Your Favourite Things
Last week I set you the challenge of being brave enough to share your first times with me and the other readers of this purple page I’ve got going on here – thank you for that. I thought I would now incorporate that into a running theme of sharing stories and bits and pieces, if you’re all game.
I’ve had a few posts about what I keep hidden away in my drawers in the bedroom. I talked about my adoration and slight obsession with scarves and tying as well as the slippery indulgences of massage oil, lubes and whatnot. So to begin with in my new exploration into the blogging side of things, what I’d like to know is:
What is your favourite thing that you keep squirrelled away in your bedroom?
Of course I’m talking sex, honeys, so let’s hear about your favourite sex toy you own, or what you like to bring out to play with your partner(s). It could be something specifically bought from an Adult Store, or it could be a pervertable – something that is perfectly innocent in reality, but you use it for kinky stuff – that you have a fancy for.
Preferably, I’d love to hear how you use said item, instead of a two word response. I know some readers like to share and boast, so some story weaving wouldn’t be amiss!
Of course, here’s my contribution:
My carnal desires vary from being a very giving lover to a selfish one from time to time and wanting all the pleasure to be directed at myself. I have a very high sex-drive, I think, and I find it hard to go a day without an orgasm. At such times when I am aroused, Mister may not be around – when I come home from work in my café and slink into bed to rest my wary feet and back my thoughts drift to the sensual side of things and I feel the need to have some, shall we say, ‘Me Time’.
It’s that kind of horny that means I need to come Right Here, Right Now and the only thing that I know will get me there quickly is lying waiting for my itching fingers to grab hold of it from my bedside drawer. It’s inches away, my mind is desperate for that release and I bring out my favourite buzzy thing. It isn’t of any substantial size. Three inches, maybe, and slightly larger than the width and weight of an AA battery. A snug fit for my hand. Pointed at the tip for targeted vibrations, this baby has the look and marketing of a bullet. And goodness, doesn’t it fire a direct hit! I’ve had it for a while and the battery is still good and delivers a stong buzz. It has a cute purple button on the base to switch it on and off it goes like lightning. Just what I need to get myself off. I find that I orgasm within a minute or two of focusing it on my clit. Heaven.
I get my relief and my daily fix, setting me up very nicely for an evening of the Real Thing.
Now, your turn.
Roundup (Isn’t that some weedkiller brand?)
Firstly – My eternal gratitude in indulging my little sordid mind by sharing your First Times on the previous post. There were some great stories included! I might make a feature of it where we share on a theme. Keep your kinky and vanilla eyes peeled!
Next off, news in Pandorah-land: Mister and I are one step closer to moving in! We’ve been house-hunting in the area where I have my job that begins in the Autumn (Eee! Still smiling like a Cheshire Cat over that!) and we’ve been provisionally accepted by a landlord for a flat 
It’s quite spacious and even has a little balcony I can shove Mister out onto when he wants to have one of those Cancer Sticks of his. Plus, and more importantly, it has two lovely bedrooms, the master of which has..wait for it girls…a mini built in walk-in wardrobe! How fabulous is that?! You may be able to tell, but I’m a teency little bit excited! Roll on references!
And finally – Today I celebrate five years of popping my cherry. I say I celebrate as he contests this date, thinking I gave in to his charms a lot quicker. But I remember very clearly. I remember the evening and its details. I’m right, he’s mistaken. Ha. I shall be seeing him this evening and as we have the house to ourselves I fully intend to make the most of it…
Details to follow my dear readers. Don’t you fret about that.
Cherry Popping Good
After reading a post on another lovely lady’s blog, I got into wondering about The First Time.
You may or may not know, depending on your regularity (?) of visits to my blog here, that the man I am with, Mister, was the one to break me in five years ago – Oh! just remembered, it will be five years to the day on the 27th! (Am I the only one to remember the date I lost my virginity?)
Anyway. I was wondering…open question to all you guys and gals. And possibly to encourage any lurkers to make a comment:
How/when/where did you lose your virginity and with whom?
