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 4th 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.

Do my boobs look big in this?

Part 1 – I Win!

A very long time ago, barely out of my teens, I did some erotic modelling and scraped together enough money for a very cheap holiday, a week in Grand Canaria, at a resort called Playa del Ingles. I’ll admit that once there, I was drunk half the time and horny all the time. I’d brought plenty of suspender belts, stockings and heels and a few other bits and bobs as well – handcuffs, a big vibrator and so forth – and my air-conditioned room was quite busy that week!

I was the notices for a weekly Miss Wet T-Shirt competition and one of the desk staff promised it was always a completely wild night. And said – looking at my chest – that I absolutely must take part.

I’ve always been pretty proud of my busty profile and I enjoy showing off my tits so I didn’t need much persuading but when he said there were free drinks all night for each of the girls taking part I thought “I’m in” and then I saw the prize and thought “I’m in and I’m going to win” because each winner of the weekly competition was invited back at the end of the season for a free week at the hotel to take part in  what they called the ‘Grand Finale’.  

I think the idea was that when the hotels were going quiet or even closing at the end of the busy season, this would help fill their hotel with the girls competing and their friends or family and also a lot of horny guys wanting to watch us strut our stuff.

And if I needed a further incentive, the winner of the ‘Grand Finale’ would win a car.

On the night, I had my plan worked out. I had seen the photos on the display boards from previous weeks and I noticed most of the girls wore bikini bottoms and either no footwear or flip flops. The only ones I would have described as busty were – how can I put this politely – keen on the buffet meals. And the burgers. And ice cream. They were generally larger than nature intended them to be. So perhaps I had a chance.

Now, I wasn’t anywhere near as big busted as I am now – gaining weight, having children and going through the menopause has increased the size of my boobs significantly – but I was still ‘top heavy’ as my mother put it, with quite big and very firm tits on quite a small, narrow frame and my nipples were very prominent, especially when I was aroused, so I thought my plan might work.

Each girl was invited onto the stage, asked to say her name and where she was from – big cheers from the audience for places like Liverpool, Essex and Leeds – and was then pushed chest first into a huge Perspex trough filled with ice and water. Then she would walk to the front, giggle her tits around and go to the side of the stage, ready for the next contestant to come on. The winner would be selected according to whoever received the loudest acclamation of the crowd as judged by the compere.

I’d stood waiting my turn, getting some puzzled looks as I was wearing one of the hotel dressing gowns. But when it was my turn, I slipped it off and strode onto the stage. That’s when the crowd saw I was wearing a black suspender belt, black seamed stockings, and heels so high I was in danger of falling off the stage, especially as I’d had half a dozen cocktails and a jug of sangria! I had a very tight white top but – killer detail – I was wearing a black PVC quarter cup bra beneath so my tits were up and proud and ready to be appreciated by a few hundred boozed up, horny men.

As I strutted towards the compare, waving to the audience, there was the most enormous roar from all the men and before I could even say my name, they were cheering wildly. After I’d introduced myself, I was plunged into the ice bath by the compere but when he took his hand away from my neck, I remained lowered into the trough and I swung my tits from side to side as if I was stirring the ice around before standing upright, walking to the front and shaking them up and down as hard as I could. The guys in the audience went wild and were shouting my name, and some of them even continued to do so when other girls were taking their turn.

After my win was confirmed, I joined the lads in the audience and let’s just say a lot of them wanted a feel and one lad asked if he could tip his beer over my top (‘yes’) and we had quite a party that night, which carried on in my room until the next morning. As I have said, I was pretty drunk before I even went on stage, so much so that I feared I might slip on the wet floor and go flying in my 5-inch heels and make a tit of myself, as opposed to showing off my tits but I stayed upright.

The next morning, I could hardly remember what had taken place, although I remember that back in my room I had kept spraying my top with the shower attachment, and the lads who had come back with me loved it. Eventually I was able to go down to reception and collect the details of my prize and I spent the rest of the day sleeping by the pool and sobering up. And yes, I got sun burnt!

Part 2 – I Win Again?

The sunburn had gone and the tan had faded when I returned to Gran Canaria for the final. And I was determined to win a car!

