Trench Coat Tales


So VJ and I tend to skype (or rather, google hangout) once every couple of weeks. We live in separate cities, and while the flow of whatsapp is non-stop (various things from “I’m wearing a leather dress with leather boots and feel amazeballs” to “oh god oh god I’m so tired I haven’t worn a clean pair of clean pants for the last three days”) we don’t always get the chance to lovingly gaze into one another’s faces and tell tales of debauchery over cups of tea and virtual biscuits. However, when we do, the result is usually hilarious. So we’ve decided to start sharing them.

–This tale is sponsored (unofficially) and inspired by the Trench Coat —

Last time VJ and I spoke was very brief as I was staring vacantly into my wardrobe, uninspired by its contents. Mortimer and I had nothing special planned, but I was feeling particularly seductive and wanted to wear something that reflected that. So far I’d come up with stockings, boots and very little else. VJ wasn’t proving much help (largely caused by the fact she lives around 400 miles away) and I was running out of time. Taking a cursory look in the mirror I threw on my trench and ran out of the door, letting VJ know I had finally chosen an outfit.

So that is where you join us…

VJ: Right so give me the details, the dirty dirty details, I demand them.

MJ: Hello, I’m very well, thank you so much for asking.

VJ: Yes, yes, yes. HELLO. How are you, how was your week, blah blah blah. More importantly how is your vagina? The last text I got you were strolling down the street feeling pretty pleased with yourself on the way to meet you-know-who…

MJ: He’s got a bit more hair than Voldemort, and no murderous streak, thankfully. But alright, SO, I decided on an outfit. Or, rather, I decided on no outfit. I made an executive decision to just… not put anything else on. *nodding* Yes, VJ, I wore nothing but stockings and boots and a coat to meet Mortimer at the bus stop.

VJ: YES! I love you. Stockings, Boots, and a Trench? Saucy…though perhaps not the wisest decision for November?

MJ: No. I braved the weather in the name of sexual discovery and pleasure.

VJ: Was it worth it or did you freeze your arse off?

MJ: Within around 30 seconds of the door closing behind me, I had lost all sensation in my left ass cheek. Buuuut, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been deliciously uncomfortable in the hands of Mortimer, and I like facing challenges to please him. So if anything it added to my general state of arousal.

VJ: I trust he was able to restore blood flow to your various regions?

MJ: I’m telling the story, don’t skip ahead! So I continued up the road becoming increasingly aware of the slit in the back of my (now strangely short) coat and the fact I was possibly flashing everyone around me. Which I sort of liked.

VJ: Filth. And Just so we’re clear, Mr Page had no idea that this was your chosen attire for the evening? No night of debauchery was planned? He was maybe expecting a nice dress and a civil home cooked meal for two?

MJ: When it comes to Mortimer there is no such thing as a nice evening in for two. There’s always debauchery. And spanking. But you’re right, he had no idea. He was expecting a full on slouch MJ to appear, leggings and horrendous ankle-eating boots galore.

VJ: What a glorious image you do conjure. So how were you feeling, knowing something that he didn’t. Especially considering, well…how he likes to be the one in charge. All. Of. The. Time.

MJ: Well I was in a state of great anticipation. I felt hot (obviously not in the temperature sense, by this point in the journey to the bus stop my nipples were trying to break through the coat) and adventurous. But I also felt a little like I was breaking the rules. The rules being… Mortimer makes the rules.

VJ: He certainly does. So you were aware of, or perhaps even hoping for, an impending punishment?

MJ: I was aware that Mortimer would not be expecting this and that he would therefore aim to regain control and punish me for being a wanton tease.

VJ: To be fair, I’d take a Wanton Tease over a Leggings Slob any day. I’m sure he did too. Anyway, back to the story. You’re currently flashing small children and old grannies as you saunter to the bus stop. What happened next?

MJ: Luckily no children, but I think I might have given an elderly lady a little more than she expected on a Saturday night trip to the corner shop. But I was sauntering indeed, and to the unobservant eye I could have just been wearing a short dress, so upon arrival at the bus stop Mortimer just thought I had put on a nice outfit for the evening. He was pleased about that, and I let him believe that for a while. He asked me what dress I was wearing… so I told him I wasn’t wearing a dress. He asked me skirt I was wearing… I told him I wasn’t wearing a skirt. Before I know it I’m being steered into a side street and Mortimer’s hand is reaching up my coat.

VJ: Annnnnd he touched your cunt (I love the word cunt)

MJ: No, not yet, he just ran his hand down my back and over my ass, sending shivers up my spine. Once he had ascertained the measure of the situation he took me back to the high street and straight into… Sainsbury’s.

VJ: Oh wonderful, the obvious place to take ANY half naked woman. ‘Try Something New Today’ indeed.

MJ: Exactly. He walked me up and down by the tinned soups and made me carry the orange juice for breakfast. He sent me off on multiple errands to fetch sausages and eggs and watched me walk along past everyone else, knowing that the vent from the freezers was blowing up the inside of my leg. I had to do some VERY strategic bending for some of the items on the lower shelves. He also insisted on staring at different cuts of steak before deciding we weren’t going to be cooking after all. I should have known that I wasn’t going to have the upper hand in the situation for long.

