Glazed

Earlier this year I met up with Brian for the first time. Brian has been a very long-term follower and admirer of mine, since back in the days when I had two Yahoo Groups (one for photos the other for videos) and we’d exchanged messages quite a few times over the years.

Brian likes everything about the way I look and dress – the fully fashioned stockings, the stiletto heels and boots, the leather, PVC, gloves … you name it and he thinks they’re great. But Brian has a particular interest, I might almost say obsession about me and that’s with my tits. A self -confessed “big boobs” fanatic, Brian is convinced that I have the most perfect breasts in the world: big, maybe even very big but not too big and my large, prominent and often rock-hard nipples seal the deal for him.

If we ever met, he had told me, there was only one request he would make, only one thing he’d want me to do – topless hand relief. And a few months ago, he pitched a proposal to me and, to his surprise, I accepted. As he lives a short drive from me, he suggested a weekend when he would have the house to himself (which I took to mean his wife would be away) and we settled on the Saturday afternoon. Then for him a period of strict abstention and daily edging to my videos began, in accordance with my request or perhaps I should say instructions.

As I had never met Brian before and especially as I was going to his house, I was accompanied by my husband, John, as a sensible (and standard) precaution. One never knows!

I wore the tight top and black PVC quarter cup bra you can see in these photos and although I said I’d wear a long coat to avoid embarrassing him with his neighbours he said he’d prefer to see me striding up his drive with my big tits on public display. So we parked a little way from his house and I rang him to say we had arrived, so he was able to stand at an upstairs window and watch me bounce towards his house.

After introductions I suggested the lounge rather than a bedroom (I find that sexier, for some reason) and I told John to sit in the kitchen. Before we began his ‘relief’, I invited Brian to admire and hold the objects of his fascination, his obsession and so he stood behind me and cupped them through my top, squeezing them gently.

Brian said “This is just a dream come true. I can’t believe you’re here. I’ve fantasised about this for years.”

I encouraged him to take my nipples between his fingers and thumbs and squeeze them too and to pull them and then shake my breasts up and down and they were certainly hard and engorged but as my head began to spin and I sensed an orgasm coming on I had to pull away. You may think this odd but I find it much easier and more pleasurable when I am providing hand relief to do so while I am almost as turned on and horny as the recipient and that if I have just had an orgasm myself, it just doesn’t feel the same. So I consciously postponed my own pleasure but knew I wasn’t far off.

It was time for business. I removed my top and bra and put on a pair of disposable latex gloves. Then I pored a little baby oil onto each breast (being careful not to drip onto his carpet!) and massaged it in until both were glistening. Even doing this had me hovering upwards towards my own climax. As I knelt before him, I looked down and even I thought to myself how magnificent they looked.

As I stroked my oily gloved hands up and down his shaft, I could sense straight away that he wasn’t going to last long if I continued with a firm grip, so controlling him, so as to make it last, would be a challenge. But using my skills and experience I managed to prolong his pleasure.

I’d asked previously if he’d like to call me some filthy names but he was insistent that he’d rather hear me talk and talk specifically about my breasts. So I coupled slow, gentle strokes with a monologue.

“You can see why I’m called Busty Slut, can’t you? Men just love my big tits. Everywhere I go I know men are staring at them. That’s why I like to wear tight tops and sweaters with a quarter cup bra or sometimes a satin blouse with no bra at all. Can you imagine the reaction when I go into a pub wearing the top and bra I wore for you today, nipples tweaked up, rock hard?”

He grunted in response.

“Every man looks at me. Or at them. And do you know what they’d all like to do?”

He shook his head.

“They want to hold them. Squeeze them. Pull my nipples. Maybe even slap them.”

I detected a slight look of surprise at that last one. “Oh yes, some men like to slap my tits. And do you know what? I sometimes have an orgasm when they do. And all those men want to spunk on my tits. They want to tit fuck me.”

He managed a few words: “Do you like that?”

“Being tit fucked? I love it. Maybe next time you should tit fuck me.”

He moaned and shifted in his chair.

“Yes, I could lie on my back and squeeze them together and you could slide your hard cock between them. And then hump them until you give me a pearl necklace. You’d like that wouldn’t you? Or would you prefer it if I wrapped my big tits around your hard cock and gave you a tit wank?”

I was really into the dirty chat now and my right hand had a firm grip and I’d moved my left arm beneath my breasts and had lifted them upwards. A quick glance down and I could see they looked absolutely enormous like this, glistening with baby oil and my nipples had grown even bigger. I was so turned on!

“And the blokes in the pub imagine themselves tit fucking me but I also sometimes fantasise that one of them follows me into the toilets and pushes me into a cubicle and pulls my top up and starts tit fucking me and before he’s spunked, some of the other men are stood behind, waiting their turn and so I’m sat on the toilet and one guy after another tit fucks me and I’m covered in spunk.”

“Oh Jesus, oh God …”

And I knew then he was at the point of no return so I moved my tits up and his cock aimed towards them and said “I want you to spunk all over my big tits. Come on glaze my massive tits …”

And he did. Now, over the years I have seen just about every form of male ejaculation there is on the planet. In fact, one of the things which makes seeing men ejaculate so interesting is that they can be so different from one another. But they are difficult to describe. I’d describe Brian’s as being little but often by which I mean after his first spurt (which was quite strong and hit the underside of my chin) there was a glob of cum about the diameter of a penny when it landed on my breast but then there was another and another and another and I was able to move his cock back and forth and he was still spurting these large raindrops of jizz and so his ejaculation seemed to go on and on, so what while I had thought he might be a little disappointing when it started, by the time he ended both of my breasts were well splashed with his juice, almost everywhere I looked.

