My Writing

Sunday, December 30, 2012

New Year's Tease

Well, today is Sunday...and I'm nearly done with my writing hiatus.  Family is gone, the decorations will be boxed up as soon as I recover from New Year's festivities, and I'll be back to my routine.  Here's a little teaser of what's to come...

Tuesday -I commonly tackle TMI Tuesday, but I'm not interested in or inspired by this week's prompt, so I'm a lot more likely to review my New Year's Eve activities at a "sort-of" local "traveling" swingers group/gathering called Club Sapphire.  I'm sure Mr. LL and I can find all sorts of trouble to get into there.  They hire a band and take over a hotel.  Apparently, this party has brought in record reservations, so we'll see how it goes.  We've done New Horizons - and from what I understand, this is an off-shoot of that original club...I went shopping (a whole blissful afternoon sans children) for a dress today (opted for "little black dress" chic over glam or glitz)...shoes tomorrow.  My kind of decadence, really.  I'm simple like that.

Wednesday - the prompt for Wicked Wednesday is "2013".  Who doesn't have a shitload to say about that? 

Thursday - more nekkid pitchers.  'Nuff said.

And to entertain you in the meantime:   I have a film suggestion.  I was perusing the video rentals at Safeway and came across Hysteria.  The storyline involves a young doctor, fed up and looking for a place to truly blossom in a medicinal field and make his mark really helping people.  In his desperation, he comes across a doctor who treats women for "hysteria", a fairly common label for every female-malady that ever existed.  This "doctor" masturbates women to climax, helping them to relax, de-stress, and just plain feel better.  The young apprentice revels under the good doctor's tutelage, but finds the work to be "painful', eventually having to ice his hands between "sessions".  His rich, rather eccentric "inventor" roommate, helps him to modify one of his inventions (an electric fan run on a generator) to create the world's first vibrator.  After testing the prototype on a willing participant, they introduce the device to a plethora of high-class ladies at the doctor's office.



Really, it was quite hilarious.  Even Mr. LL enjoyed it.  It's not often that one finds such a naughty gem among the ranks of new releases at the grocery store video rental kiosk. 

So...there you have it.  Happy New Year...and I'll see you in a few days!

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Holiday Hiatus

My posts may be a bit spotty over the next week or so.  Not only am I feeling like absolute shit (first serious cold of the season), but my hands are a bit full with holiday preparations.  Don't worry...I'm not going anywhere.

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Sexsomnia = Exhaustion

And not for the one who suffers from the disorder, either.  No...no...he sleeps just fine - right through all of his groping and all of my smacking and grumbling and annoyance.

Mr. LL has been working late recently - a weird shift that has him coming home around 11 p.m. after I'm already in bed.  After his nightcap and his cool-down - sitting on the couch surfing the net, he moseys into the bedroom and fills in his side of the bed.

About an hour later...it begins - with flourish, I might add.  The disembodied hand slides between my legs.  I push it away.  It reaches over my hip and tries a more direct approach.  I smack it.  He rolls over.

A few minutes later, the hand is back, only now it's brought reinforcements - another hand and 2 arms...a torso...an erect cock poking into my backside.

I smack the hands back...and the arms...and push the rest away -

I hear murmurs of unaware apology.

It's not that I don't want to fuck my husband.  But, after I've been asleep for a few hours, I'm just too tired to care.  And after 3 nights of this, I'm glad to have a few days of normal evening "togetherness".  He's a lot less likely to seek me out blindly in his sleep if he's sexually satiated earlier.

Hmpfh.

It's 8:30, and I'm ducking out early to catch some shut eye before my beloved returns.


But, I wanted to bid you all Happy Thursday beforehand...

P.S.  So, I ended up staying up late anyway to work on some holiday projects, as I'm feeling guilty about them and am running out of time very quickly.  Mr. LL came home and wondered why I was still up.  We have a little while to catch up after 4 days of seeing little of each other.  Before I headed off to bed at around midnight (ugh), he asked if he came to bed now...was the "store still open"?  Yes it is, my dear.  And...as expected, Mr. LL slept like a baby - a bit snugglier than I prefer (I end up sleeping on the edge of the bed, body-hugged to immobility).  But, that's an improvement, eh?  And this morning, I can't blame my fatigue on him completely.  But, I can blame holiday preparations.  Dammit.  Maybe I should have just bought gifts...would've been a helluva a lot quicker.  But alas, the homemade is always more heartfelt and usually appreciated more.


Wednesday, December 12, 2012

The Sexiest Poets #1: William Carlos Williams

This is a Wicked Wednesday post...click on the link to see who else is playing.




So Much Depends on Intended Discovery
 (my naughty homage to William Carlos Williams)

The note on the package simply said, "New".
New and improved?  I wondered.
And who was it for?
Wrapped in shiny, metallic red fabric flecked with gold,
and secured with ribbon,
the gift held down the rumpled bedspread with auspicious authority.

Nobody else was home.
And since there wasn't a name on the package,
I had to assume it was for me.
Right?

But, I hesitated to open it.
I even felt a bit guilty, actually,
as I pulled the ribbon between two fingers,
I glanced around without turning my head,
and squeezed the bottom left half
of my lip between my teeth.

Sliding the untied ribbon off,
I let it drop to the floor.

The package let out a sigh,
as if finally able to breathe,
so I continued undressing it,
sliding my fingers inside the open seams
of the glittery fabric.

Opening from the right side,
careful not to upset the balance
or move any part, in case I suddenly
changed my mind and decided to put it all
back together,
I peeled back the folds to reveal
a glistening peach,
dusted lightly and seductively
with soft bronze fuzz.

I leaned in and inhaled the sweetness.
I licked my lips, closed my eyes,
and hovered my face above it,
lingering, considering,
and finally giving in.

I lightly flicked my tongue across
the palest part, inside its creased indentation,
and let it slide slowly but eagerly
toward the red blush of its roundest extremities.

It was indeed new,
this gift,
nestled softly in our sheets.

And I do, indeed hope it was meant for me.
But if it was not...

This is just to say:

I have eaten
the luscious gift
that was in
our bed,

and which
you were probably
saving
for tonight.

Forgive me
she was delicious -
so soft
and so warm.


 
 (Feel free to write your own "This is Just to Say" poem - it's one of my favorite copy-changes/prompts - because it can be re-written in so many ways, for so many reasons, and for so many audiences.  Williams is one of my favorite poets, because he had this impeccable eye for the most complex ideas held in the simplest images.  So much depends on a red wheelbarrow, after all.  That, and I love the mischievous "I'm sorry, but I'm not really sorry" angle of his poem.)

And here's a sexy little bonus -

Arrival

by William Carlos Williams
And yet one arrives somehow,
finds himself loosening the hooks of
her dress
in a strange bedroom--
feels the autumn
dropping its silk and linen leaves
about her ankles.
The tawdry veined body emerges
twisted upon itself
like a winter wind . . . !


“Williams began as a very traditional poet, writing rhymed poems about Spring and love and delicate ironies. But by the mid-’Twenties he had pushed into formally challenging constructions influenced by Cubism, Surrealism and the speech of the common people. Hardly anyone had thought to make poems out of the simple vocabulary and inflections of conversational speech, he was really the first to do it well.
In addition, he managed to throw out all the fluff and lace of traditional cliches and make little naked constructions from the raw timber of American life. They look like scaffoldings, their structure plain and unadorned like a newly framed house. “The pure products of America go crazy”–who else would have thought to write a line as accessible (and telling at the same time) as Williams? Their deceptive simplicity masks a complex kinetic energy which the line-breaks and stanzaic pauses and settings underscore.”
Curtis Faville,  July 2008, Silliman’s blog

(source)





Monday, December 10, 2012

Deck the Halls...a 7 bonus swinger house party



To follow up on my previous "teaser" post...here are all the wonderfully juicy details!

So this was our first "house party" (I know...it sounds so 1970s...place your keys in the bowl and swap wives for the night).  I wasn't completely sure what to expect, but we knew the people throwing the party pretty well and had heard their parties were good.  We had the added benefit of being able to bring our trailer and plug in, so we'd have a warm haven of our own when we were ready to sleep or if we wanted to invite guests to a more private environment, which turned out to be a very good idea.

We got there a bit later than we had planned after having to get a flat tire fixed (if it isn't one thing, it's another, right?).  But, we still had time to get situated, settled, and changed.  Gin and tonic in hand, garter, undies, thigh highs, red platform heels, a little red babydoll nighty, and a black dress to cover it all up before the later-in-the-evening unveiling...I headed up the back stairs to the porch where our lovely host and hostess had set up a heated smoking/conversation environment next to the hot tub (which I never got around to testing out).



