Me (Andrew) aged 18 years

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This is me aged 18 a young fresh faced engineering apprentice, cheeky and smiling the photograph having been taken at work by my apprentice trainer, why an earth he was taking my photograph God only knows?…………… I’m wondering is he still with us? A great guy.

Big sigh, I gaze at this photo and think to myself ‘where an earth have those thirty four years gone?’ I look at my cheeky grin and wonder ‘which of my young friends am I looking across at?’ I can remember for certain feeling embarrassed and someone close by was making some sort of funny comment………. happy days I’m so pleased I discovered this photo as for a full head of hair I’m saying nothing!

I know it’s been a while but for the first time in many months I’m happy, not so depressed and feeling positive about life because Britain appears to be reopening for business, yesterday my Boss phoned to say I may be unfurloughed and return to work Monday Morning! Fingers crossed and there’ll be a posting from there for sure.

After ten weeks of legally enforceable home detention, only a single days exercise to purchase groceries from the Supermarket, perhaps the occasional illegal visit to my mother’s for a natter and shared cup of tea, yes due to unexpected political reasons Britain is rushing out of lockdown. You may be aware last weekend our Government completely trashed it’s corona virus health policy just so as to save one political advisor, the name of Dominic Cummings might ring a bell, all I can add is this very obnoxious arrogant Machiavellian civil servant MUST be deemed so important as to justify offending the entire nation and we really are angry. Never again will Johnson be able to call on the public to make sacrifices and follow his clear health instructions, with one lie all trust and compliance disappeared in the space of hours, so now we know, rules are made for us little people to follow yet are there to be broken by the ruling elite, but isn’t that the way it’s always been?

Military Generals strategize and plan their war campaigns, but it’s only the Privates who die in the trenches, time to move on, open schools and universities, get people back to work earning money and to be honest I’m not tooo disappointed, it’s all a question of expectations and in hindsight I’d never have expected Cummings to obey the Law anyway.

Google ‘Dominic Cummings broke the rules’ if you’re intrigued, then again I wouldn’t bother.

I’ll be completely honest, as I always am on this WordPress, the first thought crossing my mind after attaching this picture of my 18 year old self was err sex! Unsurprisingly my first hypothetical question to female (or lol male) readers is, if you met this guy way back in the day 1983/4 might you have slept with this young virgin? Lol don’t answer but just so as you know this pleasant anxious guy had many issues about his looks also low self esteem to such a point he never got laid until many years later, 123 ahhhh. What plays on my mind lol today and after many recent liaisons with older women, I’m feeling disheartened because I remember opportunities presented themselves on certain evenings out say no more, and occasional readers to this Blog might already be aware (they won’t so humour me) just might remember I hadn’t yet masturbated myself to orgasm still at age 18! I know unbelievable or what!

All I can add is we lived in different more innocent times, I’m the product of a school with appalling sex education policies because incredible as it may sound to some, I hadn’t yet worked out how to use my penis properly more’s the point like most people I guess I can’t say I was overly concerned. Yes I’d purchased a second hand copy of ‘Penthouse magazine’ from my friend ‘Paul Suker’, money and pornographic contraband exchanging hands one sports afternoon in the school gymnasium changing rooms, but and this still makes me angry today ( 😀 ) just imagine the years of pleasurable me time I’d missed out on? Am I unique or were many other girls and boys of the 70s equally as naïve?

Anyways back in the good old days and yes they were, sex was rarely spoken about and MOST DEFINITLEY content WASN’T as readily accessible as now……….. just imagine my 1980s TV had 3 Channels and one of those was the BBC and if ‘auntie Beeb’ ever made the cardinal sin of showing a pair of naked female breasts on screen, questions WOULD have been asked in The Houses of Parliament, I kid you not, ‘The Viewers and Listeners Society’ that powerful 1970’s self appointed moral compass of the nation would have cited obscenity laws and executive BBC heads might have rolled.

I’m of an older generation you see (I’m old) I’d yet to use a computer for the first time, the internet and www were the stuff of science fiction films and possibly a day dream eureka moment sparking Steve Jobs imagination, as of this very moment I could google ‘naked woman’, press return and well you get the idea, yes I’d kissed girls but as yet never consensually groped let alone sex. The photo above brings back so many returning memories, break times of listening to fellow apprentice dating tales (or bs stories who knows), secondhand lurid accounts of fingering girlfriends the evening before and yes young men spare few details in close company, hmm… I guess that’s how unfortunate young ladies garner a ‘bad’ reputation, then again I have a sense girls are NO different when chatting amongst friends.

Anyways moving on!

I discovered the above photograph whilst clearing out my spare room, thirty plus years have passed by for heavens sake, and gazing at my youthful cheeky grinned self again I can remember this moment snapped in time as if yesterday, in hindsight I don’t lol think I was such a bad looking young man, perhaps if I’d been a little more cavalier on our apprentice nights out together, not been as shy also blessed with the self confidence and silver tongues possessed by several colleagues, looking back I know I passed on opportunities (judge me), you don’t need reminding thoughts of sex cross a young mans imagination once every 3 minutes. Back in the day at breaktimes, we fifteen used to sit on a wall outside the apprentice training college and watch attractive young women walk past, and whether you ‘men hating lesbian feminists’ agree with me or not, these young women adored the admiring looks and good natured attention. Happy days.

Err not the posting I’d intended to write, but not to worry sooon I might be back at work which makes me very happy 🙂 . 

A. Shepherdson 2020

Holiday time is well and truly over

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Now I have to work from home the same as everyone else!

I had a severe reality check Wednesday afternoon, I’m not joking for effect because although lockdown this past 7 weeks has been a living hell, self isolating in my home for 23 hours each and every day being near intolerable, but if I’m honest with you dear readers, in some respects slipping into a routine of doing very little can be likened to a staycation. I’ll not lie waking of a morning at 9am beats my pre-pandemic 5.45am hands down, better still COVID restrictions mean I don’t have to queue at the bus top then endure a 1 hour commuter ride into Oxford, crammed like sardines in a tin rubbing shoulders with 50 other weary commuters. Yep lockdown does have its upside, I’m doing very little to keep my brain active and the Government pays my wages!

Oh yes returning to Wednesday’s afternoon!

Well first I receive a text saying my boss will arrive outside my home within minutes, also a reminder to socially distance at all times and we’d better get used to it because this is the new normality. Then just as I finished reading my text a Van pulls up outside my home, so I stepped out into the May sunshine to meet with my work boss, a guy I hadn’t seen for nearly 2 months and I think we both enjoyed the banter and conversation. Then he opened the rear doors to his Van and placed a selection of computer equipment between us on the pavement. 

As you can glean from my photograph of a newly assembled computer workstation, my employer has purchased new laptops, screens and peripherals so that we Technicians can work from home, yep a reality check that my 7 week holiday time is well and truly over. But having to work from home isn’t so bad, I’m emailing colleagues and I’ve sensed these past several weeks being isolated from work is taking a mental toll, is emotionally draining and beginning to affect my mental health. So after quickly Googling to find out the cost of all this Dell equipment I discovered the new laptop cost £1000 alone! And wow after switching on and downloading the required software I soon realised this laptop is a powerful amazing piece of tech………… shame it’ll have to be returned one day.

Now I have to draw on my reserves of self-discipline, get myself into a routine frame of mind and work, there’ll be no more sitting in my garden enjoying the warm sunshine on my face. But seeing my boss after such a long time was a reminder of how much I’m missing social interaction with my work colleagues, a reminder that when the sun’s out and the temperatures rise so do dress and skirt hemlines! Sigh, there’ll be no Female secretaries wearing transparent summer blouses or girly age 18+ students with exposed long legs, no cute young Researchers with shapely boobs clothed in loose fitting tee shirts, you know the ones where she leans forward and the viewer gets a flash of pink boobs, however not this year, 2020 will be a disappointment in so many different ways. 

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So back to work it is along with hundreds of other employees working from home, solitary independent individuals who’s only connection is by means of the internet, hmm I’m wondering post pandemic might this be the workplace of the future? 

A. Shepherdson 2020

My Toolbox, only trouble is it’s at Work!

‘Working for a living adds purpose to life and a reason to get out of bed every weekday morning’

After 6 weeks of lockdown (legally enforced home detention) I’m sooo mind numbingly bored, the day to day tedium of eating and sleeping, one daily walk, perhaps masturbating, and living on my own is draining me of all spirit and enthusiasm to live, I’m NOT necessarily complaining mind, because we’re all fed up with these COVID-19 restrictions, all upset by tragic heart wrenching News stories that test our emotional resilience, to such a point many of us no longer watch the horror and limit our exposure just so as to remain sane! 

If truth be told I’m missing my workplace, I long for the social interaction with colleagues, to see their friendly faces, listen to amusing tales and funny stories, share anecdotes and gossip about who’s alledgidly having an affair (I work in a large institution where gossip is everywhere!) I’m missing the comradery and banter nurtured over the many years we’ve worked together, I miss chatting about yesterday’s soccer matches, putting the world’s to rights, complaining about Management and yes social interaction with female secretaries or admiring (18+) shapely ‘girly’ students……. those f###ing filthy Chinese and their disgusting insanitary non existent food hygiene habits have a lot to answer for!

(Or was covid released from a Lab?)

Yes I’m increasingly frustrated but most of all I’m harbouring feelings of rage, angry at these disgusting b******* who’ve robbed good decent people of their paid occupations, changed lives forever, and tragically so many people have lost relatives before their natural time, such a needless waste of life and heartbreakingly avoidable……. And yes I’ll freely admit to having walked past Asians and felt like voicing my anger, giving them a piece of my mind, of course I don’t but I understand why these people are being racially abused, and yes I felt terribly sorry for the Nottingham Chinese lady who was doused with hot coffee by abusive van drivers, yes unfair and uncalled for, but I understand the reasons why.

Why? Because whatever happens after this pandemic is over our lives will never be the same as before, those experts telling you how life will change are lying because no one knows how this will end, but be sure of one thing IT will end!

As usual my stream of consciousness has strayed.

The reason for this posting was an excuse to share a short video my workbench, the reasons why I filmed easy to explain simply because I’d been ‘test driving’ my new smart phone camera……. but watching once again I miss my workbench terribly, between the hours of 7.30am-4.30pm I’ll use those hand tools throughout the day, I’ve sat at this bench 5 days a week for the past 15 years, I’m comfortable relaxed and at ease with the world when I’m making parts or putting kit together, I know my way around these tool chests so well, and lol rather sadly, I can instinctively choose the correct required tool to such a point you could blindfold me and I’ll find whatever you ask for.

I miss my toolboxes so much so it actually hurts, now I’m wondering if those 3 bananas are still there!

(Having said all OF that I can’t say as I miss my boss 😀 )

Photographs taken (by me) from within my place of work, technically I shouldn’t be publishing them but after carefully scanning I can’t see anything tooo incriminating.

So now I’m wondering post pandemic will I ever work again?

 

A. Shepherdson 2020

Plagiarism on WordPress

'Can I have your password before you croak?'

(Having said all below I wouldn’t worry yourselves, certain niches of creativity for example poetry might be copied, but as for daily bloggers you know writing about life, sharing thoughts and opinions I’d guess there’ll be ok…. anyways an interesting conversation all the same?)

Plagiarism on WordPress goes on, thieving of a blogger’s written thoughts and ideas happens, we all know it does and I guess it’s part and parceled in with the Gig…. not a victimless crime and the phrase ‘cest la vie’ comes to mind, but I’d love to understand the motivation of people who do it, what drives them to start a blog, copy other writer’s poetry and pass it off as their own? Can’t be the money because come on, does anyone really make enough here to live on?

Perhaps the problem is down to darker motives, envious of another’s popularity, wishing for thousands of followers (do they all read?) Coveting the hundreds of likes beneath a post, jealous of a comments thread 20 30 40 readers long, bitterness at the knowledge blog friendships nurtured over sometimes years are such fun. Yep I understand the attraction for the lonely, we all wish to be liked also popular, we all enjoy social interaction but plagiarising content just isn’t right.

My suggestion is give ‘original’ writing a crack… see where it takes you? Or perhaps a  photo blog?

Plagiarism! def: The practice of taking someone else’s work or ideas and passing them off as one’s own.

My ‘Jojo Rabbit’ will follow sooon I promise, but I’ve thoughts of plagiarism on my mind, I’ve also to write of my experience dating a real life blogger I first met on WordPress, we became chatty in comments as you do, and writers I follow might knowingly smile because I enjoy commenting blogs I love reading….. and no one has labelled me a stalker… yet!

Those Posts will come, better to have tooo many ideas than none at all.

In my time loitering around this internet backwater largely left alone by assholes and bullies, I put that solely down to the lack of money making opportunities, writers are tooo intelligent to be taken in by scammers, and middle aged sex obsessed men don’t make for great marketing hook-ups unless you’re flogging condoms or private sexual disease treating clinics.

Where was I? Oh yes plagiarism, the theft of words and ideas. Before the lady finished blogging for good, a fabulous Canadian writer name ‘Skinny and Single’ recounted tales of posts she’d had stolen, rewritten onto fake blogs edited by sad individuals, ‘Skinny’ at the time was a blogging superstar. Then there’s my own tawdry 1000 word tales of bedroom sexual liaisons, fun facts about vaginas and observations of the human female mammal, have any of my posts been copied? ‘Skinny and Single’ replied my question, saying in comments ‘You will have been copied’. 

‘Such is life’ 🙂 .

So have I been ripped off? Not that I know of, but after several years blogging, and hundreds of posts written I have NO doubt a post (or two) has been copied and pasted onto another’s blog, with their authorship beneath….. so do I wish to be notified? No not really, arguments would ensue, profanities exchanged, there’d be anger and we know how dangerous it is to make enemies on the internet, IP’s can be traced and I’m just not into dramatic conflict.

So if you enjoy classics such as ‘Fun facts’ about the human female Vagina go click here!

But I have no doubt I’d be upset, to read someone’s authorship beneath my post knowing how challenging I find the process would hurt, but I guess unfortunately plagiarism comes part of the Gig. As for me I’ve never copied, ffs where’s the fun in that! Yes I’ll read a Cosmipoliton magazine sex survey, feel empowered to run with the idea and then write my own responce……. prompting discusion is ok, theft is wrong.

Have I breached Copyright? Have I frigging ever! This Blog is littered by photos downloaded stolen borrowed from the internet, yes guilty as charged and I guess I’m not proud of that, they enhance a post, make for lol fun clickbait, entice draw readers in…. hopefully! I guess I shouldn’t but I do attribute ownership where possible and I never pass off as my own.  

(After a 5 minute period of introspection where hot ‘mint’ tea was consumed.) 

Yes I agree with Hester in South Africa… if you wish to download one of my own photos feel free to do so, just don’t say it belongs to you 🙂 .

 

A. Shepherdson 2020

 

 

Intolerant Veganism!

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Just last week five British Supreme court judges ruled veganism can now be classified as a religion, yep no different to Islam Christianity and any other faith humans wish to follow. You’ll have to Google (if you really can be bothered) to read the case details and ramifications, because mark my words vegans can be an intolerant bunch, many with a political sinister agenda for sweeping change, if you eat meat then be prepared for persecution because they’re after us carnivores, and if you don’t agree with these fanatical uncompromising zealots then be prepared to change your eating habits……….. Oxford’s already experienced demonstrations demanding supermarkets stop selling dairy cows milk and more will follow.

That’s enough talk of religion.

This evening’s news was dominated by the horrific fires sweeping across Australia, heart wrenching scenes and a manmade global warming disaster that’s killed human life, consumed millions of acres of forest, reduced thousands of homes to ash and most upsetting of all animals, birds, reptiles and insects have perished, one billion to be exact including 30% of all koala bear population. I had to shut down my computer because the devastation, photos and wildlife deaths reduced me to tears, first the Amazon rainforest burned now all Australia and the magnitude was emotionally all too much.

One billion lost for Christ’s sake.

(I like vegans… really I do!)

So where does veganism fit into this tragic tale? Each and every morning on the way to work I call in at my local supermarket and buy a sealed plastic tray of blueberries, and everyday I feel awful because reading their country of origin near stings my eyes.

That country changes sometimes several times a week, they can be sourced from Chile, Peru, South Africa, Morocco and so many more, I glance up and down the fruit isle and there are punnets of strawberries from Holland, grapes from Algeria, there’s African dates, Turkish soft apricots and almonds from California………. ALL plant based produce requiring vast acres of forest land and gallons of fresh drinking water by the millions.

So I ask you at what point does farming plant based food (a fact forgotten by those ‘holier than thou’ self satisfied vegans) be classed as the devastation and destruction of wild natural habitats?

You want aovocado on toast for breakfast? Then understand they’re flown in by jet aircraft and farmed by Panamanian mafia gangs.

And don’t get me started on the tonnes of aviation fuel required to transport this tasty fresh produce across the globe? Airplane jet engines belching out tonnes of CO2 gases into the atmosphere, not forgetting the litres of water required to grow let’s say, a single raspberry bush………. and please don’t question my fruit growing horticultural knowledge because I grow my own raspberries!

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One of my raspberry bushes

So my message to vegans and their new religion is before you lambast us meat eating Nazis, remember veganism has a far greater environmental cost to this once beautiful natural world!

Rant over and I’m as guilty as the next man.

Pray for Australian wildlife if you believe in God, and let’s ALL change our buying habits shall we? I guess that means no more blueberries for breakfast 😞 .

A. Shepherdson 2020

Google street and Lilly’s mini convertable

Mild sex themes and written just for fun. Intrigued? Then please read on.

So Andrew why retell this true story in a blog? Well sex themed posts are a lot of fun to write and this one’s definitely unusual, mind you ladies names must be changed or you just might receive angry NO furious texts 11 o’clock at night, a long story read here…….. though on reflection I wouldn’t bother.

So with secrecy also discretion clearly in mind, let us name our lady err Lilly!

Don’t you think ‘Google street view’ is the most amazing website ever created? Now here’s a switched stream of consciousness for you. Ten years ago the thought that you could log onto a PC, enter a house number into a Google search engine, press ‘click’ and you’d be whisked to the exact location on a digital map was the stuff of dreams, you can even do this on a phone for heaven’s sake. What’s more you can move a yellow avatar, drop him onto the chosen house number and by the wonders of near science fiction itself, the screen will change to a street level photograph looking directly at the house you’re searching for.

Incredible, and because human beings are prone to breaking the law, you’ll gaze at alternative views and in effect ‘case the joint’, garden gates that may be unlocked, windows that could well be left open, all in all a website that’s tailor made tool for house burglars.

One evening several years ago, laptop to hand sat in a comfy living room chair, I located my own home on Google street having decided to take a nose around my neighbourhood, we’ve all done this and fascinating this car like journey can be to.

(As an aside my mother discovered a neighbour had built a swimmng pool in the garden she hadn’t known about! 😀 )

Ahh before I continue, below are two ‘screen shot’ images of my own home taken from Google street, but note all sensitive information has been blanked out, I don’t want any cat burglars robbing my home when I’m out!

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Incidentally, many years ago I was standing at a bus stop yes waiting for a bus, and this van slowly drove past with the name Google emblazened across the side, and with what looked like a tripod fixed to the roof taking 360 degree photos from the road, I’ve since located that bus shelter to see if the camera captured me but of course all us prospective passengers were blurred out.

BTW as is the number plate of the stationary Mini convertible outside my home.

Anyways there I sat driving an imaginary car ‘up and down’ this quiet street I live in, and I can distinctly remember wondering who an earth owned that white Mini half parked on the pavement? Now I don’t own this sporty little car, neither do my neighbours nor any of my friends family or acquaintances. Well this started to bother me, just be aware I live in a very quiet neighbourhood with lots of road parking space, yet this Mini sat directly opposite my front door, no question in my mind the owner was visiting me, was I out perhaps at work? Who were they?

Then after half an hour or so of wracking my brains, like a streak of lightening I remembered it was Lilly’s car, yes at that very moment a Google van drove past, this young lady was inside my house and now I remembered she’d said her own car was being serviced in a garage, and she’d been loaned a white Mini courtesy car for the day.

Well I was chuckling to myself well pleased I’d solved this worrisome conundrum, then lol a second more wicked thought crossed my mind, and yes as I zoomed in closer to the second floor bedroom window, the curtains were drawn closed and note in the daytime, why would my curtains be CLOSED? 

