» The Dark

Public Sex pt.2 - In the Dark

I didn’t have time to do this post for the Public Sex question, but it fits better here anyway.

This is going back a few years now, to a time when I was seeing a very nice gentleman called Brian. We were both divorced and unused to the dating game, but he was a lot of fun and a very proficient lover. We saw each other for a few months but then decided that we should end it while we were still friends, as both of us were looking for something more permanent and agreed that we were never going to ‘fall in love’ with each other.

Anyway, back to the story. There was an item either on ‘In Touch’ or ‘The Food Programme’ on Radio 4 about a restaurant that serves food in the dark. It’s staffed by blind and partially sighted waiters and sounded a bit different. Brian suggested that it sounded like a bit of a laugh and I said it sounded like a good opportunity for a bit of a public fumble.

So, we booked a couple of places (everyone sits at one long table on benches, to make things easier), packed the kids off to my parents for the night and, after a quickie to get us in the mood, we showered and got changed. We’d decided to be a bit daring and both go ‘commando’, in case the chance for a bit of you-know-what presented itself. Brian was wearing loose jeans with a button fly and I had a flowing, knee length summer dress which buttoned up the front. Brian also put a Johnny in his pocket, just in case.

So, we arrived at ‘Dans le Noir’ and were shown into the bar by the sighted Maitre d’ for a drink. The lighting was low to get us accustomed gradually to the dark. There were couples and small groups sitting around and I noticed a fair few blind customers with their partners or families. We both opted for the ‘surprise menu’, where you rely on touch, taste and smell to discover what’s on your plate.

The big moment arrived and were led down a dim corridor, each customer with their hand on the shoulder of the person in front. It was a bit like finding your way to your seat in the cinema after the lights have gone down; there were tiny lights along the corridor and you could just make out the person in front of you. Then, we pushed through some black velvet curtains and we were in COMPLETE and UTTER darkness. With some bashing of shins and kicking each other, we all stepped over the bench and sat down.

If you want to know what it was like, go into a dark-room, leave the light off and close the door. Then put a hood over your head and a blindfold over that.

The dinner was probably the strangest I’ve attended but possibly the most exciting too.

As soon as we were comfortable and had found our asparagus tips and mayonnaise, I undid a couple of the lowest buttons on my dress, then found Brian’s right hand and guided it to my lap. He reciprocated, undoing his fly, releasing the beast and guiding my left hand. There then followed a conversation of such filthy double entendres as has ever been carried out in a public restaurant. “Wow, that asparagus is really firm.” “Have you tried dipping it in the mayonnaise?” etc. etc.

Meanwhile I was gently handling his rigid cock and his fingers were fiddling with my clit as I spread my legs wide apart on the bench. The main course was some type of fish with new potatoes and green beans but I could hardly concentrate on finding it on my plate as I was nearing orgasm. I had to try to keep my ragged breathing quiet as all sounds were magnified in the dark and my heartbeat sounded loud enough in my ears to be audible to the guy sitting on my right. Brian kept sliding his fingers into me and I was pumping his cock for all I was worth.

We had to stop as they cleared the dishes and brought in the dessert - apricot tart with a scoop of delicious ice-cream. I almost screamed as Brian recommenced with a spot of ice-cream on his fingers and as I stuffed apricot tart into my mouth I covered my orgasm with a groan of delight, commenting on the food. Brian slipped the Johnny on and I finished him off as he downed a glass of wine. “God, I love sticky puddings with cream on the side.”.

We were both completely sated by this time and I took the opportunity of the dark room to lick my plate clean before doing up my buttons again. Brian carefully took the full Johnny off, tied it off and put it back in his pocket before wiping himself with the napkin and buttoning up.

“OK folks, if you all stand and put your hand on the shoulder of the person in front of you, we will now leave the dining room.”

As we emerged into the dim corridor and then the gently lit bar we were more than a little surprised to see that the Maitre d’, who had been leading us, was wearing night-vision goggles. He gave the pair of us a huge grin as he took them off and said, “I trust that was a uniquely enjoyable experience for you. It certainly was for me.”

