Miranda's Illicit Affairs And Encounters

It has been a while since we last spoke so I hope you are all having fabulous 2011’s and the miserable weather hasn’t kept you all too bored and caged (and if it has, shame on you for not using the cold outside to get all toasty and intimate inside!). It has unfortunately been a sad start to the year for me, with the death of my beloved grandmother.  We knew it was coming, so whilst not a shock, still sad but in a bizarre twist of fate, enlightening.

My grandmother was a trailblazer right from the get go.  She cycled everywhere when women of her station were driven, she worked when she didn’t have too and she made sure my mother and siblings had jobs at thirteen despite attending public school.  In other words she prized her independence, expected nothing without work and encouraged people to think outside the box.  She was dainty, well presented and thoroughly middle class in every way, but one.  My grandmother had an affair. Not the interim one nighters and brief sojourns of passion that I and many of you enjoy, but a real, full on, hot-blooded extra marital affair, with a work colleague of my grandfathers. 

I found out when clearing out her stuff.  She bravely (or riskly depending on your perspective) kept diaries of what she had been up to.  As clichéd as it may sound, they also corresponded by letter.  Letters from the forties and fifties were so different.  Restrained in many ways: no talk of f..ing and c.nts in my grandmother’s days, and yet somehow so much sexier than our modern communications.  Lengthy proclamations of passion and desire, talk of need and the merest hint of the pleasures to come – the imagination is the primary organ teased and both sides stop short of discussing the act, while openly declaring their intense longing for the touch of one another. 

Her diary talks of warm afternoons in bed with the gas fire burning in the corner, stolen weekends at seaside resorts and walking down the pier, hand in hand in the rain, safe in the knowledge that this weekend was theirs alone, free of the constraints of their responsibilities.  The funny thing is, that time doesn’t change that much.  She never had any intention of leaving my grandfather, although it would appear she wished she had met her lover earlier on.  In those days women were expected and Nana was no different, although I believe a later era would have seen her turn her back on convention and live in sin, rather than duty and without passion.

Their affair, like so many ended in heartbreak when my grandfather returned from Asia, where he had been working and my grandmother called it off, to protect her children from the scandal were her activities to be discovered.  The heartbreak she felt at making such a choice was palpable through her words even six decades after the event and even my modern woman’s heart really yearned to know what it means to feel so much passion and such depth of emotion.

There is an intense elegance to the prose and no hiding of the emotions that makes me wonder if the technological age and advent of sexual liberation, rather than granting immeasurable pleasures and anything our hearts, or more like groins desire, has somehow suppressed our imaginations and capacity for true pleasure and depth of emotion.  The bittersweet pain of waiting for letters to arrive, visits snatched rarely and nothing but the imagination to tease and taunt during the times when you couldn’t see your lover must have heightened everything to such a fever pitch that it astounds me illicit assignations (as they were called in their day) ever consisted of more than a brief greeting before partners got down to business.

So, this month I am honouring my nana in a different way.  With passion not spent in the arms of a temporary partner, but with some time spent reading some of my old favourite bodice rippers and classic tales of love and loss.  Sexy escapism of a different sort, with the hope that some of that frustrated desire may invade my own existence one day soon……….

My insides are ON FIRE.  Honestly, readers this month I think someone must have been spiking my tea with the female equivalent of Viagra.  ALL month, all I have been able to think of is when, where and whom I can next leap upon to get my naughty little rocks off with. This is clearly somewhat unfortunate when A. It is minus one outside and I appear determined to where as little as humanly possible as often as possible.  B.  My husband has entirely lost his sex drive.

You often see it on female orientated chat rooms.  Women talking about at length about how they no longer feel the need to do the horizontal rumba with their spouses and long-term partners.  The drive just somehow seems to disappear behind the weight of endless washing rounds, nappy changes and domestic routine.  Slowly, as the woman turns into “mother” and “wife” more and more of the individual seems to slip away, until the woman no longer feels the need to partner physically with her partner. At this point often she will begin to worry that her man will seek his thrills elsewhere, or force herself into a once a week duty “fxxk” purely so she feels her marital commitments have been met.