I’ve added a couple of photos which, to be clear, are not of me (I’m bigger but sadly not tanned like this lady) but which show a somewhat similar pattern of ejaculate on her breasts, although I’d say Brian had managed quite a lot more.

Normally I like to spend a bit of time with ‘warm down’ stroking but I’d a different idea that day. I asked John to come into the lounge with us and when he saw my spunk covered breasts he just laughed and said, “Oh wow”. I said, “Lick it off”. I knew he would not want to do this and he shook his head in refusal but after I said that if he didn’t obey me, he’d receive no relief for one month, be began licking up Brian’s semen from my breasts and as he sucked my nipples, I felt the waves of my orgasm building once more, so I said “That’s enough. Sit.”

Now it was his turn and I went fast and brutal. I think Brian was a little taken aback at how I insulted John and he, in equal measure, called me names – busty slut, big titted tart and so forth. After I told him if he didn’t hurry up I’d stop and we’d have to recommence the next day, he managed to muster his ejaculation and with a torrent of “You dirty busty whore” and other such comments, he spurted his little load onto my breasts. To be fair to him, it was a reasonable amount on this occasion.

I took off my gloves and using my fingers I swirled the fluids from both together and scooped up what I could and licked my fingers clean. Delicious!

Now it really was my turn to let go of all the tension which had built up that afternoon. Brian sat and watched as John put a latex glove on his right hand and gently probed my sopping wet gash. He said afterwards he was astonished at how quickly I came but that’s quite standard for me and was a measure of just how turned on I had felt almost all day.

As the saying goes, if you have it (or in this case, them) flaunt it and I think if I’m going to flaunt my busty profile, I have to be ready to use them too. And they make a lovely target area, don’t they?

Hello sexy!

I was chatting online with one of my loyal followers last week (and by the way, this is something I do with some, so if you’re interested in a filthy online chat, just let me know*) and he said how much he’d enjoyed my blog about suspender belt ‘bumps’ and how attracted he is by their public display and this lead me to reminisce with him about an experience I had a few years ago – I think it was in 2016 but I might be out by a year or two, as you know how memory can play tricks.

In any case, just before New Years Eve that year, my husband, John and I discussed what to do and he said he’d be happy to just go to a pub for a few drinks and then back home for a bit of ‘relief’ and see in the New Year on the TV but he suggested – should that be pleaded? – that perhaps I’d like to go ‘fully tackled up’ by which he meant in suspender belt, seams and heels. I was up for that but on the proviso that the pub was not too close to home, as the days when I was relaxed about going to our local in such outfits have long gone.

Virgin? I’ve never been so insulted in my life!

He had a good suggestion – a really rough pub which is relatively near where we live but far enough away (and of a type) that we were extremely unlikely to bump into any neighbours or friends. I’d been to this pub once before and it’s what I would call very ‘blokey’ and, according to John, for some reason it’s often full of builders and construction workers.

My other condition, other than location, was a taxi both ways, no tottering home in stilettos for me, thank you very much.

Obviously this picture is illustrative and is not one of me!

On the day I started early with the drinks and before I’d even had my shower and applied my makeup, I’d already had a few cocktails and most of a bottle of Champagne. Okay, maybe all of that bottle. So flushed with booze and excitement, I probably went a bit OTT on the outfit: a low-cut black top with my tits held up by a quarter cup bra, showing an acre of milky cleavage; a 10-strap suspender belt; a new pair of black fully fashioned stockings; a short (too short?) tight skirt; and heels so high I’m amazed I didn’t fall over in them. Let me put it this way – I now only wear those shoes for photos and sex sessions, basically, when I don’t have to walk in them. But back then …

These are the shoes I wore that night – not sure how I managed to stay upright!

My makeup was a bit on the heavy side and for the life of me I can’t now remember if I wore an ankle chain or not. I might have done, as I had gone all in on the ‘tarty’ look. Even John said “Blimey, are you sure?” when he saw me in all my outfit and I slurred something like “Oh shut up, don’t be so boring” in response.

When we got to the pub and opened the door we were immediately hit by a wall of noise, heat and steam. The place was absolutely rammed! In other circumstances I’d have turned around and headed somewhere else but the taxi had left and, in my heels, I wasn’t walking far. So, on we pressed.

John headed towards the bar and I somehow tottered and wriggled through the crowd towards a small space at the side where I might at least have room to breathe. No sooner had I done so than I was surrounded by a group of about eight young men and while one helped me out of my coat, they all had a good look at my cleavage and straight away one of them said “Hello sexy!” said he loved my stockings, and really liked my shoes.

By the time John came over with our drinks things had progressed. I can’t remember if I’d been asked if they could feel my suspender belt straps or they had just gone ahead and done so but there were hands all over my skirt as they had a good feel. Of course, they immediately backed off when he reached us but he was quick to reassure them that their attention was welcome and before long one of them, who had manoeuvred himself behind me, was pressing himself against my backside and cupped my breasts and begun pulling my nipples. This always gets me going and being rather drunk I started to give as good as I was getting and I said I wanted to have a feel of them, to see who was biggest and who was hardest. I worked my way round the group squeezing each of their cocks and I took the opportunity to humiliate John by declaring his to be small, flaccid and useless.

At the same time, he was really making me out to be a complete slut, saying how I love cock and how I’ve always been unfaithful and he even told one of them that if offered enough cash I’d give a guy a hand job or a blow job. At some point we began discussing hand relief and I told them I liked to describe myself as a Masturbatrix and of course they all wanted to know how they could get to experience my skills in that department.

