The smouldering sexuality of the quiet girl

There’s a real old cliché in early black and white cinema for which I have a real  weakness. A dowdy  looking female is on the screen, hair in a tight bun, ugly glasses and frumpy clothes and the plan is that we write her off as being of no romantic or sexual interest, but no, at an appropriate time off come  the glasses, the hair is unpinned and the wide eyed hero is saying to her. “Why Miss Jones, but you’re beautiful!”

In fact this is hardly a new concept. In Shakespeare, a pretty young girl only has too put on a man’s hat and she’s instantly one of the lads and no one suspects her for a second, but let me not go down that route

Let’s leave aside that if the guy in the film was too thick to have noticed Miss Jones’ attractions when she wasn’t in head to toe bling then Miss Jones is probably better off without him, the fact is that this concept does have its parallels in real life. Personally I have long been attracted to the quiet female. Never mind that the girl above is  modestly attired, she is staggeringly pretty and only a fool would not realise that. In my experience the trick is to spot the growling sexuality lurking just beneath the modest surface of the quiet girl. 

Very often you might see a virginal looking female with downcast eyes and an endearing shyness,

but  with experience you often find that there is more to this creature than first meets the  eye.

   

When you scratch the surface of the quiet girl you often find a private life you would never have imagined,

And that their very quietness is a carefully adopted disguise to hide the vibrancy of their  imaginations. 

Best of all, simple modest  clothes so often hide the glories underneath and that when barriers are broken down and she finally  undresses for you, what a treat you are often in for!

I have to declare an interest here.  No, I don’t dress like a Miss Jones figure, and out on a date in a candle lit restaurant I don’t mind if my various boyfriends (or the waiters ) take sneaky  glimpse at my thighs under the table,

but going about my daily life I don’t make a big show of my figure or my legs, leaving them to the imagination of anybody wanting to get to know me better. The thing is, it’s so nice when the point is reached when a man is starting to remove my top layers for the first time and finds himself saying, ”Why Miss Forster, but you’re beautiful!”

You want to try it!  

SPARE A THOUGHT FOR POOR ELIZABETH!

Do spare a thought for poor little Elizabeth! In my posting, Diaphanous, I made a passing  comment that Alberto Vargas who earned his living producing erotically charged  illustrations of pneumatic over sexed females for Playboy magazine probably masturbated himself to death. (Exhausting, but on the whole probably more fun than  going to Dignitas!)

Well the remark is getting a little close to home! I’ve only been running this blog for a short while, but think what I have to do, more or less on a daily basis. To keep it lively and to keep you all both amused and your naughty imaginations well lubricated I have to trawl the internet for suitable images to illustrate my various points. My habit is to save them on a memory stick then go through them when I write my stuff, very often on my laptop in bed at night, and it’s then that they start getting at me! A whole sea of luscious young nymphs and gorgeous men pass before my eyes, an avalanche of pert breasts, kissable mouths, naughty young bottoms and straining erections, not to mention wicked little minxes in  desperate need of a good spanking. I’m discipline myself to be self restrained, but I’m only human. Every now and then there’s something that sends such an erotic jag to the loins I have to give in to it.

Sorry to sound like some young lad looking at a garage wall pin up, but this girls breasts are so wonderfully full and self supporting that I keep imagining  myself fondling them while I kiss her  ears as I back her on to the bed.

And this bottom! Oh my God what pleasure this bottom would give to any man or woman left alone with it and its sweet owner  for a while

Then we have a fully dressed girl in a very short and very tight red dress, but so ludicrously sexy  I can’t stop fantasising about how wonderful it would be to give her  a  long lingering spanking over the knee before taking her to bed and kissing her better.

And that’s leaving aside some of the gorgeous male flesh I come across. There’s  less of that as it's an unfortunate  fact that for every bed worthy male image one finds there’s ten female ones, but before this all gets out of hand I’ll leave you with as fine an example of a fully loaded, straining for attention, stiffy as you’ll ever find! What I imagine myself doing to this I won’t put into writing!

I think I need another lie down!

                THE COCK TEASER’S GUIDE TO STOCKINGS

As I have posted already and no doubt will again, there’s endless reasons why men enjoy giving us a good spanking from time to time, but  I’ve often thought that at least one reason is their getting back us is because we are just too sexy. Of course they want us to be sexy and flirty, but at the same time it is possibly threatening for them when a woman can have their members swelling and rearing in their pants by some simple ploy as muttering “Oh dear, I think I’ve forgotten to put any knickers  on!”