To me this always seemed slightly sad.  A woman’s sexuality is so often tied into her mental state and the women in question never quite seem to realise that if they want to feel sexual again, they also need to feel like themselves. Let’s be honest girls, there is nothing sexy about fairy liquid and smelly socks now is there. A lunch with the girls every now and then, or a lipstick in a sultry shade of scarlet however can go a long way to making us feel like woman and not just automatons, capable of passion and desire on a par with the very best man-eater.

What is not talked about so often is when the desire lost is not on the side of the woman.  When a man who has never been hugely devoted to the pursuit of the carnal arts, what does the wife do.  Dress up like a slut?  Pander to his whims and offer him the sexual act of his choosing?  Get him drunk? It is so often assumed that men want it on tap and have to barter with their reluctant wives for their marital rights that the idea of a man just “not feeling like it” is rarely heard of and even less respected.

And yet, for me, this is my marriage. What started slowly has, over the year trailed away to once a month at best.  When you have a huge sex drive like me, this is a problem.  Over the years I have tried everything, from naughty nurse’s outfits to begging hubbie to visit the doctors.  Nothing has changed it.  He just isn’t very sexual.  The result of this is a gradual eroding of the feeling of being wanted.

No amount of money or compliments can change the feeling of utter despondency sexual rejection at the hands of the person you love can create.  My husband refuses to visit a doctor to talk about this problem and on more than one occasion attempted to make me feel guilty for wanting to be intimate with him more than once in the month.  He is not gay, loves me dearly and wants my happiness.  He just cannot be bothered with sex.

For years this made me feel as though I were doing something very wrong.  Nowadays I am just very aware of the fact that contrary to being a partners fault (breathe deeply this may be controversial) sexuality is OUR responsibility as individuals.  We need to make time to be physical, not just with our partners but with ourselves.  A relationship without sex is called friendship and whilst that has its place in a marriage, very often lack of intimacy will make one person very unhappy.  To keep a marriage on track you either need to work on your drive or accept that you have different drives and be able to allow your partner what you want for yourself – the right to choose how much sex they have and when.  This may well be with someone else.  Don’t like it? Do something about it. I appreciate my stance may be militant but it is the entire truth.

So what dear reader, do I do.  Well as you know I love my husband and don’t want to leave him so this month, with lover away, I have been very busy on our favourite illicit dating site. Fantasy, introductions and the promise of something new in my stockings very soon…..you shall have to excuse me, I need a cold shower…

Have a great December readers and I will see you all in the New Year!!

Firstly can I apologise for the lateness of my column this month, family life and crazy business have conspired to put me behind.

As you will all be aware, last week was Halloween, which just happens to be one of my absolute favourite yearly festivals.  I love the dressing up, changing of faces and spooky (slightly slutty if we are honest) costumes available.  Every year a friend has a huge Halloween bash and everyone competes to look like a glam witch or cat or whatever takes our fancy.

This year, seeing all my friends transformed, some for the better, some not so much, I got to thinking.  What is it about the murky dark side of life that brings out the sexual and desire to be a bit “underworld” in so many, otherwise very conservative women.

The Twilight phenomena, Vampire Diaries (Damon anyone – oh I would), Trueblood, Interview with a vampire, the list of films focussing on creatures that are in anyone’s mind a terrifying predator with an intensely sexual edge is endless.  Since Hollywood’s inception film after film and prior to that book after book have been filled with tales of lonely heart undead creatures just looking for a good meal and a good woman, with a pulse. 

Is it women’s desire to tame a bad man (or girl in Kate Beckinsdales case) and see the good even in the very worst?  Is it a secret desire to walk on the wild side and risk our lives?  Or even the romance and  mystery of a never ending life that thrills our mortal hearts so intensely.  Whatever it is it works for me and most of my friends. 

At around the thirty mark (ahem) I should be immune to fantasies of a dark and supernatural world and yet every time it gets me hot and flustered and interestingly feeling my most alive. Hence the reason for me making lover get a little bitey at our last meeting.  There is nothing like a little role play to really get your heart pounding and whether or not you follow my beliefs about infidelity, I definitely don’t think taking this time of year as an opportunity to explore your darker side in a safe environment will do anyone any harm.

