The Chamber Pot (adult real life story).

The Chamber Pot by Unextraordinarybint
TheChamberPot

Fishing boats bobbed with the movement of the waves against the walls of the barbican as I quickly walked across it’s cobbled stones. A strong wind forced me to pull my scarf tighter around my neck. I had no coat and was freezing waiting for him to answer the door. The walk from Mutley Plain had been painfully fresh. I’ve always found it impossible to keep warm in British winters. Pushing the ancient, wooden door open I followed Robert through the hall and into the study.

He sat in his usual place, at the head of a busy, tall table, his large frame filling the gap which worked as a doorway to the library. He collected ancient manuscripts and occult books. Taking his responsibility, to the English artefacts seriously, he’d built a temperature controlled environment for them. We discussed the Mona Lisa and Rembrandt before he suggested we start.

Nervously I climbed the well worn, wooden stairs to the upper floor. His studio was a jumble. Worked canvasses propped up walls, paints were set up on palates with painted pictures in various stages everywhere you looked, covered with large dusty, stained sheets which draped across the floorboards. He led me to where he’d already started and I tell him I’m impressed.

Robert was a master conversationalist as well as a brilliant artist (painter). Each of our meetings is remembered with fondness. He influenced me. No subject was off limits. He appeared to enjoy discussing the more intimate things in life, especially sex. I’ve met men like Robert all my life. He was gentle, loving and giving. No other men were so at ease with their sexuality. He asked me outright,

“Do you enjoy sex?”

Please remember that at this stage in my life sex is something which ‘happens to me’ and this overweight, greying man is at least twice my age (at least). I laugh at him. He continues,

“I’d love to make you orgasm. Nothing more. I’d just love to taste you Samantha.”

I don’t believe him and scoff at his suggestion. This is not good enough for Robert. He is affronted. He now wants to know why wouldn’t I let him lick me. With no reason to lie, I tell him, I don’t believe he wants to lick me just to make me cum. His expression is stunned and then he asks,

“Why not?”

Now, that was an interesting question.

My answer was long and badly expressed. I’d never had an orgasm and didn’t understand why men licked me other than to get my legs open. Oral sex seemed to be a momentarily affair before being presented with a penis to suck or envelop. I didn’t think I could cum, I suggested female orgasm wasn’t real and he assured me it was.

Robert asked me if I trusted him and held out his hand for me to hold. He led me through to a bed at the back of the studio and told me of it’s history before leading me through to a private bathroom of sorts featuring a sink and large gilt edged mirror fixed on the wall.

He stood me naked in front of the mirror, making me look myself. Robert persuaded the younger me to look at each of my reflected features. He told me that I was beautiful and worthy of worship..something I still have problems with today. He realised my self esteem was too low and as such I didn’t ask for pleasure, I didn’t know I could or should. We moved back to the four poster.

Passing me a large ceramic chamber pot he asked if I would mind emptying my bladder. It was cold and I’d been holding for hours so it took seconds for me to fill it with hot steamy urine. Robert took it from me as if it were a holy chalice; his hands either side and without hesitation, drank the lot, wiping his mouth across with his sleeve when he’d finished.

I was out of excuses.

I lay on the bed amongst the lace silk throws. Giving me the first and second orgasms of my life, Robert took away layers of fear that inadequate sex education, peer pressure and society had placed upon me.

As his tongue explored and licked I felt more worthy and empowered than I thought possible. I didn’t worry about how I smelt, tasted, looked or sounded. Pushing deep into my vulva, his tongue played, licked and teased my clitoris into spasms of joy that came over me in waves.

My first orgasm was like climbing a road hill on a bicycle, straining to reach the top then feeling my body flipping inside, as I fly over the peak doing wheelies and nothing is coming the other way to spoil the ride as I roll down the other side.