VJ: So,you could say, things sort of backfired?

MJ: Weeeeell, yes and no. I like knowing that I can surprise Mortimer, and that whilst I like to surrender to him, I’m still in control of my own sexuality and the effect I can have when I want. But at the end of the day, I just really get off on him telling me what to do. So I’m carrying around this orange juice surrounded by bickering families and couples and I feel fucking awesome. I have a secret, I am naked in Sainsbury’s, and later Mortimer is going to make me come, probably more than once.

VJ: I wish all my trips to the supermarket were as eventful, I usually just make crude gestures in the fruit & veg aisle. So apart from sex-supermarket-sweep did he do anything else to reassert his dominance? I can’t imagine what was running through his brain.

MJ: I would think it’s probably along the lines of ‘let’s play…’. So we started back towards my place. While we are walking along he keeps lifting up the back of my coat, just so that my ass is exposed (I like this a lot). Anyway, we walk past my local Indian takeaway. Suddenly I know what’s going to happen just as he grabs my arm and manoeuvres me toward the brightly lit, badly decorated restaurant. He’s going to make me sit and wait for FIFTEEN MINUTES while he orders a take-away.

VJ: Oh god, I can just imagine the sly little grin on his face as he did that. What a bastard (not really though, you know I like Mortimer) Were you hungry at this point, both sexual and actual appetite? I know you get testy when you haven’t eaten. I’ll never forget the time I found you uninvited in my kitchen eating pain au chocolat at 8am on a Saturday because you fancied a snack…

MJ: Yes, and at this stage it was difficult to know which was going to be satisfied first. Mortimer likes to make me wait. I spent those 15 minutes catching Mortimer’s eye across a bowl of peanuts and imagining what he was going to do to me.

VJ: So after finally collecting your curry, you got back home, and…

MJ: Mortimer took off my coat and, after a swift bite of my right nipple, he sent me around the flat unpacking the shopping, laying out dinner and generally parading about in my heels and stockings. He wouldn’t let me close the curtains.

VJ: Such an exhbitionist.

MJ: I do like to give the people a good show.

VJ: There’s something hilariously erotic about putting away orange juice in heels. Did the matinee performance involve you cleaning dishes butt-naked?

MJ: When you’ve got Mortimer waiting expectantly for the moment you have to bend over to reach the bottom shelf, everything is erotic. Anyway, we sit on the floor and eat our curry (yes, I’m still naked in the stockings and the little black boots) and then move onto the sofa. Apparently we’re going to watch some television…

VJ: …Seriously?

MJ: Yep. He’s teasing me by making me wait. It adds to the tension VJ! Though we’re interrupted by a phone call from my mother…

VJ: AH HA! Perfect timing!

MJ: Well as far as Mortimer is concerned, yes it is. He starts to stroke my cunt while I’m on the phone. As my mother casually asks how my weekend has been, Mortimer catches my eye and squeezes my inner thigh, hard, and while she’s telling me about a dinner party they had he bites my nipples. By the time the conversation is coming to a close I’m having to murmur muffled noises of agreement down the phone to my mother due to the fact that I’m having to bite onto the sofa in order to prevent me from moaning out loud. I manage to say goodbye before I orgasm and look up to see Mortimer looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

VJ: What is it with your mother constantly calling you at the most inappropriate moments? Come to think of it, It has definitely happened to me a few times, (not that your mother has called me while I’m naked bar boots and stockings) but that my gentleman callers feel it’s the opportune moment to go down on me when I’m discussing with my mother what the grandparents want for Christmas! Anyway, so you’ve finally gotten the initial tension out of the way, I assume that’s not the end of the story?

MJ: No, not quite. So then I popped to the bathroom to freshen up before round two, and came back into the sitting room to find Mortimer.

VJ: And then? You banged? You were punished? You were bangished?! It’s totally a word.

MJ: Mortimer fell asleep.


MJ: Yes, not quite what I had planned, not that my plans carry much weight in the sexual situation.

VJ: Did you wake him up?

MJ: No, and this is where Mortimer and I resume normality. He’s tired and needs some sleep so we go to bed.. and just pick up where we left off in the morning.

VJ: Ah yes morning sex, that awkward yet glorious occasion where you try not to breathe too close to one anothers face due to terrible morning breath, but wake up so warm and cosy you can’t resist a good lazy fuck.

MJ: There are fewer things I enjoy more on a Sunday morning than orange juice and breakfast with a side of Mortimer.

VJ: Well all things considered, it could have gone A LOT worse. My one and only Trench Coat Tale had a similarly unforeseen ending. I arrived at my then boyfriend’s house in wondrous lingerie hidden under a coat to surprise him for his birthday (again during the depths of winter). When we finally got to the big reveal, he became so excited he suffered a spontaneous nose-bleed. I ended up looking less like Jessica Rabbit, and more like Carrie at the Prom covered in fucking pig’s blood. AND unlike you I didn’t even get a cursory couch-gasm, we ate some cold pasta and fell asleep – 3 hour train trip WASTED. Perhaps I’ll try again with John…