In a town, near to where I live, there is a house.  From the outside this house looks like any other large, suburban dwelling.  Nicely maintained, with a neatly clipped lawn and tidy windows:  In other words, completely innocuous in every conceivable way.  From the outside.

Inside, you will find a somewhat different story, as this house is the venue for a fairly well know group of “swingers”.  Each year the couple who own the house throw a large and well advertised get together for couples and individuals, interested in walking the slightly less than monogamous line of relationships.  There are rules of course and you normally have to be “invited” by a member. 

I happened to meet a “member” through one of the sites (you know which one!) I use to meet people like myself and was invited to a bash at the house.  Obviously sans husband, so I asked if lover would like to attend with me, which he was delighted to confirm.  I must admit I was REALLY dubious about this. I know I said I would try anything once but visions of ninety seventies key swapping and middle aged men portly bellies constantly invaded my thoughts, so my plan was at least if lover was there, I could indulge in some show off sex with him in one of the playrooms.

I spent at least a week planning what (not) to wear, hours at the salon and the gym and I am inordinately glad I had a girlfriend’s birthday party the following day or husband would be infinitely suspicious by now about my sudden attention to the details of my appearance.

We turned up on the night of the party and I must admit to being pleasantly surprised.  There were a couple of middle aged couples in thongs but on the whole the people there were well spoken, well dressed, reasonably attractive (in one or two cases very), polite and thoroughly normal.  Even I was surprised at how easily I had developed my own preconceived notions – why wouldn’t someone attending these events be just like me – after all I was there.

The night was a resounding success – there is something infinitely indulgent about swapping and sharing and watching someone you have fucked, enjoying someone else, with NO feelings of guilt or shame and after all, it has been going on since the ancient Greeks.  If it was good enough for Spartacus (the actor playing him at the moment is also playing lead role in my naughty dreams at the moment too) then it is certainly fine for me!   

I stopped the party sometime around midnight (no pumpkin turning for me), showered before heading home and snuck into to bed with my partner, before drifting off to sleep dreaming of the very pretty blonde lover and I shared earlier that night……roll on next year!

As many of you who read the column regularly will already be aware, autumn is without doubt my favourite time of year. Crisp mornings, glowing colours and evenings drawing in all combine to make it a warm, inviting and snuggly time of year, perfect for lovers. When I was a kid, I loved that first week at school – new stationary, clothes and subjects – bliss (yes I was a bit of a nerd!). That feeling has never gone away so I decided just last week to enrol on a course at the local college.

I will be studying cookery – -mmmmmmmm, so expect a number of future columns to include a. Mentions of hot young men wandering around the uni campus. b. Mentions of inventive ways to use a kitchen! This visit down memory lane has led to some, ahem, interesting developments with both my husband and lover. Husband is smacking his lips with glee at the prospect of good home cooking, filling meals and adventurous new menu choices, although he doesn’t quite get why I want to go anywhere near a place of education. His own schooling consisted of frequent head flushing in the toilet and being the last picked for games, which I suspect is strongly behind his intense motivation to be Mr. Smiley and Popular these days.

At home though I am the ultimate “fifties” mum. I take an almost visceral pleasure in the sight of my family and friends enjoying food prepared lovingly by my own fair hands so this excitement at the prospect of some nurturing suits the part of me that loves the bones of my family and enjoys homemaking and baking. Lover is infinitely more enticed by the prospect of school uniforms, naughty schoolgirls and using new food considerably more imaginatively than anything I will learn in class! Again this suits me. Little whips, tiny kilts and a darned good spanking for disobeying sir – hell yes I love the start of term.

Once again it amazes me how easily though I slip into both roles. One minute I am happily bent over a table at my lovers, hands bound by my school tie and then just half an hour later, talking batters and biscuits with my kids, whilst finishing their homework. Perhaps in a slightly twisted way I am using that ability that all women have, to compartmentalise and change personalities according to environments, or perhaps I am just a very greedy girl…..

