HORNY OLD BULL

This weekend, being without the children, we decided to escape to a Game Reserve to relax and get away from frustrations caused by technical problems with our home PC and laptop. (The Internet has still not been restored and we are trying 3G technology, which proves to be as frustrating as we have a poor signal in our area.)

On Saturday morning we woke up at the crack of dawn (although Dawn was not even there), to go for a game drive in the Game Reserve.

We spent a few hours watching wild life.

We drove down a dirt road hoping to see some lion, when this herd of Elephants approached us head on.

Tim cautiously reversed our vehicle, keeping a good fifty yards between us and the elephants. The herd existed of mainly elephant cows and their calves with a few jealous old bulls guarding the herd.

They then left the road to follow a trail to a nearby water hole. We then observed one old bull which was clearly in The Mood.

It was clear that Tim was not the only horny old bull around that morning.

HNT-VALENTINE

This is a photo in my new Valentine’s dress, which was actually taken on Wednesday night when the children were away.

This dress was bought by Tim and I think it is a magnificent buy and is currently my favourite dress.

Being a weekend alone, we spent the weekend away at a magnificent hotel where we received five heart treatment. I could not resist wearing the dress again on Valentine’s evening. Tim’s resistance proved very weak indeed.

Dealing with temperatures of 36 degrees and more, we could hardly keep our clothes on!

Happy HNT to all and remember to visit Osbasso’s blog.

P.S We have broken our rule to only publish black and white photos.

Children and divorce

I woke up this morning completely exhausted. I wish I could entertain you with a tale of a night of burning passion, candle light and red wine as an explanation for my exhaustion.

I can not.

You see we spentthe whole weekend,running after our children overseeing school projects,cartingthem off to parties (hell they had a more interesting social schedule), karate competitions and shopping.This hectic schedule started immediately after school on Friday with cricket matches and swimming galas.It continued throughout the weekend until we dropped on Sunday evening to sleep until death us do part, just to discover that a science project had to be put together to be handed in on Monday morning, first thing.

As a matter of fact,we can not complain.

This is our second marriage,each with a child from our previous marriages. The children live with us most of the time and they visit their other parents every second weekend and Wednesday evenings.

But while they live with us, it is physically and emotionally impossible to have this magic door to our bedroom. Where on the other side of this magic door, we have young teenagers causing mayhem with a cacophony of the TV blaring, music playing, bickering and eternal demands.

Whilst on our side of the magic door, to have candles burning, a bubble bath awaiting and serene music, remains unpractical.I mean we can not have a youngster bursting into the bedroom complaining about mosquitoes in his bedroom and asking me "Why are you tied to the bed naked?". He will phone the Police.

It is so that we can have the quick vanilla experience, but nothing as exotic and erotic as we would like.

I am not complaining. We enjoy their company and love them to bits. We laugh a lot and are in attendance at every school and sporting event, encouraging them.
On alternative weekends and Wednesday evenings we hand them over to their other parents without a hint of guilt or shame to spend blissful time together. Much needed time to recharge the sexual battery.Now we have the house to ourselves.Foreplay in the kitchen while preparing a special meal, starters in the dining room and the main course wherever we want.We can burn candles throughout the house, listen to our own music and on the odd occasion when we watch TV, will once again be the masters of the remote control.

Talking about a dining room, we bought a new dining room table and I have some devious ideas as to how inaugurate this magnificent piece of furniture on Wednesday night.I know that Tim will be agreeable to my ideas and will most definitely take some pictures.

I admire couples with children, who manage an exotic sex life, be it swinging, BDSM or pure romance and eroticism with children constantly around.I see it with friends and even bloggers on the sites I visit. Feelings of guilt, when a baby sitter or child minder or relative has to look after the children in order to spend some quality time together, is rife.

In my profession I often deal with couples with marital or relationship problems and found that there are couples who have been together for twenty years and have never spend an evening alone without their children.Has this perhaps caused the difficulty in the relationship and the extra marital affair?

There is always the juggle with family life,doing the right thing and to be as naughty as hell!

I am so fucking looking forward to Wednesday evening. I want obscene deeds to be done to me and enjoy every minute of it.I say this because I have just been interrupted by a sleepy child who remembered that it is her turn to take some cup cakes and cold drinks to school tomorrow for a chess team party.

HNT

We complained about our own technical difficulties when starting the blog. (See previous posts).

However nothing prepared us for an employee of our service provider for e-mail, Internet, fax- and telephone lines, using a blow torch in the proximity of a gas line.

The explosion was heard miles away and our communication system was blown away.