Oh boy. Nice one K, you did it again.
(Tue 28th Jul 2009, 14:09, More)

» Public Sex

It all started last autumn
I told you lot how I met Jason at work and how we got acquainted. He moved in with me and the kids just after Christmas and things are looking really good. In fact I hardly ever look on b3ta these days as there's so much else to distract me. This question did tickle me a bit though and here's why...

It was last November, the kids were at school and Jason and I decided to take a day off together to just spend at my place and chill. He stayed over quite a bit, but was still a bit uncomfortable with the kids about and couldn't fully relax, if you know what I mean. The only problem was that there was an important meeting in his department that morning that he would have to dial in to. It was from 9.00 to 10.00 so I told him to not worry about it. I'd make a nice, late breakfast for the two of us and bring it in for him while he was on the phone.

So, there I was, the kids had gone off and I went to have a nice shower. I was feeling nice and relaxed but a little bit mischievous, which is why I decided to have a little shave while I was in the shower. Then I thought I'd have a bit more of a shave. Oh sod it, let's shave the lot off! I giggled as I put on my soft white towelling dressing-gown and went down to the kitchen to make some coffee. It was just nine o'clock and in the living-room at the back of the house, I could hear Jason on the phone, then the idea came to me. While the coffee was brewing I nipped back upstairs and put on what you might call a naughty maid outfit. I put on stockings, some sexy lingerie, a black woollen mini-skirt, a thin white blouse with the top three buttons undone and some fairly high heels. Then I put the coffee on a tray and carried it in to Jason who had some papers spread out on the coffee table in front of the sofa he was sitting on.

He did a bit of a double-take as I shimmied in and nearly lost the thread of his conversation as I did a Benny Hill - bending over with legs slightly apart to put the coffee tray down in front of him, virtually sticking my arse in his face. He could certainly see that I had stockings on and ran his hand up my inner thigh. Then I turned and gave him a view of my cleavage as I poured the coffee for him and I could see the bulge in his trousers growing by the second. I decided it was time to really put him off his stride so I stood up and slowly unbuttoned my blouse and let it fall to the ground, then I put one foot up on the sofa next to him, pulled my skirt up to my hips and started rubbing myself gently. He was clearly distracted as he had to look away and join in with the discussion again but I was not to be put off. This time I turned away from him and slowly lowered my panties, bending lower and lower. When they were off, I turned slowly so that he could see the full effect of my morning shave.

Now he seemed to be having difficulty breathing, let alone taking part in a conversation. I sat down on the sofa, leaned agaisnt the side cushions, one foot on the floor, the other on his shoulder as I slowly brought myself off. By this point he'd loosened his trousers and pulled them off though he was studiously not touching his raging hard-on as he tried to carry on the conversation on the phone. I was amazed at his self-control, and couldn't match it, I shifted round and lay my head in his lap so that I could lick his nut-sack slowly, I really wanted to suck him off then and there but wanted to prolong the agony as long as possible. With a slow lick right up the shaft I got up, nealt either side of his legs and lowered myself onto him. I was as wet as scuba-diver's armpit and he slid in as if he was greased.

From the conversation I could tell the meeting was winding up which was just as well as my slow bouncing on his cock was making him breathe faster and harder. "Er, I've got to go now folks. See you tomorrow." he said desperately as he hit the disconnect button on his phone.

"Oh God, yeah,"

"Fuck me hard."

Or rather we thought he'd hit the disconnect button. He'd actually hit the speaker-phone button by mistake, which we realised when we could hear: "Jase, are you still there?" coming from the sofa next to us as he buried his head in my cleavage and shot his load and I groaned with pleasure.

The next day at work was a little embarrassing, but not too much.
(Tue 28th Apr 2009, 12:24, More)

» Best Films Ever

"Mediocrities everywhere: I absolve you"
That is the closing line from 'Amadeus'. I've not had a chance to read all of the posts this week so I don't know whether anyone else has this masterpiece in their top ten. If you like drama, good acting, costumes, music, timeless classics and wigs, then this film is a must.