 Hi readers,

 This month has been a frantic one in many ways. I returned from holiday truly sated on the flesh of delicious waiters (naughty, naughty Miranda!) and grateful was I for taking such a precious amount of me time as any mother will tell you that the first two weeks of July are the among the most packed of the year. End of year sports days, recitals, prize giving, school fairs and mums night outs mean that almost every day is invariably taken up with the more wholesome elements of my life.

I can’t complain to be honest, as I love the whirl and bustle of my children’s lives and feel such immense pride in their achievements. You know the mother who stands horribly competitively screaming at the side as her child attempts to win the egg and spoon – that would be me!! I must admit though to feeling a little sorry for one mother and counting my blessings for an ability to hold my liquor at this year’s Mums night out. This poor creature, who shall be named “Sally” for my columns purpose, is having some fairly serious marital difficulties and admitted after two or three too many glasses of blush to having had a very minor dalliance with the father of one of her daughters friends who is NOT married.

 Before I could even murmur “it happens to the best of us” the condemnation was all-consuming. This woman’s husband has neglected and ignored her for years and some may say it was inevitable that she would eventually need some sort of acknowledgement of her attractiveness from any source, but almost as soon as the words were out of her lips the judgemental looks and whispering began. Within days many of the “alpha” mummies had been alerted to her “treachery” and a systemic process of isolation began – she hasn’t been invited to any further days out, mummy gatherings or indeed anything within the “inner circle” of mummy hood. It is as though to those who live in a careful, fragile bubble of “family” her perceived betrayal to the cause, despite having its roots in a very genuine cry for help and her own immense guilt, is almost contagious to the other mummies in the group. They seemed afraid that merely by sharing her confession; they were sharing her guilt and were therefore guilty by association themselves. I obviously do not feel the same way – my indiscretions would make hers look like a childlike exploration should they be revealed and I too would be ostracised and alienated.

 I called her a couple of days ago and whilst I drew short of telling her the truth, I certainly let her know that many, many women in her position have done similar and she should perhaps spend some time reflecting on how she can improve her self-esteem if perennial infidelity is not something she wants to indulge in. I must admit though it made me think. As women we almost expect men to cheat and blame the woman involved for “causing” it, “homewrecker, man-eater, slut and bunny boiler” all being terms I have applied to women involved in infidelity. Men seem to get away with it based on their genetic make-up and yet I know that women are just as likely to cheat. Is it worse if a woman is unfaithful? I would love to know your thoughts.

Hi readers.

 I am writing to you today from the beaches of sunny Barbados, although from my best friends tweets I may as well be at home in blighty – from all accounts you guys have got it HOT, HOT, HOT right now!! The weather here is lovely, the kids are enjoying the play scheme and with hubby more interested in the local ruins then a little holiday loving, I have taken full advantage. I did promise to be good – after all this is a FAMILY holiday and with nm at home keeping my libido reasonably well under check (for now) I shouldn’t even have been looking but after my first day I had to have a little rethink.

We checked in tired and exhausted, had a nap then headed to the beach for a little sunshine soaking. The kids disappeared with the rep almost straight away, hubby moaned about “acclimatising” and went back to the sanctuary of our air-conditioned hut and left me to it. I did what any self respecting brit abroad would: hit the sun loungers, elbowing a number of irate German’s out of the way in the process. I had just settled down and was drifting off in a haze of coconut sunscreen and naughty fantasies about pool boys, when a rough hand shook me awake. “Madam, madam – would you like a cocktail”?

When in Barbados and all that, so of course I opened my eyes to order one. Standing in front of me was the most beautiful waiter. Chocolate skin glowing with flecks of gold, deep molten eyes and long dreadlocked hair caught back. Immaculately dressed with a narrow waist and broad shoulders this one was beautiful local! I smiled up at him, almost losing my cool completely looking into those delicious eyes and said “yes,thankyou”. He asked if I were alone and gave me the “look”. Those of you who share my proclivity for adultery know exactly which look I mean. The one that says “I know you want me – I want you too and it is just a question of when”. The look says in a second that you are totally sexually knowing and uninhibited and you just met a soul mate of the purely carnal variety.

