I begin my new novel (again)

I’ve relaxed, in the middle of Ireland. 

I’m in a town called Roscrea. I chose it because it’s as close as I could find any accommodation to tiny Dunkerrin, where my ancestors, Jeremiah and Mary Mortimer, died and are buried.

I know: Jeremiah Mortimer sounds like an old codger in The Simpsons. I can’t help that.

His son, who came to the South Pacific and sired a hell of a lot of people, was called Darby. By the way, the name “Darby” is a fairly common Irish first name. Sean Connery plays a Darby in his first film, Darby and the Little People. You should see it because there’s a bit where Connery has to sing: comedy gold! Anyway, the name Darby is a sort of slang version of Jeremiah, like Jack is a slang version of John.

House of Mortimer (somewhere here, about six feet under this ground)

Anyway, Jeremiah and Mary couldn’t have afforded a headstone, so they’d have had a wooden cross at best. That’s long gone. I’d hoped to buy a mess of poitin, and pour some on the grave, one way or the other. But that was not to be. 

But here’s a picture of the last resting place of the Mortimers who didn’t go to the South Pacific and become my ancestors. 

There’s not much in Dunkerrin, though the churchyard is pretty. But I’ve been looking about the town of Roscrea, which unexpectedly turns out to have structures that were built in the tenth century, to keep Vikings away, and in the twelfth century when the Normans, having conquered England, decided to invade and occupy Ireland too. So: history! It’s all over the place here. 

For example, this is literally the view from the window of my hotel room. It’s a Norman castle, twelfth century, That house in the middle, clashing with everything around it, was built in the eighteenth century by a family who got rich occupying Ireland when Oliver Cromwell went over and did his bit.

Cromwell’s bit for Ireland consisted of burning, murdering, raping, smashing and looting. Ah well, it’s a lovely house, truth to tell, but on style grounds, if nothing else, it really, really doesn’t belong in the middle of the ruins of a Norman castle. 

Anyway, I’ve got peace of mind at the moment, and there’s a historical novel I finished a few years ago. Then I realised it has too many characters, and its climactic scene is in the middle, and it should be at the end. It needs serious repair. But I got taken up by other, more immediate, projects, including two other novels and a non-fiction book, and I shelved the flawed historical novel. Now I’m taking it off the shelf, with a fresh mind. 

It’ll be about 350 pages, and it doesn’t contain a single spanking or other bdsm scene whatsoever. I think there’ll only be two significant sex scenes of any kind, so I’m afraid my readers will have to settle for a good story, some historical scandal (accidentally discovered by me, when researching something completely different!) that will still create some uproar, some scenes of horror of the human, not supernatural, kind, and some laughs. 

So if anyone needs me, I’ll be tapping my keyboard in the bar of The White House, Roscrea. I’ll be drinkin’ Guinness, and if you pop by I’ll be buyin’.

Share our Shit Tuesday!

I’ve been away from the internet for a while. 

But now I’m back, and looking at what we sex bloggers have been up to. And here are five things I liked best!

From HannahLockhart: 

https://hannahlockhardt.wordpress.com/2018/04/07/game-face/

A familiar longing from ConfessHannah: http://www.confesshannah.com/your-canvas/

To show that I read people who aren’t called Hannah, here’s titsandtesttubes, with a gorgeous pic and words: http://www.titsandtesttubes.com/snapshot/

Kinky and Perky on some of the joys of (male) submission: https://kinkyandperky49318560.wordpress.com

And, from exposing40, some fascinating thoughts of nudity and political protest. https://exposing40.wordpress.com/2018/03/09/the-nude-in-political-protest/

Enjoy!

Masturbation Monday: A home coming

Note: This is a continuing story. The previous episode is here.

Stephanie had just sucked me off, sitting prettily and naked on one of the park swings. She’d just announced that that had been fun, and she wanted to do it again. I don’t know about other men, but that wasn’t an option for me. Not for a while. But even if it had been, I was pretty sure we should be leaving the park.

“There’s a fifty-fifty chance that bastard called the cops,” I said. “We should get gone now. If they do show up, this’ll involve more explanation than I feel like doing. So, girl, home.” I pulled her up out of her seat and smacked her bottom. Every time I’d smacked her arse so far I’d had a positive response, so I wasn’t being careful any more. It was a lusty smack, loud enough to be heard across the park.

I liked the effect it had on her arse, and her eyes. She looked at me as if I were a marvel. I didn’t think I was, but her gaze still felt good. And it made me want to try to be a marvel.

We walked to the road, till we were one step out of the light. Stephanie was naked. I had underpants and a shirt. And Stephanie’s shorts in my hand. She said, “Er, can I have..?”

“Of course not. You run when– What’s the signal?”

“You. You smack my bottom?”

I smacked her hard, then, and let her start first, so I could follow and watch her. There were no lights in the street on except at my place. The party was still going but it was quieter. I don’t think anyone saw us.

