Mitchell's Mustard Blog

February 10, 2015

Milestone

After just ending a phone call to my mother, wishing her and my father a happy 42nd wedding anniversary, I had asked her how they had managed 42 years? She had simply replied, “you work hard, and you make sure you laugh a lot”. With deep honesty, I hope I hit that milestone, but, this had got me thinking.

Do we work hard enough at our relationships? Or do we sometimes find that we simply quit at the first hurdle because we’ve forgotten what pulled us together in the first place?

Temptation is on every corner, on every page, there to shake you awake every morning. It has become part of our everyday life, but we all know that the grass isn’t always that much greener once you cross that bridge. In bad times, I think you have to sit back, look at your partner and remind yourself of the things that you cherish about your relationship. You’ve worked to get to where you are today, is it worth giving up, or are you afraid of a little hard work?
I can’t help but think that the problems we all have in our relationships are made by a lack of honesty, it can only be as complicated as we make it, right? Obviously, not all relationships are meant to work, but can you walk away knowing that you tried? None of us go into a relationship thinking that it isn’t going to work . . . What caused that first ignition of passion? What ties you together?
Yeah, I know it’s easy for me to put a couple of words on a page to try and sum up relationships, I know all relationships are different due to different circumstances . . But, the one thing that ties them all together, they all start the same . . . with two people attracted to each other, willing to push all boundaries to make it work.
I’ve walked away from a relationship without a second thought, and I know that I’ve also been on the receiving end of that too. The older I’ve become, I’ve realised that I could have tried harder.

If you’re in the midst, or you’ve just managed to shake off a nutter, then please ignore all of the above. We’ve all been there, good luck with that.

As I said, I hope I hit that milestone. Sometimes it seems a little doubtful . . . But, that won’t stop me from trying!

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January 30, 2015

Strokes of a Paintbrush. .

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 2:30 pm

Her hand gently traced the muscles of his back as they lay there entwined, her face buried into his shoulder, she gently laced his neck with her lips, working her way around the lower line of his beard, she had grown quite fond of the feeling of his beard on her skin, like strokes of a paintbrush. They both lay silently, knowing that any one word could end this embrace, clouded by the thought that they both shouldn’t be where they are, but that made it more appealing, they had started something they couldn’t end. The attraction bore deep in them both.
His eyes outlining the intricate details of the tattoos that coloured her skin, stroking the line work on her arm, making sure he didn’t colour outside the lines. Her naked torso pulled him in closer, nuzzling in for warmth and attention, she started to work her fingers through the hair on the back of his head, gently tugging, the one thing she knew would get her the attention she craved. Her nails slowly leaving lines on the skin of his side, a remnant of where she had been, and where she would return. Pulling her foot up against the bottom of his, a way of pulling him in closer, close enough to compliment the way she felt. Craning her neck, she reached up and gently nibbled his lower lip. He pulled her small frame onto his. As she perched on top of him, he lined her spine with his fingers to make her back arch and her skin prickle. Reaching up and tugged on the back of her hair, pulling her back down to his level, she dug her nails into his tattooed chest, pushing back to feel engrossed in that moment of pain as she let out a little moan. . . .

. . . . The alarm broke the silence in the room, the moment was extinguished as he opened his eyes, only to once again stare at the emptiness of the pillow beside him, a reminder that he was still alone.

March 29, 2014

Masturbation is a sin . .

Filed under: My Work — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 2:55 pm

Warning: sometimes I write like an arsehole!!

1. Rose Water

Rose tinted lenses hinder the light from pulling this almighty hangover forward, under this pale young surface resides a lapping wave of nausea, a hangover that was well worth the previous evenings entertainment. As he sat in the back of a taxi, the sun was intermittently shooting rays in his direction, playing peekaboo with the buildings as they passed. He could still smell the rose water of her love, on his clothes, his hands, and his beard. He had never in person witnessed the art of female ejaculation before, now it stained his aura, a good stain that will always hold a memory, the one you don’t wash off. It’s funny how the male mind works. He could remember that she had a cute little mole above her right nipple, and a circular birthmark on her inner thigh. But could he remember her name? ‘It may have begun with a T?’ he thought to himself. Anyway, he wanted to get home so he could have a wank before her scent wore off and his girlfriend got home.