We continued to do this for weeks during breaks of him painting me. At the time I believed him to have several intimate relationships with women he had children with, around seventeen of them. Robert and I were never ‘true loves’ but we enjoy meals out together and probably some of the best conversations I’ve had. He was a profoundly interesting person with a depth of personality not often found.

My informative years (the 80s) had been full of advice for sex safe and how to not get pregnant or get HIV. It was heavily aimed at gay people and avoiding sexually transmitted disease. There was very little information for straight women other than how to put on a condom, how not to do it in the arse unless you’ve stretched (still hurts) and how to give head, (it’s suck not blow).

At twenty years old, it was liberating to talk to someone like Robert. Someone who knew something about sex, the bones of how it really worked. An older man. I’d been having consensual intercourse for five years before meeting him. No lover had brought me to orgasm. Like many women I had pretended out of boredom, embarrassment, pity and wanting it to finish.

Without meeting Robert I may have gone on to become one of life’s unfortunates, those who’ve never had the pleasure of an orgasm. His honesty, courage, patience and intelligence saved me many miserable decades and I’m proud to have known him before his premature death.

I’ve gone on to have many wonderful lovers and learnt much about carnal knowledge but it would still be over twenty years before I purchased a chamber pot.

Thanks for reading.

Beautiful Sunset

Today started very grey.

The whiteness surrounded the tower block I live in.

See..

But during the day it got nicer and nicer until this evening, when it became stunning.

Have a wonderful evening folks. It is Guy Fawkes night for the folks of England, I expect to see some celebrations but small scale because of the Lock down.

Freedom and happiness for ever! Stay safe!

Watch “Special report: Infected Blood – The search for truth” on YouTube

So, while the world is looking at blood transfusions to fix the ‘covid19 nightmare’…this is going on.

The link above is for the youtube coverage of the NHS blood scandal which started in the late 1970s and continued – disgustingly- until the 1990s, accidently killing thousands including Anita Roddick who was The Body Shop founder.

It has taken forty years to get here and they have been investigating for some years now.

But was it really an accident?

I’ve been listening to the inquiry and it’s rather sickening. It’s more than sickening. It’s criminal.

At the time in the 1980s, 1990s, the patients’ questions were ignored, children were diagnosed and treated with large amounts of factor 8 after it was known to contain American prison drug users blood infected with the AIDs Virus.

After hours of questioning, the doctor did, when asked if he had anything to say, broke down and said, “It’s bad isn’t it, it shouldn’t have happened”.

Too right it shouldn’t have happened. Thousands lost their lives and children. No one lost their job.

How he did not lose his job is astounding.

Yet, here we are again. Using blood products supposedly safe for use in covid19 patients if the originator has recovered from covid19…is the blood being super heat treated to make sure no other viruses or diseases are present?

If you listen to this inquiry you’ll realise that there is no guarantee of that.

Thanks for reading.

worth watching as not being covered in national media

Halloween is Coming!

Soon it will be November. Already there is a chill to the air, the days are becoming shorter and the clocks went back last night. I woke to all the time being wrong in the house and a leaky ceiling. Thankfully there is much to look forward to. The 31st October 2020 looms….yay.

Yes. Next weekend is Halloween or Samhain. It is when the change from Summer to Autumn and then to the end…to Winter is celebrated. The dead growth period before the Spring comes around again.

We celebrate as it is a busy time. Harvests are in. Food is being stored for the future hard times and celebrations, it is a time to prepare for the coming necessary rest and the big Yule time feast or Christmas celebrations and gift giving. It is now that we start buying or making gifts to give in December – traditionally things which were needed but luxuries too.

If you live somewhere cold you will know not much can happen easily in it. Damn, I need to get fully dressed up in scarf and hat just to put out the rubbish. The wind comes at you from all directions and infection is just about everywhere, running noses, rosy cheeks and coughs are the norm. It is regretful that these things are now associated with ‘disease’ rather than with the normality of life.

So, basically I’m saying in October we are getting ready for ‘batten down the hatches’ – Winter time.