From then on it was cat and mouse. I have done my wifely duty, playing with the kids joyfully, splashing in and out of the surf and taking millions of genuinely happy family little photos to enjoy when back home in the wet and damp of good old England. Tonight however is my time. Husband has come down with a mild case of deli belly so will undoubtedly be in bed, the children tucked up in the room beside him. I am planning to make my move. I think a little dinner, some dancing then once his shift finishes the suggestion of a beach walk. I always wanted to know what getting it on in the surf might feel like………………………………………………………..I shall let you know!

Hello readers.  I hope you had a lovely bank holiday and have found some time to enjoy the recent brief bout of sunshine.  Something about hot weather always bring mind to me of summers gone by.  Barbecues with friends, days at the beach, long evenings sitting in the sunshine with wine and of course romance. 

I have been reminiscing a lot recently about my younger years.  The feelings of freedom, excitement and that stomach churning “butterflies in the tummy” sensation of young love and drama never quite leaves us in my estimation.  Perhaps it was my birthday (which I spend languishing in bed with my hubby by the way and other man was postponed until the following day – two birthdays – delicious!) which has bought on this trip down memory lane, perhaps the unexpected picture of an ex, on a friends facebook page. 

Said ex was my first “love”, at least at the time, and whilst I don’t often think of him anymore, it made me wonder how much of the issues from that relationship I have bought into this one, if any.  How much does our past influence our visions and needs in our present and futures?

Ex was nineteen and I was twenty (I know, a younger man – woooo).  We met when I was on a summer sojourn in the southwest, working as an entertainer on a holiday camp.  He was tall, tanned and totally sheltered.  I was from the city, a little bit wild, a little bit damaged and a little bit crazy.  We fell in love almost instantly.  Our boss was a misogynist, who himself was having an indulgence shall we call it with another rep and I spent my summer between insane working hours and sneaking off for afternoons in bed and any other time we could manage exploring and learning about one another. 

Neither of us were particularly experienced, but that I suppose was part of the fun.  We used to sneak off to the nearest beach when work finished at 1 am (how I did that I no longer know) and stay there, talking and laughing, making love till the sun came up.  I was there the day he passed his driving test, got his exam results and grew up.  His attention and this “idyllic” teenage romance was balm to my anguished teenage soul – my own teen years weren’t quite so stable and I clung to him in the same way a child clings to a willing adult when lost.  Ironic, when you consider he was younger than me.  I stayed in the same place at the end of the summer and perhaps that was my mistake.  Walk away on a high is my adult mantra but I certainly didn’t understand that at twenty.

Of course, it didn’t end well.  My neediness, coupled with his naivety, offset by my ambition and his need to explore life as a “Lad”, saw the romance die in eventual acrimony and heartbreak, which at the time felt all consuming and like it would never end but of course healed with the passing of the months.  I returned to my hometown reluctantly and began again.  Met now hubby shortly afterwards and married rapidly, with babies following quickly onwards.

I never forgot though.  Seeing that picture, he has never really changed – still tanned, perhaps a little more sure of himself, arrogant looking maybe, I felt my inner teenage heart flutter gently – then I put it away.  I hope I didn’t cause that – I know I certainly wasn’t the easiest to deal with but from all accounts he has a partner and is settled, which makes me happy.  I know when I came back though that that part of me that trusted in love, romance and lifelong relationships was certainly dented.  I saw being wanted as the prize.  I wonder for how many of us who struggle with monogamy that is true. 

I did consider contacting him, but let’s be honest.  Even if we did get on now, that is a can of worms no one needs to open.  Too many emotions, too many memories.  Too many old wounds and magic that could never be recaptured.

I shall stick to the safety of relative anonymity and new partnerships.  What am I taking from this?  If you are going to cheat – leave the exes out of it.  Put that “Like” button away on facebook and try pastures new.  Because the past is best left where it is.

It isn’t every day that a woman admits this but next week see’s the much lauded and always tipsy birthday of moi. Yes readers, next week is the annual celebration of my birth and “what” I hear you say, have I planned for this event. Well. I have a bit of a choice to make (when do I ever not these days!). I find myself in the position of having a real celebration of riches (I just bought myself the big book of clichés and I was dying to use that one). Husband is returning from his latest trip this weekend and has promised anything I want.

