Tuesday, 28 December 2010

So Hold Me Mom In Your Long Arms...In Your Military Arms

When I was 16 I started bucking this gagging-for-it 41-year-old mad 'un. She was bottle blonde and called Jude. She was a friend of my mother’s from her PTA days and she introduced the two of us (my mother) over a game of Buckaroo.


I think it was the mechanical jerking of that bucking plastic donkey or whatever it was got me so turned on to begin with. As the game went on Dirty Jude started playing footsie with me, inching her little foot up the inside of my leg straight up to my cock. That foot of hers had a great dexterity and could even grip things; probably with the same strength as a baby monkey.

Dirty Jude’d had no babies and as a result of this her skin, especially round her torso, was smooth and firm and her tits were round pert classics. I liked to put one of them in each hand close my eyes and imagine I were carrying two baldy midgets under each arm.

This pink smooth stretch of MILF converged at her bald round cunt. It rose from the valley of her stomach like a Mayan temple on a faraway hill and was a source of fascination and pleasure for me.

The thing I really dug Dirty Jude for most of all though was her giving me an education. The most appreciated lesson was in how to give and receive anal.

She used to say – You want to come in through the VIP entrance tonight, lover? – in her cracked and ruptured girlie falsetto. Then she rolled onto her stomach and spread her cosy little arse cheeks apart while I poured Baby Oil all round her opening which were like a soft spongy crater in appearance.

While this were her most appreciated lesson, her most cherished trick was her big shaking, squirting climaxes. Her ejaculate would fire out of her like a fireman’s hose. She would wriggle in my arms like she were in a seizure and flap her tongue about. I liked to hold her in the middle and squeeze hard, like I were getting toothpaste outta a tube.
Yeah: Dirty Jude.

It was over Christmas ma reminded me of her. We were sitting over a reasonable Christmas Lunch, all the usual things there, turkey like fucking plasterboard trying to swallow it (or it could’ve been my nerves) and she says:
- remember that dirty auld hoor Dirty Jude? –
- yes, - I said – remember you give her a thick ear when Micheesha told you what we’d been doin’ together?
- Wish I’d’ve given her a thick head. You’re a dirty pig, Danny. Goin’ with a hoor like that, older than your mummy.
- What about cousin Uganda (cousin I haven’t mentioned before. A gaming success – make of that what you will). He married one 14 years older. He married her. And he’s rich as fuck. He got trapped, dear. I was desperate for a fuck, 16 and all. Which makes him he fool in my eyes and me just…
- Don’t talk about your libido in front of your mummy. C’mon now, play the game!

Later Micheesha came in. Sat all night making eyes at me but didn’t say anything because Mother was sitting there.

When mother started to nod off she said: - That auld hoor Dirty Jude, - out of the blue - but really a culmination of her annual Christmas Night eyebrow plucking ‘settling of an old score’ in her militaristic brain.
- Dirty Jew! – exclaimed Micheesha. – Don’t be anti-Semitic. Its Christmas!
- Christmas is when its nearly ok to be anti-Semitic. – I said while watching gentle Jesus on the tele getting all his presents from the magi.


  1. Would it be mysoginistic to call her a dirty cow!?!

    And are you sure that was a foot doing that gripping, or a hand? How can you grip with feet? I know people have been known to paint pictures with their feet. My Left Foot is about a guy who wrote a book with his foot...

    ... anyway that picture, is it you? And what correctional institute was it? What had you done? Had you done anything? What were they accusing? And did any actual "correcting" gon on in that place? I've always found that title ibzarre. "Correction" sounds like a back clicking job by a chiropracter.

    I'm googling ayuhauasca as we speak. Doesn't it contain stuff called telepatine? Or harmaline..? I can't remember. I know it's meant to be like DMT. DMT was one thing I was wary of as I had got tired of acid and it was meant to be like very stong short acid. Being as I got DMT-like effects off acid I wasn't into repeating them... but thanks for the idea. That ibogaine stuff sounds interesting but I'm trying to rebalance my mind and it's topsy turvy enough without more chemicals. Thanks for the comment. I can't believe I never came here before. For some reason I thought you didn't have a blog... DUR!!!

  2. Where have I been all my life? I should've been living near old Jude or a lady just like her. I never met an older woman that was interested in me as a teenager.
    That's a great education you got there and a good,fun, sexy 1.
    Great post!

  3. Gledwood - it would be mysoginistic *not* to call her a dirty cow.

    as for the foot/hand hand/foot dilema no doubt a combination of teenage hormone mirages and my failing memory have conspired to decieve my remembering...saying that i have a very long, thin, narrow cock. sometimes i think she may have been able to get it between her toes and *flex*.

    Yes that man in 'my left foot' was called Christie Brown. other things he could do with his left foot was: crack nuts, mono-tap, play chords on the paino, tickle cats.

    regarding the photo: it is not me. i changed it here when i'd been arrested for graffiting bhlasphemous things on a church hoarding. i felt persecuted by the law. so i put up a mug shot...other things i have been arrested for was posession of 300 e's (i proved they weren't mine), little acid, pot - minor drugs sheet could go on. smashing up my uncles car...drunk and disorderly, criminal damage, warnings for graffiti. havent been inside yet. do have to pay 150 quid to the court by march for one of the chrages listed above. my former neighbour downstairs - mad otis (tag's down righthand side) - has been inside for gbh. he says i'd be ok, so if things go really wrong, as the inevitably do, that makes me calm.

    dunno the ingredients of ayuasca. i heard about it in a book by Daniel Pinchebeck called '2012: the return of Questzicoatal.' dmt i read about in a book called...fuckin hell can't remember...75% sure authors name was Rick Steadman --- definitely Rick or Rich - Stressman - if yo try those in google with dmt. but the people, the case studies in those books talk about folks that were smackheads and dmt went some way in curing them.

    hallucinogens ive tried are acid and mushrooms. acid loved. creeping round my granny's house with the mindset of a burgular cos everything appeared new and like-i-were-seeing-em-for-the-1st-time.

    mushrooms fucking terrible. but something you're told to do wheen you're having a bad trip is drink orange vitamin c brings you down off it.

    thanks for your comment as well. and looking, too.

    J - i run into her from time to time. i'll get her number for you if you like ;)

  4. I ended up humming this while reading your post.
    Ah,"The Older Woman" .'never Had One in my yoof (you lucky dog!)I blame this gap in my education for my still lingering fetish for Lollypop Ladies (the uniforms are so sexy!)

  5. ahh...Mrs Robinson...that little ditty had a bit of resurgence over here recently due to one Iris Robinson's deliance with a 19 year old fella.

    yes...i have to say 'The Older Woman' experience is one that can't be beat!

  6. How did you prove 300 Es weren't yours, or is that asking TOO much..!!

    I heard Es cost about 50p each now, if that. £50 for 100... is that true..?

  7. well...it was a combination of guilting the culprit and having said culprit drop themselves in the shit within earshot of interested parties.

    cost of Es fluctuate here in shitey Belfast. £50/100 sounds about right. last time i got some i didn't pay for em, but i think my guy got em £10/30. what're the prices in old Londonium?

  8. My foggy ears, I'd thought Jeannie Riley was singing about a dress-wearing Mister Johnston which affords lots of giggles if you want to replay it and listen that way.

    O Superman, sterling symphony, never fails to bring the creeps upon me with it's military postal system mind stuff.

    As for the post, I did feel it was building up to something stopped. But then, that's family members - the only climax being non-arousing ejaculation, years of foreplay and then one day, a big stiffy. You captured the scene well buddi.