[Was that OK for an opening? I'm new here so please be gentle with me, even if it takes a while]

The first time I saw Amadeus was in 1985, soon after it came out. I was still on the rebound from my first real love, a charming love-rat called Sean who had robbed me of my virginity on the floor of the stockroom in WHSmith and then kept me available for him despite being engaged, then married and the store manager to boot. After 18 months of this, I had told him not to bother me anymore and moved jobs and to a bedsit in Brentford without giving him my new number. So, I was still bruised and hurting when Ben turned up.

We were both temping at the DHSS at the time and, despite me feeling pretty blue I could tell he fancied me: I kept catching him looking at me whenever I turned round, whereupon he would blush and look busy. When we were working together, I'd chat to him and listen to his traveller's tales, laugh at his jokes, flirt in a gentle way and enjoy the attentions of boy my own age (21) who seemed carefree and vulnerable as well as sort of self-assured. He was also pretty good looking.

Eventually, I had to ask him to lunch as he seemed too shy to ask me. We did the old eye-gazing thing at a pub near the office in Ealing. Things gradually warmed up and he asked me out one evening to a film. He lived with his parents in Chiswick as he hadn't sorted out anywhere else since returning from his wandering, and as the film was in Hammersmith, I went to his place first. His Mum answered the door and invited me in; not wishing to appear rude, I accepted. His Mum sounded much posher than Ben did and I became very conscious of my East London accent, so I mumbled a bit and let them do most of the talking. Ben's Dad was away on business in Japan I gathered.

"So, what are you two going see?" she asked.
"Amadeus", I said, "it's about Mozart." As soon as I said it, I knew I'd sounded like an idiot. As if she didn't know. But I wasn't ready for:
"Oh, I really want to see that film, I've heard some very favourable reviews, but I know Daddy won't want to go." she said.
'Daddy?!' I thought!!
"Well," I said out loud, "why don't you come along?" knowing she'd not want to be a gooseberry.
"Oh, I'd love to, if you really don't mind". This is where I was hoping Ben would say something like: 'Tell you what, if it's any good, I'll take you at the weekend'. What he actually said was:
"You don't mind do you?" to me! Now what could I do?
"Of course not."

The film was magical, I was sat next to Ben with his Mum the other side of him. When the lights went down, I reached for his hand, which was on his lap, and throughout the film, I played gently with his hand, feeling the effect this was having in his 'lap'. After the film we got the bus home, his Mum getting off at Chiswick while Ben 'saw me home'. Once she'd got off the bus, I turned to him and planted a long, slow, gentle kiss on his fevered lips. More of the same plus a little light stroking went on as the bus thundered past Kew Bridge and we nearly missed my stop.

I asked him in for a-coffee-in-inverted-commas: my favourite blend as it happens. What then transpired I will not describe in detail, but he was only the second man I'd slept with, and the first for some months. He'd had a few girlfriends, but none like me. I didn't want him to leave and he didn't; we went to work together the next morning and were a couple from then on.

Skip forward four years or so, we're married with a baby and Amadeus was on the telly. As well as making sure we had a new tape in the video machine, we also made sure that the baby was staying at Gran & Grandad's for the night. That evening involved showers, candles, Italian food, plenty of wine, soft music and plenty of lovin'.

Now we had the film on tape, we tried to watch it at least once a year, and each time we'd pack the kids off to Gran & Grandad's for the night, or wait until they went off on school trips and sleep-overs. In 1991, I finally made it to university, having messed up my 'A' levels first time around. Ben was still at the DSS (as it now was), in a fairly senior position and being a student allowed me to look after the kids almost full time. As I got more and more into my History studies and made some good new friends amongst the mature students, I found it harder to really talk with Ben. I thought it was just me, but gradually I noticed he was distracted. I decided an Amadeus night was called for, so made all the arrangements and even bought some new, if highly impractical, underwear; well, sometimes you have to make the effort.