John whispered in my ear that I should take one of them into the toilets and “have some fun” but the pub was so full there was no way to do so and although he then suggested we nip outside with some of them for “a bit of action” it was freezing outside and I told him to forget it but instead enjoy the show, as these lads groped and pawed me and rubbed their erections against me and we had a lot of really filthy discussions.

When we got home later it was most definitely time for his hand relief service and as I began to stroke him, he asked the inevitable question: what would you have liked to do with those lads tonight if circumstances had permitted?

I said I would have told them I was going to the toilet and they should each come and join me in turn, one after another.

Me in a pub toilet on another occasion, ready to “do the business”!

“Would you have wanked them?”

“Yes.”

“What if one asked you to suck them off?” he asked

“I’d have done it, you know I would. I love a mouthful of cock.” You should know this is especially exciting for my husband, as I imposed a ban on oral sex with him some time ago but he knows I’m very happy to suck off other men. This is something that I learned very early on in the cuckolding game – one of the best ways to torment the husband is to allow other men to perform acts with the wife that she refuses to sanction from her spouse. It’s a very cruel psychological slap in the face; she’s clearly telling her husband that he does not excite her enough to be granted such a privilege, but other men make her want these things, and indeed she often begs for them.

“And swallowed?”

“Yes, you know I always swallow. Well, unless they want to spunk on my face?”

“You dirty whore. You big titted tart. Everyone in the pub was looking at your tits you know. And they saw your seams and these heels, they knew you were talked up and looking like you were gagging for it.”

“I know. Made me so wet! Maybe I’d have said, you can only join me if you have the cash. It’s £20 for a hand job, £50 for a blow job.”

“How many could you have done?”

“All of that group. Maybe a few more.”

“What about being fucked by them?”

“Oh … mmmm … maybe. Bareback, of course”

He started to call me a slut again but didn’t manage to finish what he was saying before he groaned and began spilling his sperm and semen onto my cleavage. After his warm down, it was my turn and I don’t think I have been as ready to orgasm or as wet as I was that night for a very long time.

For weeks after, that’s all we talked about as I masturbated him – what would you have done, would you have done this or that, what about being gang banged, passed from one young cock to another, spit roasted on the floor, other pub goers coming in to join the action …

It had been quite a night and a great start to our New Year. And all because of a suspender belt, stockings and a pair of (very) high heels!

Please note the offer of an online chat is limited to those who have shown support for me by gifting at least one pair of fully fashioned stockings

Suspender belt “bumps”

As I have previously described, I acquired my first suspender belt and a pair of Aristoc Harmony Point fully fashioned stockings when I was just fourteen and I immediately appreciated the erotic allure of this combination, not only for very many men but, more importantly, perhaps, for myself. The other core item was of course high heels – I loved how they made my legs seem so incredibly long and shapely.

It wasn’t long before I had acquired another belt, this time from M&S and I began to build a small collection. I was a little older when I realised that another weapon in my erotic armoury was ‘suspender bumps’ – the visible protrusion of a woman’s suspender belt straps and clasps through her skirt and so, when I acquired a new belt – some purchased, others gifted to me – I would immediately cut off the stupid little piece of fabric, designed to ‘hide’ the clasp beneath a tight dress or skirt. I didn’t want them hidden, I wanted them on show!

In time, I learnt the benefit of multistrip belts, not least of which is the rear-facing suspenders because it gives men an opportunity to view me at close range from behind without embarrassment, as they fixate on those taut straps and clasps. For example, I would deliberately stand at a bar for as long as possible, sometimes with one foot raised on the brass runner, so that men in the room could readily view my seamed stockings, tight skirt and suspenders, and I’d listen for their murmured comments and appreciation.

I know many men bemoan the fact that so few women seem to wear stockings and suspenders these days (particularly in the daytime) and the true fans constantly look for evidence of this when they are out and about in public, but only experience the suspender bump phenomenon a few times in their life and one or two of these instances may be a case of wishful thinking rather than the real deal. So for me it is a real pleasure to add a clear image to their memory bank of such golden moments.

Of course, I became familiar with the filthy looks I got from some women, when I walked into a bar or turned up at a party in seamed stockings and towering heels (or high heel boots), suspender belt straps and clasps clearly visible beneath my tight satin or leather skirt but I began to revel in such disapproval. I’d return their icy stares and give them a knowing, mocking look, thinking:

Turn your head sideways and look at your husband’s face, darling. See? He can’t get enough of me and he’s dreaming of fucking me. He doesn’t want to fuck an ugly old fat cow like you anymore, he just wants to fuck me. I turn him on in ways that you never have and never will. Do you understand that, bitch? It’s me he wants, not you.

A few years ago, I visited a shop near where I live which sold leather clothing (sadly, it has since closed). I explained to the owner that I wanted to get a leather skirt which would show my suspender belt straps. He thought I meant to say it would not show them but I corrected him and explained that I like to wear multistrip belts and show the straps and clasps. He was visibly surprised and even said “That’s unusual” but he showed me some examples off the peg to get an idea of length, colour and the type of leather I wanted but said I’d need a bespoke fit and he’d have it made up to fit me exactly. While he took some measurements, he asked about my passion for stockings and my desire to display ‘bumps’ and when I explained that my ‘go to’ nylons were fully fashioned stockings it became obvious that he was very aroused. I asked if it might be better if I was wearing stockings, to ensure the right fit but he suggested he would have the skirt made up and then I would return for a fitting, followed by any adjustments and he said it would be good to see me in my belt and stockings at that stage. When I asked about cost, I was a little taken aback by the amount but seeing my reaction he said he was sure we could come to some arrangement and said if he could take some photos in the shop with me modelling the new skirt he might be able to reduce the cost quite a bit. I spotted my opportunity!

