Maria's Gallery - Straps Are A Girl's Best Friend
Posted 17 September 2011
It's occurred to me that I can use the gallery section of my website to address some of the questions I get asked via email rather than waiting to compile a full 'Feedback & Requests' post at some later date. A few years ago I would occasionally send a picture to a correspondent to demonstrate a point, but I have now stopped doing this for reasons I won't go into. However the gallery now gives me a chance to openly respond to queries, giving visitors to my site an opportunity to read content that was previously only exchanged in private.
First up along these lines is a reply to MikeT, who came across my diary soon after I first started publishing it and who has sent me some charming messages in the intervening years. Mike is an ardent stockings and suspenders fan and in particular he is drawn to imagery capturing what he calls 'suspender bumps' - the visible protrusion of a woman's garter straps through her skirt (and in fact it was Mike who prompted me to start using the term). Mike has always bemoaned the fact that so few women seem to wear stockings and suspenders these days (particularly in the daytime) and despite constantly looking for evidence of this when he's out and about in public, he has only experienced the suspender bump phenomenon a few times in his life (he's still relatively young), and even then he admits that one or two of these instances may have been a case of wishful thinking rather than the real deal.
You can no doubt understand why Mike was so captivated by my diary right from the very first page, and I think my observations on the erotic appeal of suspenders and the profound effect they have on men when they realise that a woman is wearing them completely summed up Mike's own views. Furthermore, as I posted more diary entries and discussed this issue in greater detail it became apparent to Mike that I don't just wear stockings and suspenders as a means to an end - I wear them because I love to and because it's an enormous turn on for me. The mere act of fastening my garter clips to my stocking tops makes me desperate to have a cock inside me, and I'm not overly fussed whether it's real or artificial.
Depending on the venue, I will often be fairly restrained with the visibility of my suspenders and you may recall in the 'London Whore' post that I was very discreet when I went to the football match as Edward's guest, wearing a thickish woollen dress that only vaguely showed the bumps of the rubber fasteners on my clips. However when I'm parading myself in London these days I'm fairly blatant in displaying my suspenders, and that includes the full length of the strap as well as the clip. When I'm out with a date at a restaurant, openly exhibiting myself in this way is all part of the sex for me, and when I go to a function where there will be men I have never met before then it's primarily my stockings and suspenders that tell those men all they need to know. My outlook on gratuitous sex has completely changed over the past couple of years and I'm now very disappointed if I return from one of these outings without having sucked or masturbated at least one guy.
Mike studies all of my pictures with a very keen eye, and he's always looking for the tell-tale signs of those precious bumps. He especially enjoyed the 'Dream Consultant' post because my suspenders were outrageously visible when I wore my red latex skirt out of the house, and the last picture in particular kept me in his thoughts for several days, both at night and the following morning (which is why it gives me such a sexual kick to dress like this – I know many men who ogle me in public will have much the same reaction as Mike, and when I get home and lie on my bed I love to imagine them uncontrollably jerking off as they think of putting their hands up that super-tight miniskirt and having a good feel).
Mike contacted me last week with a new query, and here's the crux of what he had to say:
I keep looking at The Dream Consultant pictures again and again and I can't make out if you're wearing rear suspenders with your rubber skirt. In the left picture of md030611t you're bending over and I *think* I can see a bump but I can't be sure. In the bigger picture (md030611v) I reckon I'm seeing a bump and a horizontal line of the metal clip on the lower right hand side of your skirt but again I'm not certain. Put me out of my misery *please*. Were you wearing rear suspenders that day?
This small extract from one of my emails perhaps gives you an idea of how varied my correspondence can be and how focused some of my readers are on specific aspects of my wardrobe. As far as I'm concerned I'm delighted that Mike and other men are taking such a keen interest in the minutiae of my outfits because it's little details like these that I spend a great deal of thought on too, and I would much rather address questions of this nature than respond to more complex issues that dwell upon the moral and philosophical aspects of my lifestyle.
The answer to Mike's question is yes, I'm wearing some rearward garters but it just so happens that due to the angle of the light the camera didn't pick up the brazenly prominent contours of the straps showing through the rubber. I invariably wear rear-facing suspenders because it gives men an opportunity to eye me up at close range from behind without embarrassment, and the more they fixate on those taut straps, the more obsessed they become with the wearer. I will deliberately stand at a bar (for example) for as long as possible so that men in the room can openly leer at my seamed stockings, tight skirt and suspenders, and all the while I'm listening acutely for their 'whispered' comments. I often wonder what their reaction would be if they knew that I had a clit stimulator tightly strapped to my pussy as well.
Another big plus with rear straps is that they can open the door to a very erotic exchange with a guy. It may seem ridiculously contrived when I look at a man sheepishly and then profess acute embarrassment at having to ask him whether he would possibly mind refastening one of my rear suspenders that has come undone, but the point is that unless the guy is completely clueless, he knows full well that it's hogwash and what I'm really doing is giving him an open invitation to have sex with me. He can politely decline, in which case he's telling me that he doesn't want to play, but if he does as I ask then the ice has been very much broken.
