Masturbation Monday: “But that’s embarrassing!”

Posted on April 15, 2018 by jaime

Note: This is a continuing story, and its previous episode is here.

I’d told Stephanie she was coming to my room still naked, but on her hands and knees. She looked at me. If she did as I said it’d be humiliating. On the other hand, it’d be hot. Worse, or better, it’d be hot because it was humiliating.

She chose a form of resistance that was calculated to be futile. “‘Walk to heel’? I’m not your dog.”

Eventually I said, “No. You’re my girl. Tonight, anyway. And you’re going to do as you’re told.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, Stephanie. Because you want to. Because you and I both really want you to. And… because if you don’t I’ll take my belt to this gorgeous arse.”

“Oh!” She looked shocked for a second, then amused by me.

“And you’d say that’s not a threat it’s a promise?”

“Neither. It’s just information.”

I stepped back, because I needed space to move one hand from her bottom, to stroke her cunt.

Stephanie, sweetly, wetly stroked, moved her feet apart a little, and put her arms round me while I pleasured her.

I was holding almost all of her weight now.

But it was important to have her wanting more. I took my fingers from her cunt, and held them to her mouth for her to lick and suck clean.

“Good girl, Stephanie,” I said. “Now: hands and knees. Drop.”

And Stephanie looked at my eyes. Sh swallowed. She’d committed herself. She lowered herself to her knees, kissing the bulge in my jeans her way down, and assumed her new position.

On all fours. On the concrete doorstep.

I opened the door.

Note: The next episode is here.

Sinful Sunday: Flog her?

Posted on April 15, 2018 by jaime

A lazy afternoon. A dom, looking under the bed, the chair, in the tools drawer, muttering.

A girl with a smug, quiet smile.

“Where’s my damn flogger?” he shouted.

She said nothing at all.

Note

The body in this image, and the idea for this picture, is that of the lovely model, whose blog is here.

I begin my new novel (again)

Posted on April 13, 2018 by jaime

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’.

Wicked Wednesday: I perform for Lucy

Posted on April 12, 2018 by jaime

This is a hot scene but it’s had to leave my blog because it’s published now, and publishers don’t like their stuff to be available for free. I’ll put up a link to where you can buy this very hot text, shortly.

Masturbation Monday: A home coming

Posted on April 10, 2018 by jaime

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

Posted on April 7, 2018 by jaime

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!

Wicked Wednesday: Lucy changes hands

Posted on April 4, 2018 by jaime

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

Posted on March 27, 2018 by jaime

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.