When I returned for the fitting three weeks later I wore an eight-strap belt, seamed stockings and some lovely five-inch heels. He immediately locked the door of the shop, so we had privacy for the fitting. This appeared to involve a lot of his hands smoothing down the skirt over my suspenders and let’s say I encouraged him. At one point, he apologised for becoming a little too excited, as he said his hands were shaking a little but confessed he had always been a very big fan of seamed stockings and stiletto heels. I told him not to apologise and not to worry and that I liked his reaction and would have been disappointed if he didn’t find my outfit exciting, otherwise what would be the point of me ordering the skirt.

With this encouragement, he stood immediately behind me and reached around the front to confirm the fit and I could feel his erection pressed against my backside. Seizing my opportunity, I asked if we might discuss the arrangement regarding the cost to which he had alluded and while I won’t go into too much detail let’s just say that after retiring to his office, I managed to ease the tension he was obviously feeling. So much so that when I said I’d also like to have a leather mini skirt on the same terms (i.e. completely free) he readily agreed. A few weeks later I was back in his shop for the mini skirt fitting and of course I wore seams and heels again and he enjoyed my method of payment even more on that occasion.

Getting back to suspender belt ‘bumps’ the question arises, with such an open display of suspender belt, seamed stockings and five-inch heels, often coupled with heavy make-up and an oversized bust also often on show, is it sending an open message to men that I’m hot for cock? Or am I a prick teaser, wanting them to get hard and frustrated, sending them rushing home or even into the nearest public toilet to frantically masturbate?

Well, I’ll leave you to decide but as a clue I’d say it depends on the circumstances, my mood and of course it depends on the man – he can rub his pathetic little dick red raw when he gets home, while you, darling, well, I can take care of that for you or perhaps you’d prefer to fill my mouth and hear me gag.

I used to think my engagement and wedding ring would deflect ardent attention but experience suggests the opposite, as it seems to be exciting for a guy to make a play for a wife who has obviously gone out in public with the intention of attracting other men. Maybe there’s a competitive aspect at play or perhaps guys like the idea that I’m not getting enough at home and the frustration has prompted me to go out looking like a slut and maybe looking for cock – but I don’t dwell too much on the psychology of it all, I just love the attention and the flirtatious foreplay. Naturally, going out during the day on prick-teasing excursions may involve me being approached and chatted up, something I enjoy even if I have no intention of taking things any further.

So my message to all you stockings and high heel fanatics is keep your eyes peeled and if you see me out in seams, dangerously high heels and showing my suspender ‘bumps’, you never know, you might be in luck, so come over, say hello and I’ll have a Champagne, please. A bottle not a glass.

Christmas is cumming

Very close to the house we moved to about fifteen years ago and in which we now live, was a car repair and testing garage. At that time, I drove an old car and though I loved it, it was a bit of a wreck, so the garage would prove very handy.

The first time I met the owner, Ryan (and by the way this is not his real name, which is quite distinctive but I want to avoid the risk that someone might be able to identify him) we sort of clicked – I wouldn’t say he flirted with me but there was definitely a bit of sexual tension in the air. He was early forties, and a big man and I just liked how he looked.

My car needed a few minor things doing from time to time and he insisted on doing them without charge. Even when I needed a headlight replacing and I insisted on paying he invoiced me for just £10 and a replacement tyre cost me just £15. So I knew we had a bit of a thing going.

I found another excuse to visit him in his office: I was organising a raffle for a local charity I support and I visiting local businesses asking if they would donate a prize and when I went to visit Ryan I just happened to be wearing a leather skirt, high heels and a top which might prompt the description “busty”, as I had noticed his gaze did seem to settle at chest height. When he said how nice I looked I explained it away, saying I was meeting a friend for lunch. He was extremely generous and said he would donate five £100 John Lewis gift vouchers. I should perhaps add that local rumour had it that he and his family were very wealthy, as they also owned a number of dealerships for a particular big brand car (which I won’t name) in the southeast of England.

Nevertheless, I was seriously impressed and couldn’t thank him enough. The flirting was definitely on and he said how great I looked, he’d love to take me to lunch, that I should offer that opportunity as a prize in the raffle and he’d buy loads of tickets and that sort of thing and I went off happy and flattered.

A few weeks later and just two days before Christmas I spotted him walking up my drive and I’ll admit I got rather flustered as my parents had just arrived and I wasn’t sure what he was doing at my door. But he simply handed me a very nicely wrapped parcel and said, “A little gift”, wished me a merry Christmas and was on his way.

When I opened it on Christmas day, I found it was a very fine, lambswool sweater from Benetton together with a Christmas card in which he had written “I think you would look great in this!”. Of course, my mother was all for me trying it on, to see if it would fit but I had quickly worked out how fine the wool was and how much it might show, so I put it aside and said, “Let’s open another” and moved on.

The next day, I had a chat to my husband about it and he said “Look he obviously fancies you and it’s obvious you fancy him, so go for it!” So, in the New Year I went in to see him, wearing the sweater over a black quarter cup bra, a leather mini, fully fashioned stockings and a pair of massive heels. Of course I covered myself up with a long overcoat, as I didn’t want my neighbours seeing me walking to the garage looking like a tart.

When I got to his office, I thanked him for the gift and said I absolutely loved the sweater and he said he’d love to see me wearing it sometime, so I said “How about now, then?” and opened my coat and asked, “What do you think?” If I have ever seen someone look as if their jaw was about to hit their desk, this was it!

