My Writing

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

e[lust] #37 (oops...I'm a bit late - vacation got in the way!)


Photo courtesy of Molly at Molly's Daily Kiss

Welcome to e[lust] - The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you're looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it'll be here at e[lust]. Want to be included in e[lust] #38? Start with the newly updated rules, come back July 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ Top 3 ~

Coming to Terms with Being Gay - From the time I was seven I was raised Mormon, which meant I wasn�t allowed to have a girlfriend until I was 16 or to have sex until I was married.

What I Want - I want to be humiliated. Call me a slut. Call me a whore. Slap my face. Expose me.

Dinner Party Entertainment - At that moment, J's eyes went wide--he finally realized I was leaving him there, tied to the bed.

~ Featured Post (Picked by Lilly) ~

My Abstinence Only �Sex Education� - The speakers were a married, Christian couple, and the man told us about how he had pledged to stay a virgin until he was married.

~ e[lust] Editress ~

Your Crappy Writing Turns Me Off - Your written words are your clothes, your power, your voice, your facial expressions and that by which we measure intelligence, personality and even attractiveness.

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the �read more�� tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

A New Found Respect for Bondage Educators
Cunt: Healing sexual abuse
Equal but Different
Fuck you. Without a condom
Harper Eliot's Guide to Surviving Drop Alone
PolyAnna's Musings: What About the Kids
Settling down--bullshit free

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Sweet Valley High Meets the Story of Oh My!
Women's rape fantasies
Why May is Nat'l Masturbation Month

Erotic Writing

Ache
A Word on What Your Words Do to Me
Anything the Lady Wants
Breathless
Cemetery Sex
Dropped Call
Fucking a Stranger�s Wife While He Watched
Folly, part 4
Getting His Attention
Jerk and Tug
Jill's Look Back at Masturbation Month
Like a Faggot
Phontographs (fiction, part 1)
Release
Senses and Scents
Spearmint Rhino
Swing: Part I
The Dance
Touch Me, Tease Me

Kink & Fetish

Earning My Wings
fantasy with beast/the train ride
His first crop spanking
Learn the rope of knots: Larks Head
Popping my anal cherry
Stress Relief
Staying power
The Cutting Edge
Tie Me Up! ~ I think...
Why chastity is hot
What I Like and Why

Saturday, June 16, 2012

Photographs (fiction, part 3)

The next morning, Tanya made it to the bus stop even earlier than normal, having walked there quickly and with an uncharacteristic determination in her step.  It wasn't quite the expectation that she'd see him, or another photograph; she found herself feeling something she hadn't felt since she was a girl.  Hope.  Sheer, blind, disconnected hope.  Hope for something unknown.  That innocent desire that brings a flutter to the chest and a heaviness to the belly.  An anxious, slippery hope...which the bearer knows could just as easily turn to disappointment.  So tenuous.  So fragile.  So delicious.

Her gaze quickly flitted to the back of the bus when she boarded, and when she saw someone sitting in her normal seat, a man, with his head bent forward over a book, her breath faltered.  Could it be?

She made her way to the back slowly, both wanting and not wanting to find out.

The man didn't look up.  And since he was in "her" seat, on the aisle, she sat across from him, to his right, one row back.  She didn't want to appear too obvious, especially if it wasn't him.

She settled in and pulled out her book, not really intending to read.  She glanced frequently up at the man out of the corner of her eye.  His dark hair curled slightly around his ears and the back of his neck, appearing almost wet, as if he'd just taken a shower.  But it was combed cleanly, and his face was bare, perfectly smooth.  He looked young, mid to late twenties.  Crisp, white cuffs peeked out from beneath his navy blue suit coat.  Small, round, silver-rimmed cuff links and a silver, blue-faced watch.  Clean manicured nails.  Athletic hands.  She laughed at herself; what on earth were athletic hands?  Where had she come up with that?  Maybe she simply assumed that his slender fingers and build were those of a swimmer or a runner.  He was not a large man, but he surely had a presence.



The bus lurched to a stop.  Tanya instinctively and reflexively put a hand on the seat in front of her to keep herself steady.  The man collected his things and stood to exit the bus.  He looked at her briefly and smiled.

"Good day, madam."  His eyes sparkled, almost mischievously.  Or so it looked it to Tanya.

So formal and polite.  His posture rod-straight, his jaw sharp, his teeth white.

She felt herself become wet.  So wet, in fact, that she was a little afraid to stand up, for fear that she'd made a spot on the backside of her tan skirt.

"Good day," she replied to his back - her response almost too late.

He glanced back at her and winked.

Oh, shit, she thought, what am I going to do with this?  He's fucking beautiful.

She could not focus at work that day.  All she could think about was the picture she planned to take that night.  The photograph she planned to leave for him to find.  Game on.