The format of the competition had changed, so the winner would not be chosen by the volume of applause but by a panel of three judges, the hotel manager, the area manager responsible for all of the group’s hotels in Grand Canaria (or maybe all of the Canaries, I don’t exactly remember) and a wealthy local businessman, who owned the car franchise on the island and had donated the winner’s prize of a car, and he who would chair the judging panel.

I received a note inviting me to meet him in his room, one evening. Short, well dressed, very brown, with black, slicked back hair, probably mid 40s not at all bad looking, smooth as silk, he greeted me with lots of kisses and hugs and a glass of cava. He told me how beautiful I was, how he had seen the photos from my winning show, how clever I had been to wear stockings and such lovely shoes …

We sat and chatted and each time he refilled my glass he sat a little closer and he placed his hand on my knee and it gradually went a little higher and a little higher until my skirt was closer to my waist than my knees.  He asked if I intended another “so sexy” outfit and I said it would be more or less the same again – suspender belt, stockings, a pair of strappy high heels, and a quarter cup bra.

“So sexy”, he said again. Could he see it, because he was determined that I must win again but he’d like to see how I would look on the night. Now, I had a good idea where this might be heading but a new car is a new car, so I went back to my room, put on my ‘kit’ and a dressing gown and returned to his room.

I gave him a little parade and he began to feel my stocking tops and he said we should have some fun and celebrate that I was certainly going to win as he would make sure I did. “What about the other judges, I asked?” wondering if I was expected to ‘have some fun’ with them too but he waved his hand and said they would agree with his choice and I was his choice, “So beautiful, so sexy, so big”, he said as he squeezed my tits with his right hand and his erection with his left.

I suggested we wait until I had the keys to my new car and then we could really have some fun together but he wasn’t falling for that. No, he said he really needed some fun now and he began grinding his crotch against my leg and asked, “Don’t you want the car?”

To cut a longer story short, he said he wanted to fuck me and I said no but I licked my lips and said I’d give him some fun and he pulled his cock out and said “Okay”, like he was doing me a favour “I fuck your mouth”. And so I dropped to my knees and did the business.

He was impressed and seemed happy, although it had worried me a little while I was sucking him off that he said a number of times that “All you English girls are so sexy”.  Job done, spunk swallowed, there was one more glass of cava and then back to my room, safe in the knowledge that I’d already won and the car was almost parked outside my flat.

Except, of course, I didn’t and it wasn’t. It turned out he’d invited many of the contestants to his room to assure them that he could arrange for them to be declared the winner, if only they would have a little fun with him and some of them did and it wasn’t just blow jobs either. One of the girls, a loud vivacious Brummie, told me later that she didn’t care, she’d have fucked him anyway because she thought he was gorgeous.

Of course, when I marched on stage, I didn’t know any of this. Again, I received the loudest cheer and I stood at the front of the stage and shook my ice-cold tits back and forth like a pro, my nipples as hard as bullets.

When the winner was declared, the penny dropped and from the look on the faces of some of the other contestants, it wasn’t just me who had been told they would win. The recriminations began immediately. One girl was close to tears and said to me “It’s meant to be a wet t-shirt show, you know, not street hookers. You look like a tart.” I laughed. “So, did you sit on his cock or just suck it?”, I asked and she looked down at the stage and walked off.

I didn’t mind the blow job – I was a pretty prolific cocksucker back then – but I didn’t like the deceit and I did feel aggrieved, as based on merit, I should have won, as the audience reaction had proved.  I wondered what the winner had done for him that made her his choice but good luck to her I thought. Well, what I actually thought as I stood there, dripping cold water, being yelled at by some of the lads in the room, one of whom threw his beer at me and insulted by another contestant was, ‘I hope she gets gonorrhoea’.

Part 3 – All That Glitters

There’s a little postscript to this experience. The next day the winner – slag –  was taken to the car showroom and they did publicity shots of chairman Carlos or whatever his name was handing over the keys to a very small red Seat and apparently the press release said she had won a “beauty pageant”, which is funny, as she was certainly no beauty and the “pageant” had involved her being fucked every day for most of the week, while her boyfriend lounged by the pool, or so one of the other girls told me.