He locked his office door and I removed my coat altogether and let’s say one thing led to another and before long I found myself kneeling in front of him, at his desk (wearing the black glossy latex gloves I just happened to have brought with me) firmly masturbating him. He gushed a really big load, so much so that when I showed my husband the glove I’d had on my right hand, he could hardly believe it. We talked about this and about Ryan a lot over the next few weeks, each time I masturbated my husband, and we were both excited by the possibilities and my husband urged me to take things further and make it a regular thing.

Ryan and I readily came to an arrangement that all my car repairs, servicing, MOT etc and those for my husband too were free but in return each time I would give him hand relief. But of course, this was sporadic, just when something needed doing and he wanted something more regular and suggested a few options. I proposed once a month but he said this would not be enough to satisfy him, now he’d seen me in the sweater, leather mini, seams and heels and eventually we settled on a plan: once a week, each Friday morning, I went to his office and masturbated him at his desk and in return he made sure I was properly rewarded. Does this make me sound like a whore? I suppose it does and that gave me a real spark of excitement.

One of the things I had liked about him from that first New Year milking was that he was a very heavy cummer, and because I had told him how much this turns me on, he suggested he could abstain between our Friday morning meetings, which was fantastic for me, so that it was as if I’d uncorked a bottle of fluid which has been pent up and ready to be fired out of the bottle.

We did this for about four or five years. It suited me as Friday is when I usually get together with my boyfriend/sex partner, so I’d go to Ryan’s office, give him relief and then I’d be wet and ready and I’d often go from his office to my boyfriend and I’d be very ready to cum.

I did a few other things with Ryan. For example, he’d told me he’d always had a fantasy about getting a blow job in the office while on a business call and I agreed to make his fantasy come true and – stroke of genius this – I suggested the customer he had the call with would be my husband, so he did this supposed serious call and burbled on about a car and parts and so forth, while I sucked him off. My husband absolutely loved that episode.

The guys who worked in the repair shop realised what was going on with my going upstairs to his office each week and him locking to door. I wore long coats but they could all see the seams and the heels and after a while I just acknowledged it and I’d give them a wave and they would give me a cheer when I came back down, deed done. In fact, one of them even invited me out and I accepted! I also got all my car repairs done quickly and for free and as I was driving a really beaten-up and leaky old banger, it needed quite a bit of work.

Sadly, like so many things, it didn’t last forever. Ryan and I had a bit of an argument (about my car, can you believe?) and so I stopped visiting him and soon after he sold the business or rather the site as it was demolished and there is now a set of flats there and he moved away from the area.

But for me, it was a really special experience. And I still have and still wear that sweater. In fact, I liked it so much I bought an identical one only in grey and I think it looks lovely too especially when worn with either a bullet bra or with a quarter cup – and nipples pulled to make them nice and hard!

Sperm for breakfast?

I was listening to a programme on BBC radio today called “Sliced Bread” and was interested as they examined longevity supplements, in other words supplements which may help us to live for longer, to live more healthily and/or even look younger. What’s not to love if they work?

Sadly, most of the supplements they considered have proved to have no benefit or, at the very least, there is no proper clinical evidence that they work. However, there is one exception to that and I was very excited to hear about it: it’s called spermidine and as the name suggests it is found in sperm. There appears to be very encouraging evidence that it actually works. For example, see this paper ‘Spermidine delays aging in humans’ https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6128428/

Now I must acknowledge up front that sperm is not the only source of spermidine and it can be found in quite a wide range of foods, including wheat germ and mushrooms and it has also been synthesised, so the supplement you can buy may have little to do with human sperm, other than the name.

However, as someone who over the years has swallowed hundreds and hundreds of pints of sperm and seminal fluid I was excited to learn it may be promoting longevity and helping me to keep looking a little younger, something people often comment upon when they learn my age.

I’ve often thought having a relatively young and fairly wrinkle free complexion might be due, in part, to semen but not for the reason spermidine is meant to work but for a much more basic effect. Let me explain. When I offer a man an oral service for the first time, I always give him a simple choice: he can cum in my mouth and will very happily swallow the lot (and the more the better, as far as I am concerned) or, if he prefers, he can ejaculate on my face and I will lick up any semen on or around my lips. If the second option is chosen, I sometimes don’t immediately rinse my face but instead allow the sperm and semen to dry. This tends to make the skin become very taught and I have sometimes wondered if this has helped me avoid the wrinkles one might expect for a woman of my age and, perhaps, left me with a healthier looking skin altogether.

But now I am wondering if it might have nothing to do with taking hundreds of facials and instead be due to this polyamine called spermidine.

For many years, both before and after I married, I was a prolific blow job enthusiast and I did a lot of oral and I really mean a lot! A friend, recently divorced, asked me what my secret for a long and happy marriage was and I told her I have a simple formula: wear stockings and high heels, get on your knees and suck cock. Sometimes your husband’s.

But about fifteen years ago I really got into the whole ‘hand relief’ and Masturbatrix vibe and have done a lot less oral since then (I don’t suck off my husband anymore, for example) and with recently stepping back a bit from my more libidinous exploits, I expect to get a lot less sperm than I have in the past. My sex partner does provide me with some extremely full loads but I don’t get to swallow all of that and as I only see him about once a week, I’m not sure this is sufficient.

Of course, I could just buy the supplement for the likes of Holland & Barrett but what’s the pleasure in swallowing a couple of pills each day when I could be swallowing a big, healthy dose of spunk? I know some of you will rush to donate your own free supply but come on guys, there is only so much time a girl can spend on her knees!!

So, I am going to explore whether it is possible to purchase human semen – if any of you perverts know the answer, please get in touch. It would be a lovely start to each day if I was able to drink half a pint of healthy, nutritious and (possibly) youth and life prolonging semen.

Bottoms up!