We stopped and chatted with a few people we'd met before (shit, we even ran into "our first time" couple - fancy that! - small world).  I don't remember when, but several gin and tonics later, I lost the dress.  I think it was after the white elephant gift exchange (which was a fun assortment of porn, sex toys, and gag gifts).  Mr. LL donated a set of thumb cuffs to the cause and came up with a crazy scavenger hunt that the lucky couple who ended up with our gift would have to complete to get the keys.  The caveat was that the couple had to put the cuffs on (one on her thumb, the other on his) and would be stuck like that until they could earn the key.  I'm not sure how it turned out, because we ended up heading out to our trailer not long after the exchange.

Basically, it was about 40 or so couples, 4 playrooms, and a whole lot of mingling, flirting, drinking and naked flesh.  Who doesn't love that?

Mr. LL and I made it all the way through the gift exchange and hadn't found anyone with whom we really clicked.  Sure there were some sexy people, but anyone who has ever dated knows that sexy doesn't mean "attractive to me".  So much goes into choosing the right someone:  demeanor, smile, style, conversation, etc.  And when you try to find TWO people together who are both attractive and desirable to both people in the other couple...well, let's say it just gets complicated.  And when you find it - it can be powerful.

But, I was having fun anyway, so I went ahead and lost the dress - what can I say - I was feeling randy I suppose.  And on my way back from the restroom, Mr. LL told me that he'd found a "redhead" he wanted me to see.  Now, if you didn't know...Mr. LL has kind of a fetish for redheads.  But, usually, I'm not as into them.  Needless to say, I rolled my eyes as he pushed me toward the stairs so I could see.  I was pleasantly surprised.  Hmmm....short red hair, glasses, a classy black dress, beautiful curvy figure.  We walked past her and her man (also appealing - BONUS!) and sat on the couch.  And good lord, who knows how it all fell into place, but they came over to us and introduced themselves (bonus #2).  Well...one thing led to another, and conversation went well.  They were both sexy AND smart.  Nice.

I happened to be sitting on the couch (another woman straddled behind me) and we were talking with some other people.  The sexy couple left to go upstairs for something, and I continued talking to some people on the couch.  It didn't take long, though, for me to become concerned that I might miss my chance.  And after listening to the other couple (young, just newly dating, and this was his "first" swinger experience), I cashed in my conversation chips and bailed as quickly as I could, hoping to find the sexy couple somewhere upstairs before they left for good.

As luck would have it (bonus #3), I found them tucked into a corner by the sliding glass door.  I squeezed in beside them and within a few minutes, I was kissing the male half...and then the female half.  And then....

Back in our trailer, it took little time for the clothes to come off and the heat to rise.  Off came her black dress and matching purple bra and panties.

Now, I could go into great detail...and I might...but a few things really struck me.  First off, it was the eyes.  Both of them had these intense gazes that could bore a passionate hole right through you.  Yum.  Made my pulse quicken without even a touch.  Second, the kissing.  Not all couples are into it - maybe it's too intimate for some?  I guess for some people it all about the sex...that's why they're there and that's all they want.  But, I need the whole package.  And the kissing is a big part of it.  Third, both of them were into it.  I've had it happen before where it was obvious that one partner liked the "hobby" a lot more than the other.  Somehow, the sparks flew 7 ways (I think I got the math right there).  I don't think that has really ever happened for us.  Nobody "took one for the team".  I was just as turned on by her as Mr. LL was...and it was a joy to be caught up in an equal bisexual attraction.  And her man was attentive and had the ability to satisfy me (which really isn't that hard...but guys sure seem to have a tough time of it). 

If you've read my posts in the past, you might know that I've had a bit of a dry spell with that.  For some reason, there's been a lot of disappointment as of late.  One guy who was in over his head (his wife wanted it, but it freaked him out so bad he couldn't even get it up)...another who was too caught up in his own household drama (understandably, of course, but it ended up being a less-than-satisfactory evening for me because of it), and another instance where the man was just a plain effing disappointment (I ended the evening in tears, asking Mr. LL to just make them all go away).

So, with all honesty, I went into this party with some pretty big disappointments shadowing the festivities, and some pretty big (if unhopeful) expectations.

Bonus #4...I was not disappointed.  The taste of her, the feel of her soft lips, the rise of red up her throat as my husband fucked her, the feel of her man's hands on my hips, and the weight of him on top of me, hearing Mr. LL offer her little secrets as she went down on me, pillow talk with her man while we fondled each other, made out and watched.  Really, it restored my faith in fucking other people.  Thank-fucking-god.  What a relief.  (I'm sure Mr. LL is saying the same thing...not only does he hate to see me disappointed...he loves doing this together.)

The sexy couple was "all that and a bag of sex mints".  And after they reassembled themselves and headed off into the night, Mr. LL and I continued...only things got a bit more forceful - the whole experience had obviously inspired him.  He pulled out the cuffs (which he's only used on me a couple of times - briefly) and secured my hands behind my back.  And then he had his way with me - hair-pulling and spanking and dirty words in my ear...normally I would have been taken aback, but I seem to be enjoying this a bit more nowadays.

Riding him with intent, right before I made him cum, there was a knock at the door.  The hostess was dropping by for some late night conversation - and maybe a bit more, eh?  Unfortunately for us all, Mr. LL and I were exhausted and a bit too drunk to go any further than "lights out" and "see you in the morning". (Hey, there's always next time, right?!)

We slept in.  He tried to get frisky in the morning, but I was way too fricking tired to comply.  I smacked him (in a wifely manner) and told him I needed more sleep.  A few hours later, he tried again - and I was a lot more compliant.  Nothing like a morning session of cunnilingus to start a day out right.

God knows how I dodged a raging hangover (bonus #5) - which is lucky since we had quite a drive ahead of us...and holiday shopping on the way.

I'm pretty sure I went to bed at about 8 last night.  And I don't think I moved all night.

Bonus #6 - no repercussions (if you read often, then you know, I was a bit worried about an imminent UTI, which seem to follow every bout of bountiful sex I have...but, so far, so good).  A whole lot of hot, free, NSA sex.

Bonus #7 - the sexy couple emailed us already to see if we could hook up again sometime.

Ummmm....that would be a yes.  Fuck yes.

P.S.  I heard this song on the radio on the way to the party...thought it was fitting -


And since this is a post all about "bonuses"...here's another:

Although...as a disclaimer to the addition of these videos - I actually prefer a bit of a relationship with my sex - even with other couples. Dinner, dancing...friends with benefits are the yummiest kind.

Friday, December 7, 2012

Deck the Halls with Lingerie

Quick post before sleep.  Mr. LL is putting clean sheets on the bed as I type (bless the man for saving me time to write).

Tomorrow, we are headed to a house party.  The theme is holiday lingerie (I think).  I painted my nails red in homage to the season (and classic sexiness).  I haven't quite decided what I'm wearing (though I'm sure there will be a picture or two to post when I do).

45 couples?  What WILL we do with so many bodies to chose from?

So tomorrow morning will be all about grooming and packing - digging through my stockings to find a pair with out a run, choosing a holiday-esque negligee or something to wear - shaving, showering, spraying perfume between my breasts and thighs.

'Tis the season, eh?  (P.S.  I'll share the juicy details when I get home.)

The Lustful Literate

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Nostalgic Pornography (HNT)

The Lustful Literate

I've always admired vintage pornography.  The colors, the tones, the effects, and the innocence.  There's just something about those old photos that makes me a bit wistful.  This is my little homage to those ladies of old who bore all to the camera, with girlish smiles on their cherubic faces.







Love Letter

This is a Wicked Wednesday prompt (#want).  Please visit the site to check out everyone else's interpretation.


Love Letter 
 
When you come home,
I want you to take off all of your clothes and
slip into bed beside me.

When you touch me,
I want you to feel my love for you
pump its primal rhythm through my veins.

When you kiss my ready lips,
I want you to believe that I
need your arms to be my sanctuary.

When you push yourself inside of me,
I want you to release everything and 
let your concerns dissolve in our sweat.

When you reach the crescendo of pleasure,
I want you to open your eyes and really
look at what I become under your spell.

When you press your gaze,
I want you to see me -  as I
hold nothing back.

When you flick off the light,
I want you to embrace my whole body and
breathe softly into my neck.

When you rest your head on the pillow,
I want you to know that I could not
dream of a more worthy haven than this.




Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Sexual Fantasies

TMI TUESDAY - questions provided by Swinging Gemma.

1. Do you think that acting out a fantasy can sometimes cause damage to a relationship?

Yes.  We call them fantasies for a reason.  Some are harmless and might add a little spice to a relationship - for example:  having sex in the woods, adding a third or fourth person to the mix, masturbation via webcam.  But others can get us in to more trouble than they are worth and should probably stay in the bedroom and be used as pillow talk:  sex in the office, sex with a colleague or client or subordinate, sex with strangers.  And still others could be downright dangerous or illegal (though I realize that lots of perfectly normal sexual "desires" are considered illegal still in some states):  bestiality, pedophilia, necrophilia...

2. Some couples role play their fantasies rather than introducing another person into the relationship to live out their fantasies. Do you think that this is an acceptable substitute?

Absolutely.  If your partner is game and you've discussed it thoroughly and considered all the pros and cons, I don't see any reason not to try something - as long as it brings no harm to others.

3. Is there a particular movie or TV series or character from a movie or TV series that you fantasize about?

For years, it was Gary Oldman in the role of Dracula.  I'm a classic gothic romance fan, and he just really fit the bill for me on that one.  There's, of course, also Johnny Depp (I've had the hots for him since the original "21 Jumpstreet").  Hugh Jackman, Heath Ledger...

And let's not leave out the ladies - Julianna Margulies (looks almost just like my first girl-crush in college), Julianne Moore, Michelle Pfieffer, Marcia Cross...

Really, there are too many to cover in one post.  TV and film are crawling with hundreds of sexy people.

4. Apart from the obvious things like child abuse, are there some things that are ‘off limits’ for a fantasy e.g. incest fantasies, age play, rape fantasies. Why/ why not?

I have no problem with anyone living out a fantasy with other consenting adults.  Unless you are harming someone else or involving a person or animal that cannot speak for themselves, it's your business.  But, I personally take issue with infidelity.  I'm not judging others who do it, necessarily...but my marriage is so important to me.  If I wanted to cheat, it means there's a problem in the relationship that needs to be dealt with - or the relationship needs to end.  Mr. LL needs to be privy to what I'm doing with others sexually.  He needs to be in on the planning.  And right now...he even needs to be there - I do not play alone or without my husband's blessing.  All fantasies go through a process of discussion in our household long before they are ever acted upon.

5. What is the most taboo thing you have ever fantasized about doing?

I've had a few rape fantasies.

6. Tell us about a fantasy that you have that you don’t ever see yourself actually acting out. Why do you think you will never act it out?

Having sex with a professor...repeatedly...in his office.

Rape...  I think it scares me too much - I don't think I'd actually like it.  In fact, I don't really like it in my fantasies either, but it's there - so I suppose I have to admit it's a fantasy.

A gang bang.  Same as rape...I don't think I'd actually like it.  I can handle a partner...or two...at most three - in an evening.  While my coochie is athletic and works out on a regular basis - she gets tired and angry if abused too much and for too long.  And she can be a spiteful little bitch.  Her revenge is unpleasant.

7. Have you ever pretended the person you were having sex with was someone else without telling them?

Yes.  Close eyes, insert face.  (Don't worry, Mr. LL...I haven't done it to you...at least I don't think I have...)

8. Have you ever tried to make a fantasy a reality only to have it fail miserably? What happened?

Yes.  We have these friends...I will call them Dick and Jane.  I was hot for both Dick and Jane.  Mr. LL was good to go with Jane.  For some reason, every time we drank a bit too much when we were together, Jane and I ended up getting handsy and kissy (it happened way more than once, so you know there was more to it than just the alcohol).  Then, I began to try to seduce her to go further.  Dick was totally up for it.  Jane, not so much.  I think she was willing to do the girl on girl thing but wanted nothing to do with swinging or letting me anywhere near Dick (and believe me, there were a few moments when I really considered fucking him anyway - oh good lord how it took all of my self control, when I ran into him outside of the cabin we were all staying in, to say "No, not without her blessing").  Over the course of 3 separate interactions, we finally gave up.  It ended with a drunken evening of kissing and fucking on the same bed (our own spouses...no trading...but there was some touching going on - and I'm pretty sure Mr. LL got his face between her legs at some point.)  We're still friendly with them both.  But, I have to admit I'm still a little bitter about the failure.  Dick was so into it, and I would have really enjoyed fucking him.  As of now, when we do see them, it's like it never happened.  But then, we avoid going anywhere with them where alcohol will be involved (they are both crazy-makers - they bring drama where ever they go).  Put a little wine in that woman and she gets all handsy and flirtatious.  It sort of pisses me off a tad, actually.  Makes me want to say..."Don't offer anything you aren't willing to go through with."  Grrr....


Bonus: Tell us about your most cherished fantasy. Did you ever live it out? Please give us all the juicy details because that is the kind of people we are.

I don't really know that I have a "cherished" fantasy.  I guess, for many years I fantasized about being with a woman.  I had a huge crush an a girl in college.  I was in a relationship at the time, though it was caving in.  I sort of chalked my desire up to being unhappy with my boyfriend.  But....the desires didn't go away.  It was awhile before I had another full-on girl crush.  I never went through with that one.  She
was a waitress at a local restaurant that I loved.  She had this really curvy figure, like I love.  Almost a bit plump...I suppose you'd call it voluptuous...this round, enticing bottom that she always covered in form-fitting skirts and dresses.  And she always wore heels and classic jewelry...lots of black and white and red.  But she was "crazy" and would have led me down the path to ruin, I'm sure.  What is it with my fascination for crazy chics?


Here are some links to a story (written in parts) that was inspired by this pretty little lunatic.


I think right now, my fantasies lean toward the "man dominating the woman" side of things.  I love it when my husband takes control.  When a man who I know respects me takes the lead sexually and uses his power to control the situation (without pain), it makes me cum buckets.  Okay...that wasn't a lady-like description, but you get the point.
And I thought...just for the entertainment factor, I'd add this this gem on.  Wow. I don't even know what to say. Maybe you do. I mean, there are a few good points here, but they're drowned out by all of the completely sexist commentary.  Yowsa! I guess it doesn't help, either, that I'm not Christian. So, I have a hard time with the - God wants me to do this/not do this - mentality when it comes to sex and marriage.  I love my husband. I married him because I wanted to spend my life figuring shit out...with him by my side to help make everything seem less confusing...or at least less lonely. Sure, I have spiritual beliefs...but they don't belong in my bed.  And if I ever left him for another man - I sure as hell wouldn't expect him to be waiting around for me when I finally got my head out of my ass. Who the hell is this woman married to? And who the hell are these people?  And last, but not least...how the hell did I find this stupid video in the first place - Google is a strange guide, I must say.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Judging others' sexual proclivity is objectionable





This week's prompt is:




followed by this statement:


Some time ago Molly from Molly’s Daily Kiss and Sinful Sunday collaborated with Wubbs for the Breast Cancer Awareness month. Wubbs has approached me about spreading the cancer awareness during Movember. And of course, I definitely wanted to help. I let Wubbs speak:
We are coming to the end of Movember. Thousands of men around the world have spent the last month growing a moustache and now they will be considering: do I keep it or shave it? Movember is a month long awareness campaign to highlight men’s health issues, among them prostate cancer.
Any positive awareness is a good thing. My collaboration with Molly and the Sinful Sunday meme for Breast Cancer Awareness was such a big success that I asked Marie, if she would be interested in collaborating with the If Just One Person Reads This cancer awareness project that I run. Once again someone will question why? I will always answer why not?
Use this prompt as you would normally, this isn’t a prompt to write about cancer. Have fun with it!
All participants of this week will be linked on the pimps page on Wubbs’s site. If you have a blog button, please make this known in your blog post, so Wubbs can copy it and place it on her site. If you do not have a blog button but would like to make one, then go to the Grab My Button generator. It works like a charm!
Let us know how you were inspired, tell us your stories. Help us spread the word about cancer awareness.
Add the Wicked Wednesday button, post on your blog and come back here between late Tuesday evening and early Thursday morning (Western European time) to link your post on the Wicked Wednesday Entries page.
Thank you for participating and don’t forget to visit the other entries too!

To tell you the honest truth, I'm not completely sure what to say about this prompt...so I am going to write myself into a corner and stay there until I can behave.  It could be a long night...really.