We are on-line now for about an hour, just enough time to post our HNT picture.

This photo was taken by Tim before I covered myself to leave for a boring social function.

Will do the link thing to the Osbaso site before the next HNT.

Friday Evening Spanking

I receive my orders. I nod and quietly slip out of his study.

The instructions had been issued clinically and precise:

1. Wear the leather collar I bought you;

2. Wear the ankle and wrist restraints and leather G-String;

3. Wear nothing else.

4. Be ready at sunset.

The anticipation starts.

Spanking is not regarded to be a frivolous act in our household. To the contrary, it is a serious affair, every detail planned, never on impulse.

I start with the preparations. I take a long soaking bath. The house is quiet, the children gone. We do not speak.

I dress according to my instructions and add his favourite berry lipstick and a touch of perfume. My image reflects in the mirror and I detect a devious smile on my carefully made up face.

I light the candles in the bedroom and switch off all the lights in the rest of the house.

I load a classical music CD. Cinema by Laurent Korcia.

The scene is theatrical.

I retire to the bedroom, waiting. My mind is empty, only anticipation remains.

I hear his footsteps as he approaches the bedroom. I turn on all fours. Making sure that my behind is angled at him as he comes through the door. I do not see his face. I hear him taking the paddle.

My senses sharpen. I smell him. I hear him. I feel the first blow. My skin stings. I close my eyes. I hear the music, a violin wailing somewhere remote.

The whipping is slow, systematic; he counts each blow out loud.

He pauses and his hand searches between my legs.

“You are wet” he says sternly. I nod in total submission.

He brushes against my body and I feel his hardness. An overwhelming desire takes hold of me. I want to suck him. I want to please him. I want him to come deep inside of me.

“Wait, wait” I caution myself, I need to obey his orders.

The final blow is issued. I am soaking wet.

He massages my behind. “You are turning red” he says with a sadistic gratification in his voice. My eyes burn with tears.

He turns me around and heaves down on me. “I love you” he says.
“ I love you too” I say, “Thank you”.

Por una Cabeza starts playing in the background.

The mood changes and we hold one another tight.

Instead of bondage play, we make love slowly, intimately and intense whilst floating on an emotional high.

Technology

Oh shit I started a blog!

I suddenly find myself in a maize of new terminology. I regard myself as somewhat of a technological dinosaur and I am drowning in all this high tech vocabulary such as URL, Html,IMS etc. etc.

I was hoping to learn more about sex, but finding that I am being stimulated by other things too.

Tim is no help at all.He is a book person and a lawyer. One of those rare breeds that do not dare walk into court with a laptop.Being a Supreme Court trial specialist, it is his view that the crucial question in cross examination, and more especially the answer thereto can not be "Googled".

So there goes Tim, with moth eaten robes and burdened by books, to court.

In my practice,my secretary does all the tech stuff and I do the thinking and talking stuff.

If we dare ask the children about this new computer language, they ramble on in something similar to the tongues of Babylon.

Oh fuck technology has not caught up with me but has overtaken me completely.I have all along relied on hired help to sort out the technical stuff but don't have the slightest clue how to make it work for me.

So to the bloggers that left comments on my post, no reaction thereto is merely out of ignorance. I will eventually figure it out (or not).

I tried Blogging for Dummies and still can not find any satisfaction.

I still do not know what a Html is but am now going to bed to do a BJ!

Since I do now know how to load a pic, expect a nude pic of myself tomorrow rather than a post-much easier!

HAITI

Where were you the day before the fatal earthquake? You could not care a fuck about Haiti then, could you?

“H” is the 8th letter of the alphabet.

“A” stands for Angola and Afghanistan and “Z”-the last letter of the alphabet -stands for Zambia and Zimbabwe.

Why is it that a natural disaster evokes mass sympathy and empathy whilst human made disasters go by unseen?

The disaster in Haiti suddenly sparked (tragic as it may be) a universal “guilt trip”.

CNN, SKY and all other major broadcasting centers are there. We feel shit and donate. It is like the Tsunami, it comes and it goes. The Tsunami is gone now together with CNN and our own conscience.

We love the footage, we are all voyeurs and we dig deep into our pockets.

Why, why, why?

Kate's Feet. (HNT)

Two days ago Tim insisted to post a picture of my bum (blush, blush)and he vociferously proclaimed not to have a foot fetish.I am now posting a picture of my feet,which photo was taken by him in a moment of weakness.

We shall explain the restraints on a later post-watch this space!

All photo's published on this blog are taken by either me or Tim with a fairly cheap digital camera with no editing involved.(I don't know how to, except I accidentally-like finding my G-spot-found the button to change the colour to black and white).

