Red Coat, No Knickers

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I’ve not been blogging very much lately. However, when I saw that the latest Kink of the Week subject was ‘going commando’, I knew that this was one I couldn’t miss writing about.

To be blunt, I adore not wearing any knickers. I love the feeling of having a saucy secret and the sense of doing something a bit cheeky. I find it exhilarating and liberating. Not to mention being a turn on too.

Going knickerless is something I do only when wearing a skirt or dress. It wouldn’t be the same in jeans or trousers. For me, that would miss the point completely.
When I wear a skirt or dress and meet S, the first thing that he does is feel my bottom through the material to see if I am wearing any knickers. He knows that the answer is usually no. He gets a kick out of it too and, of course, it gives a chance for a cheeky feel.

I love the thrill of having an opportunity for a quick flash, in the right circumstances. An unexpected flash isn’t such a thrill as I found out recently.
S and I had planned to stay at a beautiful country hotel for one night. At the last minute, I decided to meet him dressed only in my coat, stockings and shoes. Consequently, I had rushed to get ready and not taken much notice of what I was wearing.

I knew he would find it a big turn on and I would get a thrill out of it too.

I carried my overnight bag to the main road to meet him, which involved a walk up several steep steps. My coat was long so I felt covered up enough in case I bumped into any neighours. S was in his car waiting for me. I opened the back door to put my bag on the back seat and felt a blast of air around my rear, as a gust of wind caught my coat. Whoops, I thought. I hadn’t intended to flash my bum off to the world, especially in the area where I live. My coat was long, the wind would only have lifted it slightly. So I thought.

I got in the car and S asked immediately if I was naked under my coat. How well he knows me. He got very excited during the journey knowing I was naked under my coat and his left hand was constantly exploring.

We drove to the hotel and parked in the car park, which was at the back of the hotel. As we walked around to the entrance at the front of the hotel, there was quite a strong wind . I felt cold air on my bottom and reached round to stop my coat blowing up. S exclaimed that my bottom was completely exposed. To my horror I remembered only at that moment that my coat had a long vent at the back. Not only had my bottom been exposed in the hotel grounds, it had been flashed on the main road and, worst of all, I had walked up the steep steeps near my house with the vent flapping. I had been oblivious.

I was then subjected to the embarrassment of trying to ensure my coat didn’t part at the back and show my bum to the hordes of people in the reception area while we were checking in.I sat on a chair and then walked to the lift clutching the back of my coat firmly to me.

We did have a good laugh about it later, but I was horrified initially to think my bottom had been flashed to my neighbourhood. We also took a few pictures in the hotel for a scavenger hunt post here.

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Turning Fifty

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Tomorrow, I turn fifty.

I can’t believe I am going to be fifty. I remember the fiftieth birthdays of my parents and my gran, and thinking how old they seemed.

I feel youthful and I know that I do not look my age. For that, I am grateful. It’s the thought of actually being fifty that is troubling me.

I had no issue with becoming forty. I was looking forward to it, as this really was supposed to be ‘the year that life began’, as the saying goes. In addition to reaching a landmark age, I was getting married and qualifying into a profession I had spent many years as a mature student studying and training for. Neither the marriage nor the profession turned out as expected. A few years later I developed a serious health issue that required many operations, which has changed the course of my life. My forties, so far, had not been the happy and successful time I had anticipated.

Soon after my last major operation, my sexual reawakening began. I was 46. My alter ego, Miss Scarlet, appeared. As my confidence grew, I embarked on a series of sexual adventures, none of which proved to be anything special. That was until last year, when I met my beloved S, who has bought me so much happiness and changed my life for the better in so many ways.

I am entering this next decade with much to look forward to and I keep telling myself fifty is the new forty.

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Aged forty-nine!

 

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