Decisions

I must ask you a question,
but I'll save it for later,
after the last whispered mention
of the unrepentant satyr

has lifted into the air -
a dizzying array of rumors,
half-truths, but who cares?
Certainly not the whores

who hang suspended from his arms
like cheap costume jewelry -
a lipsticked collection of plastic charms,
fishnets and hairsprayed foolery.

They laugh as loud as his money talks,
smiling and licking their lips,
fingering his cuff-links and teasing his cock,
shifting their breasts and exaggerated hips.

He smiles too wide, exposing teeth
the size of dimes, an overdone black moustache
puffed up above his lips - underneath
an intrusive nose that seemed to bleed cash.

Their dresses, several sizes too small
and his suit, several sizes too big
look ridiculous, like caricatures or dolls
being sold like suckling pigs.

In their heels, the tower above him,
looking down at his greasy parted hair,
their hyena cackles and glassy eyes dimmed
by too much wine and not enough care.

The longer we look at him and his hired entourage,
the less we linger on ourselves.
So easy to let our own egos be massaged
by the widening cracks in his image.

He dances, sandwiched between three women,
to a rhythm that doesn't match the music.
His face contorts into a pained smile, like a sucked lemon,
and he moves with tremors and ticks.

Others watch, sneers plastered
on their high-boned faces,
eyebrows raised above eyes that have mastered
incredulous judgement.

Do any of them realize that he doesn't give a shit?
Or that it isn't anyone's business who he pays
or who he fucks?  None of us need a permit to submit
to our desires or indulge a wayward gaze.

So easy to look down on those who feed lust,
open their legs and welcome it,
fasten it to their thighs and bust
at the seams to keep it.

So much more difficult to admit our own needs,
in the beginning, before we risk everything
to become truly human, and bleed
the virginal truth of our very being.

He presses his ass into each juicy thigh
and purrs audibly as they stroke his pinstriped
cliche of a suit.  The onlookers try
to hide their sneers behind crystal and wine.

Inside, every one of them wishes they could be
that unencumbered by reputation, that unaware,
that naively, blissfully free,
totally and utterly without care.

In their perfect suits and sequined gowns,
glued to their chairs for fear of appearance,
they swallow their own sharp misfortune -
the burden of coherence.

Let me ask, before the music stops
and the coats are retrieved,
as you place your hand on top
of mine:  Do you believe me

when I say, I would rather be him,
in cheap polyester, wild-eyed
and sallow-cheeked, than them,
bound by simulated perfection.






So, I have to say...that was hard.  And I'm not sure how I feel about it.  I sat down with a prompt that really left me hanging.  I took a swing.  Maybe I missed?  Regardless...it was painful.




Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Our sex was famous, but I forgot your name... (TMI Tuesday)

20121126-085016.jpg

1. Have you ever had sex with someone famous or who later became famous, if only locally?

I almost had sex with a very well-known professor when I was in college.  He was an actor in local productions and I had been in several of his classes (he was one of those amazingly passionate coked-out pedagogues who'd stand on desks reciting Kubla Khan - dissecting all of its sexual imagery in gory detail - moistening my thighs with every word and gesture).  I was at a cast party at his house (with my boyfriend).  I headed off to the bathroom; the door stop was a woman with her legs spread around the door.  I smiled, moved her out of the way, and forgot to lock the door.  He walked in right as I was zipping my pants.  He moved in to kiss me...and suddenly the spark that seemed so amazingly bright vanished.  The unattainable had suddenly become a pathetic old man in my head.  Total bummer...really.  And I HAVE, indeed, forgotten Professor What-his-name's name.

Sylvia Plath

2. In the spirit of Six Degrees of Separation, have you had sex with someone who had sex with someone who had sex with someone who . . . someone famous?

Well, probably.  But, I don't KNOW about it.  Besides, if I did, I might be jealous.


3. In the opposite direction, have you had sex with someone whose name you didn’t know?

I've always known their name at the time.  But, I'm terrible with names and am likely to forget them as soon as I'm introduced.  It isn't their fault I forget.  I don't think I've forgotten a fuck yet.  So, at least their penises (and vaginas) are memorable.  I mean, really, the only one I HAVE to remember is Mr. LL's.  And the few special people I fuck on a recurrent basis.  Once I have an emotional connection, I'm much less likely to forget.  But once the tie is broken, I make no promises.  No matter how good of a lay someone is.



4. Someone whose name you knew then but have forgotten?

Oy vey!  Yes, indeed.  In, fact...there are a few.  Once I hit 25, scorned and licking my wounds after a 5-year-long, dead-end, waste of a relationship, I decided to become everything I hated about men.  One-night stands, cruel send-offs, no respresponsibility, and less connection.  So there are a few guys that got stuck in that vortex - faces I vaguely remember, but names that have gone the way of the tide.  A guy I noticed in a pub - took home and never called again...maybe it was Vincent or Vinnie or Vaughn?  And another who had a penis the size of my little finger.  I'll give him a little credit and say it swelled to the size of my middle finger when it was hard, but it was the one and only time that I heartlessly kicked a guy out of my house without any explanation other than, "I'm not about to resign myself to a whole night of pretending to enjoy this."  There was another guy who banged on my door in the middle of the night, drunker than hell, professing his undying love for me after I'd told him I was finished.  When I told him I was calling the cops, he threw the empty bottle at my front door and disappeared...forever.  And there have been a few swinger "name casualties".  Hell, it's dark, there are naked people...I can't remember them all for god's sake.



5. Someone who you suspect may have forgotten you?

Oh, sure.  I mean, I'm good at what I do, but it's my mouth or my body or my cunt they'll remember.  Not my name.  If I even gave/give them a real one.  It doesn't hurt my feelings a bit....Now the time Mr. LL called me by his ex-g.f.'s name after sex?  That landed his ass on the couch.  In fact...he relegated himself there before I could even kick him out.  Of course, that was VERY early on in our relationship, so no hard feelings.  It's funnier than it is anything else, because it could happen to anyone, and it meant nothing.





Bonus question: Someone you wish you could forget?

Yes...that guy I told you about above...the one with the pinkie-sized dick.  And there was this guy in high school.  I went down on him under a blanket between the bed and the wall in a crowded hotel room when I was 16.  I'd be cool with letting that one out of my memory.  Shit, the stupid things we do when we're young and desperate to be accepted.  And...he was my ex-boyfriend's best friend.  I know - right?  And there was the guy who I dated who got hooked on meth (even though he was also on anti-psychotics) who took what wasn't offered on the bed of his VW microbus.  I could forget that moment - though I honestly don't hold it against the guy.  Drugs do terrible things to people.

But, honestly...pretty much all of my sexual experiences are a necessary part of who I am as a sexual being.  If it weren't for them, I wouldn't be who I am or do what I do today.  So, I guess I don't really want to forget any of them.  Besides, they provide me with a laugh (to myself) from time to time.

Monday, November 26, 2012

On Matthew McConaughey, Woody Harrelson, Male Strippers, Butt Plugs, Red Wine, and Being Held Down

So, last night I learned a few things about my desires during and after watching Magic Mike with my husband.  Of course, I also reminded myself of a few things I already knew, as well.  Let's start with what I knew:

1.  Matthew McConaughey is hot, even when he's playing a freak in a yellow crop top and hot pants.


2.  Male stripper shows are a blast...full of showmanship, dirty humor, and drunk women who objectify men just as much as men objectify women.  I prefer the shows to the plain-old strip club atmosphere, mainly because of the increased entertainment quality of the shows.  I feel the same about the women...burlesque theatre is way more fun than a simple strip club.


3.  I like men who take control.  I mean...really...take...control.

4.  Butt plugs are a fun sexual accessory.

5.  Red wine makes me do things I might otherwise not.

Alright...now on to the stuff I learned.

1.  Mathew McConaughey's recent roles are growing more and more bizarre.  He seems to be following a similar path to that of Woody Harrelson - cute young hunks who played in lots of sweet comedies, then began to age, and (in order to avoid type-casting?) took on weirder and weirder roles until they were, in fact, weird.  Or maybe eccentric is a better word?  Anyhow...my epiphany was this - I find them both hot...and now that they're both weird, I bet being caught between them, naked, would be a crazy blast.   I basically have given myself fodder for years' worth of fantasies by putting these guys in one bed in my head.  What other crazy hotties can I add to my mental orgy?

2.  Watching male strippers on television is fun (better than porn, for me, actually) - maybe not as fun as watching them in real life or having a real-life lap dance.  Bonus:  Mr. LL didn't hate the film...in fact, quite the opposite.  I also had to admit that I found out I have a subconscious thing for the "b-boy" look that I consciously detest.  Those sweats and sideways hats always make me groan, but somehow...this worked.