I know exactly why, Lilly was in my bedroom that’s why! 😄

Well turns out at the very second the Google street van drove past photographing my house, for absolute certain I can say without any shadow of doubt, Lilly and I were having sex in BED together, now there’s a thought, could even have been the very moment I climaxed as she rode my penis cowgirl. Now if you are interested and I know you are, cowgirl is my very favourite position, heavenly sex for lazy men. I can visualise Lilly now with her long blonde hair, a pretty ‘blank’ year old with trim figure firm strong thighs straddling my groin as she breathlessly rode me like a female jockey astride her stallion.

(I mean sitting on her horse ‘bobbing up and down’ as it raced to the finish line!)

Keep up 😀 . 

Lovely lady was Lilly, with her firm to grasp high round boobs and bubbly personality, I’ve seldom had more enjoyable fantastic sex than with Lilly, she could even swallow my entire 160mm shaft down her throat……….. with condom fitted of course. Hmm happy days and she had the cutest little kitty!

Now come on! Tell me if I’m wrong, what are the chances that anyone can pin point where they were, or what they were doing at the time Google chose to ‘upload’ a photo of their home on the internet?

Can you ‘top’ that with your own unusual tale of coincidences conundrums and science fiction technology? 

A. Shepherdson 2019

Daytrip to London (photos)

Several weekends ago, eagle eyed readers to this WordPress may have seen my architectural series of posts titled Trellick Tower! Well seeing as I was in London I took many photos throughout the day and thought I’d share within a post, and why not because I really enjoy looking at personal photos from bloggers I follow.

A London themed ‘photo dump’……………. as the cool internet bloggers say!

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The impressive building to the left, overlooking an ice rink! Is the world famous Natural History Museum

Is it me feeling jaded and forgetful, or do Christmas celebrations seem to arrive earlier and earlier each year? Hmm I’d guess a mixture of both or in other words I’m getting old!

Read More »

Sandro’s Café

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A traditional English breakfast and yes tasting good as it looks 😀

Are you familiar with that British culinary tradition ‘the fried English Breakfast’? I’d suggest even if you live abroad you’ll have heard us non vegans may well start the day with a fried egg bacon and sausage, a side order of buttered slices of bread and a steaming hot mug of builder’s tea! Now be aware I don’t begin everyday eating this ‘fat laden’ potential heart attack, but if I’m day tripping in London (for example my visit to Trellick Tower) I will attempt to find a High Street Café such as Sandro’s in Notting Hill N. London.

……… and NO this post isn’t another themed Trellick Tower!

I prefer to travel light if I’m out and about on a weekend, a rucksack camera waterproof jacket and a little cash is all I require, well after several underground train rides earlier this November, I walked a short distance into the heart of Notting Hill and happened across Sandro’s pictured below. A traditional English cafeteria which has all but disappeared from our High Streets, they do survive and can be found in large Towns and Cities but more often than not these cafés have been replaced by that culinary cancer that IS McDonalds………………. you’ll never find me eating a ‘Big Mac’ in these God awful ‘restaurants’, identical neon eyesores you’ll see the length and breadth of Britain devoid of all character and tradition.

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Sandro’s Café, Notting Hill in North London

Yes I agree Sandro’s doesn’t appear the most upmarket looking establishment from the outside, though once inside, heat from cooking stoves warming the coldest customers walking in from ice cold November Streets, this ‘homely’ café with white Formica tables and London photos adorning its walls, has a welcoming ambiance befitting the average working man or woman.

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And I wonder is that Sandro himself preparing my breakfast behind his counter? No idea, lovely food though and ALL for a little over £5, which surprised even me knowing how expensive London is to live in these days! Burn every KFC and McDonalds to the ground that’s what I say, and let’s have a return to our traditional English cafeterias please 🙂 .

(I AM joking btw.)

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 My London Transport train ticket for the day, 09 NOV 19

Now I’m the first to admit I’m far from a particularly skilled photographer, but I’ll always have my small £8 eBay digital camera to hand (all the photos on this my WordPress are snapped by this internet bargain buy), and as well as taking photos of Brutalist 1970s Tower Blocks, I’m sharing pictures of London taken that same day………. not particularly noteworthy APART from I do enjoy looking at ‘naturalistic’ personal photographs, especially if taken by bloggers I follow from across the globe.

A London themed ‘photographic dump’ (a phrase the cool kids use) to follow.

 

A. Shepherdson 2019

‘Bonnie & Carol’

Perhaps the reason for feeling so down these last few months is little easier to explain than Brexit, the never ending bombardment of truly apocalyptic awful news stories near drain the life out of me, so much so and truthfully I haven’t watched a complete edition of TV News in probably three years!

(Shamefull, that’s truly what’s called sticking one’s head in the sand.)

And yes you did read that correctly, I’ll go further I seldom read Brexit news stories emblazoned across my workmates daily copy of ‘The Metro’ newspaper and ANNOYINGLY I have no choice at the moment, Brexit news stories appear on my laptop homepage and I cannot get rid of them! Yes I’ll Log-on to be presented with a feed of ‘personalised’ stories chosen by Microsoft because apparently I either need or wish to read them! I don’t, but there’s ALWAYS one story that will suck and draw me in, guaranteed to leave me despairing hopeless and thoroughly depressed.

Or perhaps the sadness I feel is that I’m nursing a belated broken heart, you see my father passed away last Spring and now after that first shock, days of funeral preparations, the emotionally draining cremationhas long passed, perhaps my state of mind is little harder to explain than a delayed reaction? We weren’t that close and now I harbor guilty feelings……. but there you are life goes on 🙂 .

Brexit and personal grief are a ghastly combination enough to drain the life blood out of even the most optimistic of cheery souls. Then again perhaps my current downhearted despair is little harder to explain than I haven’t slept with a woman in what seems ages, after all the fleeting ‘pleasures’ a male’s righthand brings has its limitations! An afternoon with Diana would truly gladden the heart, rejuvenate and nourish my downbeat soul, I love her beautiful Polish mind and gorgeous body and seldom felt more alive than when laying beside this wonderful sexy siren’s naked body…………..Diana’s the most exquisite firm plump tits you ever did see ❤ . 

Now lol I’ve truly romantic ‘powerful’ ballads performed by two icons of 1980s popular culture, Bonnie Tyler’s ‘Total Eclipse Of The Heart’ and Carol Decker’s ‘China In Your Hand’, they never fail to bring a cheer my sad soul and modern day classic tunes from my youth, just one thing! Make sure you turn up the volume and play them LOUD!!!

 

A. Shepherdson 2019

‘Join me on this journey’ into Women’s Bras

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I chose this photograph because She’s a fine looking woman 🙂

‘Not a lot of people know this’ (a Michael Caine quote), but according to WordPress Statistics each and every single week, no less than forty-six occasions throughout this May alone! One particular post written by me June 19 2018 has been viewed from right across the Globe, and studying said statistics as I’m prone to do whenever bored, I can also tell you ‘that post’ is also my most viewed EVER!!!

I’m truly grateful and genuinely humbled btw.

Now I’m neither bragging or showing off, certainly not lauding this my original piece of writing as a gem of modern literature, (f#ck no), in fact I’m rather surprised this one is the most popular of all 190! So after a protracted prolonged build up I can tell you Andrew’s most viewed post is:

‘An open apology to women not wearing bras!’

So there you, in some respects I’m unsurprised a bra post is number one because internet aficionados tell us 90% of internet traffic is sex themed, not to worry though I’m rather chuffed and why not.

Two reasons for this evening’s ‘Blog’. Several day ago the fabulous LA of wakingupthewrongsideof50 noticed a blogging phenomena I’d not really thought about until then, I’ll quote in her own words,

‘Bloggers that gave up quickly: I noticed a pattern among them. Almost every one of them used the phrase “Join me (us) on this journey”. I have now decided that those words are the bloggers kiss of death. If you write these words on your first blog you are not going to survive.

Why?

As I have not done a research study on this, I can only give you my humble (?) opinion. When you use the word “Join” you are specifically writing to an audience. You expect that people will listen. Bad expectation.’

LA’s Join Me on This Journey post has itself become very popular amongst blogging readers because as she goes on to say, ‘anyone who has written for WordPress knows you blog for yourself’, with all your heart and soul you want to be read, to have followers, to be liked, to be commented and replied to, however writing for an audience is not the reason you blog.

Sadly (and yes I genuinely mean sadly) if you set tooo higher expectations of yourself, write with the expectation hundreds of people will read, then I’m afraid this will only make you unhappy because apart from a lucky minority (who work very hard btw) fame and popularity will pass you by. 😦 A sad truth and only ONE of many reasons why you have to write for yourself, though take heart people will eventually read and follow your writing journey.

I said two reasons. I’ll come to said second in a Mo!

I wrote ‘An open apology to women not wearing bras’ (did I tell you this is my most viewed ever?) For no other reason than I had an absolute blast possibly because it’s the type of post that gets me sexually aroused. Anyways I blogged this many months ago and ever since publishing week by week people across the Globe people have viewed (finger’s crossed enjoyed), and if there is a moral to this story then it’s write for yourself, embrace the creative process and whatever transpires is a welcome bonus.

Oh yes reason number two for this evening’s post! Well I have written yet another bra themed tale featuring women’s boobs and cleavage, which in turn gave me the reason idea to reblog ‘An open apology……….’ and why not ablogfromtheuk is my very own WordPress.

Tomorrow: ‘An open apology to women not wearing bras!’

Sunday: ‘On the 87th day God created cleavage.’

A. Shepherdson 2019 

Helen’s office window

🙂 A ‘penny for your thoughts’ dear Readers and NO this isn’t a sexual Post!

I’m curious to know if this photo below speaks to you? No SERIOUSLY, gaze at this woolly mammoth and I’d suggest after a moments thoughtful contemplation your emotional reaction will be similar to my own!! Well I’m hoping so, because my imagination struggles to appreciate this living breathing animal actually existed and isn’t a product of CGI science fiction.

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A relative of the modern Elephant, they went extinct 3000-10000 years ago.

So did you take a good long look at this majestic shaggy Beast? Imagined it roaming ice-age Siberia Tundra, or perhaps a similar furry specimen, with its small ears to limit heat loss in sub zero temperatures, following the route of the £1.5 billion A14 Cambridge to Huntingdon road improvement scheme.

Huh?

You may be unaware a pair of ‘British’ mammoths were discovered here in 2018, and who knows perhaps the last two remaining species alive before receding glaciers covering prehistoric England pushed them into extinction!

So what an earth is the point to this evening’s Post? Baring in mind I know absolutely ‘diddly-squat’ about palaeontology, other than a great many Dinosaur skeletons have been discovered around Oxfordshire these past 200 years.

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And yes, I’m genuinely mesmerised by these Googled digital images.

Several weeks ago my Workplace Human Resources Manager by the name of err Helen? (Her name befits my tale) ‘forwarded’ an email ordering me to visit and speak with her 9am Friday morning, nothing to worry about other than a general housekeeping chat and check up on how I’m feeling, lol a long story. 

Now comfortably seated within her office, a cup of steaming coffee positioned on the desk in front of me, I’m silently looking across at this 35year old slim woman with mousy brown hair, pleasant in appearance and busying herself looking through Andrew’s medical records forward to her by Occupational Health. And yes I’d be lying if a wicked thought hadn’t momentarily crossed my imagination, visions of Helen bent forward over her desk ‘skirt pulled up, knickers down’ me giving her kitty ‘a good seeing to’ from behind!

‘Doesn’t everyone daydream of sexual possibilities with their work colleagues?’

Where was I? Oh yes woolly mammoths!!

Feeling bored and day dreamy, I glanced sideways through Helen’s office window looking across buff stoned University Colleges and distant open fields of South Oxfordshire beyond, a truly magnificent view for one reason! The 8th Floor of our Department’s workplace is in fact the tallest building across the whole of Oxford City, a ‘skyscraper’ constructed for unknown reasons many an employee has wondered about over the past 50 years.

“How an earth did the original planning application ever get approved, when Oxford’s strict planning laws limit buildings to no more than three stories tall?” 

Visit the 8th Floor, and you’ll see unobstructed panoramic views of dreaming Spires, ‘buff coloured’ Colleges and immaculate pea green lawns enclosed within high walled Quadrangles…………… jeeze, some Council Official must have been drunk at his desk the day this 8 story planning application passed through his hands?

Not to worry, when you are summoned to HR by ‘mousy’ Helen the real joy is admiring stunning City views through her office window, and it was at this moment I found myself momentarily whisked back thousands of years in time, near unbelievable vistas and visions of woolly mammoth giant elephant like beasts roaming across icy cold windswept Tundra landscapes, and what’s even more incredible these thoughts weren’t the product of any far fetched science fiction! I had to near prick my skin reminding myself these magnificent beasts ACTUALLY LIVED quietly plodding along (as elephants do) thousand year old tracks across this same land, and that truly blows my mind!

Then catching me unawares! Helen looks up into my face ready to begin her Friday cosy catchup conversation and with that all dreams of woolly mammoths disappear to be replaced by Helen’s lovely smile 😀 .

©A. Shepherdson 2019

Missionary (& NSFW)

I guess the truly intriguing side to WordPress is musing ‘I wonder who reads my blog?’ Hmm interesting, so previously in a blog post I’ve told you the length of an average erect penis, you may be aware Karina is a lady I meet inside Motels, and btw not even I know what the following post will be about?

(A Charles Dickens themed London trip follows sooon!)

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I was reminiscing the other day, recalling happy memories, enjoying thinking about the women I’ve slept with throughout my adult life, now without breaking confidences my Virginity was taken many years ago by a lovely lady named err let’s call her Jemma, yes not her name but Jemma suits her. Now I’ll refrain from letting you in on that wonderful afternoon because I’ve already written a post sharing that fabulous experience, very emotional and possibly the best afternoon of my life…………. btw this tale will appear on a blog near you sooon! 

Read More »

WOW you’ve a cute Ass! (NSFW)

Erotic flash fiction (original & by meee!)  

Never assume that guy standing behind you in ‘The Deli’ queue is deciding which soft cheeses to buy!

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Standing behind you in our shared bus queue, so close I could reach out my arms encircle your waist and draw you close into me, that hard bump below, my aroused groin pressing deep against your shapely pert bottom nestling between two barely visible peach shaped ass cheeks…………… but alas I can’t, I shan’t, I won’t nor ever would………. I value my reputation, cherish my liberty tooo dearly to put my fingers inside a sugary delicious sweetie jar. 

Read More »

Sexy, a fashion nightmare for the older woman?

Just for fun 🙂 .
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“Mutton dressed up as Lamb” Is a British way of describing a (deluded) older woman who is dressed in a style more suited to a younger woman, also slightly derogatory because she’s deliberately trying to appear young.

Or you may prefer Bernadette Matthews definition at mumsnet.com: 

‘Too much leg and cleavage on show at the same time!’

Regular readers to this WP will be aware I love interacting with other writers, well this evening I’ve a response post prompted by the excellent LA and her thought provoking blog Forever21, I urge you to follow she’s possibly my favourite blogger, slightly irreverent, ladles of honest American attitude and oozing oodles of common sense,.

‘I dressed in an outfit that I thought was good for the event and that I felt confident in. And basically, this is how you should feel when you walk out the door. A friend saw a picture of me and said that I looked stylish and sexy, which of course was my exact goal. But then I started to wonder- was I starting to push it?

So, while we were on line, I said this to my friend, who is in excellent shape and looks great for any age, and she simply shook her head and said “Yeah. I know. When do we actually look good for our age, and when do we start to look ridiculous.”

Ok I agree, LA probably didn’t have the derogatory and unfair ‘label’ mutton dressed up as lamb’ at the point of her writing ‘when do we look good for our age and when do we start to look ridiculous’, but hey they make interesting bedfellows don’t you think?

I’d suggest the what to wear dilemma hardly ever crosses a guy’s mind, I’m age 50 and feel completely comfortable wearing charcoal black jeans matched with a light blue Oxford long sleeved shirt, perhaps a sweater and smart shoes, all very casual, a look I could wear at work or down the pub of a weekend and I’d guess no one gives me a second glance………. HOWEVER I have no doubt what NOT to wear is a real headache for the older woman!

So as I’m at a lose end I did a little on-line surfing all in the name of research, oh and because I’m a guy who knows sweet FA about fashion! Then I happened across this jewel of Debenham’s research which said,

‘When it comes to fashion, nine in ten women aim to dress younger than their years. And more than half say they won’t start ‘dressing their age’ until they are at least 70’, further ‘Over half said they began to dress younger in their 30s and 90 per cent admitted they had started to dress younger by their mid-40s’.

Now LA’s a lady who loves lists and these Top 10 Items You’re Too Old to Wear, read as brilliant advice, and remember I know sweet FA about fashion, clueless, however I’m as quick to judge and point my finger as every other guy so why not give an opinion! Hmm, and I wouldn’t disagree with their 10 ‘fashion minefields’,

  1. Message tee shirts
  2. Too trendy denim
  3. Costume shoes
  4. Micro mini skirts
  5. Anything Showing Excessive Cleavage/Visible or coloured bra straps.
  6. White, Ribbed Cotton Tank Tops
  7. Hair gadgets
  8. Oversized decorated Hobo Bags
  9. Cheap unflattering underwear
  10. Loud accessories

“But trying too hard only calls attention to yourself – it’s overcompensating. You don’t need to dress like a teenager to look young.”

As I’ve said before I’m a keen observer of the human female mammal, read my posts, and I would suggest the true bananas skin, fashion fau-pa opportunity is sexiness, get it wrong wear a short a black leather skirt, heals inches too high, blouses too low cut are a recipe for unwanted attention from men, and disapproving looks from women worried about losing their man and I ain’t saying nothing about looking like a hooker!

Just avoid anything four inches or more above the knee and add tights to make a short skirt less risqué, say the experts. Or wear chic straight skirts, classy being the watchword, allowing you to show off some curves without making you look as though you’re pretending to be born after the Bill Clinton years!

It’s a worry but classy is the watch word, trouser jeans you can wear from the PTA meeting to a party when paired with the right top, stylish padded shoes with wider thicker heels and definitely avoid anything that shows excessive cleavage or visible coloured bra straps……….. or any underwear for that matter.

0818a65ff44362f28e79ebac376d6ec2I realise the older woman would never be caught dressed like this, whoever lol thought low-cut jeans and thongs was a good idea? But I guess the saying ‘you’re only young once applies!

Apparently the more mature lady ‘shouldn’t feel she needs to show it all off. Anything below the middle of your bustline has got to go,’ ‘A little goes a long way,” and no excessive ‘boobage’ past the age of 40, displaying too much sagging skin apparently is a no no, so go for a blouse underneath, unbutton a few buttons and you’re going to look sexy but classy’.

Having said all that, the summer of 2018 was one of Britain’s hottest, and I can recall as if yesterday sitting on the top deck of a bus, looking out the window and watching a woman age 65 if a day. Totally captivated I was, for this mature lady in her blue pencil skirt and restrained high heels wore a tight fitting tee shirt with, wait for it, no bra! And all I’ll add to that is she was a ‘big girl’ yet looked both classy and ravishing!

Way to go madam.

And now we arrive at number 9 ‘Cheap, Unflattering Underwear’ and I’ll profess to being an interested expert! As I’ve written before M&S tells us most women are not fitted properly, a woman’s breasts and body sags so I guess underwear needs to be as supportive as it is sexy.

Having said all or that, our Group Secretary at work throughout Summer wears low cut print dresses displaying her ample assets, the only trouble is us Technicians are NOT listening to our lecturing Professor! Yep I agree, appropriate sexiness is where an older woman can look classy or yes ‘Mutton Dressed Up as Lamb’.

And finally advice from the experts.

“Every woman must make her own decisions about when to break the rules, but what you’re striving for isn’t to look youthful – it’s to look ageless, this way, you’re going to look fabulous because the look is appropriate for you.”

A. Shepherdson 2019

How Long is an Average Length? (Penises)

cartoon-ruler-006(Humour, NO photos)

2 questions for you, do you know the average length of a human male erect penis? Also have you ever wished to know? If so read on!