It was a Friday night and the onions and garlic were browning in the pan, the wine was open and I'd had an early glass when Ben got in. I was solicitousness itself, poured him a glass, made sure he was comfy etc, then got out the video. I knew something was wrong when he said he didn't fancy watching it tonight.

To cut a long story short, that was the night he told me he'd fallen in love with a girl at work. There was quite a scene and I gave him his marching orders; he slept elsewhere that night. I'd pretty much kept myself together until the moment he walked out of the door (though his recolection might be different) but did a pretty dramatic breakdown as soon as the door shut. I watched that damned video that night anyway and drank two bottles of wine, though I didn't bother finish cooking the meal I'd started. I was cried out by morning.

Now, I'm over the worst and the second worst, but if I ever feel really down, I still get in the wine, cook myself my favourite comfort food - a big dish of pasta with onions, garlic, mushrooms, bacon, cheese, olive oil - and sit down when the house is empty to watch Amadeus with the volume up really loud. I don't bother with a mammoth sex session these days, well, not usually anyway.

I'm still on good terms with Ben's Mum, and one time I invited her over and we watched it together. She's a good stick and felt really bad when Ben left. My only wish now is that he doesn't watch the film with his new woman; that would really feel like a betrayal somehow.
(Tue 22nd Jul 2008, 13:53, More)

» Will you go out with me?

I used to feel cheated

Whenever I watched the telly, and there was some drama about single Mums. Not only did they manage to attract good looking men so easily that they’d usually have to beat them off with a stick, but the blokes they ended up shagging weren't put off by their kids (and the kids never interrupted their noisy lovemaking sessions) and after a slightly awkward afternoon at the park, they’d all be one big, happy family (unless it was one of those murder stories, in which case, all of the above, but ending in bloodshed).

In RL however, us single Mum's are provided, free of charge and gratis, with a large tattoo on the forehead which says "Single mum: Keep away" and a large bell attached to an unattractive hat which tolls loudly as we lumber down the high street, to warn the men of the parish to keep away.

I've had washing machine repairmen, window cleaners, gas meter-readers, catalogue deliverymen all come to the house and behave impeccably; true gentlemen. None of my childrens' teachers fancy me and none of their friends' dads are available or, it would seem, interested in a little bit on the side.

So, where to meet men? Well, at work of course. The one place where I am more "K" than someone's mum. The one place where I can display a modicum of control, professionalism and competence, in my own right. The main problem being that I have the misfortune to work in HR for a London borough. I know that people hate HR, and they're not alone, I do too.

It's a thankless job, but someone has to mess up the interviews, get payroll details mixed up and produce handbooks with updated policies on the need to be 'age blind' when recruiting for new posts - as well as race, gender, disability, sexuality, religion, and weight blind.

And do the training.

His name is Jason and I fell for him before I even saw him - honest! I spoke to him on the phone a few times when I was setting up some problem solving training. He had a soft northern accent, which is fairly rare around here, and which I couldn't quite place until he said "book" and it came out as "boook" - Stoke-on-Trent. He also had a smile in his voice which I found infectious. He worked in the planning area of the council but was a specialist in problem solving and was coming to us on a six month secondment, to roll out the techniques he'd learnt to various areas of the organisation. I was his main point of contact.

There is one good thing about working in HR: you have contacts. As carefully as a hunter, I stalked my prey - never getting too close, never getting up-wind, always playing it cool. Well, that was the plan, in reality, I rang Katie, a woman I knew in planning, and invited her for coffee. No need to say more - she knew there was a reason as we weren't good buddies or anything, just long acquaintances. As we sat down in the canteen later that day I could see she was dying to know why I'd contacted her. I tried a little small-talk but she told me to stop messing about and cut to the chase.

"So, this guy Jason," I said, "I'm going to have to be working with him quite a bit for the next six months, and, I, just wondered, what he was like." From her face, I could tell she could read my mind as clearly as black pen on a flip-chart.

"Well, he's very good looking!" she started, grinning like a fool and checking my reaction, "and he's single".

