eye of the storm to see what’s outside its fury.

Things are looking positive for the job mentioned in the last post and I hope to have something finalised in the next fortnight. There will be a lot of responsibility and high targets, but the company has the discipline and processes needed to succeed, so it will be up to me to achieve with them. I hope the offer comes off as I’m excited firstly about the challenge, and secondly about the freedom to effectively be running my own business within the business. A side-benefit will be more flexibility than I currently have to pursue my sex life, so things are looking up in a big way after a couple of months of eking slivers of personal time.

The Country Boy

We are back on track although my suit of emotional armour is a little thicker than previously. The irony of being more detached is that something’s occurred that currently impacts on his family and work, and he should have less time for me, but is making a greater effort to meet. Perhaps we’ll both be freer at the same time in the future and we can enjoy some relatively peaceful time together. His house will also be available for a while in a month or so; I can’t maximise use of a hotel room at present so the thought of being in a house and on a bed is enticing beyond words, and even exceeds the discomfort of knowing I’ll be entering someone else’s territory. I greatly enjoy the outdoor activities we engage in, but I’m reaching a stage where more variety and less risk would be good (having said that, we were more brazen than usual last night and I’ll have to write that story up).


Young Lion has been back in touch. He works not far from my temp gig and has suggested we fuck in a booth at a peep show … I don’t even know if that can be done as I’ve never been in a peep show booth. I must admit to some curiosity to the point I walked past the club one lunchtime, but it was at the end of a lane and some seedy-looking people were congregated at the entrance, so I chose not to explore it alone.

NZ and I have had some phone contact. His wife had a baby so he’s been on daddy duty. His sex drive seems quite high according to some of his messages, however, I’m squeamish because I’d feel I’m taking him away from something more important. He has a genuinely open relationship so any time away is sanctioned, but I find it funny that I’m the one with skewed perceptions and not being able to look past them.

I almost posted this without mention of Mr OMG but he texted yesterday to apologise for his behaviour and said he’d leave me alone. I decided that saying goodbye was his way of saying he didn’t really want to end contact, so I said I’d miss him and would like contact in whatever capacity it forms. He replied soon after so I was on the money with my perception, but I still have no idea of my true intention. My motive seems pure at the moment that I like him even though it’s unlike we’ll meet face-to-face again. Or, I am an idiot.

Future of the blog

Having been deprived of time and energy to spend on the things I enjoy has made me appreciate this quiet space even more. There were some moments I thought of walking away and just getting on with living the life rather than talking about it, but I’m not ready to do that yet.

I’ve been thinking about my sexual objectives for the year (it’s a damn long ride on public transport and I need to think about something), but they haven’t really changed from the things I didn’t achieve last year, such as another threesome. I have decided I’d like to find another girl to make some of the Country Boy’s fantasies come true and I’ll devote some time to that in a few months when I have time. I’d like to explore fisting more but I think the Country Boy’s hands are too thick and broad to fit me, but I’ll never know unless we try. That, too, will have to wait until things calm down as I’ll need a lot of relaxing warm-up time to make the attempt.

I intend to try some different ideas like adding photos more often, but that’s dependent on the usual issues of taking snaps that no one else sees and that can’t be linked to anyone. You should have seen me learn very quickly how to kill off geo-tag data on photos — hello, techno-gadget designers, I *don’t* want the world to know what I’m doing where.

I’m also thinking of how I can open this space up, perhaps to questions and answers (I’m too lazy to open and maintain a Formspring account, and I’ve convinced myself I won’t be asked any questions anyway). Felinus had an intriguing idea about a sex blogger-created site where questions or topics could be posted and discussed or readers’ stories contributed and told — like an open-table forum. I think it has huge potential but I’m good at starting and not finishing things so I’m not sure if I’m the right person to kick it off.

To end, I’ll probably have sex no more than 50 times for the rest of the year according to the rolling average of my posts, so I’m going to make the most of every opportunity.


I’ve been holding the seed of a thought from an e-mail months ago about perceptions of my type of man, and I initially thought that I don’t have a type. It’s like art or music or many other things: there’s no essential requirement or characteristic that captures me, but rather the overall impression or unpredictable un coup de foudre I learned in French classes a million years ago. I wish I hadn’t lost my e-mails in the unscheduled wiping of my account recently because I can’t recall the specifics of the perceived type, except that I remember laughing while not agreeing.