But here’s the twist. As we waited at the airport for our flight back to England, I saw her and went over to say hello. She was actually very pleasant and when I said something along the lines of “Well, congratulations again, you got the car” and avoided saying “even if you had to whore yourself”, she laughed and said, “Didn’t you hear? I’ve not got the car. I thought everyone knew.” After the photos and some more drinks with the greasy chairman, she went to do the paperwork. It was only then that she was informed that she had to arrange for it to be shipped to the UK. But when the dealership showed her the freight costs, the import taxes and the VAT, the cost was more than the value of the car. “Why didn’t you just tell them to sell it for you?” I asked. “Wouldn’t let me”, she said. It turned out that the small print, the T&Cs of the competition prize said the winner would only take ownership of the car once they paid the shipping and import costs and, as her boyfriend said, their credit cards were maxed out anyway, so it was out of the question, even if it made economic sense to pay and it didn’t.

“I was tricked”, she said sadly and shrugged her shoulders.

“I think we all were”, I said.

Clever, sneaky Carlos or Pedro or whatever his name was. He fucked that girl pretty much every day and it seems he fucked some of the others too and he got at least one blow job. On top of that he got some great publicity and his photo in the local paper with his arms around the leggy ‘winner’ and it didn’t cost him one peseta.

Doctor, doctor …

Readers of this blog will know that I have a regular sex partner, a dream ‘cum’ true for me as he is a tall, strong, athletic and extremely well-endowed black man, with impressive stamina.

As you might imagine we have a lot of fun together – there is no romance involved but the sex is simply out of this world (sorry hubby!). But even we believe that to keep things fresh a bit of variety is called for and so, from time to time, we do come up with scenarios which we than ‘act out’ following a rough script. I’ve written about some of these here before, such as a the parcel delivery man who forces his way into the house and uses the dressed up housewife as a sex toy.

Last week we did a new one: doctor and patient. I suppose the obvious joke is that one immediately knows this was a fantasy scenario because in it I got to see a GP for a face-to-face appointment!

I wore a leather miniskirt and fully fashioned (seamed) stockings. I’m not even sure I know why but I also chose these glossy thigh length boots. I can’t imagine I would ever wear these boots to see a doctor but for the purposes of our get together I did.

Now, bless him but when I went to his house, he was wearing a white ‘medical’ overall. I’ve no idea where he got it and I didn’t have the heart to tell him hospital doctors no longer wear white coats and GPs never did but I admired his willingness to get into the role.

I can’t swear what follows is word for word our exchange but it’s as close as I can remember what was said.

He invited me to take a seat and asked me how he could help.

I told him I was there because I was concerned that I might have a vaginal discharge, as I seemed to be ‘wet’ a lot of the time.

He asked if the fluid was clear, if there was any strong odour or any blood (it felt like he’d been doing some research, as these were all good questions!!!) but I told him that none of those applied.

“Let’s take a look then, shall we?”, he said and he suggested I slip my skirt off and kneel up on the examination bed (which, in this case, was his dining table with a blanket on it).

“You’ll need to remove those too”, he said pointing at my sheer black knickers as I climbed up onto the table and pushed my backside up in the air towards him.

He snapped on some white, latex disposable gloves and said, “I’m just going to take a look.”

I flinched a little as he squirted a little lubricating jelly down onto my anus and vagina, as it was cold but then I felt one finger and then a second pushing gently inside me.

I moaned. Dear reader, before I even got to his house, I was wet and eager. By the time his fingers started to probe me I was probably already over halfway to orgasm and I wanted it, I wanted it so much!

“How does that feel?”, he asked.

“Lovely”, I replied.

“Is it comfortable?”

I grunted assent.

“Is it comfortable if I push a little further?”

“God, yes, very.”

“What about this?” and at this point he pushed his thumb into my anus, not far but it set off some amazing ripples through my body. I hadn’t expected this as it had not been part of our pre-agreed ‘script’ but sometimes you know to go with the flow and this was one of them.

By now he was slowly pushing two – or was it now three? – fingers into me and about two thirds of his thumb was up my backside.

“Do you think you can achieve orgasm at this point, Mrs Heels?”