When we got inside my gate I held her tight, rubbing her back and thighs briskly to get her warm. Her arse was already warm, but I couldn’t help giving it plenty of attention too. We kissed, long, and deep. Stephanie sighed. She was having a strange, fun night.

I let her stand there, though, while I put my jeans on, and held her clothes in my left hand. I kissed her again, smiling wolfishly to let her know something terrible was coming. Then I smacked her again and led her to the back door. Someone had seized control of the sound system, and was playing old Cure songs. I reached for the door handle. 

Stephanie said, “I can’t walk naked to your room! People will see!”

“Oh, you won’t be walking. Naked girl, well spanked, on her hands and knees, crawling to heel. No one’s even going to notice. Well, they won’t notice who you are.”

Stephanie drew in a breath. Her face was already red, though not unhappy. I kissed her again. “Just do as you’re told. You’ll see.”

Note: The next episode is here.

 

 

 

Travelling Riverside Blues

I’m still travelling. I just had breakfast in the halls of one of the colleges of Oxford. The river I’m beside at the moment is the Thames, which is a rather gentler river while it’s up in Oxford.

I’d like to take a girl punting on the river, but she’s not having any of that. It could be the way I emphasise the word and waggle my eyebrows when I say, “I want to punt you.” 

That’s probably it. 

Here’s a pic, by the way, of the lane in Oxford that was in Medieval Times called “Gropecunt Lane”. Sadly it’s been renamed into the more decorous “Magpie Lane.” 

I had a half-arsed theory that maybe “magpie” was a Medieval way of referring to sex workers, so that the new name isn’t quite as decorous as people think. My reasoning, such as it is, was that the “mag” in magpie was a reference to the character Magdalene, also known as “the other Mary”, in the New Testament.

I was right about that, but my theory went on to speculate that since in Medieval times Mary or Magdalene was thought to be a prostitute, then maybe the word “magpie” was slang for a sex worker. So that the name “Magpie Lane” is still, in a sense about groping cunts. 

However, there doesn’t seem to be any example of “magpies” ever having been a slang term for sex workers, so my brilliant theory seems to be utter crap. Oh well. 

Anyway, I want to apologise for the relative lack of posts on this blog lately. I seem to be producing only one or two posts a week, and I’d hoped to keep up my usual rate of four a week while I was travelling. But I’m in England, at the moment, which isn’t my usual home, and I’ve got a girl with me who, even if she doesn’t want to be punted on a cold river with plenty of passers-by, does require a fair bit of maintenance and general looking after. And that’s fun to provide, so I’m busy at the moment. 

I’ll be alone again, on Monday evening, and I’ll be on a night bus or train to Liverpool. I might write something then. Then I’ll be in Ireland for a few days, chasing up some ancestors, but I may even get back to my usual schedule while I’m there.

I’ll be in France after that, then Switzerland, Germany and Italy. Then, in the middle of May, I’ll be back at home in my mountains. I’ll keep you posted!

Masturbation Monday: Swinging 6: Swingin’ low, swingin’ sweet

Note

The previous episode of this story is here.

Swingin’ low, swinging’ sweet

Stephanie picked herself off the ground, after her post-orgasmic descent of the slide, while some good citizen, who must have heard her coming and then loudly protesting that I was an utter bastard, switched his front lights on. A second later he opened his door. I could see him, but he couldn’t see us. Stephanie was all for running back to my place, naked as she was. But I joined her, carrying her little white shorts and even littler white panties. She whispered, “There’s… people.”

I whispered, “And you thought they’d lose interest if you ran naked across the road to my place?” Then I smacked her pale, moonlit arse, firmly enough to be felt, but light enough for the sound not to travel.

Stephanie gave me frowns. She wasn’t calm yet. “Well, what else..?”

“We disappear for a bit. Come with me.” I took her hand and led her back to the swings. They were in darkness, protected from the street lights by trees and the corner of a wall. Stephanie looked at me with disbelief, and more frowns. So I smacked her bottom again.

“Sit.”

“You’re crazy.” But she sat in the swing.

“Good girl. Now spread your thighs.” Stephanie obeyed. She’d left a landing strip of short, fairish hair above her cunt. She knew I’d think her cunt was pretty, even in the murky depths of our twilight.  

I smiled. “That’s a hot little cunt. You need to be fucked soon, don’t you?”

“Glad you noticed. Ow!” The Ow! was because, her bottom out of reach, I’d squeezed her nipple. She held on to the chains on either side of the swing’s wooden seat. She made no attempt to protect her nipple. If I thought she needed a small, measured portion of pain, obviously that was for me to decide.

I said, “Now put your hands on your cunt. Both hands, Steph. Don’t worry, you won’t need to hang on. I mean, not to the swing.”

