Long distance musing…

It all started back at the beginning of 2014, with me being sex starved and discovering the steamier side of twitter. But how does a complex relationship with a 200 mile logistical issue keep going after 3½ years? 

Of course the sex is still excellent, but I’m sure if I tried hard enough, I could find that nearer by….

So why stick with it? 

Because he wakes up at stupid o’clock each morning to FaceTime, even though he doesn’t get in from work until after 11.

Because he will track across the Pennines to meet me, just so we can drive back together.

Because he is always there to listen if I am upset or stressed, or just want to share something funny.

Because he buys me buns.

Because he videos me singing along to the little mermaid in the car.

Because he’s unfailingly kind.

Because he gets hugely indignant at injustices or hypocrisy.

Because he still loves me, even when I’m being completely awkward and irrational.

Because he is kind and caring when my broken old body stops us doing something. 

Because he loves steak as much as I do.

Because who else could I grade onion rings with.

Because Blink 182.

I could go on… but I’m arriving in Manchester soon 🙂

My Valentine

It’s really hard to explain. I’m dominant you see. Really dominant in all aspects of my daily life. I control my home, I plan and organise all holidays, trips, outings. I work in a senior position where I suggest, encourage and ultimately dictate how things should be done. 

When we meet I decide where we will stay , what we might go and see, when we should do it. 

I check us in to a hotel, I lead the way to the room. 

He is the kindest, most gentle, sensitive person I know… until that door shuts…

And then I get naked. 

Sometimes I forget myself, I’ll try to take charge. A steely eye and a firm pinch of my nipple will follow. Sorry, his nipple. I’m owned. A happy little fat kitten to be played with, punished and treated as he sees fit. The pinch hurts, but if I gasp I’m asked ‘what?’

‘Nothing’ is the meek, breathless reply. 

The pain from that torcherous pinch has a direct link to how horny I am. A hand between my legs makes the state of my arousal obvious and brings a “good girl” which makes me so very happy.

We fuck, we play, we indulge ourselves with a large selection of toys. Given an appropriate location I will be spanked until my arse is purple, or doused in a rainbow of wax.

I love every last second.

He gives me a release I didn’t think possible

Makes me happier than I ever thought possible

Not to mention more orgasms in 3 years than the previous 47! 

So thank you my big, kind, gentle, sadist, for making an old(ish) lady very happy xx

Poll results about confident cocks

Yesterday I asked a question about cocks, and how they might affect your confidence.

It was not specifically focused at men, which makes the results more difficult to interpret, but interesting none the less.

So what were the results…?

Sample size 56

Two people (4%) said they would be more confident with a smaller cock. I know one of these was a slip of the finger and suspect the other might be Minty Baubles (we’ve all seen Trevor!), but seriously, it would be interesting to know what is behind that one persons thoughts. Do they have an incompatible partner? Does it make it more difficult to sustain an erection?  I’m not a man (honest!) so am the least able to understand, but it’s still intriguing. 

2 people (4%)  said they would be more confident with a cock. I’m assuming (!) these were women, and although I don’t feel that being a man would affect my confidence in day to day situations, I can see that it might in others, such as walking done dark alleys, telling my mechanic he’s talking bollocks etc…

32 people (56%) basically said their cock (or lack of it) had no effect on their confidence.  This will either be women who feel they would be no more confident as a man, men who are happy with their cock or men who don’t relate their cock size to their confidence levels. Needless to say, it’s nice to see that more than half fit in this category. 

Finally, 19 people (34%) would feel more confident with a bigger cock. I don’t find that particularly surprising. I’m assuming these people (I say people, because it’s quite possible Minty might be here too) are referring to being more confident from a sexual aspect rather than just day to day activities, but who knows what weird measuring shenanigans go on in the men’s loos!

There’s an expectation of a ‘standard length’ although for the life of me I have no idea what this is. I would think being too thick or thin would have more impact on effective penetration? 

From my own personal perspective (and we’re all different) I can safely say that the size of a cock has absolutely no bearing on how much fun I’m going to have. Although you’d be surprised how hard it is for people to believe that. Even from penetrative sex I find different pleasures in different sized cocks. I feel them in different places… I’ve also found that men with smaller cocks tend to be more creative, more interested in the whole experience than just the fucking, but again, I have a limited perspective and don’t want to criticise all those creative sexy chaps who are hung like a hung thing. 

But regardless of my own personal opinion I can totally get why men might be more confident with a bigger cock. It’s the same reason I’d be more confident with a smaller tummy. 

Although I’m not planning on trying to reach anyone’s cervix with my tummy, so maybe not quite the same…

Random babbling about … wobbly bits

Let’s face it, some of us in the ‘curvy in wrong places as well as curvy in right places’ segment of the BBW community tend to have rather more fragile confidences than might meet the eye, and I should of course include BBM in that bracket too! 

Every big girl I know is a master of the clever angle, cunning lighting effect or artfully placed sheet/babydoll/teddy etc…Don’t get me wrong, I think the attention to detail and added care used to soften wobbly bits makes for a far more interesting photo.

