The 2012 Autumnal Equinox September 22, 2012 at Stonehenge
The Autumnal Equinox in my life: I’m going to have to rearrange my calendar so I can go to Stonehenge for the Winter Solstice regardless of what other responsibilities I may have at that time. I need to do some serious fence mending with my Druid friends not to mention my current lover’s family. I love this time of year with schools starting and the arts seasons getting underway there is so much of interest going on and romance – not just sex, which is a business with me – is in the air once more.
My romance, such as it is, with Jack is on again. As returning readers may remember when he travels he goes by the name of John Sandbach, from the courtesy title Viscount Sandbach, one of his father’s lesser titles. The latest well bred woman his father tried to get him to marry turned out to need her ovaries removed which disqualified her as breeding stock. I get along very well with his mother who lives with her lover on one of the ducal estates on Virgin Gorda while her husband is plowing the corps de ballet girls of Les Ballets de Monte-Carlo. The Duchess thinks I would be a good influence on Jack getting him to settle down.
On the personal level I get along splendidly with the Duke. The old bull had a heart attack the last time he mounted me so we know each other more intimately than he cares to admit. He was giving me the most delicious vaginal orgasm (I was wearing an Oves at the time) when his heart stopped. And I ended up giving CPR which took all the fun out of that encounter. The Duchess doesn’t mind him inseminating anything in skirts if he’s careful not to get an STI (she has her own set of male admirers) so for me her tacit approval had already taken a bit of spice out of our encounters. She thought I’d be a good short term distraction for him, because I understand his aristocratic need to breed and copulate with as many beautiful, healthy young women as he can, but he can be distracted by tight pussy so when I was available I was near the top of his list and they know I’m not out for his money.
However, now that Jack is interested in me she is solidly behind our marrying. It’s nothing personal with the Duke as far as me marrying Jack; it’s just that he thinks at 41 I’m too old to give Jack an heir to the duchy. If they weren’t so rich they would be falling all over themselves trying to get me to marry him in order to bring my money into their family, but I’m too smart to ever let that happen.
The two equinox are minor celebrations, as compared with solstice, for the Pictish Druids. We have, however, in modern times emphasized them more both because there are so few of us we need reasons to celebrate together and our ancient sites are not overrun by tourists as they are summer and winter. The equinox requires only a Priestess but I volunteered as a Goddess for the mixing of levels (roughly, ages). This involves purification of my innards by a priest followed by representatives of seven levels of our order depositing their semen in me to continue our religion and spirit.
ReplyDeleteWe met at St Drosten's Chapel near Dunachten, a site I had never visited but which is important to us as the site of the battle where Bridey mac Bille, Pictish leader, defeated King Ecgfrith of Northumbria, assuring our independence for a few hundred years. Though the Chapel is now used by christians, it is built on a Pictish worship site used for hundreds of years prior.
I was in for some surprises! The local Priest had a rotating top placed on the altar on which I was displayed for all in the group. It was interesting in that all the women averted their eyes as it was rotated past them, whilst the men all craned their necks to get a better view "into" me! I found it marvelously exciting to be so completely on view and could feel the prying eyes on my pudenda. As the Priest intoned various incantations, he mounted a few steps and his robe fell open revealing the most gloriously beautiful erection I have ever seen. I am a woman who believes the male genitals to be somewhere between comical and ugly, but this was magnificent: a smooth shaft of alabaster completely unmarked and unblemished with a fully engorged head in bright reddish purple. I recognized this as indicating he was in quite a state and would likely not last long but it was a wonderful picture. As he entered me, I whispered to lie still and I would move the back of his cloak with my feet. This allowed him to last a bit longer and allowed me to rub my clitoris against his pubic bone while the congregation saw him thrusting. He still came quickly but the stares had me in a froth and I continued a bit after his ejaculation to finish myself off with a great gasp, a surprise to the people in attendance. He withdrew and knelt between my thighs finishing his incantation. But on the tip of his penis was a pearl of semen not yet liquified that drove me crazy. I wanted that drop; I wanted it in me in the strongest way; I would have settled for taking it in my mouth whilst milking that glorious penis. And, then, it fell onto me leaving only a wilting, wrinkled, glistening penis like a few thousand others that have been in me.
I was no longer thrilled; it was a complete turn about and I wanted only to get on to the seven levels working from the eldest, not too rigid, to the youngest, a pleasant surprise. In between, were five others lasting two or three minutes each with the men attached to them pleased with themselves for having dumped their semen into the common vessel - a Goddess.
The youngest, barely fifteen and attending his first celebration since his initiation was eager and hard and ready to go. He came almost immediately but continued to thrust with no decrease in his erection. He came three times in about ten minutes and, had we been alone, would have given me more. All in all, a very pleasantly surprising evening and I had a wonderful conversation with the young man's mother who was delighted with his participation. She had trained him well.
Just some girl talk and my thanks. Maybe or not some readers will find some interest. Up to you.
ReplyDeleteI really want to thank you for getting me back in touch with the importance of diaphragms to me. How many women still own every one they ever purchased? Including a rather fragile one over thirty years old. Must be important and likely harkens back to my secondary school days (always a diaphragm and usually a condom as well) and reactionary time at university after the chief lesbian on campus dumped me. I went through a period of denying my lesbain side and tried to fuck my way through the entire student body. Almost made it. So the exceptional activity, with a diaphragm in place, has inextricably linked my sex life with a diaphragm.
I now nearly always wear it to bed and have wandered out daytimes with it in place as well. On my recent trip to Africa, I went to the airport, which uses full body scanners, with it in place. As I approached security, it dawned on me that the spring would be quite visible on the scan and I found that somehow exciting. Whoever was looking had to wonder whether I was preparing to join the mile high club or I was freshly fucked. Likely gave them something to talk about all day.
Also, the new diaphragm recently had its semen baptism. It occurred to me that there was no medical reason for my wearing one but it should not denied its own experience of being flooded with an ejaculation. A medical conference provided the opportunity - as often as I would have wished. I met a very young doctor at the health club and made certain he had the chance to check everything out. We went to his room because I did not want a stranger in mine. He was young, virile and not very accomplished. Still dumped three loads against the diaphragm which I dutifully left in place until the next morning and removed to the usual aroma of putrifying semen, washed it and laid it out to dry on a towel. I wondered if the young maid even knew what it was. Years ago, that was likely a common event in hotel rooms but few younger women have even seen a diaphragm. Fortunately and unusual for me, I used a douche premix because later in the day I encountered a past lover and we decided we had better things to do than attend a dull lecture. This time in my room so that I could get the diaphragm back in. With a much more accomplished, and familiar partner, the sex was much better.
I really think that the saving grace for my new young friend was the rubbing of the G-Spot by the diaphragm rim as you have described. Though it fits me perfectly, his penis was such that he likely was pushing the dome into the anterior fornix and moving the rim slightly.
Any way, having found your blog quite by accident I have found it interesting and it has re-enabled some old behaviours that are quite enjoyable. If only some of the lurkers would join in more!
Thanks and hugs