The next day it was raining but I got up as soon as the alarm went off and made sure the kids got up early too. I dressed carefully and put on my best undies - not because I thought anyone would see them, but just because they made me feel more sexy. I always dress smart for work - unless it's dress down day - but I tried the 'soft and gentle but smart' approach that day - a knee-length summer skirt, white with a motif of large black stylised leaves and a soft, yellow cardigan and flat black shoes. I was running ten minutes early by the time I saw the kids off to the bus stop which meant I got to my desk relaxed and calm. The meeting was 9.30 and I thought that I was pretty well prepared.

I wasn't, not for what followed that morning.

As I said, I dressed smart - that was the dress code. Suits and ties were not obligatory for men, just smart casual, but many of the older men did wear suits every day. Jason though wore cargo trousers and a rumpled, casual striped shirt, open over a surfer-type t-shirt and red tennis shoes. He had a necklace of small beads, his hair was gelled and looked sun-bleached and he had a couple of days' stubble on his face. He was getting on for 6' tall and he had a lovely smile. He must have been in his mid to late 30s. As he walked through the door and scanned the office, everyone stopped what they were doing and gawped. It wasn't so much that he was a very good looking man, but more the contrast to the few men that usually came through that door.

"Hi, I'm looking for K," he said [loooking] "I'm Jason."

I sort of put my hand up and waved, as my mouth seemed not to work in its fallen-open state. I cleared my throat "Jason, hi, I'm K". I stood up and as he neared my desk, I leaned over to shake his hand, making sure I leant over a little further than necessary. Hey, if you've got them, flaunt them, and I've got them - three times a breast-feeder notwithstanding.

"Look," he said, "I specialise in getting people to think outside the box and come up with innovative solutions. What do you say we go to Costa Coffee for our meeting?"

"That sounds like a very fine idea to me," I said plucking my jacket off the coat stand before turning back to my desk and bending down to pick up my bag from the floor. "If anyone needs me, I've got my mobile," I told the others. Jason was already holding the door open for me.

We found a free table with a couple of low comfy chairs around it and put down our coffees. I was feeling light-headed as I discreetly(ish) crossed my legs opposite him. We both sat back and looked frankly at each other and laughed.

"Shall I say it?" he said, "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"I've been waiting for this moment since I first spoke to you on the phone," I replied. “and I’m not convinced that I’m not still fast asleep in bed and dreaming.”

He nodded, "I could tell you were a wonderful person from your voice, but I had no idea you'd be such a beautiful woman too. So, what was it you wanted to get out of this meeting?”

“Well, the original idea was just to touch base and lay down some ground rules for the way we’d operate over the next few months, but now I’ve seen you I guess what I want to get out of this meeting is dinner…unless you’ve got a better idea?”

So, that was my chat-up line.

Four days later, with the kids spending the weekend at their Dad’s, I invited him for a late Friday night meal at my place. We both played it steady at first; he opened the wine, I finished the cooking. He chose some music, I told him to make himself comfortable and pour two glasses. I fell into his arms and then we were kissing like there was no tomorrow. We only broke away when I smelt scorching food coming from the kitchen.

I turned off the cooker and went back in to find Jason, who was half lying on the sofa, sipping his wine. “Dinner will be a bit delayed,” I informed him, “but I think I’ll be able to keep you entertained in the meantime.” I undid the buttons on my blouse and dropped it to the floor behind me. Then in a fair imitation of Pretty Woman, I knelt in front of him, undid his trousers, eased them down, along with his pants and then took him gently in my mouth. He reached down to cup my boobs, which were nestling in their soft bra, either side of his cock as my mouth slid up and down its length. As I felt the pressure mounting, I slowed down, and started using just my tongue, slowly left and right, ratcheting up the pressure until he blew.

By this time, my nipples were hard and as sensitive as a fat girl on the first day in a new school. Being at least five years older than Jason gave me a confidence I didn’t know I had. I stood up, and pulled Jason’s hands so that he was standing too.