However, before we do so we like to have a gathering for Halloween. There will be party games like What’s in the box? Where children are encouraged to put their hands in to see what they can feel. It is usually something strange like a peeled orange in baked beans… Or play another game, a take on ‘pin the tale on the donkey’ called ‘pin the teeth on the skeleton’.

There will be toffee apples, fruit dipped in candy and chocolate. Lots of different games with apples as this is the tradition. We are not doing apple bobbing this year because of covid19 but there will be apples a plenty. I’m planning to do ‘shrunken heads’ from half peeled apples slightly baked…

There is no traditional food but it is usually something warming and nutritious. This year my daughter is doing Chilli Con Carne…as beef is at a good price and quality. Knowing her, there will be two choices of chilli…one for the children and adults with taste buds, and the other for those of us who may want to treat ourselves to a little spice and heat (regardless of the consequences).

Last year I had more energy, to be honest, and made the toffee apples that are pictured on this article. This year I’m planning some marzipan animals with some red food colouring for effect. We’ll see how we go for time and energy before next weekend. Most of the work for these events is taken over by my daughters now. As I always hoped it would be.

I’m looking forward to seeing my grand children. I’m looking forward to seeing my loved ones…well some of them. This year there will not be so many people as we have a conditional law in place during the Covid19 pandemic. They are calling it the rule of six. NO more than six people are allowed to gather at any one time.

We can obviously get around this by staggering the gathering. I can only attend for a couple of hours max before I fall asleep so I generally trot home after some time with the children – Adults talk all the time so it’s the children I miss as they haven’t mastered the art of phone conversation just yet…all under five years old – it’s cute but its’ not a great way to converse with the young.

I want to play hide and seek with them…and “what’s the time Mister Wolf” and maybe have a pretend fight with a toy, foam swords. I’m looking forward to seeing their little faces when they put their hands in the box and attempt to guess at what’s inside. I’m looking forward to seeing them in their costumes and scaring to hear them squeal in pleasure!

Times are really hard for many people during this pandemic. Small parties and gatherings and any excuse for a celebration is how we move forward in this ‘new normal’ and keep our society going.

I’m pagan but I know that church groups and other faiths are doing the same as me. They are holding on to what is dear to them and celebrating the darkening and lightening of life. I try hard not to take the ‘end of the world’ stuff to heart, after all it’s been said by them for a couple of million years now and we’re still all here.

For those that read my blog regular, my house guest and I are getting along fabulously and he’s had fewer and fewer accidents. Family and friends are coming around to walk him and he spends his time eating and sleeping near the radiators or on the sofa next to me.

Bruiser won’t be attending the Halloween party with me.

The children have already tromped across fields to get their pumpkins for carving… this event was too muddy for me but it looked a lot of fun and the children enjoyed it.

The carved pumpkins will be on display, next weekend, at the party. I may take pics…I may not as could be enjoying myself too much to ruin it by bringing out my phone!

I’ll try and get some photos of the food spread…the treats table. mmm

Thank you for reading.

Be sure to get some candy in for those brave souls who go ‘trick or treating’ over Halloween!

They usually wear masks.

Stay safe.

I Remember You

Duck egg blue

Footwell smell

Proud feeling

Bumping apologies

Fleeing scenes

Visiting

Backward speeding

Flat shoes

Pavement bounce

Driver blues

Sticky shift

Steamy views

I still fondly smile

When I remember you.

End.

By Samantha unextraordinarybint Harris

This is about my first car. Light blue Moris Minor Traveller.

I broke the front axle on it.

Long story.

I might tell it some day.

She was beautiful but annoyingly hard to handle, I called her Gertie.

Thanks for reading.

What was your first car?

Moris Minor

Massive Love for Males – Poem

We’ve massive love for males

Hatred I will rise to too

We swim with them eternally

It’s what we’re built to do.

His best aim for success

Is witnessed every day

Though his actions

May be brushed aside

Through his darkest hour

Loyal we will say and stay.