Where this is unfair on men is the endless and effortless ways we can do this, a flash of the eyes before you bend down to the lowest drawer of the filing cabinet, or standing on a desk in your shortest skirt and asking him to steady you. And of course the market place is crammed with garments that women can wear in the office or in the street that seem to have no other purpose but make men horny. Skirts so short we daren’t bend an inch in case we make an exhibition of what we may or may not be wearing underneath,

or skin tight tee shirts that make a thrusting invitation of our breasts and make them look as if they are making an escape attempt through the straining cotton. As if this wasn’t enough there’s high heels to make our legs look even more alluring and of course the wispy pornography of our underwear.

No wonder men feel the need to exercise some sort of control over the brazen cock teasers we all are.

And then of course there’s stockings, 

one of the most incendiary device in any girls erotic armoury. Men adore women’s legs, and if you want to mesmerise every man in the room or the street but still be within the bounds of what is acceptable, wear the shortest skirt you can manage teamed with sheer dark tights and high heels. The problem here is this is the ultimate advert for a product that can be something of a let down as having aroused him to a the point where fluids might be exchanged, hidden under your skirt is the temporary disappointment of the tights stretched over your panties.

On the other hand, if you make the skirt a scintilla longer and exchange the tights for stockings, then things start getting even more exciting.

The lure of the naked flesh above the stocking top is irresistible and men’s eyes and hands are drawn to it like a heat seeking missile, and of course that inch or two of flesh takes him inevitably on to your moist waiting entrance. As a woman who likes women I can't resist this either, and when I discover that a girl in my life is wearing stockings then I know that every minute of the next few hours are spoken for.

Stockings have everything. They eroticise the legs and make you look as sexy as all hell, but do not interfere with whatever pleasure or punishment he chooses to visit on you having being aroused by them. You can wear them with a city suit in all apparent innocence, or wear them with a short skirt and without panties to make it all too plain what you’re encouraging him to do. If you appear out of nowhere in nothing but stockings and heels you'll drive him mad,

and if you enjoy being spanked, when he’s got you across his knee like that you’re likely to be there for some time as it’s such a visual treat for him. 

I’ve included several pictures with this post, and whatever your gender or inclination, I’m sure taking a few of these gorgeous girls to your ivory tower will make it an even more seductive place to slide off to.

                                DIAPHANOUS

Diaphanous! What a lovely word conjuring up images of pert nipples arresting our attention as they poke their naughtiness  in our direction, or the curve of bifurcated buttocks and sleek thighs outlined by a silky shimmer. The see through night dress is one of womankind’s many secret weapons along with the eye wateringly short skirt or super tight tee shirt, and how we all take advantage of it!

In Educating Anna (which as I keep mentioning will be out at the  end of this year) after days of erotic game playing, Peter, Anna’s  gorgeous tutor, tells Anna  to come to his bedroom that night for a punishment and asks her if she has a suitable nightgown. She knows that this will be the night when  she will lose her virginity to him, but staying within the parameters of their game she says that yes she does.

          Getting herself ready to go to him, she describes it like this:-

It was almost a lie when I said I had a suitable nightgown as what I have hardly qualifies. It is the ghost of a nightgown, a spectre. If it were words it would be scarcely a whisper. At a quick glance it looks as if I am not wearing it, evidence of its being there little more than the transparent folds that fall from the tips of my nipples to the ground. When I put it on my naked body is fully visible in every detail underneath its shimmer, and on the rare occasions I have worn it in the past I knew that no man could see me in this and not have to take his pleasure in me.

I rather see it like the nightgown in the following image, totally and absolutely transparent and not hiding but eroticising her nakedness.

 If you’re interested by the way, my schoolgirl French translates their  conversation roughly  follows:-

Her:  “Darling, I really do need a good spanking tonight, in fact right now!

Him: “I have to work. Phone Stan, I think he’ll have the time.”

Or summing up the situation as a whole, the girl is a delicious long legged full breasted creature with her body beautifully displayed for her lover’s benefit and in urgent need of a good spanking, and the man is a twat. But I digress!

Alberto Vargas who produced endless illustrations for Playboy way  before my time (I’ll have to do a separate  posting about him) had a big thing about the see through nightdress and gave us several examples of his ripe voluptuous women so attired.

. 

He died in 1982 and I suspect from looking at his massive collection of exploding pins ups that he probably masturbated himself to death.