3.  I'm having moments in which I really want Mr. LL to take the reigns and make me do what he wants.  I love it when he holds me down or physically restrains me.  After watching this film, I was properly turned on and ready to go, having said yes to 1 or more extra glasses of red wine that I should not have had (always nice to hit work on Monday morning with a hangover and no sleep because you were up too late fucking).  Could this be the beginning of S & M in the LL household?  Oddly enough, I really can't stand reading about BDSM.  I skip those stories in anthologies and just never really get much out of them.  The spankings, the ropes, the pain.  It just doesn't do it for me.  So, why is it that being held down does?  Hmmm....I'll keep chewing on that and see what I come up with.

4.  The little butt plug is no longer acceptable.  It pops out at the most inopportune time.  Guess, I'll have to upgrade.  Also, Mr. LL mentioned a fantasy last night of making me wear one all day at work.  Hmmm...I'm not saying no, yet.  Of course, I'm not saying yes, either.  That's a thought for now and a decision for another day.



5.  I can have a delayed orgasm.  Sounds weird, huh?  Let me explain.  So, Mr. LL is busy fucking me doggy style, and comes a great, hot load.  As soon as he pulls out, the cum spills out.  I stay in position as he rubs my clit a little, which instantly leads me to orgasm.  In fact, I squirted all over him and the bed, and the more I laughed, the more I gushed.  It was a totally odd sensation, to orgasm without anything touching my pussy besides my husband's finger tip and his dripping cum.  Who knew that stuff was so powerful?

Saturday, November 24, 2012

The Price I Pay for Fucking

I have a problem to confess (maybe someone out there in sex-blogger land will have some sort of helpful advice if I do).

I love sex.

No, that's not the problem.

Sex doesn't always love me back.

That, my friends, is a fucking BIG problem.

Here's the deal.  I go through these raging horny cycles, when I can't get enough dick.  I masturbate a few times a day, Mr. LL bangs the crap out of me several days in a row...and then, after a few days...it hits.  A bladder infection.  Nothing puts a sex-life on hold faster than an infection.  3-7 days of antibiotics; and even if I take probiotics, I'm bound to get a yeast infection from the damned meds.



It's a total pain in the ass (I mean pussy).

I just went through a bout of this, which is why this strikes me as a good time to bitch about it.  In fact, last night, we finally had sex, after a week...Happy Thanksgiving, right?

I've had a lifetime of UTI trouble...tests, tests, and more tests to find out that I'm "just prone to them."  Doesn't matter if I bathe in cranberry juice, guzzle water like a freak, pee after sex, shower after sex, pray after sex....

I really have NO idea what the magic bean is...why it is that sometimes I get them (could be 2 or 3 in a row over the course of as many months), and sometimes I don't.  But it seems that rough sex, several times in a row is the kicker.  Maybe as soon I'm raw, the bacteria set up shop and find places to hide they might otherwise not?  I already know that condoms, lube, and plastic toys can certainly aid in not only my pleasure, but my misery.  I'm relegated to non-latex condoms, plain lubes without any sort of flavors or sugars (nothing that heats up or tingles), and the soap I use to wash my toys must be anti-bacterial and washed off completely before they are dried.  And he's supposed to shower before sex.  That doesn't always happen, because, hey...let's be real - in the heat of the moment, stopping for a wash isn't the first thing on my mind.  Maybe it should be. 

Fucking fabulous.

So, right now, this means that even though I'm back on the horse (so to speak), I have to be careful, because Mr. LL and I have plans to go to a house-party in the coming weeks.  Can't go ruining the pleasure palace between my legs if I'm hoping to use the hell out of it soon.  Which, of course, means, I'll probably have one after that anyway.

And while we're on the subject of paying a heavy price for fucking...there's the shaving, too.  I've written about this before...I rash up pretty bad, no matter what method or products I use, so when we're gearing up to play with others, I don't shave until right before...so things are as a bare and smooth as possible.  It means letting things grow for a few weeks, which isn't really optimal for anyone involved.

I wish I could just be effortlessly bare, smooth and infection-free.

Maybe Santa can help me out with that? 


Or maybe you can help?

If you or your partner have trouble of this sort...what do you do to keep the infections at bay?  I've been dealing with them for more than 15 years, so this isn't new, and I've tried all the standard stuff.  But, if you have some little secret, please DO tell.


Friday, November 23, 2012

Wearing Nothing but His Socks

She had her hands in the dirty dishwater when he came flying around the corner wearing nothing but his socks, his hair disheveled, and his face unshaven.

"He's outside!  Quick...to the bedroom!"

"What?!"  she feigned shock, but her naughty smile betrayed her.  Since they'd had kids, "quickies" were definitely where it was at.  They'd tried all kinds of possible places (yes, even the closet), and had been interrupted more than a few times, which was part of the intrigue - they could be caught with their pants down, at any moment.

The difference between a quickie and regular sex was that there was never time for foreplay, no time to undress, no time to think about all the reasons that they shouldn't.

"He's out there with friends...what if he brings them in?" she offered the concern, but knew he was already beyond worrying.  No time.

He grabbed her around the waist, pulled her to the bedroom, and locked the door.  Her cotton lounge pants were hardly an impediment to his searching, as he pulled them down around her ankles and pushed her over the bed, which, handily, was the perfect height for it.  Down on one knee, without romance or a ring, he slid his finger from the crack of her ass, across her puckered asshole, between her lips, and stopped at her clit.  With two hands, he spread her open and licked her to wetness - nothing that could really be called foreplay...really just a fast way to lubricate her.

She listened carefully for the front door, but it was hard to concentrate with his tongue where it was.  And when he stood, and eased his dick into her from behind, she lost her sense of hearing.  Completely deaf, she pushed her ass into him, urging him to go faster.

His hands held tight to the handles created by her position, pulling her to him with each thrust.  She grabbed hold of the quilt and bit it hard, suppressing her verbal reactions.  She was already dripping her own wetness down the inside of one thigh.

He pulled out briefly to turn her over her, still right at the edge so he could remain standing.  He liked the view of her tits bouncing under the tight white t-shirt.  Even in a bra, he could envision the pink nipples pointing at the ceiling.  And he knew he could bring her to instant orgasm this way.  Her feet resting on his shoulders, his palm on her clit, rubbing vigorously in a circular motion, his dick pumping into her pussy.  He could always tell when she was close:  the arched back, the beautifully pained look on her face, her fists clenching whatever they could reach, and all of her lower muscles contracted.  And when she came, he couldn't help but follow.  Just the rhythmic tightening of her pussy was enough to send him over the edge.  And when he gushed his hot cum into her, she came again.  She loved the feeling of him warming her from the inside out...little tendrils of heat moving up her belly, across her chest, around her neck, and settling in her cheeks.  That "freshly fucked" blush of utter contentment.

"Mooooooooommmmmmmmm!"

In unison, they both said, "Oh, shit!" and instantly separated, scurrying to find proper cover.  She grabbed a pair of underwear, hoping to contain the liquid trying so hard to come back out the way it went in; he ran for his robe.

Unlocking the door and peeking her head out, she yelled back down, "What do you need?!"

"James wants to know if I can go to his house for lunch!"

She didn't even think it through...."Yes!  Yes you can!"

Traipsing into the bathroom, she slipped her hands inside his robe, "Looks like we're going to get a little more time on this one..."

She dropped to one knee, without romance or a ring, and took his mostly hard penis into her mouth.
 




Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Wicked Wednesday: Afternoon in the Park (fiction)


Afternoon in the Park
a story inspired by the Wicked Wednesday prompt above....

The cold, wet air felt good in her lungs as she ran down her driveway and turned left, following the perfect suburban sidewalk all the way to the park.  Her smooth, bare legs bristled with goosebumps, but she knew her body would heat from the inside out with the constant strumming of her feet on the pavement.



There had been a wild storm earlier, and the ground was wet.  She ran around puddles and splashed through patches of grass, until she reached the trail she was aiming for.  Her headphones pumped music into her ears and magnified the sound of her breathing and her heartbeat, as if her ears were clogged.  It made the music sound far away at times, when she focused in on her internal rhythms.

She didn't see him, crouched behind the bushes ahead, but he certainly saw her.  In fact, he saw her on most of her runs.  He watched her from a distance, followed...waited.  Maybe today would be the day.  Maybe he'd have the balls to jump out, grab her from behind, silence her with his gloved hand, and drag her into the bushes.  She'd fight.  Hell yes, she'd fight.  Probably bite a hole right through the leather.  He could see the muscles dancing in her thighs, the slight hollows in her cheeks as she sucked in cold air.  When she released her breath, it left a smoke trail behind her.