There is no reason to fight

Hate us, they do still

Do we have the will?

Can they understand?

Just hold us safe by the hand.

Walk together in moon’s light

Trust is to there to build

Kindness of heart to be filled

It is not a case of You or Me

Most deserve humanity.

Together we walk in sunlight

Hold each other in the darkness.

Fight the good fight.

Fin.

by Samantha unextraordinarybint Harris

Invisible Me – Poem

Smaller than the eye can see

Invisible to you

Invisible to them

The mirror alone sees me

Invisible see?

Smaller than a speck of dirt

Sat on universe’s knee

Brushed off into the ether

That’s me

An atom screaming to be loved

Too invisible to hug.

end

by Samantha unextraordinarybint Harris

written 2nd October 2020

Hertfordshire.

Fam – poem

Are you fam?

Would you know?

Who I am?

DNA will say.

We are in an age

When all alliances

Will go astray.

To find commonality

In humanity

I need to tell you

Hatred

Is distraction man

Love is

Bringing up the rear

No priority

Re-arranged here.

Fin

By Samantha Harris

Ugly Beauty – poem

Ugly is interesting

Staring is inclined

Just as beauty draws

It shows equality defined

Ugly shows a character

You’ve not witnessed before

Surrounding yourself with beauty

Can’t keep ugly from your door

Ugliness can teach you

Ugliness shows

Ugliness is not a choice

It, like beauty, grows

Ugly is a part of life

Becoming a decomposition of holes

Without it, you know nothing real

As, one side of life shows

Appreciate the ugly

We have it within

Knowing we all slide

Slowly, regretfully towards aging.

Fin

By Samantha unextraordinarybint Harris .

The Menopause – Blunt Adult View

Menopause – What is the point? This article is my personal relationship view and own body issues with ‘the change’ and I will talk about how it makes me feel sexually, emotionally, physically and mentally. I am going to discuss my fantasy sex life so if you are easily offended you shouldn’t read.

The list of ‘side effects’ which are linked to the menopause are bordering on stupid and could go on for pages so I’m going to concentrate on the main ones which affect me, mainly, of sexual appetite, sexual performance, foggy thoughts, hot flashes and night sweats

How many women go through the change without so called side effects? And can we really call them side effects when it is evident, they happen most of the time?

I’m fifty-one and have been going through the change now for four or five years.

It started, for me, with vomiting. Constant vomiting. I had that for two years.

It was then noted that my ovaries had probably shut down my womb had been previously removed so I didn’t have periods to stop and I was put on HRT.

I was on HRT for two years until I started getting breasts cysts and then advised to come off the HRT by the breast cancer clinic. My symptoms returned almost immediately. My concentrated work flow decreased. My anxiety increased. But the breast cysts did go…

The night sweats have returned with vengeance. The hot flashes and flushes are a real bind too. I now have Cyclizine on prescription for the nausea.

I got to thinking about the purpose of these hot flashes and flushes. The human body doesn’t generally do things unless they are necessary.

Why do millions of women still suffer from these things and would there be an evolutionary reason as to why these two symptoms, especially, are so prominent.

For myself I have not really lost my sex drive, but I have lost the ability to have the energy to do anything about it. In my fantasy head I’m attending the local dogging site regularly and doing trains of men one after the other.

The men I fantasise about are generally strangers. They are usually imagined as overweight and possessing small penises that cum quickly. I fantasise that I am filled with their cum and they are queuing to do me. Then perhaps there is a clean up guy who licks me until I cum then I’m open for business again attending my queue.

Gang bangs were never my thing and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t want the reality as some guy with a huge cock who takes ages is bound to join the queue and my pain level would interfere with the pleasure journey. Be assured that Grannie is not about to go dogging.

I have a TVT which makes certain types of intercourse and sex very painful. The fact that the mesh interferes with my fantasy sex life as well as my actual sex life is sad and something perhaps one day the medical profession could look into? However, for the moment, this is the sex life that I have. One where I am wanting and unable to scratch.