All I know for sure is that I like a healthy man who smells clean, and possesses good manners on the outside that conceal a devilish streak running to the core. Respect, enthusiasm and curiosity are also important, and I can’t tell you how refreshing it is to meet men who genuinely appreciate and encourage women’s sexual appetites. As far as looks, I’ve cavorted with locals and those from other countries, cultures and colours, younger and older, taller and shorter and with vastly different appearances. But all have shared the look in their eyes that indicate something extra is going on beneath the surface that I want to know about.

I was taken on a walk-around at a job interview a couple of weeks ago and my eyes honed in on a tallish man with slightly scruffy dark blonde hair, clad in overalls and showing some impressive backside while bending over a piece of equipment. Even with the limited view, my first thought was stand up and turn around so I can check you out and then would I be getting my own office? He didn’t receive my psychic telegrams to face me and I (as I should) focused instead on the discussion at hand.

I was called back recently for a second interview and was in the reception area closing the (positive — hurrah) meeting, and the subject of my previously surging hormones was outside checking out at my car. To my delight he came inside the building to look for its owner and he joined us to exchange a few pleasantries. He would almost be the Country Boy’s mischievous twin in looks, except the new version before me had piercings and a more blatant aura that misbehaviour wasn’t a new concept to him. Perhaps I am becoming predictable and have a type.

Keep your fingers crossed. For the job, of course.

PS: I’m not looking to trade in the Country Boy or anything (although I’ve had one or two or 20 thoughts of office threesomes with both of them if I end up working there); after weeks of idle people watching on public transport, it’s just remarkably uncommon to sight someone who mutes everything in my mind without knowing or trying.

Happy Grumpmas

My year just sinks a little deeper into a black hole of crap. My mother will be spending Christmas in hospital, but at this stage it appears she will be all right and can be discharged in a few days. If on new year’s eve you see a wild harpy brandishing a large stick to whack 2010 out of the way, that will be me. Stand clear.

Santa is bringing a new mobile phone and I’m currently clearing the contents of the old phone. This is the only picture without too much face or too much between-the-legs trashiness, and without cock. Sorry about the fuzziness. I have to go now and admire the old pics sent by Mr OMG: it’s okay, I’m not making an electronic shrine or anything. Happy Christmas.

When it rains, it pours

I’m usually a regular correspondent but a few weeks ago I was hit with unexpected unemployment. I was hoping after a restructure that I’d be kept until the new year as I was second-in-charge and was kind of needed for the next phase of business recovery and growth, but hey, I was spectacularly wrong.

Most of my mental energy has been going towards locating a less dysfunctional new employer and to scrape together some temp work over Christmas. Things are starting to come together now, thank goodness.

A couple of other things have gone wrong but in the interests of maintaining anonymous I can’t go into detail. Again, things seem to be working out slowly, especially with The Drummer as we’ve been having problems. I usually measure time as a regular physical entity that always ticks over, much like a heart beat — rather than in blocks of time like months or years — but seriously, I’ll be fucking glad when this year is over.

The Country Boy has been a blessing though and we have been seeing each other most weeks. He texts regularly, shows up when he says he will, and has a blossoming sense of adventure — we were almost caught in the bushland section of the park the other day with me kneeling before him and his cock in my mouth. I think in a millisecond I was up, mobile and hiding behind a tree trunk before he could finish whispering, “I think someone’s coming.” He was a lot calmer about the whole situation and pulled his pants up and made like a statue until the person proceeded along the track. I might spend a fair amount of time being semi-naked in public, but I proved to myself I don’t want to actually be seen.

I’ll be back with more soon, I hope, when life is a little more balanced. At least I don’t have an office Christmas party to attend this year, ha.

Desire is never balanced

I was thinking about the balance of desire and realised of the casual men in my past, I have mostly wanted them more than they have wanted me (sorry, today is one of those need a grammar fairy by my side days). I don’t know if this is because I don’t open easily to others and I give more wholly when I decide to trust, or if I tend to become involved with low-maintenance, self-sufficient types and thrive on the frustrating challenge of winning them. The see-saw of desire with Mr OMG would see me seated on one end of the plank on the ground with him hoisted in the air (even though he sent some lovely photos today), but as much as I leave him alone with a convincing air of nonchalance, I still run to the phone when he calls and put on some theatre that it’s a wonderful surprise to hear from him. The “treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen” ethos runs true for me when it suits.