His dick started to twitch to life.  Fuck.  He felt wild with indecision as she moved closer and closer.  If he was going to do it, he had no choice but to strike now.  Now.  Now!

The second she passed him, he flew from his camouflaged position, grabbed her from behind, wrapping his arms around hers to keep her from swinging her fists.  His next move was to clamp his hand over her lips, grabbing hold of her face and squeezing in order to keep her mouth closed.



He picked her up off her feet, bending backwards to stabilize himself as she flailed her legs wildly.  Behind the cover of dripping foliage, he threw his weight on top of her.

"If you scream, bitch, I will slit your throat, here and now."  He breathed it into her ears through clenched teeth, a stinging whispered order.  In his euphoria, pupils dilated, eyes wide with a crazed, singular motivation, he jammed his knees between hers, ripped the thin fabric of her running shorts, pushed aside the crotch of her panties and plunged his dick into her clenched pussy.

He almost came on contact.  But he willed himself to hold it in for at least a few ecstatic thrusts.  He had waited too long to let it go so quickly.  He wanted to savor her rigid body, and his complete and utter control of it.  Pushing so hard into her, he grunted with effort and release.  And when the climax actually came, a rush of fluid bubbling up from his balls, he could feel the pressure building all the way down his dick...to the head...and into her hot, wet cunt.



"You like that, don't you?"  He heaved the words into the side of her face. "That's what you wanted..."  "You've been asking for it for years, and now, you've gotten what you deserved.  Prancing around the neighborhood in those tight little shorts, wagging your behind and those pert little breasts bouncing with each footfall."

Her body went slack and he released her face.

"Yes."

He rolled her over and looked at her face.

"Yes.  And I can't believe you did it!  You scared the absolute shit out of me, you fucker!"

She laughed out loud, breathless and wild-eyed, smiling like she'd lost her mind.

"Fuck, Aidan.  I really didn't think you had it in you...holy shit!"

"Did it live up to your expectations?" he asked, smiling, a bit sheepishly.

"Holy shit.." was all she could reply.

"I brought you some extra clothes."  He gestured at a black canvas bag on the ground nearby.

"Didn't figure you'd care to prance back through the neighborhood in ripped shorts."  He grinned.  And she put her arms around him and kissed him hard.

"You are so getting fucked tonight.  Holy hell, what got into you?  I've never seen you with so much...fuck...I don't know what to call it...shit that was hot..."

"So, do I get an A for a first attempt?"

"You get an F...for holy fuck, baby..."




(Disclaimer - while I may have had a few strands of "rape fantasy" run through my head from time to time - hey, I like the power dynamic, what can I say - I would never condone rape, nor would I really wish to have this particular scenario played out in my own life.  But, when I read the quote for today, I thought "wild" finds "wild"...untamed...something a little different in my writing repertoire.  And so, here you have it.)

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Tattoos (fiction)

All I have to do is look at a different part of his body when he's on top of me, and it's like I'm fucking someone, or something, new every time.

A multi-colored serpent winds itself around his left arm and hangs over his shoulder, resting it's scaly head on his color bone. It's eyes, like a jealous woman, taunt me. It silently claims a part of him, but right now, so do I. My teeth leave an imprint on the serpent's face, a jagged, semi-permanent reminder of our confrontation, and my victory.



I roll him onto his back, taking charge in the way that he likes. The sort of power he lets me have. He thinks it's cute when I run the show. It turns him on. Straddling his hips, I feel like I've been impaled on his massive dick - the kind of phallus that requires forethought, a relaxed cunt, and lots of lube. Rocking very slowly back and forth, easing myself into a more pleasurable state of existence, I run my fingers across his naked chest. There's a tribal mask on his right pectoral muscle. 5 inches of angry African voodoo staring me in the face, it's red eyes dancing with each of my lover's breaths. I put my hand directly over it, letting it peek through my fingers. I want it to watch me as I fuck him. I want it to know who I am, as I suffocate it with my entire weight.



I pull myself upward and off of his erect and swollen shaft, lean on one knee and dismount. Turning my body around and re-straddling, I kiss his lips with my pussy. If it could purr, it would...when he places each hand on an ass cheek, gripping them like basketballs in his palms, spreads them, and licks me from front to back like a sticky lollipop. An octopus wraps itself around his left thigh, sneaking in between his legs, and up on to hollow of his pelvis. Two, small yellow eyes gleam from the sides of its head, bobbing up and down and swaying with the current of his muscles, as they tighten and relax. I kiss the tip of all 8 tentacles, from his pelvic bone to the inside of his thigh.
 
It's a constant battle between psyche and art. May this war last an eternity.

"Man with an Octopus Tattoo II" (2011) by Richard Learoyd. This life-sized nude photograph has a pose similar to that of works by Ingres. Photographer: Richard Learoyd/McKee Gallery New York/National Gallery via Bloomberg

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

One drink away from your first kiss with another girl

So once, at a swingers meet and greet, a guy told me that every woman is just a few drinks away from her first kiss with another girl.

Hmmm...I'm not sure if that is true, really (maybe it was just his "hope" talking).  It certainly was for me.  But, for others?  I refuse to presume what others want or don't want...but in my opinion, we're all pretty fluid, if we are truly honest with ourselves.

Honestly, I think society (nurture) has had a greater impact on our psyches than (nature), which seems to get beaten out of us at every turn.  We're told exactly what to think, how to feel, what to believe, who to love, who to trust, who to stay away from.  And interestingly, we still have addiction, behavioral and mental disorders, and people act outside the "cultural norm" all the time - even when punishment for it is imminent.

Can't fit yourself into the main stream - one-on-one - man and wife - nuclear family with a two-car garage, 2 1/2 kids, and a dog - stereotype?  Don't worry, very few of us (if any) can.  Taking a virtual walk down the aisles of the personal ads on Craigslist; you'll see a never ending supply of people seeking "something else", something "new", something "dangerous" or "naughty".  Married men offering to suck cock, women looking for gang-bangs or hoping to fulfill rape fantasies with a stranger, couples looking for a single woman or man, men asking for used underwear....all with the promise and request of complete discretion.  You name it - there is a fetish for every day of the year, and hundreds of people to revel in each one.

There is no way to judge another without first judging ourselves.  So, really, it's best to avoid it.  If no one is being harmed (i.e. everyone involved is a consenting adult)...it really shouldn't matter to anyone...and the more it matters to a person, the more likely it is that transference is the real problem.

I don't like to call myself anything.  I'm not really bi-sexual...because I don't have sex with women on a regular basis, and I prefer men.  I'm not really a swinger...because I haven't really committed to the "lifestyle".  I do what I want, when I want.  Hot chic?  I'll fuck her.  Sexy group of couples, I'm in!  Sexy time alone with my one-and-only?  Absolutely...he's my soul mate; that's why I said, "I do."  And I can truly say that I am thankful to have such an open, honest relationship where we can discuss ALL of our desires - even if they make us feel uncomfortable or embarrassed.

Labels are almost always inaccurate, and they tend to not only categorize us unfairly, but they also sometimes make us feel or act a certain way that we might not without them.  I don't like to be pigeon-holed.  And I don't like feeling guilty for natural desires (and really, all desires are natural - as we are all produced by nature)...whether they are right or wrong or not - well, that is a personal decision).

To me...sex is a feeling - pure sensation.  As is love.  Neither can really, fully be explained...nor should it.  There is a certain magic in not being able to define humanity.  There is wonder in not knowing.  Best to just live life, enjoy the opportunities when they present themselves, and stop questioning so much whether it's right or wrong. 




 

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Ever shot cum out of your nose?

Yah...you read that title right.  And my answer is a resounding YES.  As of last night.  And, because I'm a glutton for punishment and love sharing my own stupidity so that I'm not the only one laughing at myself...here you go...true story:

Mr. LL pulls all the bedcovers down to the foot of the bed to get them out of our way.  He then proceeds to go down on me like a damned professional (fuck, he's awesome at that!), gets me good and soaking wet and then fucks me until I orgasm with a splash.  But, he's in it for the long haul, and since we'd had sex earlier in the day, he was going to last for quite a while (a fabulous quality in a man).

There we are, fucking like beasts...several orgasms down - for me - and one that just plain won't come (pun intended) - for him.  I really hate it when he doesn't come, so I work especially hard, accepting the challenge.  I got on top and rode him slowly (which often works), contracting my muscles around his cock, rising all the way up...almost to the tip of the head, and then slowly back down, grinding into his balls.  And still...fail.