Hot flashes. A sudden hot feeling from head to toe. This makes me feel ill and like I am about to pass out unless I completely get naked. I literally have to strip off every time it happens so that I don’t pass out (I have mitral valve of the heart). I live and work from home and live alone so this is not a problem – unless a neighbour calls without phoning!

Evolutionally, it feels like my ovaries are making themselves known and felt, like they are screaming “hey we’re still here, we’re still useful, come and fertilise us!” My skin is bright red like a beetroot so kind of ‘beacon like’. Red is usually a sex switch colour in mammals after all.

The same could be said for the flushes, full on sweat from head to toe. They happen mainly at night time for me. A time when people are thinking about love (and sleep). The moistness wakes me up. I’ve often perspired from head to toe and the bed sheets are drenched, the duvet is drenched, and the pillows and mattress are drenched. Again, the only way out is to get completely naked and uncover myself.

In order to get back to sleep I have a system of towels, dry blankets and a dry sofa which help me get through each night.

Not the environment for a sexual relationship but I do feel incredibly horny whilst sweating…

Trying to find any research is remarkably hard. Afterall I am a woman and all women go through the change so why isn’t there any research? We are half of the world’s total population at any one time. Why are these things called side effects? Surely, they are just effects of the change?

Also, why is it a blanket HRT treatment with zero look at what is actually lacking hormone wise? Transgender patients get a better service from the National Health Service. Women who still want to feel like themselves are the bottom of the pile it seems.

I’d love to know if other women are horny like me or if perhaps this is a side effect of the TVT? Everything I read tells me I should be getting drier down there…not so. Everything I read tells me that my sex drive will lessen…. not so. So, what is going on?

From the male’s point of view sexually a woman who has gone through the change can have sex without a condom and without fear of getting pregnant but why would women still want to have sex when they can longer get pregnant? Does this mean that women’s sexual organs are useful and necessary beyond the child rearing? Is this why it is denied constantly? Or am I a ‘one off’…?

As a woman gets older the vagina gets narrower. It can often get less wet, perhaps this is why I fantasise about lots of cum, as it would lubricate proceedings…? However, I’m still as wet as I was when I was a teenager, so I don’t fantasise about cum because I need it to lubricate…it’s more than that, much more primal. The cum represents ‘want’.

For me, I do not like a big cock or even the thought of a big cock (remember I don’t have a womb). I don’t need it and it is the sperm which excites me. The feeling of being wanted so much a man is willing to give me his life juice, men cumming super-fast is more exciting as it means he couldn’t control his want for me (in my fantasy).

This is probably the reason so many women join dating sites for an ego stroke and then leave. Women, well I certainly do, need to feel wanted. If my man isn’t dry humping me at every opportunity, I think he’s looking elsewhere.

This leads me to the emotional side of not being fertile. Knowing younger women have more to give, are more beautiful and youthful and that I am going into ‘crone’ stage is depressing. Many of us adopt the name ‘Grandma’ during this period of our lives and the change is more than physical. I’m not a bitter crone but many of my friends are and I cannot bare their company as they sit bitching about those younger. I stay in, a lot.

I spend the day (when I’m not ripping my clothes off) thinking about men and trying to remember what I was doing. I’m writing three books, all on the same fictional theme, and the organisational skills necessary are complicated and unique to my project. I get so confused that I have weeks between being able to write anything conjoined. Choosing to concentrate on shorter easier to accomplish articles seems to be how I cope. I need to feel productive.

Creative frustration is the outcome. I can create constantly, I do but much remains unpublished as it is ‘Bernard Manning Style’ poetry, angry and personal. It is not the complicated building of characters and chapters towards my books…my future, my way out of my TVT situation. I need money to get the removal and recovery treatment. So, not being able to be as productive as I was is an internal torment.