But… behind the bravado and the bouncy smile often lies a far more timid creature. They will chat to you with the sexual abandonment of a wanton thing, will describe in detail the positions and places they’d love to meet you and do you in. They will indulge in vivid fantasy, rolling, licking, grasping, panting… And they will mean it, and want it. 

Pull the curtain of remote communication back to face the object of your desire in the real world and things change. The big, bouncy, lively girl with the vivid imagination is still there, but quivering inside an insecure bundle of nerves, who is convinced that now you’ve seen the real her you will run away screaming, even though you always knew what she looked like, despite the camera tricks. 

Be clear with this timid creature. 

If you like her wobbly bits, tell her!

 If you don’t, be kind, she is a most fragile thing and is very easily broken.

Be honest. Be very clear. One of the hardest things for a BBW to understand is men who like all women, it kicks on our insecure switch, so be extra careful in explaining your liking for all things female, as we might struggle not to feel second best. 

Finally, a quick thank you to the other kind of BBW (with extra curves), the truly confident ones who flaunt what they have and aren’t afraid to show it to everyone. Without you I’d still be sat in the dark, watching the rest of the world go by, not knowing big could be sexy too 🙂

Respect (a small rant)

I once got into an argument in a pub with a woman. As always I was defending @alwaystouching. I never go into battle for myself, but if someone upsets my friends…

Anyway. She screeched at me that I was ‘disrespecting her’. Being me, I started to question what behaviour she had shown to warrant any respect. Luckily we left soon after as I’m not sure she was prepared for a rational conversation.

But it does bring me on to my most hated word on twitter. Respect.

I’m not a grammar nazi, I make far too many cock ups to do that, but this one really irritates me.


Admiration given by others


account, adoration, appreciation, approbation, awe, consideration, courtesy, deference, dignity, esteem, estimation, favor, fear, homage, honor, obeisance, ovation, recognition, regard, repute, reverence, testimonial, tribute, veneration, worship.

I will respect your wishes (if they warrant it), I will respect your feels, but I’m afraid if you demand that I respect you, the answer is most likely no. Respect can only be earned, never demanded. 
Rant over (sorry)


I lost my virginity early, on the top deck of a red bus, parked in High Wycombe bus garage. It was about 1 am and the bus garage was next door to the nightclub I’d been in. The man was called Chris (I think). It ended abruptly when someone else started coming upstairs, and I doubt either of us enjoyed it much…

I then met my first long time boyfriend at the age of 16. We had regular enthusiastic sex, with a naive and internet free level of kink to it which I definitely enjoyed.

In my early 20’s I met my long term partner. He was kind and safe. Sex was straight forward and satisfying but started to fade away in my early 30’s.  He ran away with his mates wife in my mid 30’s. He came back a few months later, but we haven’t had sex since. He’s still kind and safe though.

I took a lover in my early 30’s. A good friend who was happily married, but liked a bit of variety. We had some interesting and creative outdoor encounters every few months, mainly because there was nowhere else to go…

Things petered out by the beginning of my 40’s. I lived a sexless life for 6 or 7 years and had decided that was probably it for me. No more sex. Not by choice, but circumstance.

A chance comment I made on a saucy blog, read on vanilla twitter led to a brief, very kinky time with a younger man. He liked to be dominated. Tied up, fucked, spanked… I played my part in an eagerness to please, not because I had any tendencies in that area, or so I thought… except when I made him stand naked, handcuffed, blindfolded, up against a cool wall, as I stood in just a shirt and stockings and striped his arse with my crop, I could feel my excitement dribble down my inner thigh. Maybe I liked this more than I thought.

My dormant sex drive was reawaken just as his disappeared and I was left, horny and frustrated. From there I ran straight into the arms of naughty Twitter. 

The rest you know. I met my love. We have a sex life I couldn’t have imagined in my earlier years. I’ve discovered that where I was turned on by spanking another, being the recipient takes me to a whole other level!

 I turn 50 on Monday and am finally having the time of my life. I’ve never been happier. 

There are those of you who might question why I stay with my partner (it’s because I love him). There are those who will frown on my having a lover (it’s because I love him too). It’s how life works for me, and long may it stay this way. 

Looking forward to my 50’s …


We first met in Manchester, in the station. You held me, I shook like a leaf. The receptionist with her sparkly eyes and a wry smile that said ‘enjoy your sex madam’ 

There are other places you can put that you know…

Our first trip to Birmingham, a broken crop in the bin when we left, the first of many…

My first visit to your flat in Liverpool, one bottom purple, red claw marks in the other. A handily placed nail, high up…

Our first trip to Wembley, with tapas and emergency tethering points…

Our first holiday in Brighton, my grumpiness, your kindness, a rather cold balcony…

Our first road trip. Me singing, you laughing at me singing . Emergency foraging trips through the boot hatch on the M6.

Our first gig. Dancing and singing and cuddling and sod what anyone else thought. 