I’m a respectfully playful soul on-line, all good fun and it passes the time quite pleasurably, so having tagged this post NSFW, I think it’s ok to share a question that’s sparked and arced my juvenile imagination for as long as I can remember, namely ‘how long is an average length?’ Btw please note this post’s content is about on a par as a woman’s magazine or an encyclopaedia!

Let me begin.

So yes I’m wondering this evening, how long is average length in inches OR centimetres? And no we’re not talking about the length of my telescope! So what do you do when you have a question that’s always puzzled you? You Google ’cause the days of visiting the library are alas long gone…………. yikes it’s been ages since I last visited a public library 😦 .

Amazingly, as of this moment in time I can only remember asking one lady this rather unusual question, and she gave hand-relief for a living! Well think for a second it’s just not the question to ask in polite company is it, women that is, because we men will discuss our lengths until the proverbial cows come home and compare when group showering………… oh yes we will, and do!!

Before I get to the point of sharing my vital statistics, and you just knew I was going to share my length didn’t you? Here are a few facts and figures to keep you amused. And yes I did once get a steel rule out to measure, I’ll admit to that one lol. So let’s talk statistics shall we, yes I researched facts and figures on the www, then blended with my own thoughts and opinions as always, that is apart from several highlighted quotations lifted from appropriate websites, i.e. thoughts on body image!

A collaboration between King’s College and our very own NHS polled 15,521 men, wow that is some serious studying, measuring both their penis length and girth when erect, now wait for it! Are you sitting down comfortably?

The average length of a penis when erect is 13.1cm/5.16″, now didn’t you always wish to know that? And there’s more, the average girth (circumference) is 11.6cm/4.59″ now I have to say if that’s the average then I’m feeling rather deflated!

You want more stats? Ok, the average length when flaccid is 9.2cm/3.16″ and the average softened girth is 9.32cm/3.67″, again I’m feeling slightly deflated if you’ll excuse the pun!! Now if all those figures seem low to you, it just goes to show the size of one’s penis isn’t such a big deal after all, and perhaps the length of a man’s aroused member, swollen appendage ain’t worth worrying about anyway!

More stats? I’ve got them! Only 5% of erect penises are bigger than 16cm/6.3″ long, now that figure cheered me up no end (excuse the pun), likewise only 5% of men have a penis shorter than 10cm/3.94″.

And now to growing old? For those of us closer to the end than the beginning penis size does get shorter with age, men in their 60’s to 70’s may lose 0.4″ to 0.6″ in penis length and interestingly, I never knew this, any increase in body fat percentage can result in the penis appearing smaller as a man ages………… now there’s an incentive for keeping one’s weight down, 0.4″-0.6″ may not seem a lot to a guy but it may mean the world to your partner!

More facts and figures? Ok one more, an internet-based survey of more than 50,000 men and women revealed 45% of men would like a larger penis.

‘Each penis is unique and boys develop at different ages and rates. During puberty, usually between the ages of 11 and 18, the penis and testicles develop more rapidly, although the penis doesn’t stop growing until the age of 21.’

So what does the fair sex think? 

Several studies that I happened across during my not so scientific research, suggested penis size is much lower on their list of priorities than for say, personal grooming also a man’s personality and all I can say is thank goodness for that! That’s the best news I came across all evening! In fact 85% of women were satisfied with their partner’s erection whereas only 55% of men were satisfied with the length of their own, and speaking for myself every guy is so very proud of his own appendage but when asked we’d all admit that we’d prefer a longer one……………. now I detest visual pornography but I did happen to watch a movie starring this black guy by the name of ‘Mandingo’, incredibly he had a 30cm/12″ penis and what’s more he knew how to use it!!

😮 12″ ffs!

According to a Professor Wylie on the internet? (Seriously the website said ‘Wylie’, or were they taking the piss?)

“It may come as a surprise to some young men, but most women have very little interest in the size of their penis and that’s been shown in numerous studies over time, research shows that when it comes to sex, women are much more interested in whether you are romantic, tender and sensitive to their needs and desires than your penis size.”

Yet more data for you, and come on be honest we all like comparing our preferences to national statistics. A published report by UCLA no less, showed 84% of women feel “very satisfied with their man’s penis size”, though that doesn’t differentiate between girth and length? Yes men worry whether their penis will sexually satisfy their partners but apparently we men can get equally anxious worrying about how we look naked, and personally speaking how my body is perceived by a lady does worry me!

And now we come to that old chestnut does size matter? Of particular concern for some men is whether their penis will be sexually satisfying for themselves also their partner, and according to the internet, when it comes to sexual intercourse bigger may not always be better, now there’s some good news for you!

In yet another study, researchers interviewed 75 sexually active women asking what size of penis they would prefer for a one-night stand, apparently they preferred a 16.25cm/6.4″ erect penis and a mind blowing 12.7cm/5″ in girth, that’s circumference to you keep up, 5″ wow that’s BIG!! However women in long term relationships preferred a 16cm/6.3″ long penis with a girth of 12.2cm/4.8″, now in my opinion that’s still one big penis!

Yet another similar study of women’s preferences, published in BMC Women’s Health, found that penis girth was more important than length for sexual satisfaction, hmm interesting!

And what about people with big feet? Yeh that old wives tale. Well no evidence has been found linking penis size to foot size or ethnicity, so a no to that fake news, and like I said it is believed that a higher BMI and old age are weakly associated with a shorter erect penis……….. and note, there is some truth in the fact men who drive big cars have small dicks!

Btw if you are a guy reading this just for fun post and wish to measure your own length erection, get a rule then measure from the base where it connects to your pubic bone, right to the tip of your glans which is the bellend purple helmet, however don’t forget to subtract any additional length associated with foreskin, that’s cheating! As for girth, I measured the width of my shaft inserting the figure into a maths equation 3.14xD or 2×3.14xR.

Oh and I came across this gem observation,

‘Feeling inadequate can really damage a man’s self-confidence and affect his social life. It can lead to issues from being unable to using public urinals or shared shower rooms, to avoiding intimate relationships.’

Well personally speaking I have never ever looked at a man’s penis when inside public urinals, jeez can’t you get arrested for that? But being serious for a second I guess a worried teenager/young man could feel inadequate, leading to low-self esteem, affect his relationship with women but the good news is all this research tells us women aren’t to bothered by size anyway? Similarly research sadly appears to show anxiety about penis size may arise after taunts from other children during adolescence, or remarks from a sexual partner and I can imagine that level of bullying would hurt.

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(Left, a Greek statue)

And finally penises of course feature throughout art history and culture……. As we know from cave paintings and ancient sculpture man has always placed great importance on the size of his penis, with many cultures associating penis size with masculinity, what’s more throughout the ages, long penises had come to symbolise qualities such as virility, fertility, strength, ability and courage. Some cultures even went to extreme lengths to try to increase the size of their penis, and don’t imagine I already know these following two nuggets of trivia because I didn’t, apparently Indian mystics known as Sadhus had been known to stretch their penis from an early age by hanging weights on it, while the Topinama tribesmen of Brazil encouraged poisonous snakes to bite their penis to enlarge it.

Ouch!!

If you suffer from low self esteem here are a few tips to help with positive body image, incidentally lifted directly from one of those Medic websites and so very true.

‘If you’re unhappy with your body, whether it’s the size of your penis or the look of any other part of you, try these helpful tips for feeling better about yourself:
Focus on the characteristics and body parts you do like, such as broad shoulders or a nice smile.
Maintain a healthy weight and incorporate strength training into your exercise routine. If you look fit and healthy, you may feel better about yourself.
Don’t become consumed by penis size. You can be a satisfying sexual partner regardless of the size of your penis.
Don’t compare yourself to athletes, models, and actors. You’ll develop an unhealthy and unrealistic image of what is normal and how you should look.
Spend more time and energy on pursuits you find rewarding, whether it’s sports, hobbies, traveling, or other activities. Lasting self-esteem comes from nonphysical traits, such as creativity, intelligence, and your values.’

Wouldn’t you agree that’s sound advice for life in general?

So I guess if there’s any conclusions to be made, it appears plenty of men wonder if they are at or near the average penis size, when the actual truth is a majority of men are within a close range of the average length and girth………………… hmm do I have tooo much time on my hands?

Oh yes I nearly forgot to say my appendage erect is a good percentage above average length, yay! But alas I’m a percentage smaller on girth the figure women Really worry about 😉 , and no I’m not saying by how much! 😀 

So is an average length of 13.1cm/5.16″ a surprise to you?

©A. Shepherdson 2019

Dana the Romanian masseuse (NSFW)

I didn’t finish my intended Friday’s post, so instead I’m going to reblog a (favourite) tale I first published September 2018…………. however before I begin you’ll need to be reminded what a Happy Ending is, it helps my narrative (also brings to a close my Topic for the week, some may say “thank goodness”).

Urban Dictionary defines ‘Happy Ending’ thus: ‘When a masseuse feels inclined to finish your session with oral sex or manual release’…………… and forget the word inclined that’s what I paid her to do! 

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Fictional or non fictional this is a favourite story.

One blustery autumn afternoon in late September, a few months ago now! You’d have found me laying naked on my back, not a stitch of clothing on my body, my legs wide apart and a Romanian lady by the name of ‘Dana’ kneeling before me, a truly beautiful gorgeous lady gazing down upon me, a delicious wicked smile across her face oh and the reddest glossiest lipstick you ever did see.

“Do you enjoy giving gentleman hand relief?” I enquired,

And when you ‘come’ to think of it massaging a male client’s back muscles with dextrous skilful fingertips, finishing the massage with one hand gently curled around his erection and gently rolling his testicles between thumb and finger with the other, has to be one of the strangest occupations ever!

“Yes I do honey”,

Dana answered with a wicked grin, her lubricated right hand rhythmically stroking my love length and circling my purple helmet with warming palms, the joyous tingles and pleasurable sensations coursing from the tip of my penis down to my groin are near indescribable………… only men understand how gorgeous and beautiful those stimulated nerve endings alter his mind, his breath quickens, his hardness bucks and pulses as he draws ever closer to climax.

I once gleaned from secretive Dana where she’d learnt her gift for massage with an erotic twist from? She said after arriving in Britain as an economic migrant, earning money to pay for a deposit on land back in her native Romanian village, she first stayed with a friend in Birmingham but had no job, no income! Then one day her flatmate suggest they both rent a bedroom, advertise ‘certain services’ on an adult website, both working giving intimate Swedish massages…………. massage ‘services’ you’ll not find on your average Town’s High Street.

Well fast forward her tale several years and Dana rented a bottom floor box bedroom within a back street terraced house in a part of Oxford, a place where you’ll not leave your car unattended………….. put it this way if you did, your car wouldn’t be there when you returned!!!

I’d better shorten my winding complicated tale because you all lead busy lives, just understand whilst surfing the net one evening I happened across this LEGAL adult website giving intimate massages, phoned the mobile number hoping I was speaking to the lady in the photographs and well I became her 4 o’clock afternoon appointment that same day.

You’ll all know by now I’m an honest guy, well the website is legal, the ladies are over age 18 and working independently of their own accord and incidentally Dana stresses she gives no sexual services………… which means neither penetration or felatio……… shame really because as I gazed into her eyes I didn’t half fancy a blowjob!

Well I travelled by bus to Oxford, found my way to the given name of the street, texted her for the house number at 3.55pm, then upon reaching the address told her my name through the intercom beside the front door. A buzzing sound came from said door lock and there standing in the hallway was one of the most beautiful young ladies I have ever seen in my life, slim gorgeous with a beautiful smile and warm becoming blue eyes.

I introduced myself and yes she was even more beautiful than her photos suggested, then followed her through one of the many doors into a dimly lit warm and cosy bedroom………..virtually absent of furniture other than a single bed with duvet, centrally heated, carpeted, very clean and extremely tasteful.

I handed Dana the advertised price and then stood there near speechless looking like a complete and utter lemon wondering what to do next? Until she said,

“Well take your clothes off!”

“All of them?” I rather lamely answered she must have though ‘Jesus I’ve a right one here!’

“Yes all of them honey” she said laughing now, “then take a shower” glancing past me toward an even SMALLER side room (wardrobe) no bigger than a shower cubicle………… err that’s what the cupboard was!

So, and writing here and now this anecdote still makes me laugh, Dana stood there in her fishnet stockings, latex high waisted tight fitting hot pants (no knickers hold that thought!) also a black bralette revealing two of the most exquisitely shaped high round breasts you ever did see, I’m still smiling because this lady I’d known for sixty seconds stood but a metre close to me inside this tiny bedroom, and I near felt her burning gaze as I slipped down my boxer shorts, I glanced up and yes she was appraising my ‘bits and pieces’ ………… now just be aware I’m a clean bunny who was freshly showered wearing clean underwear, but as instructed I took a shower after being handed a fluffy soft towel.

(Why are Hotel towels always white?)

I ought to admit at this point I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Dana one time several years ago, she gave me a finger in the ass prostate tickle but as the days past afterward, I decided the service wasn’t for me…………… yes one for the bucket list but I didn’t enjoy it!

Well now I’m laying naked on her bed face down, a clean towel spread lengthways along the spongy quilt, arms down by my side then Dana places herself sitting on the tops of my legs, her two thighs either side my own and truth be told in a VERY firm vice like grip. Both Dana and I now comfortable I hear her squirt massaging oils into one hand from a bottle, then she began to push her hands deep into the small of my back, gliding them along my spine around my shoulders and all I can say is if you’ve never experienced warm skilful fingers work their magic on tired tight muscles, especially around the shoulders, if you haven’t then omg you haven’t lived! I will add Dana finger’s kneaded pushed and pulled tense muscles but not to worry she brought a true tingling warmth into my skin…………. btw I felt fabulous afterward!

And all the while we chatted about BREXIT, yes you did read right, she’s a working migrant from Romania! I talked about my family, we discussed Oxford architecture and I soon discovered Dana was witty personable friendly qualities you ascertain within minutes of meeting someone new, Dana is an intelligent young lady, then after 15 glorious minutes had passed rather abruptly she said,

“Now turn over!” Having first moved to one side, followed by a firmly spoken, “spread your legs wide!”

“Wider!!”

Dutifully I ‘widened’ presenting my bits and pieces in what was a rather precarious position, with Dana finally sitting her bum on her thighs kneeling close between them, and omg you just have to know this goddess of a lady was so beautiful with the prettiest sweetest smile you ever did see……………. and a wicked gleam in her eyes! Like I said she enjoyed jerking men off, maybe the thrill for her was being in control and dominating a man, or perhaps giving hand relief is just a fun way to pay the gas bill? Either way it’s times like these that I’ve never felt more alive.

Dana now wearing a pair of delicate latex gloves from a box, slips them on, cups my testicle sack with the palm of her left hand and curls lubricated fingers around the shaft of my penis with the other, oh and I forgot to add I’ve rarely been so hard erect and engorged before. I’d guess staring at her gorgeous boobs and plunging cleavage was the reason for that…….. oh as for knowing she wore no knickers! Well put it this way slightly parted thighs and tightly fitting hotpants revealed all!!

I should say at this point do I really need to graphically explain the process of hand relief? Men of course understand the ‘process’ and I’d guess all women have serviced a partner, anyways all I will add is Dana possessed a skilful technique she described as luxurious (it was!) Well she worked her dextrous magic, my penis bucking as I’m brought to climax then bingo she directs a stream of warm semen across my stomach……………. any men reading appreciate the joyous heavenly pleasure.

(And with boobs as exquisite as those two you’ll appreciate I even impressed myself!)

So there you are the Swedish massage with intimate ‘happy ending’, and for any ladies reading all I can say is if you’re in search of a well paid fun occupation, you could do worse than train as a masseuse…………….. oh and I forgot to say Dana’s Birmingham flatmate gave her the confidence and now she gives ‘happy endings’ for a living!!!

©A. Shepherdson 2018

Boutique Mannequins modelling underwear (Thursday)

(My apologies for not publishing my NSFW post yesterday, I went out for a lovely meal with three retirees I used to work with so I’ll post another time.)

Thursday 14th of February and of course Valentine’s Day, so if you’ve been following this week’s daily postings you’ll be aware the topic that weaves them all together (well hopefully) is women’s lingerie, jeeze even surprises me how my overactive imagination works sometimes. All good fun 🙂 .

Ok I know I’m a bit odd, stop nodding you’re not supposed to agree! And YES I did take those photographs above earlier this week, “why so Andrew?” Well today I’m asking myself, could a guy be prosecuted for indecent assault, you know if he was to ‘touch up’ a Department Store clothing mannequin when ‘she’s’ wearing sexy underwear? 

No I didn’t but I can’t say I wasn’t tempted!

All this past week after alighting from my commuter bus in the centre of Oxford, I pass these three on the way to work, but because our early mornings are still dark dazzling halogen spotlights almost bring them alive, in fact on the first morning they caught my eye and I had to do a ‘double-take’ they are that realistic……………. I should add being as it’s nearly Valentines Day there are many more displays similar to this, AND what’s with ALL these plastic models being six feet tall, slender and size 8 figures, what’s wrong with size 14 women gifted with child bearing hips and 34DD busts?

Good question no?

So begs the question, in the minds of the window dressers who are they actually trying to appeal to? Is it men so as they’ll buy sweet nothings for their significant other? Or women so that they can wear something sexy to excite and turn their man on? Not forgetting those confused women in lesbian relationships…………… no NO when I say confused I mean they’re both buying for both themselves also their partners……….. phew that was close! And I dare not mention we have skirt wearing Transsexuals at my place of work.

(I’m saying absolutely nothing, be true unto yourself that’s what I say)

So now I’m wondering can a sexy lingerie wearing shop mannequin ever be considered indecent? I’m absolutely convinced many Muslim men will find those three ‘women’ pictured above offensive, recently London Underground had to remove posters of models wearing brassieres because questions had been asked, I’d guess there’d been a social media sh#t storm or women’s Groups had asked why women’s bodies were being sexually objectified?…………. Jeez goodness knows what feminists would make of some of the posts on this blog.

However readers should be aware by now I adore women and am also a feminist, heavens we even have female engineering apprentices at work and why not, the days of girls only doing sewing and cookery at school and boys doing metalwork are long gone, and as it should be. Being serious for a second, and note I have addressed this topic before, #MeToo has changed Britain for the better because I’ve noticed men take a great deal more care with their language opinions and banter when around women.

Where was I? Oh yes me earlier today standing in the entrance to Debenhams department store taking photographs, I double checked to see no one was watching but no doubt I was being watched by their CCTV cameras, and I’ve just had a thought that’ll be twice now! (long story) So no I didn’t touch these three tasty plastic models up but they didn’t half look sexy, I guess that answer’s my earlier question doesn’t it, that women’s lingerie is purchased for their partner’s enjoyment…………… yes?

Discuss 😀 .

Before I leave you, this’ll be the first Valentine’s Day in 58 years that my dad hasn’t purchased a loving card for my mum 😦 . Isn’t memory robbing dementia is a wicked medical condition, I doubt he has any comprehension of what being married actually means? I’d guess in his own little world mum is now just a person who is always around the house at his ‘beck and call’, all terribly sad.

Anyways just so as to redress any perceived sexist imbalance, there’s not this is just for fun, but if anyone is unhappy here’s a photo whether you be straight or gay.

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Now I’m not gay but he is pretty fit!!!

Happy Valentine’s Day.

 

A. Shepherdson 2019

“Holy crap I’m on the bra and knickers Floor!” (True story Tuesday)

You should know me by now! I’m a fascinated observer of the female human mamal, anything wrong in that?

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So with this week’s blog topic in mind, daily posts themed around women’s lingerie, I’m going to raise the tone of this ‘blog’ and write a post about yes women’s underwear, a tale prompted by mistakenly finding myself on ‘Marks and Spencer’s’ floor devoted to women’s undergarments…….. if you’ve never heard of M&S all you need to understand is 70% of women buy their underwear here, with Oxford’s Branch having half a floor devoted solely to this most Holy of intimate garment, seriously a cavernous expanse of delicate lingerie hanging in aisles interspersed by the occasional size 8 mannequin, dolled up in err……….. well use your imagination please!

Whatever the age M&S is Britain’s go to knicker store.

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And yes that is ‘Camilla Windsor’ being shown around M&S’s lingerie department!