2. Souvenir

Work was always boring on a Tuesday, he sat behind his cubicle desk wondering if anyone would notice if he had a wank. He could easily get up and walk to the office toilet down the corridor, but that meant he had to move. He considered typing Redtube into his computer and ejaculating into a tissue.
The new temp receptionist sat across from him, she hadn’t been with the company long, he watched her as she worked. At a guess she was early twenties, long brunette hair, slim athletic body. Her tits were massive, out of proportion to the rest of her body. He wondered what she would look like naked, he imagined fucking her from behind over the photocopier, as she moaned in pleasure he took photo copies of her tits for a souvenir to hang in his cubicle.
She turned and caught him staring at her, she smiled, he smiled in return and looked away. He found the motivation to move, standing up and checking that the receptionist couldn’t see his lob on through his trousers, he made his way to the office toilet.

3. Cum Judder

Sat at home, he watched another Victoria Secret catwalk he had recorded on a previous night. he wondered if these models actually wore this type of lingerie when at home with their partners. whether their partners would be bored with seeing them in lingerie by now? Something his father once told him had always stuck in his mind, “Behind every good looking girl, there’s a man bored of fucking her”. That was just another one of his fathers quick witted judgements on the world. He tried to picture his girlfriend in sexy lingerie, the style she used to wear when they first met, when she made an effort. He undone his jeans and tried to get an erection whilst thinking of his girlfriend in lingerie, what’s the time frame that’s acceptable to give up thinking of your girlfriend whilst having a wank if it’s just not getting you hard? He reached for his laptop, typed in Redtube. He watched a video of a young lesbian couple, he watched it all the way through while they took turns to top and tail until the cum judder. The judder that a female body does as she cums was what aroused him. As he was just about to cum he realised he hadn’t prepared well, he had nothing to cum into. Grabbing the closest thing to him from the coffee table, just happened to be one of his girlfriends scented candles that she used in the bathroom. After he had ejaculated into the top of the cup shaped candle he laughed to himself wondering if he should leave it and see if she noticed the next time she wanted a relaxing bath.

(To be continued . . .)

February 4, 2014

Lies for Lust

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 6:36 pm

The twinkling of lights set sparks at the back of his eyes, the restaurant was bright and of bad taste. He waited, alone, full of thought. The evening’s entertainment would arrive shortly, he always liked to be early, to get a drink, to make sure the coast was clear. In many eyes, what he was doing, waiting for, was a bad thing. If the people close to him knew about this part of his life, he shuddered to think of the outcome.
His surroundings became louder as more people piled into the building, it was a Monday night and the place was heaving. On an average Monday night he was sure it would be quieter, enough to hear the chef whistle. It was a week before Christmas, the cheers of Christmas parties surrounding him, drunk middle-aged women with multi coloured party hats from cheap crackers, the office idiot trying his chances with the new receptionist.
Was this a great idea to meet here? He thought to himself, wherever they met, he always panicked to think that someone knew his wife, had seen a picture of him on her desk at work. The more people in the room, the greater the odds he thought.
A crack of laughter pulled him out of thought, he glared at the women across the room, wondered if this was how his wife acted at a Christmas party. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve known someone, you never truly know them, he was walking proof. He had been married for twelve years, he loved his wife, the mother of his children, but she just didn’t quench his sexual thirst any more. She thought he was at a meeting, his usual weekly meeting. The ‘do not disturb’ part of his diary.
Since they had married the sex went downhill, his wife never moved from missionary position, hadn’t performed oral in years. It had become a task rather than a passion. Before children, before their marriage, she fucked like a Motley Crüe groupie, but that was years ago, things had changed. He used to speed home from work, cancel meetings, and rush deadlines, just to get back to her. He used to crave the feeling of her in his palms, the smell of her on his skin, her hair stroking his face as she rode above. The passion that once cocooned them, uncontrollable lust, he’d drop anything to pick her up, physically and mentally.
A sudden pang of sadness over took his thoughts, how their good times had fizzled out, they had lost their way, how they had changed. His mind often argued the case in whether over time they had grown apart, or if they were never meant to grow together in the first place.
He took another mouthful of his beer, staring at the office parties when he wasn’t glancing at his watch. This weekly secret made him feel young again, knowing he’d wake tomorrow full of thought about the next time. He had found a release for his lust, knowing that he’d never feel that way again about his wife. He sometimes wondered, if his wife knew, would she be happy for him because once again he had found the passion they once lost? He knew full well that the knowledge of his cheating would emotionally kill her, he loved her, he couldn’t put her through that, but he couldn’t stop.
“Hey” came a voice next to him
“Oh hey, I didn’t see you come in. Did you want to stay for a drink?” he replied
“Sorry I’m late, traffic’s awful. You look full of thought, you ok?”
“Just thinking of you” he replied smiling, waving to get the waitress over to their table.
He was excited, energy coursing through his body. Staring at his date, knowing he didn’t want to be anywhere else but here. He knew that the passion that lay dormant inside him had returned, he was happy, happy to be her with him.
“What drinks would you like, gentlemen?” said the waitress as she came to the table.