Now of course I can’t actually ask my husband for a ten inch long phallus and a weekend of being strapped to the bed begging for it, so I intended to ask him for something lovely like a watch. My mother however has informed me that he is planning a dinner out. All very pleasant you might say “where is my problem”? My problem is that dinner with Hubbie is always lovely but always very extravagant and takes a lot of time to prepare for.

I am not old but certainly past the first flush of fresh faced youth so I need to make an effort to be dressed appropriately for the sort of venue he prefers to attend. We always have a really lovely time and my husband spoils me rotten shamelessly without even asking for a blow job at the end of it (more is the pity). Unfortunately the problem occurs with New Man (or nm) for short. He also had some activities planned for that day. Conversely his are almost certainly going to involve the expectation of oral sex at some point. He wants to book a very lavish suite at a hotel (paid for in cash of course – no paper trails here thank you!) and spend the afternoon dressing me in some extremely expensive agent provocateur undies, and then taking ‘em off again – the best bit if you ask me.

My sensitive bits are tingling with anticipation at just the thought. Unfortunately, my mouth is watering at the thought of the amazing meal hubby has planned… What to do? I can only spend the time with one of them. My loyalty is obviously to my husband but oh the thought of an afternoon’s delicious indulgence is a plush hotel bed, all fresh crisp linen and thick pile carpets. It even has a Jacuzzi in the bathroom and nm has promised half an hour’s getting licked clean with some champagne.

Ahhh the trials…. Other than that this month has been swimming. NM and I found some time last week to get a bit frisky in his car (I say frisky, I should probably say risky) – what can I say – the heat got to me and my tender nether regions! Bizarrely husband is starting to consider being more adventurous as well. He kind of goes through phases of trying then seems to fall back on the old missionary faithful. I could find myself with a ten inch dildo one day after all…………

Ahh I love Spring.  Clothes get smaller, the air gets sweeter and Miranda gets reenergised!  I must confess dear readers, I have a bit of a dilemma.   Over the last months I have met a new loverrrrrrrrr, through my very favourite illicit dating site. He is a similar age to me and married.  We don’t make excuses  – his story is similar to mine and neither of us are looking to leave our partners so it is a meeting of lifestyle needs as much as anything else.   Much of my month has been spent in an erotic haze waiting for the school run to finish so my days dirty talk can begin.

This permanent state of arousal has even spilt over into my relationship with my partner, who can’t quite believe his luck at the moment.  The other night he asked me to stop after we had made love twice.  He looked a little embarrassed when I asked him to talk dirty to me but gave it a good go (there is something about public schooling that I find causes issues for a man talking dirty to his wife – I think they develop the whole “Madonna-whore” complex very quickly – if anyone has any suggestions for breaking this in a husband please do let me know!).  He drew the line though at trying even the merest hint of bdsm and this is where my new partner comes in.

Regular readers are already aware of my predilection for trying new things and my husband’s reluctance to even consider this is one of the primary reasons for  my continued infidelity.  My new partner has no such reserve and we are rapidly building a sexually “safe” relationship (in the loosest sense of the word) in which I feel comfortable expressing my desires for new experiences.  I love the idea of a little domination and thoroughly enjoyed a recent experience which saw us take turns in tying ourselves to the bed with one of those under bed devices (visit anne summers)  and experiment a little with blindfolds and, dare I say it – even a little light spanking (with me in the starring role as spankee I might add – very nineteen fifties schoolgirl).

Nothing has turned me on quite so much in a while as bending over in a pair of tight white cotton pants and feeling the hard slap of a leather paddle against my bare behind.  It burned for days afterwards (thank god hubby was away – that would be difficult to explain away!) but oh the release I got from that one!

My dilemma occurs this month.  My new  “sex-mate” and I are considering a visit to a well-known swapping party – I want to try something a bit different and the idea of a masked ball, culminating in a sexual frenzy certainly  tics that box, however this is the same night as a big dinner for hubby.  What to do dear readers?  Be loyal to my darling husband and support his continued career efforts, or follow somewhere considerably lower than my heart and indulge in a night of nubial bliss with new man?

Thoughts on a piece of paper – check back this week to get my new Twitter details – I will be tweeting my antics more regularly now (anonymously of course!)