When one descends the escalator within Oxford’s Debenhams department store, from top floor down to level number three, a traveller aboard this slow travelling walkway will invariably pass by ladies with a thoughtful expression etched across their brow and holding up some delicate garment of lingerie to the light. She’s of course deeply concentrated wondering whether this bra or pair knickers will look good on her figure, does she like the colour and of course most importantly of all whether purchasing is worth the asking price? Perhaps contemplating trying it on before going home and buying it a third off from Amazon? 

Yes? No? Please don’t answer………… and do people do this? I mean use a store only to test goods out? I hope not, I’m now very conscious of trying to buy what I need on the High Street or Mall, because  disappearing Town centres are often the heart of a community and they do provide jobs.

As an aside, Jeff Bezos Amazon has a one trillion dollar turnover, to me that stinks of a great many City centre shops having to close and many many thousand of workers having lost their jobs, PLUS he pays very little tax instead funnelling British online purchases through offices in Luxembourg…………. frigging hell man, at least pay the taxes you owe!!

Where was I before sidestepping into an angry rant, oh yes women purchasing their underwear! Actually if I wasn’t a skilled engineer I’d like to work in a lingerie department just to stand and watch these err sexy goings on, in fact I’d work for free!! Just imagine handling these pretty pieces of cloth ALL day long, mind you I’d stop at any ideas of helping out in the bra fitting rooms, sorry but that’s just plain creepy!

Jeez my train of consciousness even takes me back sometimes!

Where was I? Riding escalators observing women buy their underwear, and no I don’t return straight up to the top floor so as I can watch these ladies on the return journey down again, jeeze that would be just plain creepy (again) hmm would be fun though, even pressing that emergency red button that stops accidents from happening, err hasn’t 😀 ever crossed my mind!

However walking through Marks and Spencer’s first floor lingerie department in Oxford UK, is a WHOLE lot more emotionally nerve-racking, truly, at this point you may be perhaps thinking ‘A. Shepherdson pray why are you looking at women’s underwear?’ No NO I don’t wear lingerie, no if you need to return an item purchased, in order to reach ‘Returns Exchanges and Refunds’ situated at the rear of Floor 1, you have to walk through yes this gigantic expanse full of women’s underwear, rows and rows of it! Slightly disconcerting actually brushing past lacy pink twinsets, a sight captured by the corner of my eye because I’m not looking.

M&S’s underwear department used to be on the ground floor, to be more exact in front of the entrance to the food hall, then one time I had to take an unwanted item back, made for Returns on first floor, and there facing me is a retail cathedral space dedicated to just lingerie, I actually froze my feet unable to walk! They’d gone and redesigned the interior of the shop hadn’t they! In a state of near panic I walked up to a young lady dressed in black with her back to me, reaching to hang up a garment or take it down and asked her,

“Excuse me Miss, can you tell me where the Return’s counter is?”

This brunette young woman turned around, as startled as I was and no older than sixteen, well I ask you how was I to know this tall girl was a mere teenager? Jeez we all make honest mistakes, well her cheeks blushed and she nervously answered,

“Sorry I don’t work here”, and then her eyes quickly darted sideways to look at someone now standing beside me, I also turned to this person now stalking its prey, ME a single guy speaking with her daughter, and who did I see? Yes a middle aged woman and by the look of her quite obviously the young girl’s mother, well you can tell can’t you! The mother slightly taken aback then burst out laughing before saying,

“She doesn’t work for Marks and Spencer’s” and btw now smiling,

So I quickly replied “Oh no! Sorry I mistook her for a salesperson?” The mother laughed again saying “no worries” and I quickly turned and made for an exit, talk about embarrassing! Anyways I returned to the Store hours later, asked an actual member of staff this time for directions, and yes they’d moved Returns to way behind those racks of hanging underwear.

Yes a misunderstanding all around, omg I’m closer to the end than the beginning, my heart cannot take mild shocks like it use to!

Hmm amuses me still how nervous I get walking through a ladies underwear department, do all men feel this way? I guess subconsciously I’ll think back to the women I’ve undressed or watched undress, and yes like I said earlier while in Debenhams, I am amused watching women perusing selecting touching and holding towards bright fluorescent lights their soon to be purchased delicates! 

Anyways not to worry they both had a laugh at my expense, the mother seemed to think the mistaken identity absolutely hilarious? And I can imagine the daughter saying later “Do I look like I’m dressed as a shop worker for heaven’s sake?” But jeez you do have to be careful asking customers questions inside underwear departments, don’t you? Or are we men becoming slightly paranoid #MeToo fallout and all.

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Now I’m aware Superman wears his shorts on the outside but do women wear knickers on top of a pair of leggings? Or were they dressed by a guy 😀 !!

(I’ve thought about this seemingly inconsequential tale many times, a completely absurd scenario but what always confuses me is why this mother burst out into uncontrollable laughter? Perhaps I looked more startled than I ever assumed, or is the reason little more complicated than a ‘mummy bear looking out for her offspring bear cub? Funny old day.) 

©A. Shepherdson 2019 (with Googled photographs not my own)

 

 

 

 

‘That sacred spot of blissful heaven’ (Erotic Monday)

If you’ve happened to read yesterday’s post, you’ll know all the five days this week I am writing a tale flash fiction or whatever on the theme of women’s lingerie, don’t ask why perhaps I’m just odd that way……………….. incidentally the ‘publishing’ sequence has changed, or in other words that’s the story of my WordPress. 

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Laying beside Karolina two Saturdays ago I don’t think I’ve felt happier in a long while, my lady’s aged 50 and extremely passionate, an amusing conversationalist if a little hard to follow as she’s from Poland, but not to worry she’s an extremely sexy lady, in fact my idea of a dream woman, and I know having a lady stick her tongue deep inside your mouth while kissing sounds a little ahem icky! But it really is sensuous and divine.

So where are we two aged lovers to be found? Me a fifty something who wears glasses when having sex, also Karolina with her dodgy knee that locks up meaning she has to clamber off the bed to give creaking joints a stretch! No arthritis just ‘ole mother time’ creeping up and don’t you find older women are more grateful of a guys romantic advances, not desperate for attention, no just content to be loved for who they are, no spring chicken and all, oh and fucked hard by a guy who prefers his sexual animal to be a woman of more mature years.

Where are we? Inside a Travelodge Inn alongside a busy A34 dual carriageway, a bedroom to be more exact, I’d guess American’s would call this establishment a Motel for lonely individuals driving monotonous ashen gray motorways in need of a cheap place to sleep of a night.

Our room is in pitch darkness apart from a shaft of bright light shining from the wardrobe bathroom, the temperature’s boiling as Motels often are and Karolina’s laying on our bed gazing at the ceiling with me close by her side, so close I’m all but cuddling with my body touching hers from my chest to my toes, snuggled in tightly, my six inch hardened dick resting atop her thigh and bucking bouncing off her skin to the beat of a drum, physiologically connected to the blood pumping through my heart.

Yes I do love her, my arm resting on her tummy a hand slipped inside her burgundy panties, the same exact colour as a good claret of wine. I’m not looking at her lingerie briefs though with two digit fingers gently sliding back and forth through the parted lips of her wet kitty, sweeter than wine and bare of all pubic hair but for a small stubbly patch on her mons pubis, lol there’s a medical term you don’t hear often! 

So do I miss that teenage pubic bush weeded out over the ravages of time? They’re kinda fun to run finger’s through or admire in the shower, a mop of brunette coloured hair dripping and wet.

With my fingertips doing all the talking below, my gaze is drawn to Karolina’s chest raising with every breath sipped in, two high round breasts nestling beneath her claret shaded bra cups, with its swirling patterns of lace matching the panties and my busy fingers inside, but hold on subconsciously my sexually aroused mind has control of my fingers without me knowing, playing a fiddle all by their own now pressed against her clit and dragging her intimate skin in small circles, the curtains of her labia lips now drawn tightly closed.

Then faintly audible to my ear, hardly noticeable within our church hushed boudoir, I heard the quietist whisper you ever did hear, Karolina with her eyes tightly closed, purred a softly spoken,

“Oh My God!”

Do you know if I’d cleared my throat or been distracted by noise outside I would have missed it!

She quiet startled me actually though not a muscle in my body responded to Karolina’s almost joyous incredulity, with my imagination pricked alive I suddenly realised my circling fingertips had touched a spot so sacred, nerve endings so excited by pleasure giving chemicals flooding her brain, a cocktail altering her mind, that for those few two seconds in time Karolina had been whisked to a blissful heaven itself.

(……………. and tomorrow, “Holy crap I’m on the bra and knickers Floor!”)

©A. Shepherdson 2019

 

‘Gemma’s wet kitty’ (NSFW)

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Mild adult themes with the absence of imagery or bad language, perhaps a tale more humorous than err sexy erotica? Oh and I’ll leave you to decide if Gemma is a real living woman or perhaps a lady conjured from my risqué imagination…….. and AS always 100% my own tale!

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Fellatio! As you are perhaps aware if you follow my rather eclectically themed blog I’m a lover of savouring delicious words, during my tedious no tortuously boring commute to work I idly gaze out of my usual window seat, looking at the exact same scenery pass by tooo slow to be a blur too fast to appreciate and enjoy, a moving landscape to nudge me into a daydream about sex so I’ll look around the familiar faces, some listening to music on their mp3’s other’s reading and me idly wondering if the blonde lady with a fringe that nearly covers her eyes, is good at oral? ‘Wow that hairstyle suits her, she can hardly see but it’s so ’60’s’ and looks so sexy on a lady……… not forgetting a summer cleavage that near takes my breath-away!’

Gorgeous fellatio for some reason has been on my mind lately hmm perhaps because I haven’t had my dick sucked in a while and I’m feeling rather horny, I miss the various women I’ve been to bed with also their personalised techniques, and yes ladies lick and suck differently, of course they do! With one hand they curl their fingers around my floppy arousal so as to take a tight grip, give it a couple of up and down movements to harden 😉 , lower their open mouth over the purple bell and suck like a lollipop but here’s a thing women ALWAYS close their eyes?

I asked a lady called Gemma (not her name) why she always did this, close her eyes? She paused, thought for a second and with the hint of a giggle (because sex for some reason is so darn hilarious to adults) she said,

“Because I’m concentrating”, another pause “and I know you’ll ####ing come at some point!”

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And yes reminiscing for a second I can imagine tongue gymnastics may test a lady’s powers of concentration, but if we’re talking me giving cunnilingus then I couldn’t be happier feasting between a lady’s parted thighs, kneeling at the end of the bed, her body pulled in close to me, my hands caressing stroking the outside of her thighs and gently gripping her hips then waist. If the room is dark with only her bedside table lamp throwing a golden sheen across her naked body, the eroticism for me is heightened as I kiss her intimacy, the tip of my wet tongue dancing between the folds of her rosy ripened labia, all the while my eyeline is drawn the whole length of her body, past the mounds of her fulsome breasts now slightly overhanging and resting to the sides of her chest. The ambience making the areola appear puffy against her golden suntanned like skin, nipples rock hard and pointy.

So do we wish need to read and learn my honest opinions as to the scent of a ladies kitty? Now you readers may be angry annoyed at what this writer’s about to say? Not to worry, I dislike the smells of shop perfumes they’re tooo sweet for my noses delicate nerve endings, no I’ll take the natural animal scent of a lady’s freshly bathed skin every time……… absent of perfumed soap of course!!! 

But my wonderment doesn’t end there, oh no as I lick and suck, my mind concentrated on trying to locate where I assume that mythical ‘g’ spot is? 😀 The horn of her clitoris, still to this day at the age of fifty I have no real idea if I’ve TRUELY touched her ‘g’ spot? Yes I’ll stop and stare for a second at a lady’s vulva in wonderment, darting eyes searching for this magical clit that’s supposed to engorge purple with blood, but I cannot medically inspect for tooo long because she gets annoyed and fidgety until the time I plucked up the courage to ask,

“Gemma tell me honestly do you enjoy your kitty being licked?”  

“Honey if I’m not enjoying myself I’d ####ing tell you!” Came her reply.

And yes she swears like a sailor, that taboo words are spoken from such a pretty mouth I find both shocking and hilarious possibly because her diction is crystal clear, as posh as the Duchess of Cambridge she is!

‘Thank you’ smiling and thinking to myself, ‘She’s contented and happy so who can ask for more?’

However unlike Gemma I am never ever bored giving a lady oral sex, I’m enjoying myself too much for that and I can feel my unrestrained hardness bucking as it gets evermore excited, beads of crystal clear precum dripping onto the carpet, a healthy function of the reproductive equipment so we are now told, doctors say flushing the prostate gland of precum may help a prostate’s health, even propensity to prostate cancer as the internet says, so it’s either true, wishful thinking or fake news…………. the story of modern day internet addicted society.

Where was I? Oh yes kneeling before a beautiful naked Gemma laying on her back stretched out before me, thighs wide apart her kitty hoping receptive and ready, a vision of sexual loveliness glistening beneath orange lamp-light. And yes her round mounds of breasts are gorgeous and a feast for my eyes, they’re even close enough to reach up and squeeze if I stretch, but doing that’s not so good on the old back these days so I’m resigned and content enough to watch her chest rise and fall as sexual excitement envelopes her body.

I’ve never experienced a woman writhing and screaming in exquisite passion filled pleasure, so am I doing something wrong I ponder? Perhaps I’m not licking fast enough, perhaps the sucking is why my tongue goes numb, no my cunnilingus technique is more sedate and gentle but her body does respond to my touch, each time my tongue slides dances over that erotic spot of hers, blessed with thousands of nerve endings making her pelvis twitch.

And time to time if she’s breathing deeply, if the touch of my wet tongue glides over her sacred organ, she’ll catch her breath and I know I’ve hit something? But there’s a distinct absence of moaning and definitely zero screaming for heaven’s sake, the golden skin of her body shimmering with moisture drawn to the surface, her chest rising and falling, locks of long blonde hair (err bottled blonde) haven fallen to the pillow, her forearm drawn across her face shielding her eyes, then all of a sudden Gemma can be heard in soft shallow quiet tones repeating over and over again,

“Oh yes……(insert 3 seconds)……. oh yes…………….. oh yes……….….. oh yes………….”

Pausing as a pink wet tongue appears through parted lips, only to be circled and licked back into her mouth before she returns to her metronomic soft encouragement,

“…..oh yes……..…….. oh yes……..….. oh yes…………….. don’t stop………….. oh yes……..…”

And so this highly unusual conversation continues for ten minutes, Andrew nuzzled between her thighs lapping at a stream of salty nectar, Gemma quite contented if less than orgasmic, so a question for all you experts reading, why does the surface of my tongue go numb?

Ok lol she doesn’t appear wildly excited but she’s an enthralling visual sexy performance all the same, she tells me she can be bored with her mouth full whereas I’ve never felt so alive excited, and yes riveted to her every word breath and move as I taste and lick……………… ‘hmm’ I muse, ‘who is enjoying this cunnilingus more?’ 

©A. Shepherdson 2019 

FULL MOON – from my rear garden – 22/12/2018

This is my response to WordPress blogger author Laura (click here) and if you know me at all, I enjoy interacting with other bloggers 🙂 , all good fun!

“Here men from planet earth first set foot upon The moon. July 1969AD. We came in peace for all mankind” (Neil Armstrong)

Below you see a picture of the Moon I photographed yesterday evening, as you are all no doubt aware, December 22nd was the shortest day, and luckily for myself we in Oxford were gifted a wonderful bright Full Moon……………. if a little cloudy! Still to this day when I gaze up at the Moon I’m both emotionally and conceptually ‘blown away’ that man walked upon it’s surface………………. very near incredible but with my ❤ heart of hearts I believe!

So how did I capture this image? By holding my camera to the telescope eyepiece hence the peripheral black circular border……….. hmm I’m happy with it and definitely the ‘best of the rest 😀 .’ Incidentally the darker surface patches you see are named ‘seas’, as in Sea Of Tranquillity’ ‘Sea of Serenity’ ‘Sea Of Fertility’ etc.

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Full Moon December 22nd 2018, photograph taken by my eBay purchased digital camera looking directly through my telescope eyepiece. With-out Moon Filter (please feel free to copy if you wish).

Picture below reminds me I never painted my garden fence in 2018 😦 .

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My Skywatcher Refracting Optical Telescope pointing toward tonight’s Full Moon, picture taken from my back garden 22/12/2018
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Btw it’s neither raining or snowing, those white dots picked up by the camera are tiny dew droplets, the air was thick with mist and wispy clouds kept obscuring the Moon.
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Of all the photographs taken yesterday evening I think this is my favourite, a Moon Crater is clearly visible also a very much in focus edge to the Moon.
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Lens fitted with Moon Filter this time

Below more photos now see if you can spot the one’s taken without a fitted Moon Filter, and btw it’s not the length of your telescope that counts, the diameter of the first optic denotes the size of the celestial image.


And Finally, wonderful photographs taken by Apollo 11-17 astronauts standing upon the surface of the Moon. A little geeky information for you, Apollo astronauts had a fixed focus specially designed Hasselblad camera attached to their chest, to which 70mm film magazines were fitted each taking 165 frames, along with moon rocks the photos were the only objects to return and are now stored inside a refrigerated building in Texas. Several years ago the 70mm film was defrosted over 24 hours, rolled out and unfurled then digitally scanned. After wonderful scan shots had been taken they were rolled up again and back into freezer storage.

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The female orgasm and note NSFW

Mild adult themed text, but please be aware contains no sexual imagery.

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I’ll be completely honest with you lovely readers who take the time to read my Blog, I do worry when someone replies to my post about caring for elderly parents, then subsequently Follows, I’m wondering are they aware my very next post could be about the female orgasm? The Tower of London? Do they realise I’m a Blog devoid of one theme? Well due to my having a very low boredom threshold (child sense of wonderment) I’ll write about whatever’s on my mind and hopefully it’s entertaining, but as Blogger Paola once commented ‘Andrew never apologise for something you’ve written.’

Introduction over.

This evening I’ve been thinking about a natural world phenomenon namely the female sexual orgasm, now I could write chapter and verse sharing both my knowledge and experiences of the males, however I won’t, but I have to admit watching a woman’s face as she masturbates to orgasm is possibly the most enthralling captivating and wonderous spectacles I’ve ever seen, and just so as you know I can tell the difference between a genuine orgasm and one faked, lol without question I can spot the difference but don’t all men say that?

However because my own sexual experiences with a lady can be described as casual relationships, I haven’t actually slept with a lady who’s experiencing a true orgasm, well not strictly true there was Karina, but if I tell you I prefer a kiss and a cuddle then you’ll understand my sexual preferences are pretty much vanilla, and as you may know from reading a previous relevant blog post, I have a strong dislike of visual pornography. Why so Andrew? Well I have little people relatives, and a cold shiver pulses down my spine at the thought an 8year old could be watching all manner of filth streamed through a media device!

But I’m a grown adult, morally well balanced, intelligent (most of the time) and sexually active so subsequently I can tell the difference between loving sex shared between two adults who care for each other, and faked pornography devoid of all humanity and emotion…………. jeeze I’m getting off message yet again, where was I oh yes the wonders of the female orgasm!

Notice I’ve flagged this post NSFW, that’s because I’m going to share with you an artistic YouTube video written by and starring Candice Dawn, she’s an author reading from her very own novel ‘Reclaiming Eros, A Heroines Journey’. Now I’ll be honest with you and admit I have neither heard of the author or read her book but I have seen this promotional video which I’ll share below and note she’s titled as Not Suitable For Work.

Amazing what you come across whilst idly surfing the internet and watching YouTube videos!

I’ll set the scene by saying Candice is sat at a table clasping her novel between both hands, then she begins reading a passage out loud to camera whilst a woman underneath her table has an Hitachi vibrator to hand, yet we see nothing apart from hearing the distant hum of her pleasure instrument’s motor pressed between Candice’s open legs. For a guy it’s quite incredible sight to see a woman lose all composure, I guess all her thoughts and concentration are channelled into reading aloud, whilst her unconscious mind is under the influence of pleasure giving chemicals coursing through regions of her brain, either way her intense emotional sexual pleasure is almost palpable………… and the results are spectacularly animated, pretty amazing actually, and a wonderous sight to behold, in fact I’m quite in awe of what a human female body is capable of……….. but please take note Candice’s video is tasteful and appropriate viewing. 

Ok you’ll have your own thoughts but remember Candice is starring in her very own promotional video 🙂 ………… the things you authors get up to!!!

