sex

SEX DIARIES: "I didn't have the kids this weekend, so I went out and had an orgasm on a dancefloor."

A crack of sunshine warms my face and wakes me up. It's 8am and my kids are with their dad for the weekend. 

F**k I am hungover. I’m 47 – I can’t do shots anymore, who am I kidding? 

I’m feeling super horny. I message J, a recent Tinder connection who I have not met in person yet but I feel like he gets me and will know how to f**k me exactly how I like it.

Me: (Slightly hungover, feeling very frisky.) Want to Snapchat? (I say confidently but he is literally my only friend on Snapchat).

Him: Of course.

Me: I would love to hear a bit more about how you will make me come.

Him: I got you.

We move to Snapchat. (Does everyone know how great this platform is for sexting/virtual sex/whatever are the kids calling it these days??)

He knows I’m lying in my bed naked. He knows exactly what to say. 

Him: You are asleep in bed. I am spooning you and I start to wake up. I run my fingers along your collarbone and neck and shoulder and start nibbling on your neck.

The messages keep appearing. I am getting wet every time I see the ellipses on my phone, knowing he is about to send something arousing to me.

I start fingering myself, staring at my phone, eager for how the story plays out. He writes beautifully. I can almost feel his hard cock pressed up against me. I can almost feel him behind me, reaching around to touch my wetness. I make myself come with both hands.

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I’m feeling incredibly sexy. I lie in bed naked messaging with J about real life. Upbringing, kids, our party days, values, what turns us on. Nothing left unturned. Feels authentic and honest and vulnerable. Almost as arousing as the second orgasm he gives me from afar.

Me: I’m still in bed naked by the way. I don’t think I can motivate.

Him: You need me to motivate you again?

Me: Really? I mean if you are offering then hell yes, best morning ever.

Him: I have something in mind.

We move back to Snapchat.

He spells out in great detail a fantasy I didn’t know I needed. He and his flatmate pleasuring me, f**king me. I come again with both hands. It’s only 9.30am. This is the best start to a day ever.

I ask him if he is still in the drug scene. 

Him: I haven’t done drugs in years but I am thinking of taking MDMA in December for Rufus.

Me: I also have wound it right back after having kids. But I’m probably going to take MDMA today for the dance party I'm going to.

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Him: Awesome. Have fun!

I go to Pilates to obliterate my hangover. I shower and put on my club rat clothes circa 2009. My good friend Cate comes to my place and we take some M and have a glass of champagne. We get to the club at 3pm. 

The place is heaving. Scantily clad crowd, mostly men, munted and dancing. Cate and I walk upstairs to meet some friends. I am already feeling warm and fuzzy and I love walking through the crowd slightly brushing up against strangers.

We start dancing our asses off. I put my sunglasses on and head to the bar for some water. A group of young 20-something men stop me.

25-year-old douchebag: Hey my friend over here loves f**king mature women.

Me: What a coincidence – only guys your age can keep up with me.

Chris: (my height, dark hair, dark eyes, muscular) What’s your name?

Me: I’m Em – feel like going to the dance floor and making out?

Him: (Like a dog with a bone looking to impress) Yes! Let’s go!

He kisses my neck. I’m gooey from the M and my eyes practically roll back in my head. I grab his waistband and lead him by his zipper (and his semi-boner) to the dance floor. I dance, swaying my hips, eyes half-closed staring at the DJ. Chris grabs one of my breasts through my shirt and gently kisses my neck from behind me. I reach around and grab his cock through his pants. He tells me he wants to f**k me on the dance floor.

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Me: How about we just dance and make out and have great foreplay and then I’ll f**k you at my house?

Him: I really need to wee.

He leaves to go find his friends. I’m aroused but would rather finger myself than deal with this brat pack.

I go back to the dance floor. I’m dripping wet. I keep touching my thighs and pulling my ponytail up above my head while I am dancing pretending it is J behind me teasing me. I would literally go to the toilet and pleasure myself if the line wasn’t so long.

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I dance my ass off in the wrong shoes – four-inch heels. I’m alive. The music is pumping. I’m chronically wet and feel like I could come at any moment if the breeze blows up my skirt in the wrong direction or if any man is wearing scintillating cologne and makes me quiver.

I oscillate between dancing, drinking water and my internal monologue. About 6pm, I message J.

Me: F**k I am walking sex right now. So wet and horny. So great to be dancing again.

Him: Also stupidly hot.

Me: I am currently sitting against a wall trying to give myself an orgasm without my hands.

Him: Sit on a bass speaker.

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Me: I am close to one. No one would notice.

Him: Just do it. Sit on the corner.

Me: You are the f**king best. And yes I will.

Him: Tell me about it. My hard-on is so inappropriate right now.

Me: My eyes are closed, swaying to the music, dripping wet, just contracting my pussy until I come.

Him: Naughty girl. Everyone can see you.

Me: I really don’t think anyone can.

Him: You like that though.

Me: F**k yes.

Him: At least one person is watching – maybe a girl that knows what you are up to.

Me: Someone spilled a drink all over me so my tits are wet too.

Him: Maybe you should very slowly wipe it down.

Me: Yes I should.

Him: Your nipples must be hard? All cold and wet from the drink?

Me: F**k yes the hair on my head is standing up from the bass. I’ve been in a perpetual state of pre-orgasm for four hours. I’m definitely going to come on the speaker. 

Him: You should come all over that speaker. Those vibrations would surely get you there.

Me: Music is climaxing too. It’s perfect. Vibrations up my pussy, out the top of my head.

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Him: Sounds amazing. If I were there, I would have my hand up your skirt lightly touching you in time with the beat. 

Me: I’m taking slow deep breaths with my eyes closed, feeling everything. I am moaning but no one can hear me.

Him: So sexy.

Me: I haven’t given myself an orgasm with no hands in at least a decade. But it is happening. 

Him: So hot! F**k! You are on fire!

Me: I had to grab my pussy at the last second so now everyone knows. Wow! That was so hot!

Him: Perfect! Naughty!

Me: I want you pretty badly right now.

Him: I want to be with you so hard.

I’m still sitting on the speaker post-orgasm, thinking about my legs that feel like jello and my inappropriately four-inch heels and my legs tired from dancing. 

I hop down and start walking to the bar for desperately needed water. I get intercepted by a new pack of 25-year-olds. One asks me if he can kiss me and I say "F**k yeah" and pull him into me. 

We kiss passionately and I walk away without knowing his name. I’m over 25-year-olds. They probably couldn’t find my clit and would come in under five minutes. I

 want an experienced lover that can stimulate me intellectually, make me laugh, push me out of my comfort zone and f**k me exactly as I am.

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I walk out of the club and into a very posh Italian restaurant. I ask the hostess if I can sit at the bar. I have a clubbing wristband, my eyes are dilated, I am starving. 

She seats me at the bar. I order a double glass of Chianti and a bowl of lamb ragu. I am munted. I am making love to that pasta, picking up noodles with my fingers and sucking the sauce off them. There is a DJ five feet away from me playing sexy music that makes my arm hairs take notice. I tell the bartender that I have been taking M all day. 

Me: Can I order a salad with my lamb ragu?

Bartender: Really babe? You feel like salad?

Me: (Cracking up) Not really but I am pretending to be normal.

I smash all my food, definitely moaning with my eyes closed as I enjoy the flavours and sway to the music from the DJ. I walk outside to get an Uber home.

I take a shower and brush my teeth. I plop into my bed with the biggest smile on my face and drift immediately off into the deepest sleep for seven straight hours. 

Best. Day. Ever.

Feature Image: Canva.