Our first cabin. Our first hot tub, bathtubs in the bedroom, flooded floors. High heels and fishnets, bent over the kitchen table, amongst other things…

And now, our first festival, broken knees and rum and ginger (and lime!). Too tired to fuck, made up for in the morning…

Many more, too many to list. And hopefully many more to come…


I’ve been happily posting cunningly cut pictures of my boobs and bottom on Twitter for over two and a half years now. Some people think of this as confident. I think of it as a little dishonest. The real me is far rounder than depicted. I don’t photoshop and rarely even change colours, but I am VERY good and snapping just what I want you to see.
But this week is all about warmth and honesty.…and I’m a sucker for good light, so when I was sat in the sun, flicking through Twitter, I thought fuck it…

Here’s me.

Cumming out…

K…Yesterday morning I sucked the cum hungrily off M’s cock, savouring every single drop. 

After being together for 2 years and 5 months together you’d think this was nothing unusual, but you’d be very, very wrong.

You see M has/had a little problem. He couldn’t cum when with a partner. I must admit that for a short while I thought it was me, but he convinced me through words and actions that this was not the case.

Don’t get me wrong, M definitely obviously enjoyed all of time together, just never actually climaxed. He referred to himself as broken. Of course, I googled the problem. Most posts indicated there would be some psychological reason, but no obvious solutions. So I adopted my patented ‘pretend a problem isn’t there’ technique. We have had the most awesome amazing fulfilling sex life for the last two years. No pressures. No unfulfilled expectations. Plenty of orgasms on my part. 

And yesterday morning he came. And I sucked up every last drop. And I haven’t stopped grinning since.

I’m worried that I come across as a weirdo/pathetic/loser or any plethora of similar words, but, *worried pause* I’d never managed to climax whilst in the presence of anyone else. There are no issues when I’m flying solo, never have been since I first discovered the second function for my penis. 

During our earliest interactions before we met, Ms K and myself would partake in what would only be described as virtual sex through the medium of FaceTime and she witnessed me cumming various times, not once did I mention my “issue.” Our first few meets, which have been well documented by Ms K, passed in an amazing flurry of sex filled days and nights, plenty of orgasms for her and plenty of fun for me. 

One day she voiced her worries that I hadn’t climaxed, that I wasn’t enjoying our time together, that I wasn’t sexually attracted to her, so I explained this was far from the case and I talked through my issue. An amazing two and a half years have passed and Ms K never made an issue out of it. 

We continue to have an amazing sex life with no complaints from either side and then on Wednesday morning there she was between my legs greedily swallowing my load, it was heavenly, the best orgasm I’ve ever had. I don’t think I’m “cured” but with her help and patience I’ll get there…


January 1st 2014 on a solo trip to Spain I carefully positioned my camera and took the first pictures of my boobs and arse ever to hit film (digitally speaking). Camera angles were carefully judged and pictures were cropped to within an inch of their life to remove all hints of identity or unnecessary wobbly bits. I posted my first boob pic on my newly formed naughty Twitter site where I’d spent the previous day carefully selecting 9 people to follow who (based on careful consideration of their retweets and timeline) I was fairly sure wouldn’t find me too repulsive. I then added a couple of flirtatious tweets which made me blush. 

The results were good. I had follow backs from about 7 of my 9 and retweets which meant that when I woke up the next morning my 7 had turned into 50! This was amazing! 

A couple of days of salacious DM’s later I posted my first arse shot. Bent over at a fairly unattractive angle to remove all signs of cellulite and wearing a black thong, I have to admit now it wasn’t the best picture I’ve ever taken of my arse, but it was ok.

A day later it was quote tweeted by another woman commenting that she couldn’t work out if it was male or female  with emoji laughing.

I was devastated. I locked my account, and toyed with shutting it immediately. My tiny slither of growing confidence was crushed instantly. I’d opened the account as an outlet for my overwhelming sexual frustration but had found an amazing and wonderful side effect, that showing ME and realising that there were people who didn’t think I was repulsive, made me feel more confident and happier. 

Luckily I was talked out of taking down the account by a couple of lovely men and a fabulous woman (in private, via DM). The rest of Twitter were of course oblivious to how this one throw away comment had affected me, including the woman who caused the angst.

Yesterday, after all the tension on Twitter from politics and people’s personal problems I was a bit disheartened with the whole place, so to try to lighten the mood tried to encourage people to flash their boobs and bring the fun back to naughty Twitter. Big, small, male, female, all were welcome. 

It was good fun, and had the desired effect of brightening my timeline. Right up until someone posted an anonymous tweet of “eugh! My eyes!!”, or words to that effect. I have no idea who or what it was directed at, it did not @ anyone and could easily have referred to something shown on an account I didn’t follow, but that’s beside the point. It knocked the confidence of a couple of the lovely people who’d posted their boobs for me, as they thought it was directed at them. There was no need for the tweet. It took the shine off what had turned into a fun, inclusive afternoon on Twitter. I don’t follow that person any more, which is a pity, because I liked them, but I think from now on I’m cutting the snide, anonymous commentators from my account. I can manage without them.

My first avi 🙂