I guess, being the poser of the question, I should really answer the question first. It was about this time five years ago, the carnival week was upon us in our little town. The evening had been spent in the company of friends and alcohol. Mister met me afterwards and I introduced him to my parents for the first time. After some more imbibing of the potato extract (or whatever the hell vodka is made from) we squirreled ourselves away into the night and he drove me to a beach nearby. The moon was out, and glistened upon the water. I could hear the sound of the waves crashing in front of us as we kissed. Unfortunately, we weren’t on the actual beach, no. I lost my virginity in his car. Classy. But at least it was by the sea. So a semi-romantic anecdote.
So, come on! Share! I’m nosy.
Conversations
I’ve just returned from a flying visit to my friend’s graduation in Wales. I’d forgotten just how much I loved being in that city. Memories were revisited of times gone by and new ones were created. My friend looked beautiful in her graduation gown and cap. But that’s not what I’m here to talk about. Oh no.
My friend picked me up from the hotel I was staying at and introduced me to her newly found man-friend and within five minutes of being in each other’s company, we had already discussed stockings. Another ten minutes later and we were in the place where she was staying where she proceeded to rifle through her underwear pile in front of me, looking for a bra to go with her shirt for the graduation, and was showing off her new corsetry purchases. Oh! How I miss my housemates so!
When I was living with my two wonderful housemates, sex was never very far from conversation topics. We were all very open with one another in that respect and often had a giggle about exploits or experiences. The two of them were convinced I had a vast array of torture implements with which to taunt Mister with, never truly satisfied with the prim and proper appearance I keep. They are the only ones to completely get my almost dual-like personality – Real-Life Pandorah and the Inner Minx that only Mister sees. I had never been able to be so honest in my sexuality with my school friends back home and it was very liberating and refreshing to talk truthfully and unashamedly about sex. All three of us were involved with guys and thus the occasional banging or noises would filter through to the next room, but we all basically viewed this as, ‘Great! She’s getting some lovin’ today – good for her!’. All very sex-positive, as the current zeitgeist would have me claim.
Since being away from Wales and those housemates I haven’t had that opportunity to talk about corsets, or discuss how big is too big (my graduation friend’s new guy is 8″+ apparently – OUCH!). That is the kind of friends I like to be around – willing to talk about sex happily without guilt, shame or shyness. I love the old school friends I am around down here in Devon to bits and will go to the end of the world for them, but I can’t talk to them about sex. For one thing, at least one of them is still a virgin – I place no judgement on that fact, but practically, I can’t really talk to her about bondage or fetishes, now, can I?
All is fine and dandy in speaking about sex with your lover – that’s a given for a healthy relationship. But people – girls and boys – need channels to express themselves to friends. Sharing, discussing or merely bragging about experiences is something people need to be able to speak to one another about and it wasn’t until I returned to Wales that I discovered how much I had missed talking in this way to my friend. We were sat in the Wetherspoons, possibly within earshot of others, having a conversation detailing intimate situations with such smiles on our faces. It was the best 24 hours I’ve had for a long time without the company of Mister.
The three years I spent as a student with those two girls was brilliant. It made my University experience a fulfilling and memorable one. Part of the reason for this is because of the discovery of being able to talk about sex – it is part of who I am, my sexual personality. Not having the chance to do so can be stifling, and therefore surely isn’t healthy for the mind. We need this venting, this airing, not keeping things stifled, boxed up and hidden. We need to accept the sexual side to our personalities. It releases us.
Seriously, it’s good to talk!
Curious and Curiouser
And I call myself a ’sex-blogger’. Oh sure, I talk about what we do together, but there’s something missing. Something I’ve neglected to discuss on here.
I’m talking about the A-Word. Lately it’s been preying on my mind more and more.
I’ll come clean. I’m an anal virgin. There. I’ve said it. *Exhales*
Come to think about it, we both are. We’ve talked about it between the two of us, and I think it’s more of an issue for me than it is for Mister. You see, it’s something I’d like to try out and experiment with, but there’s the ‘ickyness’ issue in it for me. The whole, ‘that’s where stuff comes out, not in‘ argument. But I’m still curious. We’ve also skirted around the area when we get jiggy with it (haha!) and unfortunately I’ve not been lost in the moment enough to let things happen in that vein. I get all self-conscious again and run away from his fingers.
I also want to explore this avenue of playing on him. He reacts very favourably when my hands venture behind his balls and stimulate the (perenium? I alway get confused on the names – do help me out!) and there have been times when I’ve so wanted to run my fingers over *that* area to see what happens, but again I got all scared again and timid, and back away.