A. Shepherdson 2018

Body image, Boob chat and Breast lumps

My earlier post Racist Britain rather depressed me, so I thought why not cheer myself up and write about women’s boobs, and as you know I love women’s boobs!

Oh dearie me how an earth am I going to try and explain this one away (however before reading remember I both respect women and adore their boobs) well all I can say is you will have your own opinions by the end! 🙂

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Did you know there’s a website teaching artists how to draw breasts? I know you didn’t but just goes to show you’ll discover anything on the internet if you lol look hard enough!

I could dedicate a whole blog to the human female breast, no I’m not joking I could honestly! But I would NEVER post photographs on the internet neither would I ever make fun of a woman for a reader’s amusement, most definitely not, I would be positive and respectful because I am a decent well mannered guy who adores women, in fact I’m in awe of these delicious delectable gorgeous creatures I don’t understand them mind you and there lies my insecurities. 

Btw just so as you know I am a feminist.

My breast blog (hypothetical) would be informative positive, neither salacious or kinky but yes I could be guilty of sexualising breasts however anything I’d write would be body image positive and written all because I’m obsessed fascinated by a lady’s breasts, :/ hmm perhaps a little tooo much? 

(Everyone these days seems to suffer from questionable personality traits, I have AvPD but does a disorder exist for breast obsessions if so I have a feeling I’m afflicted, seriously!)

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Note I’m NOT being disrespectful to women, I’d guess it’s essential (male) artists understand how to draw breasts properly. 

You’ll be relieved to read I won’t be writing a breast themed blog!

Jeeze that’s a lengthy introduction to my tale AND I haven’t started yet.

I’ve enjoyed naked sexual fun and games with many women in my lifetime, ages range from 19 to 48, (though Karina told fibs, I’m sure she’s 55 years but a gent never asks does he!) And as you’d imagine all twenty-five ladies were gifted with very different breasts, large or small, pert or saggy, high and round, firm or squidgy, empty and drooping, not to worry I loved them all! Imagine a boob size and shape well I guess I’ve squeezed one…………….. and don’t get me started on sucking nipples or I’ll be here all evening.

(Note Karina for the purposes of this tale isn’t the lady’s real name but I like the name so Karina she is, perhaps one day I’ll write the tales of how I came to meet these women but for now I prefer not to.)

So yes in my lifetime I’ve squeezed many pairs of unenhanced natural, as God intended, human female breasts and gorgeous they were to, and truthfully each time I near fainted when they took their bras off, put it this way the reveal and drop is the definition of eroticism. But not until meeting Karina had I ever slept with a woman who’d implants in her breasts and to be honest I’m in two minds, still! On the one hand I’m okay with falsies because they were Karina’s life choice, she both paid for and loved them so that’s fine by me, enhanced plastic boobs helped her body image, calmed any insecurities and the shape and size made her happy so it doesn’t matter what I think does it.

If I were ask to take a guess I’d say she didn’t get them because men demanded them, OR maybe sublimely did she?🤔😯😕 Who knows either way I didn’t really like them but didn’t say!!

And yes laying beside Karina looking at her burgundy lace bra cupping high round breasts they did indeed look womanly fabulous, her bust profile was exquisitely proportioned to her slim body frame (not porn star pneumatic balloons, yuck no!) The implants suited her, gave her a feminine cleavage however after she’d leant forward, reaching her hands behind to unclip then tossing her intriguing lingerie to the beside chair, well after the moment of freeing those bundles of fun from their restraint they didn’t drop 😦 and I enjoy watching saggy boobs fall to above the belly button. Anyways only after first setting eyes on Karina’s falsies did two horizontal pink lines etched into her skin capture my gaze.

Yep you’ll have guessed (cause I’ve already said), those pink lines were in fact the result of a surgical blade slicing into her skin, 2″ long incisions through which silicon implants had been forced underneath her breast tissue in what must have been a brutal operation. 

Why an earth go under the knife? She could have died!

Now I’ve seen these breast implant operations on the TV and I liken them to meat butchery, horrendous, my Great Grandfather was an army meat butcher in World War One (close to Ypres) and I’d guess he lol could have been a surgeon in another life but I shouldn’t be disrespectful. Well enough to say her surgeon stitched the incisions together (a nice job) and once healed Karina was left with two red unsightly marks for the rest of her life……… hmm I’ll be honest I don’t agree with breast augmentation.

BUT she loved them both so who am I to judge, live and let live I say.

Well because I’m an inquisitive sort of guy, an engineer by trade, I spent the next quarter of an hour asking all manner of questions, prodding squeezing basically giving her my own unskilled type of breast examination and she was happy to teach. In fact she guided my hand with hers to a point above her left implant, I gently pressed and felt a hard 4mm sized circular lump under the skin, I near freaked out with the shock and Karina had a look of concern etched across her brow then she said,

“Don’t worry the lump’s not cancerous”.

Jeeze I don’t think I’ve received such a heart stopping shock before, she should have warned me of a hard lump because I hadn’t frigging expected it!! Karina then went on to explain a hospital biopsy had revealed the lump wasn’t cancerous but I think her broken Polish accent meant I missed the true reason in translation, however she assured me the implant hadn’t split which was my next worry. Suffice to say she was booked in to have surgery this ********* though I could see she was quite concerned………………. don’t you think it a shame that a woman has to endure surgery and silicon bags inserted under her skin to improve the way she sees her body? AND didn’t she understand men love boobs whatever the size and shape I guess not?

I felt disappointed that afternoon, Karina’s implants were firm hard and yes they gave her a perky profile, but I’d loved them to have to been squidgy and jiggle, pendulously swing when she moved just as God intended, so okay they were hard but after 5 minutes of sucking licking and caressing I overcame any doubts……………. well nearly all!

Anyways we both relaxed and began to enjoy each other’s bodies, we kissed passionately the womanly smell of her freshly showered skin passing my nostrils and just so as you know I’m not a great fan of bottled perfume because ladies naturally smell divine ❤ , I’ll choose the clean animal scent of a woman over manufactured smells every time…….. I’ll share no further details, you’re all sexual animals lol you 😉 understand many of the ‘positions’ naked lovers get up to in bed together, even with her dodgy knee! (She got out of bed at one point to click it back into position.)

Enough said, joking apart I learnt you should always see a Doctor if there’s something medically not right with your body.

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Artists drawings of naturel breasts 

I’ll wrap up this post by saying Karina and I will see each other again and no doubt chat about her (our) health but I’ll leave any ladies reading with one thought. I’ve worked with many men, both young and old over the past thirty five years and I’ve yet to come across a guy who liked breast implants, and yes the subject has raised it’s head upon many occasions. Btw if you’re 🙂 curious my take is why bother putting yourself through major surgery if your identified sexual partner doesn’t like them? Discuss. 

There you are lol knowledge shared from me to you, we guy’s love ‘au naturel’ unenhanced breasts whatever their size shape and ‘squidgyness’ so ladies please don’t ever assume we don’t.

©A. Shepherdson 2018

 

Eavesdropping on Girls Talk

We ALL listen into stranger’s conversations………… don’t we?

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A question for you, why are women’s conversations so darn interesting?

I am a people watcher by nature, I was going to write aren’t we all? But I know for a fact some people are so self absorbed they are oblivious to what goes on around them, perhaps a little unfair of me. So yes guilty as charged I can’t help watching people go about their normal lives, nothing creepy mind it’s just that if you find human nature fascinating well you have to observe! Oh and I should qualify that statement with I have a terrible habit for eavesdropping, perhaps an unsavoury character trait but if you’re going to chat to your friend about sexually transmitted diseases, then what’s a guy to do except listen in?

I really can’t help myself however I’m far from blameless in fact I blame this new phenomenon of telling the world your private business fairly and squarely on mobile phones! I can stand next to someone in a bus queue and they’ll happily chat about their lives to a friend consequently I’ve become very attuned to conversations going on around me, and I’ve heard some corkers when sitting on the bus enduring the awful evening commute out of Oxford. But what’s to do? For some unknown reason people seem totally comfortable having intimate mobile phone conversations out loud, however the eavesdropper only hears half the conversation so has to fill in the pauses while the other person answers, but don’t you think eavesdropping is just human nature?

(I’m not a gossip though, oh no tell me a secret in confidence and my lips are sealed)

Recently I overheard a lady explaining to a friend on the phone, how she’d just left a solicitor’s office after a meeting with her ex husband, a guy she described in these glowing terms,

“Thankfully I’ll never have to see his stupid little face ever again”, you get the idea they were divorcing.

I should add the half of the conversation I was listening to was the lady gleefully taking her ex hubby to the proverbial cleaners, the alimony, the furniture, the house she got the lot! Although she had to give him a token lump sum, and by the time she’d hung up I both felt sorry for the poor guy and thanked my lucky stars I am single! Mind you she had a pleasant well spoken voice and a personality you could call ‘bitchy’ but then again she was divorcing an ex hubby so perhaps her attitude was understandable……………….. 😀 hmm do I really want to ever marry?

I’ve lost count of the shear number of Court case conversations I’ve eavesdropped on, you see our County’s Crown Court (second highest Court in the land) resides in the city I commute out of, consequently all I can imagine is people leaving Court at 4pm are SO excited and intellectually stimulated, or are so frigging relieved, they jump on the bus, whip out their mobile and tell friends mothers or girlfriends what went on in Court and the outcome of the case, and again I fill in the gaps. I’ve overheard defendants discuss their knife crimes, wounding, robbery convictions and often accompanied with foul language, not forgetting drug abuse and all absolutely staggering conversations so much more entertaining than reading tabloid newspapers, or soap operas on the TV (I don’t watch TV!) Btw I’m not joking the stories I have heard!!

I’ve also overheard conversations that are so sad and upsetting, bare in mind they’re impossible not to overhear, perhaps when someone sits in their comfy Italian leather reclining seat they’re totally aware the person in the seat behind can hear every word? The other week a young woman from the seat in front of me was chatting to her mother in tears, letting her heart out as daughters do explaining how she could no longer afford the mortgage payments on her house and other bills, and by the time I’d descended the double decker stairs to get off believe me when I tell you 20minutes of sadness and upset had left me in bits. I almost felt like giving the young lady a gift of money (but is that patronising to admit), I’ve even felt guilty that I am lucky to be relatively well off!

I don’t know some people seem do get the rough end of life, so far I haven’t, but I’m afraid I’m unsure I could emotionally handle having my life turned upside down? Perhaps the consequence for my timidity is I’m a guy who doesn’t take a risk……. is still single…… a little unhappy lol.

The most entertaining eavesdrop I’ve had by far lol was again sitting on a bus! A jaw dropping tale where the girl behind who was retelling lurid stories of her slutty behaviour while being on holiday with friends in some Spanish holiday resort, fabulously entertaining that was! You’ll get the gist when I say she was a ‘sleep all day, drink party and sex all night girl’, well turns out she’d slept with a different guy every SINGLE night, good for her, you’re a long time dead!

Jeeze I was so envious………… why didn’t I go to Spain in my twenties? 😀

(Btw I’ll skip the conversation where three girls were comparing their shopping purchases and discussing the pitfalls of wearing bras that are tooo small……………….. honestly I ask you!!! And just the other week the girl sitting next to me was regaling tales of her first leg waxing session to her friend………….. after five minutes or so I had to turn and look at her, I smiled with raised eyebrows, she went red and her friend couldn’t stop laughing………….. either I’ve never noticed this before or times have changed and I’m getting old?)

Oh yes back to the entertaining eavesdrop!

Well on another journey home two teenage (@15) girls were seated across the aisle on the other side of the bus, a row in front of me, and suddenly my attention was pricked so to speak because the two young ladies were chatting about relationships and sex, oh and loudly with plenty of passengers within earshot. Well as you can imagine I’m listening into the conversation and I’d guess all the other commuters would have turned down their mp3 media, stopped reading their paperback novels all ears drawn to the girl’s sex talk. Then mid chatting about their love lives, one girl earnestly said to her friend and I could tell she was rather concerned worried and confused, saying in hushed tones,

“Can you catch STD’s from sleeping with another woman?”

Well I’m all frigging ears mulling over questions like ‘well can a woman catch an STD from sex with another woman?’ ‘And if so which ones?’ And I must admit I was as confused as the two girls! Well to cut a short story even shorter, her friend wasn’t much help and didn’t seem to know?

Then all of a sudden a middle age woman sitting a few rows in front of me, turned around from her seat, leant across to the two girls and answered,

“Yes you can my dear, you can catch STD’s.”

And having shared her caring advice she returned to her seat as if nothing had ever happened, then the worried girl turned to her friend and rather seriously said,

:/ “I’d better get myself checked out then” and with that their conversation stopped or changed subject I cannot remember?………….. Hmm I wonder if she did get checked or have an STI.

Well as you can imagine I was in my element listening in (wouldn’t you be? Btw we all were), however I couldn’t help wondering who the rather brave knowledgeable helpful woman was? I remember thinking she must be a lovely person to bravely come to the rescue of a troubled teenager, perhaps she was a mother with daughters? A school teacher? Or just an example of someone with such great empathy, devoid of embarrassment, that she could no longer remain quiet knowing both the correct STI answer and how important the teenagers understood diseases are exchanged skin to skin.

I was truly touched.

I wouldn’t have had the nerve to speak up possibly because I was pretty confused myself! My brain was listing any number of sexual diseases before settling on Genital Herpes, I’m reliably informed Herpes is very easy to pick up from skin to skin sexual contact, but either way I wouldn’t have had the nerve to pipe up and neither did all the other commuters within earshot…………. hmm :/ perhaps men should never get involved #MeToo and all that.

In life there are those who get involved and help others, and there are those who watch and do nothing? So I’m left wondering which one am I?

(Stating the obvious boys talk loudly over their mobile phones………………. but for some reason I only remember lurid tales told by young ladies 😀 probably because lady’s conversations are FAR more interesting engaging and darn right entertaining!)

©A. Shepherdson 2018.

beautiful Princess Anya, a Chatroom lady

Now I have an admission to make (lol said that before!) I began writing this post 14/03/2018 and it’s resided in Draft form ever since, perhaps the reason I didn’t get around to posting is Princess Anya isn’t so much a blog, but more a writing exercise that you could say is themed ‘my take on chatrooms’ .

So what’s to do with this tenuously adult themed tale? Do I publish it? or do I bin it? :/ hmm after much thought I’ve decided to publish and in all honesty I enjoyed reading this tale once again. 🙂

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Don’t you think Anya (cartoon replaced photo) could be mistaken for the girl next door? Demure classy intellectual, a college student perhaps? But how wrong you are! Oh so wrong!

As often happens with my WordPress I’ll tack (nautically) from one questionable opinion to the next because they’re enjoyable to write 🙂 , so be aware I’m going to explain why once in a while I’ll watch a certain lady perform in her chatroom! Btw she’s age20 and it’s all legal proper and above board. 🙂 

Tell you what! Call this post an antidote to my ‘Crime and Punishment’ tale, and a lot more fun. 🙂

I’ll be totally honest with you and say I dislike watching pornography, (that :/ may surprise one or two regular readers lol) but take note I’m not admitting a dislike of watching porn to gain favour with you lovely readers, and I have no real objection against mentally well balanced adults accessing legal consensually performed pornography, only that watching two naked porn actors going at it like rabbits bores me to frigging tears………….. I prefer doing ‘it’ with consenting 18+ live human beings, most of you will be in relationships and isn’t intimacy connection and a meeting of souls? Far more fun!

Btw this post ISN’T discussing the pros and cons arguments for and against legal pornography, only that watching sex bores me frigging rigid, and yes I’ve changed my moral position to thinking Governments should do all they possibly can to stop children having access to imagery they just don’t understand. (Phew that’s a mouthful)……………….. I don’t have children but I have several relatives who ‘have their own little people!’

So yes I’ll admit to watching the odd adult movie in my lifetime!

A short tale for you! When aged 18 myself and a group of 30 apprentices visited Oxford’s Odeon Cinema in George Street, a very very late viewing mind, to watch a soft porn adaptation of Cinderella, I’ll say NO more except imagine a scantily clothed nubile pretty virginal Snow White, then think seven horny dwarfs, use your imaginations and yes you’ve guessed correct!

Was our ‘soft’ movie worth watching? Yes and no, yes because going out of an evening with fabulous young men were some of the happiest days of my life, the comradery you experience with like minded friends you just cannot put a price on. And no, because the pornography was far from sexy, in fact the ‘plot’ was ridiculous to the point of being hilarious and how she managed position 69 without putting her back out I’ll never know.

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Without Googling, why are men SO captivated by womanly breasts? 

Enough of unorthodox fairy tales.

So who is Princess Anya (the lady in the picture)? She is in fact a very VERY successful adult chatroom actress, I’d describe her a classy sensual very much ‘girl next door’ young woman oh and of Indian descent. AND if you’re at all curious I don’t hold the view male paying viewers to her shows are sad old perverts, no! They’re probably decent single guys (mostly), loners or society’s lonely where the internet could be their social life.

Where do I fit into this alternative cyber world of sexual fantasies? Once in a while I’ll pull down the favourites drop down tab on my laptop, where I’ve bookmarked a legal and regulated non spammy secure and safe well known adult website. I’ll fill you in with a little detail, just enough because WordPress may be reading, imagine pages of hundreds of scantily clad young women sitting in a room in their home, any room, in front of a webcam and ‘stripping naked’. Yes you’re there!

Lol I’m one of life’s observers, yes the young women are gorgeous, btw I don’t visit that often note! The girls 18+ are stunning and yes remember masturbation is medically good for one’s mental wellbeing, all good clean fun, but it’s the chat logs on the right hand side that can be addictive viewing full of amusing and intelligent banter and passes ten minutes or so…….. and 😉 what guy doesn’t like watching gorgeous young women undressing, well at least I’m honest!

However I never pay because I’m tight with money.

The male viewers have usernames (note I’m not a member), it’s a chatroom and you know how chatrooms work, they anonymously write a comment, sometimes very funny because they are articulate intelligent men, she’ll laugh reply be playful and a friendship of sorts is struck up. Yes Anya is stringing them along a little, she’s being cheery funny sensual to gain favour and get paid tokens but their conversation surprisingly isn’t disgusting it’s actually entertaining viewing. 

Btw virtual tokens are purchased with real money, ‘punished plastic’ if you get my meaning!

Time to time moderators enter the chatroom to check on the appropriateness of behaviour, if some hate writing bully chimes with obscenities the lady blocks him, and by the time Anya has 10,000 men close to uhmm a state of nearing sexual excitement (going by the frenzied chat log), Anya switches Private allowing those who’ve paid $5 in tokens to watch her private performance.

The screen the goes blank, and the room is Private!

And because I’m tight fisted miser I don’t pay to watch, then for the next 15 minutes Anya puts on a masturbation show, is she wrong and disgusting? You decide. And how do I know what goes on in her show? We’ll for one I’m an intelligent guy with an awesome imagination and two because the viewers continue to write a chat log on the right hand side! And interesting entertaining reading it is to with the guys writing whilst watching Anya’s private performance, and remember these guys are wordsmiths of a sort, articulate and witty, they carry on writing a running commentary of Anya’s bedroom antics positions and use of toys AND the are respectful…………….. Jeeze lol use your imaginations please!! And for those of who you who are a little prim and proper look away now, as Anya performs I’d guess hundreds of men are sat in front of their computer screens watching and w##king.

So what do I make of all these sexy shenanigans? I have absolutely no problem with adult performers and their chatrooms apart from one overriding essentially important caveat, legal moderated chatrooms are fine as long as they cannot be accessed by children.

Goes without saying I’m a moral mentally well balanced good hearted human being so viewing would be fine, and if you could 100% guarantee ALL children cannot access regulated chatrooms on the internet, then I honestly have no problem but again banning pornography is your own moral choice to make. However back in the real world we know children unfortunately do watch, and I guess me saying chatrooms are ok is a pact with the devil if EVER there was one. :/

I have a relative with little people of his/her own, work it out lol, he/she has parental locks set on all their children’s media devices, flagged up sexual words will filter out inappropriate websites, setting preferences will stop their children seeing unwanted sexual images, they have their own phones but the deal/pact with Mum and Dad is at any time of the adult’s choosing they can take an iPad or phone off the little person and examine their browsing history.