June 26, 2012

Two’s a relationship but this threesome was cheating . .

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 5:16 pm

Receiving a thud of realisation should be a life changing moment, lying on a mattress with two naked women is never a good time for a life changing moment unless it’s your first threesome.

‘Now this shit is going to change my life’ he thought to himself.

Staring up at a ceiling he didn’t recognise. His mind replaying intimate moments shared with his girlfriend. The room was so quiet he could just make out his girlfriends voice in his head, ‘I love you’ she whispered.  He could hear her but the truth was she didn’t actually know where he was right now, she never knew because she trusted him. A trust that’s wasted and never mentioned. He missed her, for the first time in months he missed her.

“I need to get out of here” he pulled the sheets from his body which in turn uncovered the two women.

Hours ago he couldn’t wait to see the pair of them in their pure beauty but at that moment it just pulled his cheating ways to the surface.

“Where you going?” questioned the blonde one.

At that moment he couldn’t remember their names which made him feel worse, he must have known their names at some point because what would he have called them hours ago. Right now they weren’t on the tip of his tongue like they were before; he felt guilty which is a foreign feeling to him. An impatient thought concluded that he will name them the blonde one and the brunette one, weighing up the situation it didn’t really fucking matter and those names will have to do for now. He remembered meeting them at a hen party, it wasn’t until back at this house much later in the evening that he realised the party was actually for one of the women he went home with, which one that was soon to be wed he couldn’t quite be sure.

Picking up a woman on her hen night would be something only heard in stories and rumours from heroes of men in bars, he’d tell his friends he felt proud of this conquest but deep down he had this burning feeling which he believed to be guilt. Having never felt guilt quite like this before he was quite unsure what to do with it and hoped it would pass before long just like that of his hangover.

“I’ve got to go, I need to get home” he said while coming to terms with his surroundings.

“Are you ok?” the blonde one muttered with slight concern in her voice,

“You’re not going to tell anyone about last night are you?” stirred the brunette one.

“No, I just need my own bed” he lied.

It had now become obvious that it was the brunettes’ hen party the evening before.

He got up and soon realised he was on a mattress on the floor of a living room, looking around the room there was nothing obvious to which woman the living room belonged. No pictures of people on the bland magnolia walls, no sign of other life in the close quarters that he found himself in. Rather than ask any questions and give them the opportunity to notice ha had no fucking clue where he was he stumbled across the living room straight through the door into the kitchen. Picking up what he believed to be his packet of cigarettes from the side, they could have been any ones but no one else was there to argue their case.  Sliding one out of the packet and placing it between his lips without thought as he seemed to be in autopilot whilst he planned an escape route. The kitchen opened up to the right, a work surface the shape of a horse shoe shadowed by head height cupboards that only took a break for the window above the sink. Next to him a breakfast bar that was built onto the work surface which housed stools, he was glad he noticed this before he moved or he would have stubbed his toe on a hidden stool leg. He stood by the French doors on the left side of the kitchen in his boxers with an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth; he could see the disgust look on his girlfriends face if she were ever to see a picture of him now. The beautiful morning sun was shining through the window onto his feet, he loved his girlfriend and he knew he needed to make more of an effort in telling her. Confused by this sudden overwhelming guilt he wasn’t quite sure what to do next; he fumbled between empty beer bottles and cigarette packets on the breakfast table for a lighter trying not to make too much noise before one of the women came to check on him. The only two things he knew for sure right now where that he had just had a threesome with a woman who’s on the path to marriage and that he needed to see his girlfriend. First things first he needed to get out of this house.

“Great . . . chalk that up as another reason to why I’m going to hell” he muttered to himself whilst shaking his head.

The smoke rolled down into his lungs like lava, the first cigarette after a night out always made him feel a little sick. A couple of minutes had passed full of thought, he dropped the end of his cigarette into a half drank can of beer because there was no ashtray in sight.

“Right . . . let’s get the fuck out of here” he said to himself as a little motivation.