The thing about any diaphanous garment is that the girl is both dressed and undressed at the same time, and what there is of it does not hide  but enhances and turbo charges her nudity. But once she has slipped on such a garment, technically she is dressed giving her licence to parade and flaunt herself not just before her lover, but for anyone else as well, all the while acting as if having every luscious inch of her on full display. It is yet another of the cock teaser’s secret weapons, but so potent it could easily backfire. 

No wonder we girls get spanked as often as we do!

Have i done something wrong? I know this blog is still in its infancy but my stat meter tells me I'm getting healthy viewings, but not a single comment  from one of you. 

Speak to me, even if you say you hate every word I've put down! Just let me know that I'm not wasting my time.

Pretty please! 

                                          WENCHES

Whatever happened to wenches?  Wenches were lusty busty and thrusty, a fine pair of lush breasts being a vital part of the job description and they always dressed so that their bounty was  permanently on the verge of spilling out as they leaned over the tables.

Wenches were simple county girls in some distant past we all have some vague idea about, their natural habitat being in a tavern dispensing pints of foaming ale and good  cheer, a smile on their face and a mischief in their heart.

Wenches had to be robust as they were always being pulled into corners and kissed, their bottoms slapped and pinched and their breasts fondled and grasped by lustful customers. Wenches were cheeky and mischievous, and when they went too far they took it for granted that they would find themselves over the squire’s knee having their bottom soundly spanked, but as they enjoyed this as much as the squire, everyone was happy. 

Wenches were feline creatures, smouldering and purring and rubbing themselves sinuously against the legs of those they liked and, like cats, even jumping up to sit in the laps of their favourites when so inclined, their rewards being caresses and delicious little treats.

When not in the bar wenches tended to be in a wood being thoroughly rogered up against a tree or on a mossy bank, and if not, in one of the tavern bedrooms making sure that the comely young gentleman who is staying there has got everything he needs for the night.

In a modern world wenches would be to political correctness what the Ku Klux Klan are to racial harmony, but all the better for that. They were happy, uncomplicated and overflowing with life’s simple pleasures, and as such things as neurosis or depression hadn’t been invented in their day, even when on their own they found ways to keep themselves amused.

But where are they all now? Who knows, but I know where all the lusty tavern gentleman are. They are all hedge fund managers or working in call centres selling IT. And they call it progress! 

Recycling night!  Having to separate out horrible damp newspapers from a sea of plastic and a brewery’s worth of wine bottles!

Picasso didn’t have to do it, Proust  didn’t have to do it, Beethoven didn’t have to do it, why do I?

                     

              Why do men so enjoy spanking us?

Why do men so enjoy giving us a good spanking? This is a question I have written about in the past, but I always come up with the same problem that there is simply so much to say that there is a danger of loosing all threads and going off down so many tangents that I might never find my way back.

A while ago a man friend of mine did seem to put his finger on it (no pun intended) when he said that men threaten girls with a spanking for the same reason that schoolboys  pull girl’s hair in the playground. When early sexual stirrings are confused and unacknowledged, it is a way of setting off an erotic tension between the two people in question and to give an excuse for some physical contact, no matter however crude that contact might be.

“Think of it,” He said. “There’s this gorgeous little creature tripping round your office every day in a skimpy tee shirt and a tiny little skirt. 

 She’s making you feel so horny you can barely cope with it, and what you simply cannot do is to say ‘I’d love to tip you backwards over my desk and thrust my tongue up your knicker leg,’ so instead you find some excuse to tell her she’s an inch away from being given a good spanking. She blushes, the chances are that you do as well, and for a second both of you have an image in your minds of her pinned over your knee with her skirt up and her panties down round her thighs. She would be under your complete control, you would be able to both see and fondle her bare bottom, and  within reason you could do almost anything to her what you wanted. And if in fact it happened  for real, having reached this  level of physical intimacy, wouldn’t it be almost unavoidable to end up fucking?”

He was so right. No question about that, but the subject is so complex it goes so much further. At least part of it has to be  about getting the opportunity, however slim, to touch feel and generally misbehave and make free with the secret places a girl otherwise keeps hidden under her skirt. If the girl is not your lover, then this gives a man back door entry to somewhere otherwise denied to him. But bearing in mind that for so many men simply saying “I have a good mind to put you across my knee young lady and give you a damn good spanking” is enough on its own to have their cock doing a dance in their pants, there is something far more deep rooted than the mere opportunity to expose and fondle.