Further information:

https://www.stdcheck.com/blog/benefits-of-semen/

https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/is-semen-good-for-your-skin

https://www.quora.com/Can-I-order-sperm-from-a-donor-and-drink-it-this-is-a-legitimate-question

And the winner is …

I met up with the winner of my prize draw last week and he has written about his experience. These are his words and the only small edits I have made are to a few spellings and typos. The photos are not from our meeting but are of me in a similar outfit to the one I wore for him.

Hi, I am the man some of you probably hate because I am the lucky bugger who got picked by Mistress Emma in her competition. I had only sent her one voucher for stockings and I know some of you have been giving her regular gifts or much bigger than mine. So, sorry but that’s the luck of the draw and I don’t normally win anything.

I was amazed when she told me I’d been chosen because I have watched her videos over and over again and my favourites are the ones where she is wearing gloves and milking a cock and I’ve watched them a thousand times and fantasised her hand is around mine. She has an amazing figure but the outfits also do it for me, the seamed stockings and suspender belts, the great big heels, the boots and all those uniforms – police officer, army officer, nurse, French maid, schoolgirl, massage parlour worker, leather, the PVC fetish Miss Whiplash look. I love them all and wish I lived with her to try them all.

That was the hardest part, what outfit to select when I could only have one. I’m a bit of a ditherer but I narrowed it to St Trinians in little netball skirt as that’s always been a favourite of mine, naughty nurse or her pink Miss Massage overall. I changed my mind a hundred times but, in the end, went with nurse in white uniform. And of course, a black suspender belt with a lot of straps, black seamed stockings, nice high heels and an ankle chain.

When I got there she was already in full uniform and looked absolutely amazing, at least 20 years younger than her age. I was hard straight away. I had expected quite a bossy dom bitch type but she is actually very warm and friendly and funny and she was great at putting me at ease. I was really nervous but we chatted for quite a while with her husband John. A big shout out for him as he is a perfect gentleman and said he was really happy that his wife would soon be making me cum. Some sexy talk about stockings and uniforms and her videos and the way she talked about ‘servicing’ cocks calmed my nerves a bit but had the opposite effect on my cock. It was burning hard.

When we got ready she made John sit in the corridor bit of the room by the door, so he could hear but not see the chair where I sat and her on her knees.

She’d brought a selection of gloves and I was tempted by disposable latex ones that doctors and nurses wear as they go with the uniform but I chose her shiny black latex ones as I’ve seen these in a lot of her videos. She asked if I prefer a busty service or topless and I couldn’t decide so she suggested a compromise – cleavage to begin with and then she’d lift them out when I was getting close to spunking and she said she’d like the spunk on her tits, which sounded great to me! Nearly made me cum when she said that!

I’d told her when I arrived that I had avoided cumming for a long time, as she’d asked and I’d edged each day to her videos but this meant I was already leaking precum and I was nervous I’d just not last more than a minute but she wasn’t worried. In the event it was okay I think because I was a bit nervous that made me a bit less ready and she began very slowly, just gentle long strokes up and down my shaft.

Before we started, she said if I wanted to call her dirty names, she’d be okay about it but I have too much respect for Mistress Emma to call her rude names, although that didn’t stop John later. He called her all sorts! She did quite a lot of dirty talk to me and sort of mocking John and saying he is pathetic and can’t satisfy her.

Somehow by slowing down and speeding up she got me very ready to explode but kept in going for ages but then I got to a point where I thought I knew I was about to unload and I closed my eyes and looked up, ready to cream her tits but she just stopped completely. She got up and filled the kettle and asked if I wanted a coffee or tea and I thought I’d done something wrong or we’d finished or something but she said she wanted me to go a bit soft.

That might have been easier if she’d not walked around the room for a bit, bending over, sort of teasing me and John as well and she made a coffee and then when she knelt down in front of me and started again. After a bit more stroking like this she lifted her tits out over the top of her uniform and said ‘right, now I want your spunk all over these babies’.

I’d lost a bit of my hard-on but I was quickly back up and this time her grip was much firmer and her hand was going quicker and quicker and she was saying things about me giving it to her and every last drop and how she wanted me to cum for her and stuff like that and then when I really was about to lose control she sort of moved in closer towards me and somehow got my cock between her tits and I just felt almost like an electric shock through my whole body and I’m happy to say I gave her a really, really big load and she was moving my cock across her tits getting the spunk everywhere and rubbing the tip of my cock with each of her nipples and saying well done and good boy and wow and things like that which made me really proud. After I was completely unloaded, she carried on stroking me slowly for about 5 minutes which also added a lot to the whole experience as my body was tingling and I felt a bit dizzy to be honest.

I’ll tell you 3 things. I don’t think I’ve produced as much since I was a teenager wanking in my bedroom. It was definitely the strongest climax ever for me, unlike anything I’ve had before. And it was so, so intense, I decided there and then that I would ask my wife to do it like this in future instead of just plain sex because the sensation is just off the planet when it’s done like this.

When we were finished, I asked her and John if they’d like me to leave so they could have some time together but she said she wanted me to stay and watch and he took my place in the chair and I sat on the bed with a ringside view. It was interesting because she went quite hard and fast with John and she was sort of insulting him and saying how useless his cock was and he name called her quite a bit. How he lasted so long was amazing but when she got his cock in between her tits he spurted on them. He only got a minute or two of warm down then he put on a black latex glove and lay on the bed, and she sort of lay across his legs and he put his fingers inside her but kept his hand fairly still and she pushed back against his hand and he used his other hand to pull her nipples and squeeze her tits and after only about 30 or 40 seconds, say max 1 minute she was groaning loudly and she obviously had an orgasm. I said I’d never seen a woman cum so quickly and she laughed and said she has always had orgasms really easily and quickly but said she’d really needed it after masturbating two cocks and having so much spunk all over her tits.