And I become turned off with astonishing speed when someone has become more attached to me than I feel is innately acceptable. It hasn’t happened much: the last time probably occurred during some moments with ArmyDude when the intensity was becoming untenable — I backed away rather than show the courage to discuss and manage the situation with him.

Jekyll was the most consistent as far as being involved equally and maintaining his boundaries and, without realising, he taught me a lot about compartmentalisation in all areas of my life. He was the victim of terrible events in his youth and learned to isolate himself mentally during physically abusive episodes. Decades later, I could listen to him managing work situations on the phone and put the issues away mentally within a second of terminating a call, deal with a family problem and file it almost literally in a box on a mental shelf, discuss sexual fantasies with me with complete focus yet five minutes after we parted I know I’d be filed away for next time (in a positive and respectful way, of course).

The reason for these thoughts is that I think the Country Boy desires me more than I desire him, and sometimes I look over my shoulder to see if a thundercloud of my own making is approaching. I know he’s still chatting to women occasionally on the web site because he told me (he doesn’t seem to be faring too well as he tells them he’s already seeing me; I’m sure at some stage he’ll learn to not tell the whole truth). While my selfish side doesn’t like to share, I’m glad as the potential competition for his time is keeping me on my toes (and the number of psycho hose beasts on the web might make me look like an even better proposition).

For a while I was starting to fret that things were too smooth and easy and I would lose the rawness of desire for him. However, when he sent a text message saying he was a spanking virgin and wanted me to be the first, I leaped at the opportunity. I didn’t care if he was telling the truth or not; it was one of those proclamations that I decided to be true.

There shall be sex in the next post.

Some things I have learned

These are generalisations only.

Women are too fussy. Men are not fussy enough.

The quicker someone makes contact and pleads startling levels of mutual compatibility and urgency to meet, the quicker the person will flee after sex.

Both genders lie about their true intentions, but for different reasons. Men often want less than they promise, and women conceal that they want more.

You can only hope — but never control — how someone will treat you.

Men will tolerate long periods of text message questions, pleading and anger to end contact rather than end definitively with the risk of confrontation.

Penis size can never be predicted accurately from other bodily measurements. The short, skinny, wiry men often pack generous gifts between their thin legs.

Gut feel, intuition, call it what you will, is almost always right but the reason for the warning bells needs unravelling before sense can be made of a situation.

One of the most confronting sexual encounters is with a new partner who undresses and his children’s names are tattooed on his body.

The longer a couple is together, the less likely the partners are to confess new sexual desires or urges to each other. The dangerous scenario of an affair perversely offers a more comfortable situation to create a new sexual identity without preconceptions.

Men don’t want women to take the lead during the courting/meeting stage, however, they want women to display more obvious clues.

As a personal quality, honesty is only valued by the honest or a person deceived.

The less notice given by someone seeking a booty call, the less satisfaction is guaranteed for the person being called.

There are few feelings more intensely pleasurable than the moment of realising a mutual attraction.

Men masturbate one to four times a day on average when they’re home alone off work. I have the photos.

Happy Christmas and all that

I’m not the most pleasant of people this time of year so the best I’ll wish for myself this week is a quick and tolerable Christmas. In a few days I might be off to give the city boy a golden shower, so with luck I’ll be able to take my stress and grumpiness out on him — he said he wants to be my dirty bitch, but I believe he has no idea what this might entail when I’m in a mood.

And for you I’ll wish a lot more, including good health and happiness and pleasurable sex. Thank you for stopping by and sitting on my shoulder for some interesting experiences. I was looking for something posted this year that wasn’t too smutty to submit to an anonymous blog anthology — in spite of searching for several hours and not finding a single post I’m happy with, I learned I’ve written 50,000 words this year alone. Thank you for indulging me so generously! I’m not going anywhere yet as I have quite a bit to say about my open relationship at the moment and Young Lion might feature in my life soon, but apparently I need to cook and shop and pretend I enjoy being force-fed food that comes out only once a year for very good reason. Bah humbug to mince tarts, though there can never be too much custard in the world.

I was going to say, “Bite me, Christmas” but I haven’t had that good fortune of late. This was Jekyll’s way of stopping my complaints this time last year. Happy Christmas.


The last post about my lips around Mr OMG’s cock was Fleshbotted — I wish I could tell him! I wish I could fuck him again soon, too, and I have told him.

Thanks to Always Aroused Girl for including me. I had no idea you knew of my humble existence, and now I’m kind of shy and blushing. And I’ve been waiting months for another opportunity to put the fisting advice in your blog into practice.