The only thing left to be done was to suck him off.  But, I wasn't exasperated yet, and I enjoy seeing him climax, so it was all worth it to me.  I've never been a quitter, and I really hate leaving my man unsatisfied (though sometimes, it just doesn't happen...a rare thing, but not unheard of).  I can honestly say that I just don't feel as if the deed is "done" if both of us don't get our rocks off...and I so love to see his face in ecstasy and feel the heat of his seed explode into me.  Really, it's like the 4th of July fireworks finale, but more an emotional imperative.  I pout if it doesn't happen.

Alright, so I'm there between his splayed thighs, my ass in the air (wouldn't it have been nice to have someone back there encouraging me?), licking around the sides of his balls, up the sides of his dick, circling the head, ever so slowly.  I let him go deep into my mouth, to the back of my throat, rubbing my tongue up and down the ridge on the bottom of his penis, from base to tip.  He was trying so hard to accommodate me...to let go of his load.  He started grinding his hips upward, pushing his cock into me, fucking my face with gusto.  And finally...finally...his breath stopped and his body became rigid; I braced myself for the flood, which started out small, and then streamed and spurted until he was spent.

Now, I'm going to admit right here, that I'm not big on swallowing.  Never have been.  I love sucking cock, but I just don't enjoy the flavor of semen.  He's cool with this and knows that once he's come, I'll make a quick bee-line for the bathroom sink, spit, rinse, and jump right back in bed for afterglow snuggling.

This is where the trouble begins.  Remember those bedcovers heaped at the bottom of the bed?  And let me add that we have a platform bed that puts us up three feet above the carpeted floor.  I sat up, my mouth full of of come, put my hand out to stabilize myself, and realized - a bit too late- that I was further down at the bottom of the bed than I had thought.  My hand caught nothing but air and, as my momentum forward had already begun, the blankets under my ass began to carry me down.  I rolled off the bed with the heap of covers, right onto the dog (who looked at me like, "What the fuck?  I was sleeping!  Why would you do that to me?").  I started to laugh, tried to hold the come in...but - as you already know from the title of this post - it sputtered out between my clenched lips and sprayed out of my nose...all over the wall, the treadmill, the carpet, and the dog.  Poor thing has to listen to daddy make mommy scream night after night - and then this.

We laughed so damned hard as I cleaned the dripping liquid off the wall and the floor.  This is the joy of married sex, and I'm thankful for it.  If I had been single - or in new relationship, I might have been mortified...completely and cripplingly embarrassed.  But, instead, we shared a fabulous laugh at my expense.  I've been giggling under my breath about it all day long.  

Monday, November 12, 2012

Masturbating in the Shower

On my back in the bed,
legs splayed lazily,
my breathing was slowing down.

A liquid mix of us
dripped between my cheeks,
tickling my backdoor.

It was such a good afternoon fuck.

You dressed and headed back
out to the kitchen or the couch
so I could shower.

I stood slowly, letting the come
make lines down the insides of both thighs,
squeezing my muscles to encourage its release.

I put my hand between my legs,
cupping my entire pussy
to feel the wet heat,

sliding one finger in to feel
the swollen sides and the slickness
you left behind.

In the shower, I couldn't help it.
The come all over my hands,
I stuck two, then three fingers inside.

On my toes, holding on to the wall,
my thighs and calves clenched, fingers
squeezed tight, but not immobile...

small movements, for a few minutes,
and a quick, biting orgasm,
led to a final gush of fluid.

The water was hot,
and the fan muffled my cries,
as I nearly collapsed.

And no one heard a thing.



Hot, unplanned sex in the middle of the day when it shouldn't be possible is a blessing that should not be taken for granted.  Especially for those of us with children.  It must be fast, and furious, and may be interrupted at any stage of the game.  Maybe that's what makes it good.  Masturbating in the shower is similar...it must be quick, and you have to be quiet, and someone might just walk in on you.  I know, I know, lock the door...but what's the fun in that?

Book Review: Morning, Noon, and Night (ed. Alyson Tyler)

Cleis Press showers me with gifts on a regular basis.  15 erotic collections to be exact.  And being the busy procrastinator that I am, I haven't returned the love like I should have.  Naughty me.  So, for this review, I'm going to wax on and on and on...to make up for it.  

So, here it is, boys and girls...Alison Tyler has created a lovely little treasure trove with this collection.  She has a gifted eye for the erotic and the literary...which make for a powerful combination in this satisfying read.


First off, I think the theme and organization are fantastically creative.  Each story combines with a time of day, beginning at 4 a.m. with "Wake Up Call" by Jax Baynard and ending at 3 a.m. with Alison Tyler's "Last Call" for a total of 24 hours and 24 stories.

There really is something for everyone in this anthology.  It's aimed at couples (hence the subtitle "erotica for couples") and definitely lends itself well to being read aloud.  I will say, it is rather tame, which isn't a bad thing...in fact, it's refreshing.  It's nice to see that "plain old one-on-one vanilla sex" is still being written about with freshness and verve.  The back of the book rightfully claims that the book is "a sizzling collection of headily sensual stories featuring hot for each other couples whose love fuels their lust".

The sheer variety of the stories makes it hard to put the book down.  Here are some quick mini-reviews of my top ten in the collection, in chronological order.

"5 a.m. Walk of Shame" by Dante Davidson -    

Quite a little twist in this one, which I greatly appreciated.  Writers of erotic fiction who have the ability to truly craft a story rather than simply write about sex in an explicit manner warm my language-obsessed soul.  In this short, Davidson has created characters that I believe, dialogue I can hear, and scenes I can see and feel.  

Gennifer, in her "dark wine-colored satin corset fastened over a white peasant blouse and a short, flirty black-and-red velvet skirt" and Max work in a coffee shop, where they serve some customers "their regular dull coffee to go with their regular dull lives".  But there are others, the "walk of shamers...the patrons she liked best, enjoying spinning stories about what their night-befores might have been like" that inspire the events of the story, like Flo, the "hall of famer walk of shamer" with whom making eye-contact is difficult for Max as he serves her..."she was so obviously recently fucked."  

Ultimately, it's a fun little jaunt into fantasyland...one that would be easily replicated in role-play, if a reader were so inclined to be inspired.

"6 a.m. Coffee" by Heidi Champa -

Oh, what a fun exchange between a man and a wife.  I could so see this scene playing out in my own house...the doting husband who gets off hearing about his wife's escapades...her words driving him onward...his reaction encouraging her words.  

Elisha comes home "late" from a bachelorette party...at a strip-club.  Seriously, need I say more?  My favorite line in the whole story sums up everything that makes this story wonderfully delicious (and realistic) - the dialogue:  "Here I was, worried something terrible had happened to you, and you were busy fingering a stripper."

Ha!  Classic. 

" 11 a.m. Elevenses" by Jeremy Edwards -

According to Jeremy's website (bio) - "Though he is aware that most of the planet’s sentient species manage to enjoy copulation without ever putting on their reading glasses, he personally feels that a judicious turn of explicit phrase can be worth its weight in primal bliss. His lascivious prose embodies an enthusiasm for sex in its sunniest form, as he strives to blend the sensuous and the playful, lighthearted laughter and erotic urgency."  

This story proves it.  In fact, it had me smiling the whole way through.  Not only is it written well, it brought me a feeling of contentment.  "Elevenses" is the story of a couple moving halfway across the country, leaving behind the comforts of decade-kept routines, finding, in the back of a truck in a parking lot in Nebraska, that home is within us...literally.  

I love how the characters, Drew and Cilla, cling to the comforts of an everyday love and show that long-term relationships don't necessarily become stale because they are well-charted and known, inside and out.  In fact, it is just this quality that allows those couples who have been together for years to please each other so completely.  Everything is a case of "you had to be there", a series of inside jokes and intimate secrets that make two people a couple.  I not only had the sense of sexual lust from the this story, but also the sense of trust, commitment, humor, and love.

"1 p.m. Test Drive" by Angell Brooks -

I knew immediately that I would relate to this story and it's main character in the second paragraph:  "It had been a hellish day so far, and all she wanted to do was get through the next four hours without killing someone.  After that, it was a long bus ride home to a hot bath, yoga pants and NCIS marathon on her PVR.  And wine.  Lots of wine."