He crept back into the living room; both women seemed to have fallen back asleep. To the right of the room was a small two-seater sofa in an alcove over shadowed by stairs, at the far end of the room under a window was another two-seater sofa. To the left was a fireplace and next to him was a TV unit that stretched the full length of the wall, he found it strange there were no pictures up or any other signs that life did indeed float in and out of this room. His jeans were folded over the arm of the sofa in the alcove along with his t-shirt, picking them up he made his way back into the kitchen so he could get dressed without waking the proof of his regret in the living room. Picking up the packet of cigarettes and lighter from the breakfast table he slid them into his pocket, he pulled his phone out of his other pocket and noticed he had three missed calls from the girlfriend. Panic and guilt crashed over him like a wave, ‘perhaps she knows where I am’ he thought to himself. He needed to snap out of this trance because staring at his phone wasn’t going to get him out of this house. Creeping back into the living room he couldn’t see his shoes and socks, checking by both sofas and the other side of the mattress there was no sign of them. Toying with the idea of just leaving without them he thought of one more place to check, by the front door. He headed towards the door which was next to the sofa at the base of the stairs, slowly pulling the handle down trying not to wake the women behind him it squeaked and the door opened towards him. He stepped through and turned to close the door behind him, with a bolt of shock he suddenly noticed the brunette woman was sat up staring at him. For a split second he thought about saying something but with the look on her face he chose not to and just closed the door which broke their eye contact. The front door was next to him in this crowded little box room filled with coats and shoes; he saw his shoes straight away but no socks. ‘Fuck this’ he thought as he made the decision to leave the socks behind whilst slipping his shoes on. Pulling the latch down on the lock of the front door it swung open and the warm breeze soaked into his lungs and through his hair, first problem done.

He walked down the road for a couple of minutes before ringing a taxi; he didn’t think it was wise to wait outside the house he had just escaped from. Pulling his phone from his pocket he stared at the screen thinking what he was going to say, he dialled her number.

“Hey . . . where are you? I’ve been trying to get hold of you.” She said when she answered.

“Hey . . . I’m sorry. I got a little drunk last night and crashed with a mate.”

“I’ve been worried about you, are you ok?” she said sounding concerned.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I’ll be home soon; I’m just waiting for a taxi.”

“Ok, I’ll stay in bed and wait for you. I love you” she said with a giggle.

“I love you too” he replied, he really did.

She trusted him and always would, every time he knew he never deserved her.

Sitting on a wall waiting for his taxi he pulled a cigarette from the packet, put it in his mouth. He lit it and lent back, his guilt floated away with the smoke as he sat there and started to laugh to himself.

‘That was a close one’ he thought.

March 12, 2012

Something I’m working on . . . let me know what you think . . .

Filed under: My Work — Tags: , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 2:16 pm

Receiving the thud of realisation to the chest should be a life changing moment, lying in a strange bed with two naked women is never a good time for a life changing moment unless it’s your first threesome. Now that shit will change your life.

Staring up at a ceiling that wasn’t his with a thought about his girlfriend, she didn’t know where he was right now, she never knew because she trusted him. A trust that’s wasted and never mentioned. He missed her, for the first time in months he missed her.

     “I need to get out of here” he said whilst pulling the sheets from his body which in turn uncovered the two women.

 Last night he couldn’t wait to see the pair of them in their pure beauty but this morning it just pulled his cheating ways to the surface.

     “Where you going?” said the blonde one,

He couldn’t remember their names which made him feel a little worse and that was a foreign feeling but in his mind he had named them the blonde one and the brunette one, that will have to do for now. All he remembered was that he met them at a hen party and later realised that the party was for one of the women he went home with but again which one of them he couldn’t say. Picking up a woman on her hen night would be something only heard in stories and rumours from men in bars, he knew he felt proud of his conquest but deep down he had this burning feeling which he believed to be guilt. Having never felt guilty before he was quite unsure what to do with it and hoped it would pass before long.

     “I’ve got to go, I need to get home”

     “Are you ok?” the blonde one muttered with slight concern in her voice,

     “You’re not going to tell anyone about last night are you?” stirred the brunette one.

     “No, I just need my own bed” he replied.

It had now become obvious that it was the brunettes’ hen party the evening before. He got up and noticed he was on a mattress on the floor in a living room, there was nothing obvious to which woman the living room belonged. No pictures of people on the bland magnolia walls, no sign of other life in the close quarters that he found himself in. Stumbling from the living room straight into the kitchen to find his cigarettes on the work surface, sliding one out of the packet and between his lips he planned an escape route. He stood by the French doors in this unknown kitchen in his boxers, the beautiful morning sun shining through the window at his feet. Confused by this sudden overwhelming guilt and not quite sure what to do next he fumbled between empty beer bottles and cigarette packets for a lighter on the work surface. The only two things he knew for sure right now where that he had just had a threesome with a woman who’s on the path to marriage and also that he needed to see his girlfriend.

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