So, for any of you out there who are experienced in anal-play I would appreciate some advice for a little old anal vigin like me if you have any to share. How to go about it, the best way to introduce it into our frolics etc… I was thinking of looking at devices to use before getting to the fingers or anything of a larger girth attached to my Mister to begin with. But I don’t know.
It’s something I want to try, as I am sure it would feel fabulous. I know he would like to try it. Everything relies on me getting my mind fixed in order to see it in a pleasuable, non-scary, non-wrong way. If you get me.
Gah. Sometimes I suck at being a blogger. I do despair.
Stealing Post Ideas Again
I read this post on Tom’s blog and as I’m fairly fond of books myself, I thought I’d be curious and see how many in the list I have actually read. Give it a go yourself if you fancy. The list of books is one of those top 100 reads polls/lists that are constantly being made. By the time I have finished going through this list, I’m sure about 15 of them will have been replaced by something else.
1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2) Italicize those you started but did not finish.
3) Underline the books you LOVE.
4) Reprint this list in your own blog so we can try and track down these people who’ve read 6 or less and force books upon them.
1. The Time Traveller’s Wife – Audrey Niffenegger
2. The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams
3. The Handmaid’s Tale – Margaret Atwood
4. Lord of the Flies – William Golding
5. Life of Pi – Yann Martel
6. The Secret Garden – Frances Hodgson Burnett
7. The Color Purple – Alice Walker
8. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
9. Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte
10. To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee
11. Wuthering Heights – Emily Bronte
12. Nineteen Eighty Four – George Orwell
13. His Dark Materials (trilogy) – Philip Pullman
14. Great Expectations – Charles Dickens [I'm about to restart reading this one in the coming months however]
15. Catch 22 – Joseph Heller
16. The Hobbit – J.R.R. Tolkien
17. Catcher in the Rye – J.D. Salinger
18. Brideshead Revisited – Evelyn Waugh
19. Crime and Punishment – Fyodor Dostoyevsky
20. Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll
21. Chronicles of Narnia – C.S. Lewis
22. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe – C.S. Lewis
23. Winnie the Pooh – A.A. Milne
24. Animal Farm – George Orwell
25. Brave New World – Aldous Huxley
26. Of Mice and Men – John Steinbeck
27. On The Road – Jack Kerouac
28. Oliver Twist – Charles Dickens
29. Charlotte’s Web – E.B. White
30. Hamlet – William Shakespeare
31. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – Roald Dahl
32. Complete Works of Shakespeare
33. Ulysses – James Joyce
34. Heart of Darkness – Joseph Conrad
35. Les Miserables – Victor Hugo
36. Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen
37. The Bible
38. The Great Gatsby – F. Scott Fitzgerald
39. War and Peace – Leo Tolstoy
40. Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck
41. Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy
42. The Kite Runner – Khaled Hosseini
43. One Hundred Years of Solitude – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44. Sense and Sensibility – Jane Austen
45. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time – Mark Haddon
46. Lolita – Vladimir Nabokov
47. The Little Prince – Antoine De Saint-Exupery
48. A Confederacy of Dunces – John Kennedy Toole
49. The Lord of the Rings – JRR Tolkien
50. Harry Potter series – JK Rowling
51. Little Women – Louisa M. Alcott
52. Tess of the D’Urbervilles – Thomas Hardy
53. Rebecca – Daphne Du Maurier
54. Birdsong – Sebastian Faulks [Currently reading]
55. Middlemarch – George Eliot
56. Gone With The Wind – Margaret Mitchell
57. Bleak House – Charles Dickens
58. The Wind in the Willows – Kenneth Grahame
59. David Copperfield – Charles Dickens
60. Emma – Jane Austen
61. Persuasion – Jane Austen
62. Captain Corelli’s Mandolin – Louis De Bernieres
63. Memoirs of a Geisha – Arthur Golden
64. The Da Vinci Code – Dan Brown
65. A Prayer for Owen Meaney – John Irving
66. The Woman in White – Wilkie Collins
67. Anne of Green Gables – L.M. Montgomery
68. Far From The Madding Crowd – Thomas Hardy
69. Atonement – Ian McEwan
70. Dune – Frank Herbert
71. Cold Comfort Farm – Stella Gibbons
72. A Suitable Boy – Vikram Seth
73. The Shadow of the Wind – Carlos Ruiz Zafon
74. A Tale Of Two Cities – Charles Dickens
75. Love In The Time Of Cholera – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
76. The Secret History – Donna Tartt
77. The Lovely Bones – Alice Sebold
78. Count of Monte Cristo – Alexandre Dumas
79. Jude the Obscure – Thomas Hardy
80. Bridget Jones’ Diary – Helen Fielding
81. Midnight’s Children – Salman Rushdie
82. Moby Dick – Herman Melville
83. Dracula – Bram Stoker
84. Notes From A Small Island – Bill Bryson
85. The Bell Jar – Sylvia Plath
86. Swallows and Amazons – Arthur Ransome
87. Germinal – Emile Zola
88. Vanity Fair – William Makepeace Thackeray
89. Possession – A.S. Byatt
90. A Christmas Carol – Charles Dickens
91. Cloud Atlas – David Mitchell
92. The Remains of the Day – Kazuo Ishiguro [Haven't read, but I own it - How the hell does that work?]
93. Madame Bovary – Gustave Flaubert
94. A Fine Balance – Rohinton Mistry
95. The Five People You Meet In Heaven – Mitch Albom
96. The Faraway Tree Collection – Enid Blyton
97. The Wasp Factory – Iain Banks
98. Watership Down – Richard Adams
99. A Town Like Alice – Nevil Shute
100. The Three Musketeers – Alexandre Dumas
Huh. Now I look at it, maybe I’m not that great a reader – the number I have highlighted as unfinished reads is quite embarassing. Well, now I have the summer to make up for that fact. Interesting meme. Ta, Tom.
My Favourite Things (II) – Slippery Stuff
Or to be more exact: Massage oil. And lube. Especially tingly lube.
On Tuesday night I got my massage that I had been owed for about the last two weeks. Now, normally I’m not one to play tit for tat on the pleasure stakes. When I want to do something I’ll do it, regardless of whether it’s my turn or not to be tied up/spanked/orally pleasured etc… Similarly, I’m happy for Mister to ask for/do something he fancies whenever. When it comes to massages, though, I make sure to get what is rightly mine in return for giving him a fabulous all-over body massage some time previously. Damn right.
So I was keen to make sure he kept to his word about repaying my spanking/massage session from a few weeks ago. (God that was a great night…)
Unfortunately, timings hadn’t been great for us to fulfil this. We’re both working irregular days, me at the café and him doing his thing, so whenever we’re able to have a night together (which is most days, deliciously) one or both of us have been working and are not at our best to perform/receive without falling asleep! Which made me sad 
I wanted my massage!!
So, thank high heavens I finally was delighted with possibly the best one yet on Tuesday! I had been working, as had he, but we were both rather spritely and I even proposed a visit to his local village pub for just the one drink. I commented on his very chirpy mood – he was acting all happy and giggly and very on the ball with his comments/jokes/asides. Our car journey was chatter chatter – something not always achieved between us.
After we got back to his place and had a bite to eat we went to his room and subsequently one of us brought up the subject of the owed massage (or was it me in the pub…yes I think it was that, actually). Reading my mind he got out his little collection of tealights from his drawer of kink and set about rearranging the lighting of his room. Much better. Electric lights strain my eyes and head in the evenings as I get tired. Also, bodies look oh so sexy in candlelight.
He took out the Ylang Ylang massage oil bought from The Body Shop. This is my favourite thing to be greased up with. Not only does it smell wonderful, it lasts very well – not like the rubbishy ones from Ann Summers. Seriously. Don’t buy oils from there. They’re pants! This one, however is very sensual and leaves you smelling beautiful without being overpowering. Also, it claims to awaken the senses, but quite frankly mine are already awakened from the moment he says, ‘Yes, you can have your massage’. Or words to that effect.
What followed was simply one of the best experiences I’ve had with Mister. Mmm. Just what I needed. He eased out all my niggly aches in my lower back from lifting and carrying trays of lovingly made coffee and crockery, whilst ensuring I never felt too relaxed to fall asleep by nipping my back/buttocks or tickling my feet casually to make me writhe just that little bit. Oh, and a bit of spanking for good measure. Always room for that from him. 