We chatted for a while after and she cleaned herself up in the bathroom and although I offered drinks in the bar I sensed it was time to go and leave them to themselves.

All I can say at the end is I know how lucky I was and it was probably the most sexy experience of my life and one of the best days ever. They say don’t meet your heroes as they’ll just disappoint but this was the opposite. Mistress Emma is gorgeous but also a lovely person, warm, fun, kind and generous and John was so nice as well. Of course, I said I’d like to do it again and am willing to pay almost anything if I could but she was very clear, this was a one off and when we said goodbye I sensed that’s forever, so it’s back to her videos. Please don’t hate me for my luck. When I was there, in the chair, being milked I felt it was like I was there representing all of her fans and followers, so thank you all, thank you John and most of all thank you Mistress Emma the world’s best ever Masturbatrix.

Update

I thought I should give my lovely blog readers an update on a few things.

First, you may remember I ran a little fun competition to select one of my admirers at random who I would meet for a ‘hand relief’ session. We have now arranged this for 4^th October and he has promised to write about the experience afterwards and I’ll post his account here. Unfortunately, due to some sensitivities – both his being married and the nature of his job – he has asked that any photos or videos remain private and I have to respect his wishes.

Second, I’ve decided that after that appointment I will no longer meet admirers for hand relief sessions (or for photos followed by relief). I’ll continue servicing a small selection of existing friends and as part of any ‘cheeky barter’ arrangements I have (see earlier blogs if you don’t know what this refers to) and of course I’ll always be ready to milk my husband, provided he books an appointment with me and pays my fee as I like to treat him as if he is a punter but otherwise my days as a Masturbatrix are over. There’s no drama involved in this decision, I just wish to slow down a bit and not be flirting at the edge of being a sex worker, as this was always meant to be just a fun hobby for me.

Third, you might have noticed, I have made most of my photos on Flickr private and family access only and many which remain public are not of me. When the Pro account comes around for renewal, I may close it altogether. Again, this is just part of reducing my public profile and stepping back a bit, especially from the more explicit material.

However, this blog will continue and my videos – of which there are more than 100 – will remain available to view for all those to whom I have given access, as many have been very generous in keeping me in stockings and heels in return for access and I’d like that to continue. Let me know if you’d like to be added.

That’s all folks!

Home Coming

I asked my husband to contribute a post for this blog. This is what he wrote.

It was mid-afternoon when I got home and as I normally do, I shouted out “Hi” as I closed the door behind me.

“Busy!” my wife shouted back from the lounge. She sounded a little stressed. It took me a few seconds to think what she meant but the lounge door was slightly ajar and I heard a familiar ‘clack, clack, clack’ sound and I knew she must be with one of her gentlemen friends.

I also knew I shouldn’t linger by the lounge door but I could hear the low murmur of her voice, without being able to hear exactly what she was saying and so I hovered there and then she raised her voice and I heard her say something about “now” and then “I want you to …”.

At this point I heard a man, very distinctly, as he was almost shouting: “Oh God, oh God” and then “Christ … fuck, fuck”. He sounded like a potty mouthed vicar.

I knew his fluid was now being released, so I quickly moved away from the door and into the kitchen, to avoid being caught lurking. I needn’t have rushed and it was about ten minutes before she came through to the kitchen. She was wearing her pink ‘Miss Massage’ overall, beneath which I could see her black multistrap suspender belt and of course her signature seamed black stockings and a pair of towering stilettos with steel heels.

Her hands were encased in glossy black latex gloves and when she held up her right hand, I saw the glove was covered with semen, some of which now dripped onto the kitchen floor. There was also one thick rope of spunk lying straight up from her cleavage towards her neck.

“Bad timing” she said, “he was just about to unload when we heard you come in. Almost put him off his stride.”

“Sorry, love, I didn’t know. Didn’t put him off for long though, did I? Who is it?”

She whispered a name. It rang a bell but I couldn’t immediately place it.

“Why don’t you go in and say hello, as he knows you’re here. He’s just cleaning himself up.”

I went though to the lounge and we did introductions. Although I should be used to this by now, I still feel a little awkward saying hello to a man my wife has just masturbated and whose ejaculate is dribbling down her chest and over her gloved hand.

“How was that?” I asked.

He gave me the usual superlatives: fantastic, amazing, incredible

“First time?”

“No, it’s my third, actually. She’s the best. Made for this, great talent”

“Oh, another satisfied customer then, that’s what I like to hear.”

He said the usual things about how lucky I am, if it was him, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her, she’d have to do it every day, so, so lucky, every man’s dream and so forth.

Given I knew I’d be next for the treatment, I did consider asking him to stay and watch us but thought better of it on this occasion and we said our goodbyes.

She asked if I would prefer her to change her gloves before starting on me. I think she already knew the answer would be “HELL NO!” because her using his semen as lubricant on my cock would add considerably to my pleasure.

I gave her the cash she charges me for all ‘relief’ sessions and we got down to business. Sometimes she taunts me as to my inadequacies while she strokes me off and sometimes I give her a bit of verbal abuse but on this occasion I wanted to hear her talking dirty so I simply asked “What are you?”

She knows this script by heart. “I’m a slut, I’m a whore, I’m a dirty bitch.”

“With?”

“A slut with massive tits. A big titted tart, a busty whore.”

This had got me well on the way to my climax and she wasn’t holding back. This was fast, hard pumping, brutal hand work.

“And what do you want?”

“I want big, thick, rock-hard cocks. Not like this pathetic little dick. You’re pathetic. It’s not even properly hard.”

“Sorry”, I gasped.

