Masturbation Tips for Travelling Preachers

Good morning, dear readers!

Today I am off around Lancashire visitng the other Mrs Preacher-Men. We like to get together for a good gossip and sharing tips on pastoral care, beating the peasants and so on. I can't take Gert with me, alas, as she makes my suitcase smell of cabbage and Mr Preacher-Man gets suspicious (he knows I hate cabbage, which is why I put it all on his plate). It gets lonely on the road, so I have a few tips on keeping oneself happy...

1) Take you time

There is nothing worse than feeling rushed for killing off all your hard efforts. I like to put on a George Fornby LP in the background and not stop till the end. It often means the rolling pin gets worn down somewhat, but we all have to bear our cross. Eeeee!

2) Get to know your body

Take the time to get to know what you like and be prepared to experiment. Masturbation is not like beating peasants - there will be no loss of reputation if you don't not find the sweet spot on the first attempt.

3) Try to relax

There is nothing worse than feeling stressed and if you are preoccupied with other things, like whether the church flower arrangements are satisfactory or the affect of costal erosion on our green and pleasant land, the chances are you will find it hard to get 'in the mood'. A good cursing psalm aimed at Yorkshire is a sure-fire stress-buster.

4) Mood music and decor

Try to ensure the room you are in is conjusive. Turn down the lighting or use candles if you can. I know this can be a bit difficult if you are staying in a peasant's cardboard box, but do try if you can. Suitable music can both get you in the mood and drown out the noise of your groaning, so you can let yourself go. For me, it is George all the way. Gert likes 'This is how we do it' and 'Summer Holiday'.

5) Shake your booty

Lying or sitting there being static will not help matters. Please feel free to move around; it will help your body. Be careful not to overdo things though. Once, I was staying in a rather flimsy cottage on the border (I fear a small amount of Yorkshire had infected the populus) and rocked the bed so much, it burst through the wall. The Mr Precher-Man who owned the cottage was not pleased....

6) Breathe

You should already know how to do this. Otherwise, it would be necrophilia, and you could get arrested.

7) Fantasy

Let your mind wander to far-off places. As lovely as Lancashire is, it is not all there is. The one area of your life your local Mrs Preacher-Man has no conrol over is your imagination, so be as dirty as you like. I like to think of Gert feeding me a good meat pie while stroking my breasts, which I'm sure you'll agree is pretty outrageous stuff. If anyone ever found out, I'd have to stick forks in my legs and arms.

So, there you go! You could, as well, use a sex toy or have a photo of your nearest and dearest to hand to keep you desires under control. I'm off to Clitheroe. Eeeee.

Biting the Bullet

Today, dear readers, I have decided to conduct a review of a sex toy available from Ann Summers, called 'The Bullet'. Firstly, however, I would like to stress that I do not myself enter such places. I sent Gert in, and gave her a beating afterwards for going in such shops. Eeeee....

The Silver Bullet comes for the princely sum of five pounds if one spends forty pounds or more in the store or on the website. Otherwise, it cost Gert ten pounds. It is small and silver and it shines. It has the advantage of being rather discrete, which is good as once I caught Mr Preacher-Man rumaging through my drawers to see what he could find. Naturally, we have never repeated this again...

I settled down in the bedroom while my husband was out beating peasants to give it a try, purely for research purposes, you understand. It only has one speed, and whilst being a very powerful cliterol stimulator, I missed having some sort of shaft, and the vibrations were initially too hard and a bit painful. It did not complete its task, alas, even after I read it a cursing psalm, so I crushed it in my hand. Gert was upset as she had wanted a go, but at five stone, I fear it may have broken her again.

The Verdict of Evidia:

Cost:                   5 pies

Portableness:       5 pies

Aesthetics:          4 pies

Versitility:            1 pie

Orgasmibility:       1 pie

Diva's Sex Issue

I thought I would begin, dear readers, with a review of this month's edition of Diva Magazine. This is the 'sex edition', which apparently always sells ten percent more copies than usual, which shows that I am not the only lady looking for a little spice (Gert only likes plain food, alas).

On the cover, there are three women, two white and one black. There is no sign of a wheelchair user and I do wonder if they are fully committed to equality. And I do wonder if one of them is Welsh - it's important to be fully inclusive. Eeeee!

There are plenty of adverts for Lesbian dating. Gert would be quite cross if I were to investigate any of these beyond simply reading them, dear readers, but they did look jolly nice. If I should ever misplace Gert, I know there is still hope for me.

On pages eighteeen and nineteen, I stumbled across a most disconcerting sight - reviews of a collection of sex toys that I did not conduct! What shocked me most, however, was the cost of an orgasm these days - the cheapest was £39.99 and looked like a hyperactive boiled egg. In my day, we used to make do with an old broom handle and a George Fornby record to get us in the mood.('When I'm Cleaning Windows' was always my favourite). One or two of the toys did look jolly good fun though. When I have made sure Mr Preacher-Man will be kept in gruel and puddle water this month, I may make a little investment...

After skipping past the rather queer (excuse the pun) ladies on page twenty, I came across, on page twenty-two, an article about the lack of Lesbian porn on the market. What they forget is, if they put it in our market, the young scaliwags I spend my life reigning in would have a field day and I would get to dish out more punishments, so I support Lesbian porn.

Three very odd looking gentlemen appeared on pages thirty-four to thirty-nine. They all want to run the country, but none of them are Lancastrians as far as I could tell, which is a shame. At least they are not from Yorkshire! One of them was not even wearing a tie - standards today have fallen. Mr Preacher-Man went quite purple when he saw this, and Gert was minded to write a strongly-worded letter, which was a nice idea until she remembered that she cannot write.

In the middle, I came across some naked ladies, which I greatly enjoyed, though of course do not approve of as a fine, upstanding member of the Free Independent Lancastrian Church of the Holy Spike. I shall have to stick forks in my legs later as a punishment.One of them had books in the background. I trust she will return them to the library without any pages stuck together - I hear librarians don't like that sort of thing, at least officially, anyway.

Finally, dear readers, I wish to draw your attention to a most disturbing article occupying pages fifty-eight and fifty-nine, called 'Forbidden Pleasures' and detailing stories of women who fantasise about rape and drawing blood and so on. I heartily disapprove. While it is true that Gert likes to be submissive - not that she has a choice in the matter - and I am quite proficient with a wooden spoon and apron, there are limits and behaviour that would be traumatic in real life is not the stuff of edifying thoughts. Indeed, Mr Calvin would be quite ticked off.

So, there we go. Another month, another Diva. Now, where did I put the egg whisk? Oh, Gert....

Hello, Dear World

Greetings, dear readers!

Gert and I wish to welcome to our lovely blog. Eeeee!

We thought we'd use this space to share details of our secret life together and what it is like to be modern lesbians in the glorious backwaters of Lancashire. We hope you enjoy, though not too much, as that would be extravagent and we wouldn't want that, now, would we? ;)

This is our home county:

We are good, simple folk who do like a good pie and like to have fun together. By day, I am a preacher man's wife and Gert is a simple peasant, but when the men are away, in the fields or the mills or out preaching or whatever, we come together for some romance and passion and all that jazz.... eeee!