It's hard not to smile at the bits of humor infused into this sexy tale of a woman who underestimates herself and the man who builds her back up:  "As he took a deep breath to calm himself, he managed to slide the key fob easily into the ignition.  He flashed to an image of sliding into Trish that easily and his cock throbbed."

I did have a few problems with the story.  For example, Trish and Alex take a fancy Lexus SUV on a test drive.  Trish is sitting next to a hot guy in a fancy car they are about to hand over to a client, and she falls asleep?  And later, this same self-conscious woman who thinks all the skinny hot chicks in the office cast a shadow across her plump, 32-year-old, polyester-wearing self, takes complete command in the back of the SUV?  I don't buy it.

But, it didn't stop me from loving the story.  So I still give it a rave review.   

"2 p.m. Biker Bar" by Thomas S. Roche -

I have to admit, I was turned off by the title...and the first several paragraphs really didn't grab me...but once I gave into the charmingly devilish male voice of the narrator (who struck me as a laid-back GQ sort of adorable man-child with a five o'clock shadow and a crotch-rocket), I was pretty much sold.  The story really is so conversational that I can almost feel the smile in his words.

The homerun for me with this story is the believability of Summer - the girl who has a dirty streak she really doesn't want anyone to know about...the kind of dirty streak she covets in her own mind but is marginally embarassed by outside it.  Of course, the male voice encourages "the dirty" in her and she uses it to her advantage, in coy whispers of school-girl flirtation.  She makes promises in his ear..."If you take me home right now, you can spank me...and fuck me...and fuck my ass..."

Summer is an easy character to relate to, and she is described by a doting male voice in a way that would easily encourage all female readers to submit to those things they would never admit to wanting.  More than submit actually...beg for them, in secret, of course.

"3 p.m. Closed-door Meeting" by Sasha White -

This is a fun little number that is great because it'd be so easy to replicate (hey, we all need a little inspiration from time to time).  A married couple, separated by an ocean, prepare to reunite by having some fun for each other via webcam, he in a hotel bed, she in her office, with the door closed but unlocked.  

Nothing too terribly original here; I just appreciated the sweetness of the characters and getting to know them through the realistic, natural dialogue...this easily could be a conversation had between my husband and I.  

My absolute favorite paragraph, and the moment I put this story in the top 10:
Hunger for his taste filled my soul and I whimpered.  God, I missed him.  I wanted him, I craved his touch, his taste...his body inside mine as we connected in the most basic way.  The slickness of my need flooded my thighs as our eyes met; it was as if there were nothing between us, and when his lips parted and his command reached my ears, my body obeyed.  "Come for me, wife." 
"10 p.m. Portraits" by Preston Avery -

Another fun interpretation of marital experimentation to spice up the everyday hum-drum of a possibly tepid relationship.  I get a kick out of the husband character in this story - an engineer who is awkward with modern technology (i.e. an 8 megapixel smartphone that he buys his wife).  Of course, from the get-go, you know that, based on the title and the introduction, this story is going to revolve around texting naughty pictures.  There is a tiny twist to it though, to keep it fresh:  the photos are just subtly sexy - a neck, a belly button, painted toenails, the inside of a thigh...the sorts of things that would appeal to someone who knows all the parts in-between and can (and will) mentally fill in the spaces that are left out.

The wife of the story, sends pics throughout the day...but the real fun comes when the husband gets his chance to work his way back through them, in person.

Like most of the stories I preferred in this collection, the close relationship of the couple is what carries the story.  The underlying concept of long-term lust, based on the sort of deep knowing, earned over time, being made fresh by trying something new.  These kinds of stories gain their strength from authors and readers who believe that relationships can evolve over time, and that small changes can have a heavy impact.  Avery's interpretation of this possibility is crafted with honesty...a bit of a bumbling, geeky husband who is at the mercy of his wife, until his cock is hard and he's got her naked.  

And just wait until you make it to 10 p.m.  Thoroughly delectable.

"1 a.m. Girls' Night Out" by Vida Bailey -

 This one is not a story about a married couple (interesting, though how most of the stories I liked were - could just be my bias toward what I know best and am most comfortable with).  This is, however, fun in a "we've all been there" sort of way - trying hard to look like we don't care as we watch the person we want "want" somebody else.  

Cally wants Rob.  Rob wants Cally.  But, Cally doesn't want Rob to know.  Cally doesn't want Cally to know.  But Cally can't help herself and finds herself at the mercy of a man who has the ability to control her body in a way that makes her a bit uncomfortable, nervous, and wet.  

First time sexual experiences need to be handled with care, in reality and in writing, whic Vida does.  When boundaries are being stretched, it is understandable that people would be worried and insecure.  Cally embodies these emotions, but gives herself to the moment, answering Rob's repetitive inquiry, "What do you want?"  with a question, "You?"  She's a sympathetic character...it's easy to understand her emotions and her thought process.  And in a short story like this, that's a hard thing to provide, as a writer.

I like how Rob, who is obviously in control, continually allows Cally a way out, if she wants it.  Of course she never does, even when she breaks and lets it all go.

"2 a.m. Date Night" by Sophia Valenti -

Growl.  That's all I have to say.

Well, no really...I suppose I should expound upon that, as this is a review.  The concept of a one-sided open-relationship isn't all that new.  A husband allowing his wife to fuck around on him isn't original...but the twist of the wife knowing she will come home to punishment for it, and the husband moving "closer...in the darkness, like a predator slowly stalking his prey.  'I have such a bad girl for a wife'...'Such a bad, slutty girl..." add a little umph to an old story.  Brandon pushes Celia to tell him everything she has just done on a late night date with an old flame, brandishing his belt and making sure she knows that cuckholding him is not only part of his turn-on, but also a large part of his power over her. 

Brandon's and Celia's agreement works for them both...and even though I usually don't fall for stories of BDSM...I have a hankering for this variety...the sort that take into account the central relationship of the characters, because that's what really gets them off.  I guess I'm just a romantic at heart - and sex for sex's sake isn't all that appealing to me...at least in print - because then it's just porn.  And porn, while it has it's place, isn't what erotica is about.  If I don't have an emotional connection with the characters, it is just not worth my time.  

"So when are you seeing Rick again?"  Brandon asked breathlessly, his voice tinged with hope.
"Next Saturday."
"Good -- I can't wait."

Me, either.

"3 a.m. Last Call" by Alison Tyler -

Well, Alison...a first-time, 5-man gang-bang in the middle of a cleared-out bar at 3 in the morning is a nice way to end an already enticing collection of erotic stories. 

Closing time's coming.  I look at the clock over the bar.  The boys are starting to shuffle around.  I can tell they want the rest of the crowd to leave as much as I do.  Stumble home, people.  Get into your trucks, shut one eye, and hope you make the ride home alive.  However you do it, get the fuck out.
Exactly...let's get on with the show.  After a quick explanation of her choices, the deed begins to play out, under the guidance of her husband Declan.  It's a motley crew, to say the least, though the addition of the pudgy line cook whom Dina feels a little sorry for add some humility to the whole thing.  And Dina's introspective thoughts, like "Most of the day, we walk around stifling our inner selves, damping down the words we'd love to let loose..." easily strike a cord with the reader.
We all have fantasies like this.  Most of us, however, never act on them.  Dina claims, "...when you're part of the old-and-married club, the tools get rusty.  You're not supposed to want to fuck anyone else anymore, ever again.  Take your libido, honey.  Bottle it up in that mason jar and stick the thing on a shelf.  No more surprises for you, dearie.  You're all used up."
But this collection proves that seriously wrong, now doesn't it?  So many wonderful ways to keep a long-term relationship going.  So many fantasies and experiments.  In fact, oftentimes, it the comfort of knowing that you're safe and secure--and that the other person will still be there in the morning if it all goes terribly wrong--that allows the "old-and-married club" to act out their fantasies more readily than those who are new to the game or in a new and untried relationship.  I can speak from experience.  90% of my craziest sex experiences have happened since I got married.  And why?  Because I know he isn't going anywhere.  I can let my inhibitions go because our safe word is "commitment".

Lovely job, Alison.  Such a pleasurable way to spend a weekend.

Pages of the other authors in the collection (whose stories were by no means bad, just not as appealing to me as the others)...I encourage you (because I know will be doing it) to check them out.

Aisling Weaver
Justine Elyot
Donna George Storey
Kat Watson
Cora Zane
Kristina Lloyd
Sommer Marsden
Teresa Noelle Roberts
Victoria Janssen
Ashley Lister

I couldn't find sites for Jax Baynard or Georgia E. Jones.  Please let me know if you find one, so I can link to it here.