In South Africa that is quite a political issue!(That is besides the point)

The shackles on my feet obliquely refers to the comments as stated on my profile, but they are not the same-I love the ones around my ankles.

P.S From our brief encounters with American blogs, we noted that HNT is all the rage and photos are published. See this as our lame attempt at an HNT photo. We shall try to get to the bottom of this and follow the correct etiquette in future!

About us

99% of what we post might very well be true. The remaining 1% is purely to protect our anonymity.

Why anonymous? Well apart from being "upstanding citizens" our private lives sometimes get a bit risque.

We can not tell our vanilla friends about our private life and we regard the posting of this blog as our way of expressing our views freely.

The white tribe in South Africa tends to be fairly conservative (could not find one sex blog in South Africa), although well educated.

So we can not talk about our feelings, desires and fears freely with anyone we know and we thought this might help.

Kate's Bum

I would like to introduce my significant other, Tim, life partner, soul mate, lover and husband.He wrote this post which I am publishing.

Somewhere you will hopefully find a picture of Kate's bum. The question begs as to why me as a respected member of society would like to post a picture of my 42 year old spycholigist wife's bum on the internet for the whole world to see.

The answer is threefold:

1.Why not?

2.She has an extremely cute bum of which many twenty year olds will be proud of.

3.Being computer illiterate, we would like to see if we could actually load a photo on the blog.

I usually leave computer technology in the hands of my elderly spinster secretary.I can hardly ask her to load a photo of Kate's bum om the blog.She would choke on her vegetarian sandwhich.Kate's secretary would find such a request rather odd.

So we are back on the home PC battling our way through technology with no assistance.

On the other hand I could very well post a picture of Kate's feet (might do so in future) but I don't have a foot fettish.I do however have a bum fettish.It is not as though I am knocking worshippers of the feet.As will be revealed in future, myself and Kate developed a few kinks later on in life which we never dared to contemplate when we were younger.

We have however decided not to submit to the most deviant, sick, depraved sexual disorder namely, "celibacy".Thank you Woody Allen for this phrase.

Drum roll:rrrrrrrrrrrrr........... KATE'S BUM!!!!!

P.S.Why the wrist restraints you might ask, we will get to that!

SEXUAL POLITICS

Amazing.Confusing.

Africa is truly a strange place.We live in Johannesburg, South Africa.The main venue of the 2010 Soccer World Cup.We live in a highly sophisticated hi-tech country with roads, technology and a constitution that many so-called first world countries would be jealous of.

But like our own vanilla veneer, there is political spice and concoctions that are unique to Africa.

Peter Robinson, the Prime Minister of Northern Ireland stepped down of office because his wife (not him), Iris (also a politician)admitted to having an affair with a 19 year old young man.She also allegedly procured an investment from developers to help him set up a cafe'. Naughty, naughty!!Scandal, scandal!!

Poor Clinton narrowly escaped an impeachment due to a few white stains on Monica's dress. Naughty, naughty!! Scandal, scandal!!

In Africa however, things work back to front.Things are much simpler here.We can not understand why Robinson does not have a word with our President, Jacob Zuma (aka Jake the Snake).

In our democracy, which is truly a democracy-no vote rigging or intimidation like elsewhere in Africa-the story goes like this:

Vice President Zuma, is cash strapped. A businessman by the name of Shabir Shaik donates him vast amounts of money in return of dubious and lucrative Defence Force contracts.Shaik gets convicted on charges of corruption pertaining to Zuma and is sent to jail for 15 years.

In the meantime Zuma's first wife commits suicide and leaves a note stating that she could no longer endure Zuma's ways.

His second wife (now Minister of Foreign Affairs)divorces him.No problem.

Zuma has 19 children from his 5 wives and several girlfriends.He also has a fiancee.

The serious corruption charges against him were withdrawn when his faction appointed a new public prosecutor.He was also "acquitted" ,it appears quite rightly so, on a rape charge of a woman.He stated that the unprotected sex was consensual. She is a well known AIDS activist being HIV positive herself.He testified in court that he had a shower after the sex act to protect himself of the deadly virus.

The corrupt Shabir Shaik was released from prison on humanitarian grounds as he was terminally ill and busy dying.He now plays golf and is very much alive.

The larger majority of South Africans, despite the above, voted for Zuma as our President.

At least half of them were women.The President now no longer have financial problems and we have several first wives. Another was added in December.

The lesson for Peter Robinson is "Don't resign mate!Fuck a few girls, raid the fiscus and the Irish will understand and vote you in again. Don't be such a whimp!"