Piles of unpublishable material, ideas for the books, chapters and bits of the storyline for the books lie in different places around the flat, on different formats, laptops, books scraps of paper and every time I go to collate them, I freeze. I often think I need a manager, but I cannot afford a manager. I need myself as I was but that is not possible. That person has gone but her ambition still remains.

Alarms are needed for my memory. If I place something in the oven or start running a bath, I must also grab the digital alarm, put a time upon it and take it with me in my pocket or near where I am settled. This way when the alarm goes off and/ or forget it I will eventually realise that I have the alarm on me for a reason and go and investigate why I have it. This system helps me hugely as before I was always burning my dinner and overrunning the bath.

It is certainly motivation and management for long tasks that I struggle with most. Procrastination is obviously the problem but that comes from fear of failure and I don’t fear failure I am confident, so this frustrates me more and possibly adds to the brain fog as it adds to my anxiousness.

I am considering looking for another lover and am wondering how to word the advert to avoid the obvious physical properties. Something along the lines of Menopausal Woman Needs Man with High Libido and Small Cock would do but seems a little forward for Grandma.

Thanks for reading.

Smooth – Poem

It took hours of squeezing here
Positioning there
Contortionist tricks are nothing
To a woman who cares
I checked thoroughly with two fingers too;
But, still one managed to sneak through
There is little more bothersome
When every bit is smooth
Then visibly you witness
Just one hair poking up
Lifting it’s head like a buttercup
Saying hello to the world
Seemingly unaware of
My recent attempts at it’s cull
The razor and soap is now away
So, this stubborn one
Is here to stay

The end.

By Samantha “unextraordinarybint” Harris
Written 19th September 2020
Hertfordshire.

Over A Thousand Likes

It’s a lovely thing

To hit a theme

To raise esteem

To be liked.

 

By Samantha “unextraordinarybint” Harris

Many thanks to all those who helped me achieve over one thousand likes on my blog.

Let’s Sing a Spell for Happiness – Song

Let’s sing a spell for happiness

Let’s sing a song of love

Let’s toll the bells for all that’s well

Let’s shout it from above

I realise not everything is how it ought to be

Let’s not forget we have a voice

And lots of us believe

 

Let’s sing a song for happiness

Let’s cast a spell for love

There is no other worthy cause

That we’ve been dreaming of

Let’s sing a spell for happiness

Let’s cast a song for free

Remembering the love we have

For all humanity

Let’s sing a spell for happiness

Then, you never know

Let’s sing a song of harmony and

Watch the comfort grow

 

Let’s heal the wounds of everyone

Make everyone complete

Let’s push away the darkness and

Give hungry ones relief

Let’s sing a spell for happiness

Let’s cast a spell for joy

Let’s send it in direction

Of every girl and every boy

 

Let’s sing a spell for happiness

Let’s sing a song of love

Let’s toll the bells for all that’s well

Let’s shout it from above

I realise not everything is how it ought to be

Let’s not forget we have a voice

And what we can achieve

 

Twice at least to gain real affect.

By Samantha “unextraordinarybint” Harris.

 

 

 

Thank you guys.

 

Ode to My Daughter

Ode to My Daughter – poem

 

My girl is a gem

There is not person

Who can measure up to her

Not another child I’d prefer

She’s seen and accepted

All of me

Even the ugliness that I see

A more grounded individual

Cannot be found

Better organisation skills

Than Capability Brown

Her logistical brain outstanding her peers

Accompanying, caring attitude with plenty of cheer

A prouder mum cannot be found

When my daughter is around

I feel so privileged to be in her life

I never assume that I have that right

She is my hero

My life and my light

As always, a button shining bright

That turns on the future

And allows me to see

How familiar love can be

Mother’s shouldn’t have a favourite

But they do…

So, credit where it is due

My beautiful daughter,

I love you.

 

Fin.

By Samantha “unextraordinarybint” Harris.

 

To my beautiful daughter, whom I’d be lost without.