Of course, nothing quite awakens my pussy like a good arousing all over rub. And, of course, nothing quite gets me totally uncontrollable as his fingers exploring thoroughly that area. Ahh…Another inclusion into the Slippery Stuff in the title – Lady Slippery Stuff. Forgot about that one. Also very lovely. As is Mister Slippery Stuff. Mmmm….Oh…and a mixture of the two.
Many orgasms later…
It’s not often that I completely lose myself in the moment – I’m always conscious of who may or may not be sleeping in the room across/down the hall/on the other side of the wall. So it was wonderful for both of us that he managed to get me in that place the other night. I was screaming into his sheets, it was that good (I boast, I know. But it *was* an amazing night).
As an add on, I’d just like to point out how great minty/tingly lubes can be. We once bought one from Ann Summers – yes, I’ll admit some of their things are good – called (cringeingly) ‘Pussy Rub’ (though we used it on Mister very successfully) and was a green, mint-smelling, jelly-like substance in a pot. To the consistency of hair gel. It was fantastic. On the odd occasion when nothing was happening slippery-wise for me, this stuff was dynamite. Had a kick like a mule with the tingliness which was jaw-droppingly nice. We’ve now currently got some Durex Play Tingle (I think that’s what it’s called) which smells more like Doublemint Chewing Gum, but has a nice consistency and feeling. We’ve only used it so far on him, but judging from his reaction, it’s just as good. I love the look on his face when I’m giving him a hand-job. A mixture of desire, pleading and gratefulness. Mmm. I could stare into those blue eyes for hours. Don’t think he’d be able to last that long though – too much torture.
Although, maybe it might be fun to try it out and see how long he lasts before he begs me to bring him to the end…
My Favourite Things (I) – Scarves
I’ve Written a Letter to Mister
I think to myself sometimes what exactly my purpose is in writing this blog.
Partly, it must be about exhibitionism. I am a show-off. Subtly. I may not dress provocatively in Teh Real World, nor may I act slutty around people. But you may catch me if you happen to walk past my window deshabillé from time to time, in various states of undress. You might even catch me moaning in unison with him through a wall’s partition, or just on my own perhaps…
In the guise of Pandorah, however, I am allowing that exhibitionist streak to surface more fully – the Inner Minx completely on show. In adopting this pseudonym I let her flourish in front of those who view my posts. Once in a while, when he can, Mister will read what I have written. He doesn’t have the best access to Pandorah when he’s at his parent’s place, but I know he checks in now and again. I want him to see me flourish before his eyes. See me write about how I feel about him – in ways I could never communicate verbally to him. I clam up sometimes – I can’t express my thoughts as well vocally as I can in words written down sometimes.
So, allow me to present to you, Mister, Exhibit A: My Letter to You.
I written to you before, as you know. I saw how you keep them by you in your bedside table. Mingling with your boxed cufflinks and our kinky collection that resides with you. My scrawls of clichés and longing written in biro, ink and emotion. I’ve written to you of our experiences – that time in the shower where you scalded your arm on a hot pipe; that day spent in the sun in a hayfield at our beginning – every one cherished and remembered. This is different. In this letter, I am writing to you not with clichés, nor with ink. I am writing to you with hope.
You see, this blog and its owner has come to realise that hope is actually much closer to the heart of Pandorah’s alter-ego in reality. You know her name. You know who she is, and what other names you call her. Hope is not only what was left in the box. It escaped into her world too and infected her. Coursing through her veins is the hope that you give her. Before I met you, I was a shadow of what I am now. You helped me to realise my potential, giving me the self-confidence that was there, hidden, but needed shining up.
You also allowed the passion to course through those veins as well. Awakening me to emotions and senses I had only, literally, read about. I still remember the first time we held hands, walking down to spend the evening together in our ‘local’ in my town. We really must visit there again – nostalgia demands it. You may not have picked up on it, but little things and moments like that first public interlocking of our fingers sent a shiver, a quiver through me.
I want to do things to you that my real persona could never mention. Even to you. You know about my quill fantasy…What you don’t know is what I want to inscribe upon your body. The Inner Minx adores how you flatter and stoke her fires. She/I cannot wait until we are truly alone in our own place so she can be released for you. That look in my eyes when we are alone and things are going my way. A mixture between desire, yearning and Machiavellian designs.