The family pact also states, if preferences and locks have been tampered with, adult web addresses attempted then the device is confiscated and ‘the little people’ are fine with this pact, they also learn that life has rules and consequences and they haven’t reneged on the deal although email has been disabled for non sexual related incidents. The ‘little people’ are learning to be responsible! I’ll finish by saying the parental pact works because the adults in question are intelligent, clever, caring and responsible alas not every parent is either tech savvy or actually cares.

As for beautiful Princess Anya, she is one talented lady oh yes she is a VERY clever young woman (possibly the most shapely firm perky tits I’ve ever seen!) And her bedroom antics are pretty amazing (apparently remember I don’t pay to watch) but more importantly Anya is a bubbly witty playful personable intelligent young woman, she’s a friend to lonely men and her finely crafted skilfully honed feminine charms will seldom be bettered.

I watch her interacting with viewers, observe, listen and read her chat log and I’m convinced she’s a woman who could hold any audience in the palm of her hand, her skillset is exactly the same as any TV evangelist preacher except Anya’s not extorting money from penniless congregations who can ill afford it (she’s not lying to them either). I’d say she is a more honest human being, men pay for her adult service and she gives them what they want, I’d suggest Anya’s a morally genuine person more so than any Politician working in British politics, actually I’m convinced. Hmm perhaps one day she venture into politics, she could, it happens.

So she takes her clothes off for money, who cares? Are her talents wasted? Yes, but she appears to be having fun and making money and I’m ok with anyone living the life they wish as long as it hurts no one.

Now I move onto Patti, she’s a whole different woman all together, age 40 and quite probably a mother herself and again she strips for money! Several years ago I watched a TV program investigating the murky world of strip bars, and interestingly many of the young women were single mothers……………….. judge people at your peril.

Patti is fabulous, I like Patti, she’s your mate’s Auntie or your mum’s best friend lol the dictionary definition of MILF, and to look at her sitting in her kitchen you wouldn’t have guessed she was a sex worker of sorts, unless I’d told you! However the absence of a bra, unfettered large boobs underneath a tight fitting tee shirt kinda gives her job away. Once again when she’s been payed enough well earnt tokens, off come the clothes and Patti ‘performs’ in front of her kitchen sink! And no NO I’m not linking the website.

So now to the question you are ALL hopefully asking, how much money does Anya make performing a 2 hour show? Remember 1hr 45 minutes is chatting and interacting with male viewers, getting them excited, clean chat with no demands bullying or hate, then she’ll set Private, hundreds of $5 tokens will pile in and doing the quick Math I think she made $700 for a 15 minute strip show.

Just imagine $350/hr………….. several times a day! (Most girls won’t earn this)

I should finish by saying I make no personal judgements, Anya is a wealthy young woman, empowered, self employed, she hurts no one so good for her and knowing the direction society is morally taking us, I have a feeling any future mainstream employers won’t care less anyway. Further still I’d guess many of the other performers will be single mothers, and all will be earning money to feed themselves, pay the bills so why not dance naked at least they’re not degrading themselves in porn flicks!

One day I’ll have to pay and watch Anya perform naked with toys, captured by various camera angles with her legs akimbo, trouble is that means spending $5 and I’m as tight as #ssholes. 😀 then again she is beautiful.

One final thought, the question crosses my mind would I want a daughter to perform in chatrooms and the answer has to be no, but if a friend or sister wanted to strip naked on the internet for money (consensually and over age18) then I’d be cool, her life her body I make no moral judgements!

(Original to March 2018, btw I have @ ten more posts in draft…………… I’m feeling a little glum this evening, these wordy essays aren’t what you’d define as blogging)

© A. Shepherdson 2018

 

Sexy Happy Endings!

Mildly adult themed (been a while since I’ve written an adult true tale) and hopefully a fun read!

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Now a message for any ‘classy ladies’ who may have read my post title and presumed ‘moi’ has written a tale about two people who fell in love and lived happily ever after, or maybe they’re imagining this is ‘moi’ reviewing a movie newly released at the cinema……… well if you did I’m afraid you’re wrong on both counts, which only leaves a third choice which one hundred percent of men will understand………….. having said all that medical doctors tell us masturbation (had you guessed) is the safest form of sex and more important good for one’s mental health and general well being………… and being serious for a second (for this is a serious post) I wholeheartedly agree pleasuring oneself lifts the spirits leaving you feeling satisfied and relaxed. 

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Hmm wish I was as good looking as this young man, mind you that black bra looks familiar…… (Googled image!)

Incidentally Urban Dictionary defines ‘Happy Ending’ thus : ‘When a masseuse feels inclined to finish your session with oral sex or manual release’…………… and forget the word inclined that’s what I frigging paid her to do!

Btw my tale for you this evening is themed just for fun 🙂 . 

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One blustery autumn afternoon in late September, a few weeks ago now! You’d have found me laying naked on my back, not a stitch of clothing on my body, my legs wide apart and a Romanian lady by the name of ‘Dana’ kneeling before me, a truly beautiful gorgeous lady gazing down upon me, a delicious wicked smile across her face oh and the reddest glossiest lipstick you ever did see.

“Do you enjoy giving gentleman hand relief?” I enquired,

and when you ‘come’ to think of it massaging a male client’s back muscles with dextrous skilful fingertips, finishing the massage with one hand gently curled around his erection and gently rolling his testicles between thumb and finger with the other, has to be one of the strangest occupations ever!

“Yes I do honey”, Dana answered with a wicked grin, her lubricated right hand rhythmically stroking my love length and circling my purple helmet with warming palms, the joyous tingles and pleasurable sensations coursing from the tip of my penis down to my groin are near indescribable………… only men understand how gorgeous and beautiful those stimulated nerve endings alter his mind, his breath quickens, his hardness bucks and pulses as he draws ever closer to climax.

I once gleaned from secretive Dana where she’d learnt her gift for massage with an erotic twist from? She said after arriving in Britain as an economic migrant, earning money to pay for a deposit on land back in her native Romanian village, she first stayed with a friend in Birmingham but had no job, no income! Then one day her flatmate suggest they both rent a bedroom, advertise ‘certain services’ on an adult website, both working giving intimate Swedish massages…………. massage ‘services’ you’ll not find on your average Town’s High Street.

Well fast forward her tale several years and Dana rented a bottom floor box bedroom within a back street terraced house in a part of Oxford, a place where you’ll not leave your car unattended………….. put it this way if you did, your car wouldn’t be there when you returned!!!

I’d better shorten my winding complicated tale because you all lead busy lives, just understand whilst surfing the net one evening I happened across this LEGAL adult website giving intimate massages, phoned the mobile number hoping I was speaking to the lady in the photographs and well I became her 4 o’clock afternoon appointment that same day.

You’ll all know by now I’m an honest guy, well the website is legal, the ladies are over age 18 and working independently of their own accord and incidentally Dana stresses she gives no sexual services………… which means neither penetration or felatio……… shame really because as I gazed into her eyes I didn’t half fancy a blowjob!

Well I travelled by bus to Oxford, found my way to the given name of the street, texted her for the house number at 3.55pm, then upon reaching the address told her my name through the intercom beside the front door. A buzzing sound came from said door lock and there standing in the hallway was one of the most beautiful young ladies I have ever seen in my life, slim gorgeous with a beautiful smile and warm becoming blue eyes.

I introduced myself and yes she was even more beautiful than her photos suggested, then followed her through one of the many doors into a dimly lit warm and cosy bedroom………..virtually absent of furniture other than a single bed with duvet, centrally heated, carpeted, very clean and extremely tasteful.

I handed Dana the advertised price and then stood there near speechless looking like a complete and utter lemon wondering what to do next? Until she said,

“Well take your clothes off!”

“All of them?” I rather lamely answered she must have though ‘Jesus I’ve a right one here!’

“Yes all of them honey” she said laughing now, “then take a shower” glancing past me toward an even SMALLER side room (wardrobe) no bigger than a shower cubicle………… err that’s what the cupboard was!

So, and writing here and now this anecdote still makes me laugh, Dana stood there in her fishnet stockings, latex high waisted tight fitting hot pants (no knickers hold that thought!) also a black padded bra revealing two of the most exquisitely shaped high round breasts you ever did see, I’m still smiling because this lady I’d known for sixty seconds stood but a metre close to me inside this tiny bedroom, and I near felt her burning gaze as I slipped down my boxer shorts, I glanced up and yes she was appraising my ‘bits and pieces’ ………… now just be aware I’m a clean bunny who was freshly showered wearing clean underwear, but as instructed I took a shower after being handed a fluffy soft towel. 

(Why are Hotel towels always white?)

I should admit at this point Dana’s isn’t the first intimate masseuse I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, one time several years ago I had a finger in the ass prostate tickle but as the days past afterward, I decided the service wasn’t for me…………… yes one for the bucket list but I didn’t enjoy it!

I know I said ‘cutting a long story short’, well now I’m laying naked on her bed face down, a clean towel spread lengthways along the spongy quilt, arms down by my side then Dana places herself sitting on the tops of my legs, her two thighs either side my own and truth be told in a VERY firm vice like grip. Both Dana and I now comfortable I hear her squirt massaging oils into one hand from a bottle, then she began to push her hands deep into the small of my back, gliding them along my spine around my shoulders and all I can say is if you’ve never experienced warm skilful fingers work their magic on tired tight muscles, especially around the shoulders, if you haven’t then omg you haven’t lived! I will add Dana finger’s kneaded pushed and pulled tense muscles but not to worry she brought a true tingling warmth into my skin…………. btw I felt fabulous afterward!

And all the while we chatted about BREXIT, yes you did read right, she’s a working migrant from Romania! I talked about my family, we discussed Oxford architecture and I soon discovered Dana was witty personable friendly qualities you ascertain within minutes of meeting someone new, Dana is an intelligent young lady, then after 15 glorious minutes had passed rather abruptly she said,

“Now turn over!” Having first moved to one side,

followed by a firmly spoken, “spread your legs wide!”

“Wider!!”

Dutifully I ‘widened’ presenting my bits and pieces in what was a rather precarious position, with Dana finally sitting her bum on her thighs kneeling close between them, and omg you just have to know this goddess of a lady was so beautiful with the prettiest sweetest smile you ever did see……………. and a wicked gleam in her eyes! Like I said she enjoyed jerking men off, maybe the thrill for her was being in control and dominating a man, or perhaps giving hand relief is just a fun way to pay the gas bill? Either way it’s times like these that I’ve never felt more alive.

Dana now wearing a pair of delicate latex gloves from a box, slips them on, cups my testicle sack with the palm of her left hand and curls lubricated fingers around the shaft of my penis with the other, oh and I forgot to add I’ve rarely been so hard erect and engorged before. I’d guess staring at her gorgeous boobs and plunging cleavage was the reason for that…….. oh as for knowing she wore no knickers! Well put it this way slightly parted thighs and tightly fitting hotpants revealed all!!

I should say at this point do I really need to graphically explain the process of hand relief? Men of course understand the ‘process’ and I’d guess all women have serviced a partner, anyways all I will add is Dana possessed a skilful technique she described as luxurious (it was!) Well she worked her dextrous magic, my penis bucking as I’m brought to climax then bingo she directs a stream of warm semen across my stomach……………. any men reading appreciate the joyous heavenly pleasure.

(And with boobs as exquisite as those two you’ll appreciate I even impressed myself!)

So there you are the Swedish massage with intimate ‘happy ending’, and for any ladies reading all I can say is if you’re in search of a well paid fun occupation, you could do worse than train as a masseuse…………….. oh and I forgot to say Dana’s Birmingham flatmate gave her the confidence and now she gives ‘happy endings’ for a living!!! 

 

©A. Shepherdson 2018

See if you can spot the Collie dog

My mum’s dog loves her photo being taken! 

Way back in June 2018, incidentally this year turned out to be one of the longest driest and warmest on record, I took one of my many walks deep into the Windrush Valley situated in the edge of the Cotswolds.

And you’ll have guessed, for those readers following my WordPress, I was accompanied by walking friend Holly the cross collie and not forgetting my trusty cheap Fuji little camera. Incidentally it cost £8 off eBay!

It takes stunning photos when the sun’s out and absolutely awful ones when the sun disappears?

Well cutting a short story even shorter! I’d always intended to share with the readers but being truthful a blog idea ALWAYS popped up from nowhere? Anyways the other evening I came across a picture folder and it suddenly dawned on me Holly actually got herself into nearly every photograph!

Like I said she loves the camera 😀

Anyways (it amuses me ‘anyways’ is a favourite word of mine) rather than just looking at MY photos of the Oxfordshire countryside, why not play a game and try and spot Holly just as if you were trying to spot the ball,

🤔and whatever happened to spot the ball competitions? Did the internet kill the game off? Discuss! No! 

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Holly my mum’s Colle cross dog
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Wild Poppy

Above wild red poppies growing amongst the fields of crops, and I could imagine soldiers fighting in the trenches on the Western Front, if they’d turned and gazed across French cornfields they’d see blood red poppies .

Must have been quite a sight the vivid red int erspersing golden yellow in summertime, not forgetting WW1 was another human made tragedy.

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I’m not quite sure what type of cash crop is being grown in our local fields now? When I was a child I remember golden corn, as for now I guess this could be……… who knows what’s planted, any farmers out there. And notice in the foreground wildflowers growing alongside the path we’re  walking on.

Above is a montage of photos of this unknown plant and the path I’m on, keep in mind I am walking a circular route.

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Fields of long grass, no crops here

Below we’ve no walked into an animal grazing field interspersed with daisy’s.

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If I were to lay these 4 photos out they’d be a sequenced panorama view.

Below and we’re back on the trail through natural tree canopy branches.

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Above one of several ponds that lie along our walk, are you playing my game of spot the collie?

Below left and you can just make out Minster Lovel ruins, it’s behind Holly in the distance. I swear she must have walked into the shot as soon as I took my camera out.

Below a church built from golden Cotswold stone looking resplendent under the sun, I cannot be bothered to Google the name lol (I’m half an hour into this post already and I’m freezing and in need of a hot shower), except to say it’s very old and lies on the outskirts of Minster Lovell village. (We’re in Oxfordshire btw).

Notice the small pink flowers and green moss growing on the Cotswold stone wall in the foreground.

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Cotswold stone is very unique to the area!

On reflection I should have enlarged the three photos above, you can btw, because bottom right shows Minster Lovell Ruins with said church behind the trouble is I managed to get the gatepost into shot as well.

Bottom left is me standing inside the ruins looking up towards the sky. That leaves photo three which tells you all about the ruins. I guess you could Wikipedia?

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All these photographs are a reminder Britain still has beautiful countryside if you look hard enough.

Below isn’t a natural water spring, these pools form where small streams meet the pathway used by farm tractors.

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Pathway pools of Oxfordshire water

(Below) Me gazing down toward Crawley village.

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A closer shot of the bridge leading out of Crawley village

Below a photograph very important to the history of this area, VERY IMPORATANT, yes it’s a sheep……… well keeping the tale short sheep were raised on the green fields encircling my Town, consequently 8 or so Mills weaved the wool into blankets later shipped around the world…………. the reason a railway was built and a reason why this part of Oxfordshire became very prosperous.

Have you ever heard of Witney blankets?

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A Cotswold sheep, there used to be fields full of them!!

Below I’m walking beneath the overhanging canopy of trees, and no it’s not a natural scene, the avenue was planted many years ago, is very long, and follows a busy road which takes me back toward my mother’s home.

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A tree lined Avenue and quite spectacular

I hope you enjoyed looking at the views taken along the Windrush Valley one June summer’s afternoon.

A. Shepherdson 2018

(Feel free to download copy any picture (or all 48) if you wish, 😊you have my blessing and please do, thank you.)

 

A woman’s Cleavage (a cautionary tale)

If a sober guy looks at your bosom, tell him to “please stop” and 98% will.

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Moments such as these are milestones a young boy will remember for the rest of his life

I have a brief tale to tell though before you ask, because I know you are curious! NO I didn’t take these lady’s photos, most definitely not but if you’re a prolific Google imager like myself then you never know what you will discover if you search hard enough.

😋 She fit’s my post!

🤔 Perhaps a cautionary tale though, goes to show ladies have to be very aware of men and their digital cameras, lean forward ‘snap’ and the boobs are on the internet!…………….. But not to worry, I’m using this lady both for a genuine reason and I’m assured she’s an anonymous D list celebrity? Hmm lol “I’m sayin nothin!”

Within my more thoughtful posts I have touched on the serious subject of sexual harassment, with the after #MeToo fallout very much in focus, well I have a true tale which I think throws up some interesting talking points.

Several weeks ago I was chatting to a young lad at work who said he’d been out drinking with three friends the evening before, turns out the sun was shining so all four were sat outside around a wooden table in the Pub’s garden…………. a very British pastime, every Public House will have it’s own small garden or terrace for patrons to enjoy.

So these four lads were quietly drinking beer at their table, all very civilised none were drunk or being rowdy or loud, they were I’m told chatting being sociable and having a laugh. All good fun and every so often a barmaid would visit their table for I guess empty glasses, take a bar food order or bring more drinks, then my friend tells me as the barmaid was leaning over their wooden table handing out pints of beer she said,

“Will you four stop trying to look down my blouse!”,

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I’m age 52, and this scenario still happens to this day, and note the bottom left corner states this photo’s from the internet!!

He went on to give more clarity to his tale, she wasn’t p#ssed the lads and barmaid were on very friendly terms, their interactions were all proper and above board and I’d guess being as she was a barmaid and they were lads I’d guess there was plenty of flirting and light hearted banter, after she’d err told them to stop I’d guess knowing my work colleague there’d have been amused protestations such as,

😉 “WHAT me?” (His words). 

With ladles of wounded pride thrown in to good measure, and the way he shared his tale nothing more was said end of, certainly no Police were summoned or the Head Publican called to eject the lads from the premises, no the lady was quite aware they were peeking and for sure the lads were trying to glance down her open blouse…………….. I know for certain most men would!………. Now I realise ‘man hating lesbian feminists’ will disagree with what I am about to say,

“But don’t you think the barmaid handled the situation in exactly the right way?”

Btw I am also a feminist!

If she’d been getting increasingly tired of the lad’s furtive attention wasn’t warning the four 18yr teens enough? Yes the Pub garden is her very own workplace but there wasn’t any need to create a scene, the group and herself were all getting on fine, friendly and no doubt sexuality and the (adult) drinking atmosphere affected everyone’s behaviour, my friend saw the humour and the barmaid let it be known who was in charge……….. everyone had a giggle, the Pub didn’t lose four future paying customers and no scene or drama was created.

Ok I’d agree if you said my example of inappropriate behaviour is unique as every scenario will be, for one a drinking establishment barmaid won’t be any shrinking violet, she’d know exactly the right way to handle groups of leery lads who were overstepping the mark anyways you decide, I’ve met tiny barmaids who could eject fighting men just by a strength of personality.

Never argue with a p#ssed and angry woman, you’ll lose!!!

There of course could be an argument put forward by a certain British Police Commissioner that ladies should dress appropriately because short dresses can lead to unwanted attention, hmm who’s he blaming?

But I have a feeling the majority of right minded thinking adults agreed he was talking out of his arse and I’d hope his wife and daughters, if he had any, would have put him straight namely the fact a woman is assaulted isn’t her own fault, wear an open collared blouse if you wish AND I would add if a guy try’s to look down at your goodies, tell him to “get lost” or “please stop”.

And he will. Also.

If you’re in an underground train carriage and a guy attaches his grubby fingers to your ‘sweet lil ass’, tell him to “keep your hands to yourself!” And shout as loudly as you can so everyone else can hear you!

Confidence is key?

Okay I understand every case of sexual impropriety is different to another and further this blog isn’t a political platform only my own thoughts and observations, so what are mine?

For what it’s worth my own thoughts after hearing my colleagues Pub garden tale, was the barmaid handled herself correctly, the four decent hard working lads were warned and next time would hopefully be less obvious and take greater care when trying to look down a female’s open blouse!

No harm was done discuss!

Finally I’m here to say human beings are sexual animals, a woman will look at a man’s bulge in his trousers, a guy will look at a woman’s cleavage…………… you have to accept because that’s called ‘the way of the world’.