I could barely speak but I could most certainly do that. I managed to grunt “Yes. Tits.”

I knew he would know that I meant for him to squeeze my tits as this is often the final trigger I need to climax but this time he tried to stay “in role” and said “You can self-stimulate if you wish” and so, holding myself upright with my right arm, I grasped my tits with my left hand … and that was it! Lights flashed across my eyes, my head span and I fell forwards and downwards onto the table, very briefly blacking out, such was the power, the sheer force of my orgasm.

When I had just about recovered the doctor said “Everything seems normal. I don’t see anything to worry about, you’re just in a state of arousal a lot of the time.”

“Why do you think that is, doctor? And is there anything you can give me for it?”

“Well”, he chuckled, “I think it’s because you’re a slut. But I can certainly prescribe something which should help.”

“What’s that, doctor?”

“This”, he said, unzipping his trousers and pulling out 10 inches of incredibly thick cock and he was as hard as a rock. “Shall we see if you experience any pain when I use this probe?”

He pulled me back across the table, lifted me up a little so I was on hands and knees but bum up and chest resting on the table and I felt the head of his ‘probe’ pushing gently into my vagina. Then with a sudden thrust he was right into me, right up to the hilt.

I gave a little yelp.

“Did that hurt?”

“Just a little.”

“What about this?” and he slipped back almost out of me altogether and then with an almighty thrust smashed into me again.

“Christ.”

“And this?”, and he slammed me again and then again, faster, faster and before I could focus my mind for a second orgasm he was at warp speed and I then felt an enormous spurt deep inside me (believe it or not, it actually slightly hurt, such was the power of his ejaculation) and then another and he kept spurting his thick, sticky, wonderful semen into me. He’s always been a heavy cummer – one of the things I like best about him – but this one felt special, even more powerful and more copious than usual.

I knew I would be going home to my husband absolutely flooded with his sperm and given all the probing he’d done earlier, I’d probably be leaking his fluid into my knickers for good measure. Of course, I also knew my husband would be delighted.

But the doctor hadn’t finished with me yet.

“Now I need you to lie on the floor here”, and helpfully he’d placed a yoga mat on the carpet.

“Can you raise your legs up into the air for me?” and so I tipped back and grabbed hold of my boots at my calves, as I knew what he intended.

“I’m going to see if we can push the probe past the neck of your cervix.”

“Into my womb?”

“Yes. It may hurt a little and there could be some blood but this way we should be able to inject seminal fluid directly into your womb.”

I knew from past experience what to expect. He held my legs up, tipping me back pushing them towards my head. My Pilates teacher would applaud this position. Then he enters me and pushes down with quite a lot of force. And he was right – it does hurt, quite a bit as he penetrates my cervix but once I adjust to the pain that radiates with each of his thrusts and focus on the incredible sensations in my torso and, strangely, down my legs, I achieve the most incredible orgasm in a matter of just three minutes or so.

As he’d just unloaded in me a few minutes before, it took him a while but he seemed to be enjoying almost bouncing up and down on me and when I said “That’s so fucking deep”, he thrust even harder and as he gasped and grunted and shouted “fuck!” I felt him pumping his baby gravy right into my womb.

He stayed in me for an age but as he began to slide out, I had a fit of the giggles.

“What’s so funny”, he asked.

I didn’t really know why I was laughing so much but I said, “You kept that white coat on”, and it just seemed for a moment absurdly funny.

As he stood up, he said, “Well, we have certain professional standards to uphold, you know”, and then he began to laugh too.

Knickers and skirt back on, I asked for his diagnosis. “I have found nothing wrong with you, physically. In fact, you are in remarkably good shape for a lady of your age. I think your issue is that you have an extremely high sex drive and you are desperate for cock, especially black cock. So, what I am going to suggest is that you try to orgasm every day and that you come to see me at least once a week and I can check that everything is working as it should.”

“And will that involve tests with that large black probe you used today?”

“Yes, it will, certainly so we can stretch you and make sure you are properly lubricated.”

“Thank you, doctor. By the way, can we do the thumb up my bum bit again too? I liked that.”

“I can use my probe in your anus if you wish.”

“You must be joking. I’d need a real doctor if you did that!”