Body thanks to Scotto
Despite threatening Facebook messages from my friend Sinead and plaintive entreaties by my husband Scotto, I decided my “S” post would attract quite a lot more page views if I wrote about sex rather than them.
“Sinead! Everything You Need to Know!” or
“Sinead! Everything You Need to Know!” or
“Scotto in the Forties and Fifties” just doesn't have that same broad appeal to the masses really does it?
Let’s face it; sex sells!
My most popular posts have to date been those with the risqué (albeit misleading) headlines.
Before you start thinking you’re about to be ripped off AGAIN and assume this post is going to have absolutely nothing to do with sex… then you can relax. It is going to be about sex.
And don’t think for one second you’re the only person in the world that can’t resist clicking on this brand of titillating title.
Before you start thinking you’re about to be ripped off AGAIN and assume this post is going to have absolutely nothing to do with sex… then you can relax. It is going to be about sex.
And don’t think for one second you’re the only person in the world that can’t resist clicking on this brand of titillating title.
I can’t either so there’s at least two of us.
Back in the seventies my youngish Auntie Lynn had returned from an overseas holiday and cheekily presented my conservative Nana with a book titled,
Back in the seventies my youngish Auntie Lynn had returned from an overseas holiday and cheekily presented my conservative Nana with a book titled,
“Sex! Everything You Need to Know!”
Nana was appalled. “You can’t go giving me this!” she objected. “It’s disgraceful! I’m putting it away before anyone sees it!” She trundled off into the bedroom, pursing her lips and holding the lewd and offensive material at arm’s length.
A few minutes later we heard a loud scream and clatter from the bedroom. It had been one of those trick books you see; hollow inside except for a contraption which delivered an electric shock when you opened it.
Nana was appalled. “You can’t go giving me this!” she objected. “It’s disgraceful! I’m putting it away before anyone sees it!” She trundled off into the bedroom, pursing her lips and holding the lewd and offensive material at arm’s length.
A few minutes later we heard a loud scream and clatter from the bedroom. It had been one of those trick books you see; hollow inside except for a contraption which delivered an electric shock when you opened it.
Naughty Nana.
‘So what on Earth could you possibly tell us about sex, Pinky?’ I hear you muttering into your Cab Sav. ‘You’re not exactly cougar material anymore! Surely you passed your prime years ago!’
Well yes, that’s true. But not ALL middle-aged women have thrown away the key to the old Cortina and put it up on blocks.
A few years ago, our friends O’Reilly and Mel were about to get married and the Maid of Honour happened to be another rascally friend of ours, Lee-lee.
Lee-lee had organised quite an elaborate Hen’s Party which involved splitting our party of hens into three groups and sending us all out on a Scavenger Hunt. The list of fifteen or so items to be ‘scavenged’ was a mixture of the mildly erotic to a touch lascivious.
Objects such as a set of handcuffs, condoms, erotic movies, lingerie, a copy of the Kama Sutra, battery operated appliances, Playboy centrefolds… you get the drift.
I was put in a team with a bunch of young ones as well as one particular Old Chook who was probably roughly around the same age as myself.
We looked at the list scratching our heads. How were we going to procure all these naughty treasures before the other teams beat us to the restaurant with all their wicked swag?
Suddenly the Old Chook leaned forward and hissed furtively, “Let’s stop by my house first.”
Twenty minutes later the young ‘uns and I stood aghast at the foot of her stairs. She was holding a bag with at least a dozen elements of the required booty in a bag.
‘So what on Earth could you possibly tell us about sex, Pinky?’ I hear you muttering into your Cab Sav. ‘You’re not exactly cougar material anymore! Surely you passed your prime years ago!’
Well yes, that’s true. But not ALL middle-aged women have thrown away the key to the old Cortina and put it up on blocks.
A few years ago, our friends O’Reilly and Mel were about to get married and the Maid of Honour happened to be another rascally friend of ours, Lee-lee.
Lee-lee had organised quite an elaborate Hen’s Party which involved splitting our party of hens into three groups and sending us all out on a Scavenger Hunt. The list of fifteen or so items to be ‘scavenged’ was a mixture of the mildly erotic to a touch lascivious.
Objects such as a set of handcuffs, condoms, erotic movies, lingerie, a copy of the Kama Sutra, battery operated appliances, Playboy centrefolds… you get the drift.
I was put in a team with a bunch of young ones as well as one particular Old Chook who was probably roughly around the same age as myself.
We looked at the list scratching our heads. How were we going to procure all these naughty treasures before the other teams beat us to the restaurant with all their wicked swag?
Suddenly the Old Chook leaned forward and hissed furtively, “Let’s stop by my house first.”
Twenty minutes later the young ‘uns and I stood aghast at the foot of her stairs. She was holding a bag with at least a dozen elements of the required booty in a bag.
“That’s awesome!” the young girls gushed in passionate admiration. “Who’d have thought the old biddy still had it in her!”
One quick trip into a servo and we had almost everything on the list!
So my friends, the moral of the story is; some old mares are still kicking that barn door down and you should never think you’re too old for a bit of horsing around. That Old Chook was still pecking around that coop even though the eggs had all been collected much earlier in the day.
…. What????
What are you all staring at?
You think that old chook was me don’t you????
Well I’m here to tell you…under no circumstances, even if hell froze over, not in a million years was that old chook m….
Is that the phone? I’d better answer it. Probably one of the kids…
See you again tomorrow night eh?
Linking up at With Some Grace!
So my friends, the moral of the story is; some old mares are still kicking that barn door down and you should never think you’re too old for a bit of horsing around. That Old Chook was still pecking around that coop even though the eggs had all been collected much earlier in the day.
…. What????
What are you all staring at?
You think that old chook was me don’t you????
Well I’m here to tell you…under no circumstances, even if hell froze over, not in a million years was that old chook m….
Is that the phone? I’d better answer it. Probably one of the kids…
See you again tomorrow night eh?
Linking up at With Some Grace!