Early evening thoughts and now in comments tell me what you think please. 🤔

A. Shepherdson 2018

‘I bit my Pillow!’ (how my tale began)

Third and final part to my true pickup tale.

Henry Scott Tuke (1858-1929)
I enjoy looking at great paintings and this Cornish Scene by Henry Scott Tuke (1858-1929) looks good on my post bearing in mind my story’s gay theme, btw exhibited at Tate Britain. (Copyright Warwick District Council)

I’m openly honest here on my WordPress, tooo honest sometimes, well I’m hoping you’ll have read my story ‘I bit my Pillow!’ and if you did you’ll remember I said I would let you know which parts are true as happened and which parts are fiction!

‘I bit my Pillow!’, I 😀 agree a bl**dy awful title.

When I said we had gay sex and kissed well that was 100% fiction sorry to disappoint, but as I said yesterday parts are true. So just to be clear the sex is drawn from my imagination………… lol I cannot make you believe me but jeeze I hope you do.

So now you’ve read the tale this is how the episode came about btw in the spirit of fairness and honesty this is an old tale I enjoyed re writing.

Many years ago whilst holidaying by myself in central France, late one summer’s evening I found myself sitting alone inside Le Man’s Railway Station waiting room. The tale of how I came to be there is a rather long and tortuous one just understand I’m feeling desperate, my spoken French is embarrassingly appalling, the Station is emptying about to close for the night and I had absolutely nowhere to sleep that night, my only certainty within minutes the Entrance gates would be locked shut and I was soon to experience how sleeping rough on the Street actually feels…………. a truly spine chilling thought and terribly sad for the people who have no choice!

Then with only minutes to spare a middle aged guy appears as if from nowhere, sits down beside me and strikes up a conversation with this weary disorientated very depressed traveller. I was far from feeling sorry for myself, couldn’t understand him and my tired mind was in the grip of fear and loneliness, he invited me to spend the night in his home and I said yes!

I ask what an earth would you do faced with a night living on the Streets? The possibility of being mugged raped beaten up murdered a possibility, or the comfortable certainty of being driven by a rather polite personable guy to his home? Better still an unknown home where he’d provide you with a warm bed to sleep the night in. What’s more he promised on his life he’d drop me back at Le Man’s Station early next morning!

Lol what a friendly treasure, who could say no?

What a predicament what a dilemma, even if I’d been at my strongest mentally the choice would have been challenging, THAT my mind was frazzled and unable to think straight made the decision easy. But if I’d been consciously aware and thinking straight I would have absolutely figured out he was a gay man with ulterior predatory motives, a guy cruising public places late at night looking for single men to take home and have sex with! If I’d been approached on a railway station platform in Britain I would have politely told the guy to,

“Get blank lost!” (I wouldn’t lol but you get my gist)

But this late French evening I thanked my kind Samaritan and let him drive me to his home, from first meeting him to being whisked across the City into his bedroom seemed a mere blur of five minutes, and to this day I cannot understand whether I was stupidly foolhardy or naïve, qualities that have plagued my adult life. 

So remember the sex in my tale was fiction all I can admit is I must have been frigging tired because to this day I still don’t no why I went to bed with him?…… Honestly the strangest evening of my life, ask me what went on and well the light dial was turned to a warming dim glow…..…..……, I gazed up at a light flex hanging from the ceiling, then got up and slept on his sofa. (We make bad choices in life get carried away suck it up and move on.)

And I felt wretched for months after, despairingly upset is closer to the truth, I understand why people do dread a terrible dark memory seeping into their consciousness, they drain you of all energy and I did lapse into a deep depression, because well I’m straight! Our meeting confused because I consider myself groomed taken advantage of and tricked into bed, and in those months after I’d gaze at myself in the mirror with feelings of shame knowing I had to face the cold hard fact that I was a naïve guy who can be too trusting…………… but hey show me someone who hasn’t made unfortunate choices and I’ll show you a liar!!

So you get the feeling I hated myself? And note my tale is far from sensationalism, all good story’s are prompted by true events.

And what of today? Thinking back all these years later, that I went to bed naked with a naked guy ‘who fancied me’ is deliciously hilarious, the irony now is every time I think back to our night together I cannot help laughing, where’s the sin in admitting I can be tricked when I know I’m straight and omg what a surreal memory and btw I hope you’re thinking to yourselves ‘whatever!’ 😀

I know I know complete madness going home with a guy I’d never met before, even worse when I came out the shower and he’s standing there naked, jeeze he’d lied to me tricked me groomed me and yes I could have been raped or worse it happens………… I wasn’t. I should add I hope you’re not tooo disappointed to read my plump round ass wasn’t lol violated, anyways all said and done my gay French guy tale will go down as the strangest experience of my life……… I only wish I’d been approached by a kind hearted woman with darker motives!

A. Shepherdson 2018 (Just so as you know I had a blast writing these last 3 posts and 😀 I really hope some readers were left disappointed) 

 

 

Beautiful Helen……. pt2 (erotica)

Continued from Helen part one click ‘pingback here’ and 2 days later here’s the ending, also mild adult fiction.

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Quick as a flash, I turned and near ran through my living room door………. 

………………… pulling the front door shut behind me! Helen had disappeared from clipping her pink roses hadn’t she, vanished into thin air?

I paused in my driveway my breathing beginning to steady as a spinning brain caught up after a very surreal last half an hour. One minute I’d been jerking myself off watching my gardening neighbour’s jiggling boobs within her yellow blouse, the next Helen over the road lifted the cotton top, showing me her pert round breasts and on reflection I’d say they’re a B cup!

Anyways now I’m perspiring searching for Helen who, if you read part 1, had incredibly beckoned me over to her home!

A thought crossed my mind, ‘the minx was playing games, she’d caught me watching her garden and teasingly flashed her tits’, oh ‘blank’ my heart sank! Helen’s getting her own back, leading me on with intentions of………. ?

A feeling of disappointment seeped into my mind, no more a worrisome thought, perhaps she’d cleared off to tell her husband I’m a Peeping Tom! ‘Oh God No’ as I quite involuntary felt an ache in my stomach, then my mature wet dream with a smiling face appeared from behind the corner of her house.

Waving her arms vigorously, Helen beckoned me a second time calling out,

“Andrew!……………….. Andrew, hurry up man” taking a sideways glance up the road she turned and continues,

“Hurry up, we haven’t much time!” All the while her arm waving me over and quite vigorous it was to, yummy mummy Helen really DID want me OVER!

Hurriedly stepping off the pavement I ran across the road remembering to glance both directions,

“Jeeze I don’t want to be hit by a car not now of all days”, I muttered.

My mind now trying to comprehend what an earth was happening in my life, at the same time a beating heart pounding within my chest blood pumping into my brain giving a numbed headache, a sexually excited thought consumed me as I jogged toward her garage and down a tiled path toward an alleyway leading to her rear garden, ‘doe’s she want my hard dick I wonder?’

From gazing out my window to jogging this claustrophobic pathway is but a minute yet felt like a lifetime, I mused “Hell’s fire, is this crazy woman tripping on drugs?” 

No sooner had I finished saying what could be my final sentence here on earth, my pace slowing to a briskness as I walked from the shadowed confines of a tight walled alley into the glaring sun of a VERY surreal late afternoon!

I stopped, soon followed by a near heart attack that could have taken my final breath as Helen jumped out from behind the house, flinging her arms around my shoulders she drew me closer as her back hit the wall and rather too hard to be comfortable.

Helen’s arms encircling my shoulders, my face but inches away from hers I felt warm breath against my mouth, and pulling me yet tighter into her body my two hands moved aside her hips as curling fingers held Helen’s waist. So close now our bodies touching from chest to thighs I felt her warmth through thin cotton fabric, her bosom rising with every intake of excited breath, my bulging groin now pressing deep into Helen’s crotch, and so large was my thickened dick it felt uncomfortable to move.

We kissed, passionately two adulterous lover’s wet lips parted open, the tips of our tongues touching entwined and dancing, my eyes wide open, Helen’s closed as her head moved from one side to the other her gorging lips devouring mine. For several minutes we deep throat kissed until finally one of us said something breaking a pre coitus silence.

Pulling her face from mine, Helen quite out of breath said,

“Andrew we haven’t much time”, smiling so sweetly her lips pecked me on mine and my heart began to sing, now my frenzied brain had finally caught up with the past 5 minutes near dreamlike incredulity. ‘Oh yes I’m quite alive’ I mused while standing in Helen’s rear garden pressing her against the wall kissing cuddling and for this brief moment her soft wet lips showed all I ever needed to know, ‘Helen wanted me, needed me, loved me!’

“My husband’s buying paint at the DIY store” she smiled a wanting fire lit in her eyes, “there’s no time to f### right now”, that was a shock and a half I can tell you……. ‘WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT SEX?’ “But I will jerk you off this time” she continued with a grin “I could see you staring at me and wanking, you dirty devil Andrew!”

Pausing blushing and smiling at my adulterous siren, Helen went further, “I was watching your right arm jerking, tell me did you come?”

“NO, and stopping near killed me Helen!”

Me open mouthed, a look of shock across my face, I just about got a questioning “you mean my curtain’s are actually see through?” 

Then at the very point of Helen answering, my torso pulled back, the palm of my open right hand thrust into her crotch groping and squeezing her intimacy, my fingers prising her thighs apart as they curled underneath her fanny bridge, warm soft no doubt twitching and ready.

Helen gasped whatever she was about to answer unable to come from her mouth.

I squeezed her crotch tighter cupping my palm ever wider, the other hand now tugging at the button of her jeans a sexual excitement overtaking any lingering inhibitions. My imagination had long ago dissipated now replaced by a carnal primeval lust, the only thought ‘my fingers are going between her pussy lips whether she stops me or not!’

(Remember 🙂 this is a tall tale)

My fumbling fingers having unbutton her jean’s 28″ waist I pulled down the cold metal zipper, excitedly tugging at the raw cotton sliding down her shapely thighs, bending my knees as I crouched. Standing again my left arm reached around Helen’s hip an open hand squeezing a buttock feeling it’s roundness beneath soft cotton panties. As my right hand felt her ass, fingers of my other hand fumbled again into Helen’s crotch as I pulled her pantie gusset to one side, wriggling dexterous fingers in between parted folds of moist labia, all the while our faces but inch’s apart staring into each others eyes and both breathing ever deeper.

She smiled again, whimpering panting then catching a breath again as my dancing fingers touched a sacred pleasure spot, and after what seemed an age of fingering Helen’s dripping wet treasure, she worriedly repeated her stark warning,

“Paul won’t be long, we’ll f### another day Andrew” betraying a sadness in her eyes, she continued “you feel so big and thick against me, I’ll take you inside I promise”, then glancing down at her wrist watch and looking terrified, she said,

“Omg he’ll return in minutes, you have to go! NOW!” Such a crying shame I mused with my hand deep under Helen’s crotch and fingers searching for god knows what inside her warm pussy?

The excitement all tooo much for me, remember I was at a point of climax but ten minutes ago, I felt my ball’s rising as their storks shortened, my throbbing penis bucking as gorgeous sensations excited the nerve endings around the rim of my ‘bellend’, “I can’t hold back any longer” I whispered, panicking thoughts of ‘this passion’s all to much for me’ flooding my mind numbed drugged and slightly euphoric.

My eyes losing contact with hers, my head jerked back as I ejaculated thick creamy semen into my boxer shorts, warm and sticking to my thigh, an audible “I’m coming” gasping through open lips as I released, and God how I kept releasing!

The End.

(All very tame content with zero sex, oh and BTW my last erotic sexy tale for a while 😉 )

©A. Shepherdson 2018

 

 

The Beast From The East (March 2018)

Photos © A. Shepherdson.

Perhaps if you reside in a Country outside the United Kingdom you may not have come across the phrase ‘The Beast From The East’. Don’t worry it’s not a name attributed to the evil Russian who’s been leaving deadly nerve agent inside restaurants and smeared on park benches around Salisbury, no the ‘Beast…..‘ is a phrase attributed to a very British weather system, or more specifically a sudden blanket of snow falling across parts of the UK.

Weathermen do like to conjure up imaginative descriptions, Great Britain finds itself at the heart of five different weathers systems the worst being a cold front which blows down from Siberia, possibly catching a little Arctic blast on the way! Well temperatures plummet, snow falls and my Townscape resembles photos which wouldn’t look out of place on as next years Christmas card………. all good fun unless you use public transport to get to work.

Bah Humbug! (I must be getting old)

We’ve experienced three overnight ‘snow bombs’ this winter and were due to have a fourth this Easter, however the short boring story is the wind changed direction, a warmer front blew in from France bringing four days of persistent rain.

All of these photos below were taken by myself one Sunday morning in early March, follow the journey from my little house, all the distance across Town to my Mother’s for a Sunday roast beef dinner…………. I guess you could call the occasion a little treat in return for doing a few jobs around the house.

Follow the journey and bare in mind the house above may or may not be mine.

Below right is the side wall of an old Manor House and Farm used as a set and backdrop in the period TV Drama Downton Abbey… you may have heard of it!

I won’t say where abouts the 12th Century Norman Church below is located, just be aware we’re talking rural South East England.

Perhaps I’m becoming a little weary and jaded and yes I’ll admit to being rather cynical as the years roll by (I’ll have to keep an eye on this), I didn’t really mind this winter’s snow, in fact it’s quite astonishing how overnight the Town you wake up to is totally transformed and looks nothing like the evening before.

A. Shepherdson.

Dinner for one……. Erotica

NSFW-Slider-September

Vicky is the plucky heroine in my sexy adult tale and she’s age 25, please take note NSFW. Not to worry though, it’s only written for fun and is a tale which may or may not be true. Lol you decide. © Written by A. Shepherdson.

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Spread my legs or whipped cream in my mouth?” she said reclining back into her soft quilt. “What’s it to be Jason?”

Jeeze there’s a dilemma and a half I thought to myself, Vicky’s question quite literally an electric shock pulsing through conductive salts in my brain!

Lovemaking was to be either or, but not both! All you need to understand this March evening is when you chat to a young lady on the internet with sex in mind, the lady may perform a choice. Giving both of herself is greedy, just know we’re two lovers who’ll never ever meet again and I’d better choose because we don’t have a great deal of time.

I wrote a little about meeting with a lady in a previous post and using baking a cake as an analogy, because I wasn’t sure how far WordPress would allow me to go. But after blogging for a while I’m absolutely convinced children don’t read blogs, because quite bluntly they have better things to do and I NEVER place sexual photos on a blog.

Yes I’ll wear silk black stockings but that’s an old old story!

Vicky laying out before me, a beautiful blonde haired young lady, slim with such milk white skin as I’d never seen before also the kind of tits that are fulsome yet at the same time devoid of firm ness? So much so when she bent over they hung down stretched pendulous, however now reclining back on the bed propping up her weight on one elbow, her tits came to rest by her sides. A slight exaggeration maybe, but only women will understand my clumsily painted picture, yes her breasts were fulsome pendulous squishy and certainly not firm.

Put it another way her boobs weren’t high and round, two feminine qualities another lady friend of mine was most proud of, jeeze she told me enough times by email and yes they were ‘high and round’ as her many photos proved.

Never squeezed them though, she lived in the USA!

I have a habit of getting off track, sorry, so paraphrasing a little, the young lady asked me,

“Shall I spread my legs or you ‘come’ in my mouth, which is it to be?”

There I stood in our cheap hotel bedroom, me attention like at the foot of a double bed, my Polish companion sitting crossed legs before me, and as you’ll have guessed if you read my cake baking post (here) I chose ‘c’ in mouth simply because I’d never done it. I’d never had sx performed by finishing in err well her mouth, and omg I was dying to know how it felt both emotionally and physically, how was ‘o’ different to vanilla sx?

“Cim please”, my member beginning to twitch!

Btw as we chatted I was stripping naked as well, with both never averting each others gaze UNTIL I pulled down my blue cotton boxer shorts, finally revealing a hard straight 7 inches springing out horizontal no longer constrained inside it’s home. Vicky paused and stared directly at my groin, her tongue for just a moment poking through circling glossy red lips, then rather approvingly she caught my gaze again and said,

“Go wash your penis then.”

You have to understand, our conversation was stilted and difficult, Vicky’s spoken English was appalling lol and small talk was a bloody nightmare. Email was ok but I had a feeling we wouldn’t be chatting much this afternoon, which is such a shame because all you really wish for is a connection. But there was a warmth there, jeeze there’s no point ####ing if two people don’t like each other!

“Dim the lights then” she said looking at the wall behind my shoulder.

“You already passed the bathroom, it’s along the hall”, her thick Polish accent making Vicky sound rather cold as East European accents often do.

Standing underneath the shower, VERY hot water cascading down my smooth slim body, and don’t you find stepping into a shower you’ve never experienced before a bloody nightmare? The controls are always different and you never find the balance, either the water’s freezing cold or so hot it brings blood to the surface making tender skin go pink on the shoulders and tops of your feet!

Dutifully I lathered soap into both hands and spread the white silky cream into my ‘bits’, hair so thick it became matted, my erect hard penis bouncing as I brushed it. And gazing down I could see the foreskin was naturally pulled back revealing my bellend a deeper pink than unusual, I guess the hot water changed the colour of another different body part.

Kind of following Vicky’s orders, between thumb and forefinger I cleaned any vestiges of unsightly white flakes from around the rim of my tip. I am a clean ‘bunny’ but any male will tell you after he’s ‘loved himself’, lol there can be remnants.

Smelling perfumed and as clean as a human body ever will be I stepped out the shower, grabbed a large purple bath towel and dried myself as I walked back into my Polish lady’s bedroom. The now dimmed light revealing a glorious naked beauty with such white skin and she hadn’t moved an inch, the only difference music was playing from a radio on her bedside table.

The thought ‘is she a woman who’s never ever sunbathed?’ Crossed my mind.

I lay down next to her, ASKED if I could touch her breasts and she agreed, jeeze you have to ask these days out of common manners (and legality) AND my mum brought me up to have good table manners, I guess asking shows our sexual experience will be consensual #METOO and all that, and quite right tooo!

Vicky’s breasts were as gorgeous soft and squishy as I hoped they’d be, her nipples pointed and hard within small discs of light pink areola about the size of a ten pence piece! But I’m not so good on bra sizes so I’d guess a ‘D’, which as ladies know is a little over the average handful.

We gazed at each other so close now, our bodies barely touching with the not unpleasant smell of her breath catching my nostrils. I consensually squeezed her breasts for a minute or so then she caught me quite unawares by reaching down and curling her fingers around the shaft of my hardness, gently circling below my bellend sending shivers down my spine, so erotic and sensual as only a sexual partner’s touch can be.

Well lol after several more minutes of groping and touching each other up, my Polish babe said,

“Come on then, you want a bj don’t you” her glossy red lips momentarily transformed into a wicked grin.

No longer leaning on her side Vicky moved to the other end of our bed and sat dutifully on her knees facing me, parting my thighs wide WIDE open with firm cool hands. Then moving her head towards my groin she shuffled her now hunched shoulders even closer, and as I looked at this vision of a goddess mouth wide open, her pendulous breasts in view, Vicky lowered her open lips over the tip of my hardness, sucking the shaft as she drew me deep within.

“OMFG” I whispered to myself as my hardness kissed the wetness of her silky long tongue.

Her head now bobbing up and down, Vicky’s face a pretty picture of concentration, eyes firmly closed revealing mascara clad long eyelashes her mouth completely full she blew me. With glistening saliva drool showing between her red lips and my shaft, my Polish lady began the most glorious and skilled felatio as I’ve ever experience in my life before.

And of course the usual bull**** came from my lips, all women have heard sweet nothings before, when a guy is in the throes of tingling sexual passions, his seed stirring from deep within his body, he’ll tell a lady whatever she wants to hear and thinking back to our afternoon together I remember saying,

“God you are so beautiful.”

But there was no real reaction from Vicky, her head kept bobbing up and down, sucking me to a metronomic rhythm, blonde bangs of hair falling aside her cheeks, only pausing her blowing so as to pull back golden locks that quite obviously annoyed her.

Me feeling warm drool as lubrication, Vicky’s hand on my thigh keeping her steady, the other’s dextrous fingers circled around my erect hardness, ever quicker Vicky sucked and licked the tip of her tongue dancing around my bell!