So this is a glimpse into how deeply I feel for you and what you mean to me. Lately, I know we have been too tired to fully explore one another. But you know how I love our Sunday morning rolls. And our last one was divine. ‘Thank you’ doesn’t quite cut it. Tomorrow I shall be seeing you in the evening. And you owe me that massage you’ve been threatening to give me. Perhaps I shall pack some candles into my bottomless handbag.
Well, honey. That’s about it. I’ll know when you have read this as you will have that look in your eye. ‘Never been described in such a complimentary light before’ is what you said when I began this little blog. Maybe you will feel the need to say something similar after reading this post. I hope so – Oh! There I go again with that four-letter word.
There’s another four-letter word in a three-word phrase I say to you often. I mean it every time. After our most intimate moments, in passing conversation and during our most affectionate and giggling ones also. I’m thinking of it now, and you know I’ll say it to you again tomorrow.
Sweet dreams, Mister.
Care
I wonder sometimes whether Mister understands what he’s taking on by moving in with me in the next two months. Sure, we’ll both benefit tons by being under the same roof – I’ve made a deal with him. He does the washing up if I dry. I can’t abide soapy water, I have sensitive skin that doesn’t like washing up liquid. Honest. I worked in a café wherein the dishwasher detergent removed my fingerprints. Couldn’t grip a thing, neither could I feel too well for a few months. Disaster. Again, I digress.
Not only will we have lots of helping each other with things on the domestic front (he also puts so much more effort into house-cleaning than I do. I’m such a house-slut) there will be the obvious intimacy of having eachother to ourselves…
…If I can stop myself thinking about/preparing things for/fretting over work.
My job I’ll be going to in the Autumn (have signed real life contract and evryfink) will involve a lot of planning both during work hours and afterwards. He knows this and understands that I will need some ‘Me Time’ on my own in order to do this. But I told him yesterday that I will need him so much more than I do already.
I will need him to help me switch off, stop thinking about work and above all, ensure I eat, sleep and be merry. I will need him to stop me from working past 10 o’clock in the evening. When I was training on my post-grad course there were many a night I would stay up close to midnight working and planning for the morning, leaving me with only getting in about 4-5 hours sleep. That. Can. Not. Be. Allowed. To. Happen. Or else I shall go crazy. My bosses and colleagues have warned me about making sure I don’t ‘go crazy’ with the workload in the first few months as I get used to the full-time job. That’s reassuring.
I hope that Mister is prepared for the amount of hugs I will need; hair smoothing to placate my stress and worry; massages to ease out the tension in my muscles. In return I shall provide him with a) my eternal gratitude, b) love, c) lots of nookie, and d) food.
I know that he is the most caring person I could wish to be with. For all his teasing and Pandorah-winding-up he does, when I need him, he is there. Many evenings I have had to call him up to vent my frustration, stress and anger along with heartache and worry in the last ten months. He may not have said much, but the mere fact of having him there on the end of the line – listening to me whine and babble on – was enough to calm me. He has a serenity about him – he rarely gets worked up about anything, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him properly stressed out. This, I think, reflects on me in my mindset which is amazing. I am generally a calm person also, but I do worry and get stressed occasionally. Having him by me in these times will be fantastic.
I can depend on him to help me out with this. He doesn’t even have to do very much. Just simply being there for me when I get home at the end of the day will instantly cheer me up. Looking forward to coming home to my dinner on the table him and relaxing in the evening together will be enough for the majority of the time. Currently I have this picture in my head of us sitting on the sofa, me curled up next to him or with my feet on his lap, and it makes me smile. Little thoughts like that do.
Like my earlier post - it is a picture I can see becoming a reality which makes me know it’s going to work.
Anyway, enough of this sentimental and emotional shit. Smuttier post coming soon! Promise.
Vintage Porn
My, my. How things change. Also, how some things never change…
I came across this little gem whilst perving perusing through the interweb. I’ll say one thing about it – I guess waxing wasn’t invented back then. Loving the soundtrack though!
His rhythm may be a little monotonous, but it’s all there – missionary, lady on top, head-off-the-side-of-the-bed position, doggie, oral – his ‘n hers – masturbation, frenulum stimulation (think that’s the right name – the bit between the balls and the arse at any rate ). Quite a collection.
I’m liking the ‘Peeping Tom, “Oh my, he’s seen me..well let’s get to it then” ‘ malarky going on here.