“Would you undo my bra for me?” I whispered in his ear, turning towards the sofa. He did, and as the clasps came undone, I leaned forward, spread my legs and eased my skirt up to show him that I was wearing stockings. Then I moved round so that I could lean over the arm of the sofa and I felt him pulling my pants down. He knelt down and started lapping at me as I spread my legs further, raising a knee up onto the arm of the sofa. He knew what he was doing and it had been so long since I’d had anyone do that I was coming in what seemed like seconds, he kept on going as orgasm numbers two and three followed soon after, then he stood up and I could feel him gently easing his length into me with his hands holding onto my hips. I pushed back onto him and he started really moving. By the end we were both grunting and panting and shouting and as he came I gripped him with my internal muscles, not wanting him to ever stop.

We didn’t get up the next day (apart from a prolonged session in the shower) until late in the afternoon, when I got some food together to keep our strength up. Later, we went out for a walk and had a cheap pizza and Chianti from my favourite local Italian before heading back for ‘dessert’.

That was a month ago and we’re still at the amazed stage. He’s not met the kids yet - to be honest, I don’t want anything to spoil things yet. I know they have to change, will change, but I’m not ready for that yet, and Jason agrees. I’ve told the kids that I’ve met someone and that they’ll meet him soon, but meanwhile, I’m quite enjoying working for the first time in years.
(Tue 2nd Sep 2008, 16:31, More)

» Festivals

The best EVER
It was quite possibly the first ever WOMAD in 1982 but it could have been the following year.

I'd never been to a festival before but my eventually-to-be-ex-husband-but-at-that-point-boyfriend was a bit of a muso and dragged me, willingly, along. It was all very nice and we did the usual things but one thing sticks in my mind as a highlight, not just of the festival, but probably the year.

At that time I'd never heard of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan [and I can tell by the looks of bemusement on most of your faces that some of you still haven't] but the man was, quite simply, the voicepiece of God. Sadly he's no longer with us, but his music lives on. For those that don't know, he was the king of Qawwali {see: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qawwali} the mystic music of the Sufis. The group was about ten strong and consisted of a few solo singers, backing singers/clappers, harmonium players and a tabla player, all sat cross-legged on the stage with Nusrat in the centre, magnificent as a Buddha, a big, fat man with a voice bigger than his belly.

We'd both been smoking some very fine Nepalese black all day and were feeling more than mellow, in fact we were half inclined to nip back to the tent but Ben really wanted to see this, so we found a nice spot at the back of the tent and settled down. The music was incredible - each piece would start slowly, voices and harmonium slowly weaving up and down a scale for a few minutes until Nusrat launched into the first chorus. Hand-claps would start and each line would be repeated by the backing singers, the momentum building, the tabla throbbing, the harmoniums grinding, the voices wailing and flying, the steady clapping of the backing chorus. We were both transfixed and transported. After the first number ended the applause was immense and we settled down for the next number, I sat in front of Ben and he put his arms around me and we slowly rocked along with the music. As the next song built, he gently started rubbing my tits through the thin material of my floaty dress and I could feel his hard-on grow against my spine.

At the end of the second song I manoevered myself next to Ben and discreetly got out of my knickers before kneeling down over Ben's outstretched legs with my back to him again. I spread my dress so that it covered his lap and he undid his jeans and slid his pants down. This time, as the music slowly built, I gently rocked up and down on my knees until he was able to slide smoothly inside me. I can't adequately describe the feeling as for the whole of the next song, which was at least 15 minutes, I ever so gently rocked up and down on Ben's hard cock while my eyes and ears were fixed on the group of musicians and singers on the stage. The music built and built, hippies danced and swayed, the voices soared and swooped and Ben's hand slowly reached around, under my dress, over my thigh, found my clit and began to rub in time to the beat. I'm not a religious person, but that night I definitely had a religious experience and seriously considered becoming a full-time Sufi. I came like a train but Ben had to wait until the middle of the next song and my second mind-blowing orgasm before he shot a load so long and hard that it almost came out of the top of my head.

[If you're interested I it was 'Dam hama dam ali ali' that was the big one. We tried replicating the experience at home but it was never quite the same. Good fun trying though.]
(Fri 5th Jun 2009, 16:21, More)