 Personally I think part  its essence is tied up in the folk memory that spanking is the appropriate punishment  for errant schoolgirls notwithstanding that in England at least spanking faded away something like fifty years ago. When in modern times a man takes  an educated sophisticated girl over his knee and spanks her she is being turned into a naughty little schoolgirl who needs to be taught a lesson.

If she screams and fights he gets one sort of excitement from it, and if she squeals and wriggles because she’s loving it he gets another.  

But as I keep saying, there’s more to it than that, and every new thread leads to another one. There is the whole subject of pleasure through inflicting pain, and of course there are the separate but related fetishes such as short skirts and stockings.(I’ve found that, although not all, a good  majority of men who enjoy spanking their girlfriends like them to dress this way for it.)  

And of course, the big one, why do so many of us girls get a buzz when our boyfriends decide it’s time we are given a good smacked bottom? For us it hurts, but a lot of us, including me,  still seem to like it, and then we move on to the additional question of why do girls like me enjoy giving our special friends a long lingering session over our knee?

 So much to say it could be a subject for a book in its own right. But, as always, in the dark times in which we live, anything that gives pleasure , especially sexual pleasure has to be a good thing.

I have little doubt  I shall be doing more posts on the subject.

                                        THE VOYEUR

If you want to watch a film that really gives value for money and uses every conceivable excuse for its characters to take their kit off and/or to mingle fluids,  sometimes sweetly and occasionally  crudely, give Tinto Brass’  film The Voyeur  (L’uomo che guarda) a try.

Admittedly it’s clearly aimed at men as there is far more female flesh on display than male ( not too much of a problem for me as I’m sexually ambidextrous)  but girls are compensated by the main male character being ludicrously good looking.

It’s clear that Mr Brass has a bit of a fetish for naked female  bottoms that just happen to be bent over tables or window sills or  any  other convenient object that might be handy, and a few times I thought that the women in question were handing gilt edged invitations to give them a spanking, but on this one I was disappointed.

There’ s an odd surrealistic  scene towards the end that includes a beautiful female, naked save for a nun’s headdress,  wandering a beach full of sexually active  couples and singles , including a woman leading a man around by his cock!

Enjoy!         

Find it  on You Tube at 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IUP4Hv0TPds&oref=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DIUP4Hv0TPds&has_verified=1

                                         Sexual Flexibility

A recent survey has thrown up that whereas most men describe themselves as simply straight or gay, lots of women say that they are sexually flexible. That comes as no surprise to me at all. ‘Flexible’ certainly describes my own sexuality, primarily heterosexual but enjoying regular sexual encounters with women. And amongst my contemporaries, the vast majority of women I know between say twenty five and thirty five have had  at least one encounter with women.

I’m  nervous doing a post on this subject because as with certain others I have  so much to say and I don’t want this to be too long and boring, but I’m still at a loss where  to start. Yes a good example of a man is a gorgeous thing and I could not possibly give men up,

but by my reckoning decent man are an endangered species and thin on the ground. On the other hand  there are so many delicious women out there, and all the attributes they have that have that have been  honed and refined over generations of subconscious seduction work on us women just as much as they do on men, full firm breasts, sleek legs displayed in enticing skirts, massacred eyes and kissable mouths. Just writing this makes me want to go out and capture one and bring her home.  

My Sapphic tendencies were making themselves known in my later teens, possibly finding some of the fashion shoots images in Vogue a little too seductive, and maybe enjoying those huggy sessions young girls have with their friends a bit too much. I had just hit  twenty when it made itself properly known and was helped on by my spanking fetish (yet another subject I’ll have to write about!)  I was horsing around with a female friend I found all too attractive and she had been teasing me to a dangerous level. With hindsight I see we were flirting with each other but I hadn’t actually realised it. She was behaving with me the way I often behaved with men, the sort of goading that leads to threats of redress and everything that inevitably follows, and I found myself saying and doing to her the very same things that men did to me in this situation. I told her she was asking to be spanked and instantly found my insides melting when I realised how much I wanted to do that. We started wrestling and although it did not end with a proper spanking I did manage to get her over my knee very briefly and get in a couple of smacks but that was enough. Before we knew it we were kissing and a new chapter in my sexual development had started.

I must not try your patience and go into a long treatise about all my personal tendencies, but it’s interesting that when in the bedroom with men I love playing the role of naughty little girl and being punished for it, 

whereas with women I’m equally turned  by taking them over my knee for a spanking and it’s never the other way round. I’ve never been spanked by a woman and have no wish to be.

The bottom line is we are all sexually complex and long may we remain so!