What happens then largely depends on the individual concerned. I had one confident guy who fastened the strap and then immediately ran his fingers up and down my leg before he returned to face me, and it was obvious from the glint in his eye that he knew he was going to be seeing those suspenders again later. On another occasion the man was even more forward - when I hitched up my skirt so that he could see what he was doing, he must have noticed that my zipped leather panties were unambiguously advertising that I like to be taken anally. He put his hand on my rear, pressed his fingers hard against me and said quietly: "You want it up here do you?" "Yes, I do," I replied without hesitation. "All of it."
At the other extreme I've had a man who became a gibbering wreck and who took five or six attempts to attach the clasp, with the elasticated suspender comically snapping back each time it slipped from his shaking hands. Three months later this guy was on the receiving end of one of the most severe whippings I have ever given a man, and yet he's still coming back for more of the same.
I said in Dream Consultant that I wouldn't normally wear a rubber skirt in public in the daytime because the underwear profile is too blatant, and I think the pictures below demonstrate that. Nevertheless it was an amazing experience to flaunt myself dressed like this and I wasn't in the least fazed when I was standing in a fairly crowded room with men on all sides gawping at me. Now that the summer is over and I can wear my stockings and suspenders again, I can't wait to reprise my fantasy consultant role, and all being well I'm going out with my friend Andy next week to play out this scenario once more in another over-the-top outfit. If I do then I'll likely put up a picture or two.
In the meantime these shots will hopefully satisfy Mike's curiosity and keep him busy for the next few nights:
The next picture gives a closer look at the outfit I wore to the restaurant when I played my trophy doll role in January (see 'London Whore'). I'm wearing an eight-strap belt and you can see three of the straps in this shot. The suspenders are highly prominent and as a result I get the filthiest of looks from women, but I revel in such disapproval. I'll return their icy stares and give them a knowing, mocking look, and I'm sure they can discern at least part of what I'm thinking:
Turn your head sideways and look at your husband's face, darling. See? He can't get enough of me and he's dreaming of fucking me. He doesn't want to fuck an ugly old war-painted fat cow like you any more, he just wants to fuck me. He wants to wipe his dick all over my tight shiny leather and then pull up my skirt and tug on those straps as he rams his hard prick into my dripping, cock-hungry, slut cunt. It would be the biggest, hardest erection he's ever had because I turn him on in ways that you never have and never will. Do you understand that, bitch? It's me he wants, not you. He wants ME. Still, I don't like a wife to feel neglected so when he's finished I'll come over to your table and let you hold your dessert bowl against my pussy so you can have a nice cream topping with your profiteroles. And then with everyone in the restaurant watching, you can lick my vagina clean before you tongue-fuck my arse. There, see, that wasn't so difficult was it? We can be friends after all.
That may sound a little extreme, but it's this combative mental attitude that insulates me from female opprobrium. The only time I'll sometimes be thrown off balance is when a very attractive younger woman catches my eye and gives me one of those raised eyebrows/conspiratorial smirk looks. I'd much rather be the target of someone's ire than their amusement.
I've included the final shot below as a favour to Mike because it's something he has always dreamed of me doing to him. The picture was taken earlier this year and the man I'm massaging is only in his late twenties. He's the son of one of Gerald's friends, and I'm currently having sex with both men (although not together... yet). This is actually fairly typical of the sort of prick that I play with when I'm in London and I'm perfectly happy to accommodate men of this size both orally and anally. It's a different story when I'm having sex in front of my husband or making one of my special videos, but in any case if I want vaginal penetration then I have rubber dildos at my disposal that no man could possibly hope to match. A cock of this length and girth is capable of giving me wonderful anal pleasure, leaving my pussy free to be licked by another man or stimulated by a wide range of vibrating devices. I'm fascinated by and adore big pricks, but they're a treat for me rather than a necessity.
I garter-wank a man three or four times a month, and several of Gerald's friends in particular are very partial to this form of masturbation, especially in a public place such as an underground car park. In such circumstances I will lift up my skirt, slide my partner's erect prick underneath one of my straps, and then let the skirt down again so that outwardly there's nothing too shocking to be seen. All the same, anyone who chanced upon us would immediately know what's going on when they saw the man caressing my breasts and rocking his body back and forth as I rhythmically rub the bulge in the front of my skirt. The bonus for me is that the guy will ejaculate over my stocking tops and soil the lining of my skirt, providing a constant reminder of our exchange on the journey back to Gerald's and giving me plenty to show Martin when I return home.
I have suspender-wanked three men at the same time before and I know I could easily do more than this. However I'm going to leave the discussion of how many men I think I could pleasure simultaneously with my body, clothing and footwear to another time. I've exchanged views on this with several readers over the past few years and you might be surprised at my current estimate.
Hopefully before I'm too old I'm going to get a chance to prove my thesis.
|To contact me, email maria at this site|