Stephanie put her hands down, and, when I nodded, began to stroke herself, faster and harder than I would have. I waited till she made her first gasp, almost silently, and took hold of the chains. I tugged my underpants down a little so my cock flicked free, more or less at her nose. “Now open your mouth, girl.” 

She opened wide, and took in my cock, then tightened her lips on the shaft, sucking hard. Enthusiastically. I let the swing do the work, mostly keeping still while her body rocked back and forth on the seat, her mouth taking my cock deeper and then almost-but-not-quite releasing. Time past, while she stroked herself and pleasured me. She made another small, happy whine, and suddenly I let go of one of the chains, and pressed the back of her head, making her take all of my cock into her mouth and throat. 

I began to move at last, fucking her mouth hard. At one stage she choked, but I didn’t let her draw back. She coughed once, then again, and then took my cock as deep as it would go. Hungrily. This was more than Stephanie being a good girl demonstrating her skills; this was Stephanie enjoying herself.

She made another pleasured sound, and I put both hands on her shoulders, letting her choose how deep my cock would go, but pumping my hips, fucking her mouth hard. I wanted her to feel me taking my own pleasure with no consideration for her. I figured – no, I knew – she’d like that.

Usually I give some sort of spoken warning, but it was clear that Stephanie didn’t need it. I made one thin nasal moan, trying my best to keep the sound down, and came in her, cock pumping, spurting deep in her throat, my body in spasm. I had to grab the swing’s chains to stop myself falling over.  

Stephanie swallowed, running her tongue along and around my cock. I wanted to say things, and breathe hard, but I was still aware that there was a guy out of his front porch, listening. Not, I judged, that he could hear us. He’d be worried about vandalism, not sex, but I was reasonably sure he’d disapprove of sex too. It was inappropriate in a children’s park. 

Stephanie stopped licking and swallowing my cock clean, eventually, and looked up at me. There was a little drool of my come and her saliva, down from the left corner of her mouth. She licked it away quickly, and something about that made my cock twitch in her mouth.  

The light went out, and the front door closed. I withdrew from her mouth, though I was still half-hard. Stephanie smiled. “I thought he’d never fuck off. Um, shall we? Again?”

Note: The next episode is here.

E{lust} 104: pleasure in the dark

Elust 104

Photo courtesy of Brigit Writes

Welcome to Elust 104

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #105 Start with the rules, come back April 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

A Wank and a Spank

The S Word

At My Feet

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Boarding School Survivor

Varnish

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Ode to the 69

 

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Ode to the 69
Know your Power…Cum in Me!
Who Holds the Power?
C’est finis.

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

How To Melt An Ice Cube
Liberation…
Time ~ Looking Back & Travelling Forward

Erotic Fiction

Once in a lifetime… or maybe not?
When the William Comes to Port
Soulmate
The Nervous Game
Wait
Gypsy Traveler
#PegaPolitician: Melania’s Trigger
A Love/Hate Relationship with Changing Rooms
Maddie and her girl

Poetry

-02.03.18-15:19-

Body Talk and Sexual Health

Negative
Being Daddy

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

I’ll scratch yours
Come Home

Erotic Non-Fiction

50 Shades Has Nothing On Us!

Blogging

Sex Bloggers Talking About… Sex Blogging

 

 

 

 

 

Elust

After Eroticon: Re-emergence

I’ve been silent for a week. That’s probably unprecedented, for this blog, since 2012. Back then I spent a month hanging round hospitals, pouring out blood, fairly heavily wounded. 

And although a nurse kept me amused by showing me her bruises, and although I had a lot of other people’s blood in my veins, I just didn’t have the energy to write.

Still, I picked it all up again.

And that nurse: I think that when I understand the universe better, I’ll discover that she’s secretly in charge of the life force. 

Helsinki: grey, cold and beautiful

Anyway, my reason for silence this time is more prosaic. I’ve been travelling, not always in places with w-ifi. And too many days started before 6.00 in the morning, and then went on until far too late in a different time zone.

Anyway, right now I’m in London, and I’m going to be asleep very, very soon, though it’s early in the evening. But I’m so tired I’m gasping. For air and water, mainly, and rest.

Pork, sympathy and wine in the Eternal City

Here’s a photo of Rome, as experienced by me. This man is bringing me food, and wine from the district where the castle I stayed in last year is located. Thank fuck for Rome, is all I can say about that. 

But I only got one night in Rome. Then I had to catch the train to Turin, spend the night there, and catch the train to Paris too early in the morning, so I could arrive in time to catch the Paris to London Eurostar.

i arrived in London in time to doss down in some dodgy bnb. But in the morning I met the lovely Zoe at the airport, and we went to Eroticon, a conference and general get-together and celebration for the world’s sex bloggers.

I’ll write more about Eroticon later, but for now I can’t. It will take more time and energy and thought than I’ve been able to have yet.

In the meantime, all I can say is that I’m back with a keyboard and a connection, and welcome back to my blog, for all of you!