I gazed to the ceiling, I gazed at her face. I gazed at the ceiling again! Jeeze I never feel more alive than when close to climax, my groin experiencing joyous sensations that happen but a couple of times a week. Pleasure giving chemicals coursing my brain, a cocktail of serotonin dopamine adrenaline and other heady chemicals I cannot remember, substances which a guy’s brain craves and he would be addicted to if only he could bottle. Jeeze if I could distil I’d be a millionaire.

Where was I, oh yes Vicky eyes tightly closed shut, glossy red lips wide open sucking, her hands gently firmly pushing keeping my thighs wide apart, and omg I tried to hold back my climax as hard as I ever tried, you know experience those joyous chemicals as long as I could. However there comes (no pun intended) a time when a guy can hold that nirvana no longer, surely a gift from God, an indescribable two seconds of pure heaven before he has to release.

THEN!

I gasped for air as my groin orgasmed, my body near convulsing as I exploded deep inside Vicky’s mouth, her wet tongue pressed against the shaft of my dick, me gazing down at her pretty face her eyes now screwed up tight, her head now motionless with lips around my bell and I came hard I MEAN REALLY HARD!!!

You see the culmination of not having ‘loved myself’ in days and tonight holding my release as long as I possibly could meant unfortunately for Vicky I shot my silky milk hard into her mouth.

Her eyes closed ever tighter as I orgasmed and I watched the veins in my penis pulse from pubic hair right up to her lips wrapped tight around my shaft. But she didn’t back away, like the god girl she promised to be (age 25) Vicky let me pump every last drop of ‘e’ into her mouth. AND I kept coming, jeeze I kept pumping!!

But she never coughed.

I guess what I’m trying to say with all that pumping nonsense, is experiencing a bj to completion for the first time is as glorious as I hoped and imagined it would ever be. As we can all attest to, sx is in the mind, that chemical cocktail quite literally changes the way we think, makes us lol talk romantic bs you know what I mean? Then afterwards a guy actually wants to runaway from her, anywhere! Yet the girl craves love attention and a cuddle.

Perhaps this sexual dichotomy is the root to all bedroom problems?

Hmm never thought of that before!

AND I’m here to tell you a bj through to glorious ‘o’ completion, feeling the warmth and wetness of her mouth, her eyes screwed tight, a near panicked expression across her face was thrilling and so exciting. And yes I’d agree perhaps ever so slightly misogynistic, you see part of the thrill is imagining and conceptually sensing, understanding my orgasmic explosion inside her mouth was climatic to Vicky in a different way, a frigging shock she’ll experience but a few times a month! Truthfully part of my excited pleasure came from seeing her ever so slightly wince, the stream of ‘c’ making her eyes close ever tighter.

Well all spent, my whole body beginning to recover, Vicky her lips tightly closed began to pull away with a palm of one hand now pressing against her mouth. Feeling for her balance she climbed from our bed and went to the bathroom I’d left but ten minutes ago?

AND now to answer a question perhaps crossing your mind, my Polish beauty like ALL good girls (18+) spits not swallows.

‘Hmm perhaps she will next time?’

Original in every way by © A. Shepherdson 2018.

Pretty Lady On A Train (part 5 of 6)

(Original fiction by me) 

1-93160

Chapter 3

What with the dry heat rising from the heater below my carriage seat and the excitement of meeting Emily being too much for me, I’d succumbed to a deep dreamy sleep hadn’t I, and for fear of confusing we return to that scene in the carriage.

Hedgerows streaked past my carriage window now replacing the flat green moorland with its purple tipped heather. Feeling a tap on my shoulder, a shock near stopping my heart from beating, I opened my eyes and there looking down at me stood a man dressed in blue tunic with matching coloured hat. A slender moustached man he was, his hand now recoiling after having shocked my body into life, the other clasping a small metal ticket puncher reflecting sunlight now streaming through our train carriage window.

Bleary eyed I looked up at the ticket collector’s face, paused, then sideways glanced to where my young female friend was sitting. She’d gone, disappeared, from what seemed only five minutes ago I’d been chatting to a pretty young lady with chestnut brown hair and now her seat was empty.

“Where is she?” I exclaimed at the ticket collector feeling provoked, a look of disbelief across my face quickly looking back at her now vacant seat. She’d vanished. My new female friend called… umm…was nowhere to be seen.

Now wide awake, lucidly returning to the land of the living it was dawning on me the screaming pubic haired lunatic, falling out of a run away train, hitting my head and yes dying a horrible death had never happened. It was all a dream and better still my new friend is called Emily!

‘Yes the pretty lady on the train is Emily’, I smiled.

I’d been dreaming hadn’t I, five ten minutes ago a combination of warm air and carnal excitement had nudged me into a deep sleep and now looking at the train official’s face one third time, I realised my violent wretched death had all been a horrible dream.

“Sir you’re back in the land of the living”, my train official replied with a chuckle whilst handing back my ticket. Then moving away, having spotted the lady with the daughter waving her hand to catch his attention, he replied one final time and I might add blushing to.

“What I’d been meaning to tell you sir………..well how can I put this………..your wife has asked me from inside the lavatory, can you please bring her some tissues!” And now his cheeks a full crimson red…………. “our train company has messed up on consumables!”

And with that he turned and rather quickly made for the opposite end of our carriage.
“Oh my god” I said to myself again looking at the cushioned seat where Emily once sat, “this IS the strangest day of my life!”

Reaching for tissues in my pocket and rising out of my seat, excitement reinvigorating my sanity, I moved towards the open door feeling a bulge in my jeans making it uncomfortable to move, anticipating what I assumed would be sex and hoping this girl called Emily didn’t want to show me the art deco sink tap fittings!

My heart began to race again! Fresh blood making the cheeks of my face burn and my penis broaden to its full girth!

Balancing myself as I pushed that same headrest, passing through that very same door Emily had minutes earlier, I stumbled into the dimly lit space coupling two carriages together. Noticing what I assumed was a bathroom door left slightly ajar, and because as we all know ajar bathroom doors are safe to enter, I took a sharp intake of breath and decided to walk in!

Squeezing my slim body around the oak door panel, opening into a space no larger than three foot square. I looked straight ahead facing a woman resting her ass on the corner of a reflective white ceramic sink, her two hands clasping the white china to steady herself.

The woman was Emily, a dark silhouette affront a window emanating such a bright light into our dimly lit cubicle, making my eyes sting uncomfortably as they adjusted to the dark against white contrast. My shoes now glued to the spot a jolt as if on que near leapt Emily onto me, flinging her arms around my shoulders she pulled my body deep into hers.

“What took you so long” she whispered, “I take it the ticket man said I wanted tissues, hell where have you been?”

“I fell asleep didn’t I” relief in my voice and so happy I’d met her again. Squeezing Emily tight, feeling her curvaceous body against mine for the first time, a warmth of affection between us quite intoxicating a new found sexual excitement making me swallow hard!
Then with her mouth close to my ear she whispered softly,

“Andrew we’ve only fifteen minutes before Gromont Station, enough time to feel you inside me.”

“Yes” I replied. “Oh god yes…….please!…………….Emily I need to f*** you”, nuzzling my cheeks into the nape of her neck, the scent of that delicate perfume upon her skin.

“OH GOD”, words stumbling from my mouth.

An icy cold shudder flowed through my body, an omg flashed across my mind like fork lightening across blackened midnight skies. In a state of panic, you have to believe this wasn’t disappointed resignation for whatever her answer I was by now so sexually excited, my dick engorged with blood, throbbing hard and painful within my tight jean crotch, whatever her reaction I was going to f*** Emily.

I’m a kind quiet gentleman but a sexually excited male is always minutes away from animalistic copulation, a desperate need to release his creamy ejaculate urging him on, a carnal desire as old as man himself. It’s at time’s like these an excited male, however decent may not be able to stop from forcing himself inside a woman. Be honest now, how many occasions have passions overwhelmed you and you’ve f***ed without protection?
‘Protection! Damn I’ve no condom’, words no man ever wants to say.

My mind a blur, pleasure giving chemicals surging through my brain I dropped my hands to my belt unclipping the buckle, ‘you’re not going anywhere’ I thought to myself as the cubical creaked and rattled. Leaning back I admired Emily’s locks of brunette hair dancing for the train, her pelvis now trapped between cold porcelain sink and my body unable to move, arms wrapped around my neck pulling me closer, oh and a violent rape flooding my mind!

I stood tall, this bloody train was beginning to make me angry near throwing me sideways into partitioning walls. My waist no longer pressing into hers I fumbled my jeans button open, tugging the fly zipper down, at last feeling relief as my penis sprung forward no longer constrained in tight jeans, its purple tip pressed against Emily’s blue cotton denim.

Then in a moment of clarity, my dick comfortable at last, my heart still thumping I calmly said to her.

“Emily I’ve got no condom! A mixture of shock and distress in my voice.

Emily recoiled back toward the window, releasing her arms from around my neck pushing my shoulders away at the same time, two strangers facing each other less than two feet apart. She looked into my eyes our waists the only parts of our bodies touching, then raising a finger to my lips she said.

“It’s ok Andrew”……”I’m clean and I trust you”, smiling a wicked love in her eyes.

“I never f*** with a condom anyway, I only take a man if I can feel the skin of his dick inside me”, throwing her head back giggling like a sex starved girl from a single sex boarding school.

Pushing me away still farther, so forcibly, my back hit the cubicle door slamming it shut, “God that hurt” I whispered to myself, visions of a trolley dolly listening the other side, witnessing the dirty deed I was gonna inflict on this pretty girl with brunette hair.

To be continued with the final part (ending) tomorrow…….

(Anyone loyal to my tale is possibly thinking lol, ‘thank God for that!’

A. S.

Pretty Lady On A Train (part 3/6)

Continued………………….

Pretty Lady On A Train - part 4

Fifteen or so minutes passed into our journey together and our conversations became happier and fun, giggles from her at my small talk, it takes me a while to relax but once warmed I like to think myself as an amusing guy, a turn of phrase here and there, an anecdote or two amusing her and now a quarter into our journey we are good friends.

Then Emily did something quite unexpected she ceased talking. Looked down at her map unfurling the sheets with renewed concentration to I guess see how far we’d travelled? ‘Oh shit’ I thought to myself recoiling back, elbows still resting on the tables edge, ‘what did I say wrong?’ ‘Why’s she suddenly lost interest?’ Anxiety flooded my mind I’m a sensitive soul ‘had it crossed her mind we’re becoming that little bit too familiar? A little over friendly for two complete strangers who’d only just this met?’

My heart sank. I wasn’t chatting her up most definitely not, I’m crap at that anyways. Night time in bed, hand holding my dick I’ll dream of pulling in a nightclub, ambitions to leave with a young lady and find ourselves a dark alley where she’ll lean back against a wall. Excitement engorging, I’ll lift up her dress pull down her knickers and I’ll penetrate her forgetting my condom, yes a little worse for wear but still sane enough to withdraw come the time.

Feeling deflated I watched her head drop, fingers tracing coloured lines denoting roads on her walkers map, and with a resignation I sighed an ‘Oh well the young lady’s mind’s elsewhere, oblivious and hunched over her fully unfurled paper drawing’. Then looking up, her eyes sparkling, Emily caught me watching her jiggling boobs and pointing nipples getting harder. ‘Damn’ I thought feeling my cheeks burn. It didn’t matter though, she smiled leaning forward and closer, her hands reaching out her delicate fingers now warm to the touch pulling my arm toward her, pressing my hand into the table making sure it wasn’t going anywhere.

“You are a sweetie” Emily’s whispered, head close to mine her tips of long brown hair kissing our dividing table. ‘Wow I was being seduced!’

Emily’s lips slightly parted made moist from the wetness on her tongue, and so sensually my heart literally melted. Then she spoke! Gosh her voice had changed, she’d suddenly transformed into a romancing more sexual woman. Then a thought a flashed across my mind, ‘wow she’s going to kiss me and her nipples are so large I can trace the outline of her areola beneath thin cotton’ fabric’ yum that me hard!

“Andrew”, breaking our silence her eyes childlike alive betraying a naughtiness, “you’ve been looking at my tits from ever since you climbed aboard this carriage.” Totally taken aback by her intimate and dirty phrasing, yes dirty is the word, I thought ‘what kind of lady says tits to a complete stranger she’s never laid eyes on before?’

As she spoke Emily’s finger tips walked further up my arm coming to rest on my shoulder pulling me towards her. Feeling a warm breath in my mouth, her heart rate pushing air from deep within her lungs and if you’re wondering her breath smelt pleasant, which was lovely. Leaning ever closer, her hand atop mine tight ensuring I wasn’t to be going anywhere, a delicate floral perfume breezed past my nostrils, a scent I hadn’t noticed before.

“Come on answer” she said with a girly giggle, she didn’t care in the slightest so what we’ve only just met. “So Andrew tell me why you’ve never stopped looking all journey”………..”they’re my best asset don’t you think?” Both of us now staring at two mounds beneath her thin cotton tee shirt.

Swallowing hard I replied a boyishly and quiet “because I’d love to see them”, then feeling ever more confident “because I want to suck one of those hard nipples”, whilst trying not to laugh at the same time! ‘Wow where did that brazenness come from, I deserved a slap around the cheeks, Emily crying out for the guard!

“No” Emily replied recoiling away, my face must have been a picture, mouth wide open with thoughts of ‘omg what have I gone and done now’, the pit of my stomach aching as though punched hard!

I was dumbfounded frozen in time, not a part of my body moved as I watched Emily stand from her burgundy vintage cushion, she caught my eye kissing me another one of her sweet smiles, ‘phew that was close!’ The path we tread in life is so precarious, her response could just as easily to walk away offended disgusted, don’t you think living is just luck and chance and little else?

Inching her curvy hips around the table, revealing shapely thighs inside tightest of tight blue jeans my eyes following the contour of her crotch, that oh so sexy curve of a woman’s body disappearing through her vagina bridge and what I assumed was a plump firm ass, “you’re a fine looking woman” I whispered to myself.

My attention now drawn to the outline of Emily’s frame, a gorgeous size 10 figure having risen from her seat, her left hand reaching out with fingers clasping onto the headrest beside the door frame. Held open incidentally by a stopper so as to allow refreshment carts to pass through. Pausing for moment, our carriage rhythmically swaying side to side, standing tall now balancing in the aisle between two seats Emily swayed in time to this rhythmic old carriage.

Slipping her rain coat down over her shoulders, throwing it back to the seat she’d just vacated, Emily looked the handsome young woman she actually was, taller than I first assumed her smoothed cotton tee shirt hiding a slim waist yet at the same time clinging to her curvy large breasts. Jiggling they were, gorgeously quivering in response to our train weaving itself through rain sodden northern moorland. Emily gazed into my eyes, smiled, momentarily looked toward the other end of the carriage ascertaining how many people accompany us, and for your information I was correct, a young woman and her five year old daughter sat many rows away.

Turning to face me again, with a hushed voice knowing our micro family could be listening, Emily said. “I need to pee wait five minutes then follow me” pointing at the propped open door as she moved away, catching my eye with a tiny wink.

In shock and rather exhausted I reclined into my soft vintage cushion, rubbed mist off the glass and gazed out the window watching hedgerows streak past, a new scenery replacing the monotony of purple tipped heather. ‘Wow’ I thought to myself they’d never believe this at work’ my heart rate slowing a little, ‘and now she wants me to follow her to the bathroom!’ Eagerly grinning I teased myself, ‘So Andrew are you going after her or sit here and read your book?’ Twenty minutes ago I was a tourist making my way to a Yorkshire village famous for drama’s on the telly, now I’ve just been propositioned by a hiker called Emily.

A. S.

To be continued in part 4 tomorrow………….

 

Pretty Lady On A Train (part 2)

(Original fiction written by me)

'Lady On A Train' 2

………. I hadn’t noticed the lady’s face or her bosom until a little way into our journey. The train had stopped at Gothland Railway Station, hurriedly I’d clambered aboard crossing a grubby green carpeted aisle, my legs touching brushing past her jeans on the way, making a mental note she’s wearing walking boots. ‘Hmm she’s a tourist just like me’ I’d thought to myself before taking a seat by the window. And do you know what, in the rush I really hadn’t given the lady a second glance.

Well that’s untrue, when seated I looked across for the briefest of moments, enough to see her head was bowed, an assumed concentration etched across her face reading a map. (Hold that thought) Then getting myself together I laid my belongings out on the table, sighed rather loudly and gazed out the window watching the incredible scenery pass before my eyes. Only then after a couple of minutes did I turn to look at my female companion, only then did I notice that her walker’s rain coat was unzipped open exposing two mounds of rather large breasts, all within tight navy blue tee shirt I might add! So of course my attention’s magnetically drawn to her rather prominent nipples pointing through the soft stretchy cotton, oh yes I noticed those two alright! Walking boots and an outdoor coat all indicate she was a hiker and there’s a coincidence just like me, I’m virtually dressed the same though without the hard nipples.

‘Hmm they’re rather yummy’ I smiled to myself.

The train pulled away and slowly rumbled its way through beautiful rain sodden countryside, flat damp and evergreen with only spongy heather for vegetation. Now comfortably settled with rucksack on the seat beside me, heritage train book and packed lunch an arms length away in front on the table, we rocked and rolled through a picture perfect beautiful landscape that attracts people from across the globe. Yet on cold wintry summer days such as these, a low grey cloud, a persistent deluge of heavy rain meant we were the only two souls in the carriage.

Though hold on a second, a hushed chatter from what sounded like a young woman in the distance, also muffled occasional squeals of laughter from a child in the distance, we were in fact NOT alone. One voice slightly higher pitch making the number five pop into my mind, ‘could be a girl of five years old?’ I mused. And with that I guessed a mother and daughter were seated at the very far end enjoying a day out like us two strangers.

Anyways the change in weather meant only we four travelled today in a carriage pulled by this gruff throaty diesel engine, 1960’s, preserved for tourists in search of nostalgia.

We trundled our way through rural Yorkshire me time to time glancing across our shared light coloured oak table, and looking about the rail car the whole interior’s a soft golden hew. Though being honest any fascination with historic trains was receding my mind now alive dreaming sexual possibilities with this gorgeous creature opposite. Every thirty seconds or so I’d glance across at her breasts jiggling side to side and up and down, they were large enough to notice and certainly enjoyable to watch, bouncing higher when our carriage jumped two connecting rails and making no secret this pretty young lady had boobs on the bigger side.

I thought to myself she should really be wearing a bra because they’re just that little too heavy not to be supported, in a few years when she reaches thirty they’ll drop, sag to not far above her belly button, but they’ll still look adorable pointing outwards, still look sexy as older woman’s boobs do. I nearly said to her ‘you’ll only ever get sexy cleavage again by wearing a Wonderbra’, I didn’t.

Anyways as you’ll have deduced by now my attentions are drawn to her boobs rather than spectacular scenery, then totally out of the blue she looked up from the map she’s interestedly following and beams me such a sweet smile that my lame nervous reply didn’t seem to matter. Awkwardness and silence broken we begin to chat about where we lived, occupations that employ us, partners, oh yes I managed to slip that one in!

Turns out we’re both ‘single’ and in truth I am, but a pretty young lady like Emily is NO WAY single yet she wears no wedding ring, no engagement ring and as you’re too well aware a guy always looks at a single girl’s ring finger!

Warmth flowed between us, a friendly conversation is struck up and it’s a given Emily and I liked each other, oh yes I forgot to tell you she’d let slip her name was Emily, a pretty name don’t you think? Hmm, Andrew and Emily has a nice ring to it, where was I, yes she wore no rings, maybe a woman who’s up for extra marital sex removes her band of gold, yet a girl betrothed sometimes leaves her engagement on! Confuses me so, is she single or is she not?

Returning my gaze to her red lips appearing fuller rosier in colour now, hmm that’s odd Emily wore no lipstick! Our shared carriage had been warmed by hot air blowing up from under the seats, the engine working harder pulling this great length of carriage had plumped Emily’s lips, flushed her cheeks a soft shade of pink, our heated intimate carriage space ensuring her feminine sexiness sparked alive. A wicked thought crossed my mind, doesn’t warmth inside a lady’s pelvic region make something else down there blush rosy red, make her catch a breath as she crosses her legs!

‘Emily is single’ I grinned to myself.

To be continued……………………

A. S.