“And I want spunk. Loads of it. Big thick explosions of thick white cum, not your pathetic dribble.”

“Where?” I could barely speak as I was so focussed on cumming.

“You know where. Deep inside me. All over my tits and my face. I want so much in my mouth I can’t swallow all of it. And over my stocking tops and my boots and my high heels …”

And at the very moment I was about to begin to spurt, she expertly guided my cock towards her chest and at the same time leant in towards me, so my spunk went over her tits.

As I gasped and groaned, she continued to milk me but with longer and slightly slower strokes and she muttered “Every last drop.”

And there she was, with spunk from two men on her chest. A good afternoon’s work for this slut, my slut.

And so we cum to the end …

If you have read my previous blogs, you will know that my current employment arrangement is somewhat unusual. In short, I work part time for a local professional services firm whose only other employee is the owner, Chris. The agreement I have with him is that when I go to the office I must always wear fully fashioned stockings and high heels and either a ¼ cup bra or no bra, although I’ve expanded this to occasionally wearing a bullet bra instead, which he then sometimes asks me to take off. When there, I give him gloved hand relief and about six times a year (quarter end, Christmas and on his birthday) a full oral service, and yes, I swallow!

In return for this slightly unusual – and some might say sleazy – arrangement I receive a significant full time salary (despite only working about two days a week or less) and a quarterly share of the firm’s profits and I can do most of the work from home, provided I am prepared to pop into the office when called up by Chris to give him additional ‘relief’. He enjoys leaving me messages along the lines of “Something has come up in the office which I would like you to handle personally.” How we laugh at his subtle humour!

I have been doing this now for close on fifteen years and I think I have masturbated him about 1,500 times and sucked him off close to 100 times. And it’s been fun. He is quite a heavy cummer, sometimes very heavy at least for his age, so I have received dozens of pints of semen over this period and we occasionally spiced things up: for example, a few times he has rung my husband and chatted to him, while I was sucking him off. Both my husband and I found this extremely erotic and it always resulted in lots of additional fun back home.

However, all good things must come to an end and next week I will be leaving the firm. I won’t bore you with all of the ins and outs as to why, other than to say he is selling part of the firm (or bringing in another partner, which is the same thing). I don’t blame him, as he needs to look ahead and wants to monetise his success and gradually pass full ownership to this new partner but it means two things for me, basically and obviously we cannot carry on with me being there “fully tackled up” is suspender belt, stockings and heels and walking around braless and being both a genuine employee and a Masturbatrix and also he cannot justify our financial arrangement, especially as future payments for his share of the firm will be determined by the firm’s profits.

As you might expect, Chris has proposed alternative arrangements, whereby I would continue to see him and give him ‘relief’, for which he would pay me from his own pocket but I have decided against, because although our current agreement may sound sleazy it has been a proper job (I have substantially increased the firm’s profits by my own efforts) with a bit of sexy fun on the side, whereas meeting him and being handed cash to masturbate him would just make me a sex worker and I’m not going down that road with him. I may be a slut, but I am not a prostitute.

I’ve known this was his plan for a while but things have moved quickly over the last few days. Although we remain on good terms, I’ll admit things have become tense between us and I’ve stopped going into the office. He’ll have to find someone else to pump his cock or just do it himself!

I’ll miss it and I’ll certainly miss the money but it’s time to do fewer hand relief sessions anyway, as I have spent so much of my life on my knees in front of men being splattered with or swallowing spunk. Perhaps I’ll now have more time and more libido to share with my husband – daily relief, darling?

Prize Draw Result

This morning, I opened the spreadsheet containing the names of all those who have shown tremendous support for me by keeping me in suspender belts, lovely seamed stockings and high heels over the last four years and this generated, at random, the name of the person selected to meet me and experience my skills as a Masturbatrix.

I have contacted the person selected and he has confirmed that he will take up this opportunity. He has asked me not to disclose any personal information about him at this point and he has not yet decided on my outfit, although it appears to be a choice between a naughty nurse or an even naughtier St Trinian’s style schoolgirl. However, he has confirmed he will write a blog post about his experience after the event.

We have yet to agree a date and as I have a holiday coming up this month, it may get pushed into early October. Once the date is agreed I will be asking him to abstain from ejaculating for at least one week, with daily edging, so as to build up a very healthy reservoir of seminal fluid. Keep an eye on my Flickr account for updates: https://www.flickr.com/people/ladyinseams/

May I say how delighted I have been by the enthusiastic response this novel prize draw has generated. Many have taken the time to contact me and say which outfit they would choose if selected and it’s been interesting and varied, with everything from full PVC, thigh boots and whips, to all leather, my ‘Miss Massage’ overall, nurse, filthy secretary, schoolgirl, French maid and many others. One admirer said he’d want me to wear nothing other that a black suspender belt, black seamed stockings, and very high heels. I pointed out I would wish to wear gloves and he went for opera length black satin, a nice combination.

I have also been touched by how many have asked whether it might still be possible to meet and obtain gloved ‘relief’ by paying a fee for such an encounter, if not selected. I’ve been tempted, as it would be so nice to meet a dozen or more of my most devoted fans and just masturbate each man, one after the other until I am completely covered in lots of lovely, thick semen and sperm, which I know would result in some fantastic photos.

However, after sober reflection, I have decided against, as it creates too many issues for me and this prize draw was intended to be something of a swan song for me, after which I may hang up my suspender belt and no longer service men by hand, other than my pathetic husband, of course – I must keep him in order!

Thank you all again for your fantastic support. I hope all of you have access to my videos will continue to enjoy them and cum when watching your favourites (do let me know!) and of course everyone has access to my photos on Flickr.