Monday, June 11, 2012

The Taming of the "Screw": why technique matters

Okay, so I didn't get around to posting on Saturday.  My weekend got away with me.  And even when I did have time, the conditions were not right.  So here it is Monday - such a grand and glorious day.  The conditions are still not necessarily right, but it's quiet enough now, so I'm going to take advantage of it. 

A few posts back, I considered the issue of size - and whether or not it really matters.  I suppose for some women it does (or at least appears to matter).  I'd like to posit that it isn't really the size, it's the technique.  As long as a guy has got at least an average sized penis, he should have no problem getting his girl off.  I think where some men (and therefore some women) get it wrong is in assuming a big dick will always hit the G-spot just because it's big.  And it's true...a larger penis can sometimes manage to hit the G-spot without really trying.  Simply because of it's length and girth, it fills the whole cavity and just by chance manages to rub the right spot, but the problem is that it slides over it - past it - without actually hitting it.  I guess if a guy goes in and out enough times at just the right speed, he's bound to eventually get at least some positive reaction.  But, even with a big dick that manages to hit the spot, it doesn't do much good if he forgets the clitoris.  A shameful amount of men forget this amazing little button.



I can get off with nothing but clitoral stimulation (no need for penetration - though it's nice and often much more satisfying).  On a busy night or a night I'm just flat ready for bed, grabbing my trusty "egg", placing it on my clit, and rubbing it around it while tightening my thigh muscles can almost bring me to orgasm (internal and external) every time - unless I'm really stress or over-tired.  And then it's just an exercise in futility and frustration.  And since clitoral stimulation is so easy, why wouldn't every man focus his attention here?

Probably the easiest way for my husband to make me come involves his very skilled tongue and his fingers.  First one finger, gently, just barely entering before exiting.  His tongue flicking my clit softly and slowly.  Then two fingers, more vigorously, his whole mouth on my clit, sucking and licking.  If I'm really wet, 3 fingers.  But, two seems to be the magic number for me, curved upward very slightly in the direction of my navel.

For sex to really (quickly) make me gush all over the sheets, it's all about position.  Some people like to use pillows to raise a woman's pelvis upward.  It makes hitting the G-spot easier.  I've found that when my husband bends my knees up around my head, thereby rolling my hips up in the air, he hits it every time.  Plus, it allows him to go deeper.








This one seems to be the clear winner in our bed.



Pushing in deep works better if a man isn't huge.  If you bottom out, it doesn't necessarily feel good.  Maybe it does to some women, but to me - it just hurts.  I had a hysterectomy several years ago, so my "cut off" is maybe shorter than it used to be, and men who are too big just don't give me pleasure.  Their penis' go straight past the mark, right to the end of the road.  Dead end.  A shorter penis, especially one the curves upward a bit, will slip right in where it is supposed to.  I've found also, that a penis (or finger, or vibrator....) that just barely touches the G-spot can be even more intoxicating.  It's the growing frustration and the wanting for more that does it.

When I asked my husband about important technical moves, he mentioned leaning forward and grinding into the pubic bone to ensure a good rubbing of the clit during penetration.  Changing rhythm, position, and speed is important, too.  Climbing on, shoving it in, and humping is more primal than it is sexy or satisfying.  I'm not saying there isn't a place for quick and dirty sex.  But, if genuine pleasure and a sopping wet orgasm is the goal, it's best to slow down and think about your moves.

Every woman is different.  But, the G-spot is in virtually the same spot on all of us.  Let me see if I can explain:  if I stick my pointer finger inside my pussy as far as it will go, curve it slightly up toward my navel, there it is.  There isn't a bump or anything to say, "Here I am...hit me with your best shot!"  It just feels good.  It's like hitting a very good nerve.  And it tends to get the juices flowing freely when it is played with.  Now depending on the length of a woman's waist to pubic bone, it could be further in than on some of us (mine's about 5 or 6 inches below my belly button Just try the finger test...slide it in and do a little searching.  What's the worst that could happen?

I think that this is why "doggie style" is so satisfying for a lot of women -- it places the G-spot right in the line of fire.  And I notice the further I lean the top half of my body down and stick my ass further in the air, the more often his balls hit my clit.  That extra sensation is helpful, plus, I can reach my hand back between my legs and either work at myself or handle his balls (an extra sensation for him).



Another thing that works is when my husband rubs my clit with his hand or fingers while he fucks me.

Being on top works, too.  But oddly enough, for me, it isn't as easy for me to come if I'm on top.  Maybe it's because I have to focus too hard on my own actions instead of just letting myself cum.  The orgasms I have when I'm on top are pretty damn good though...just not as sloppy wet.  It takes, for me, grinding back and forth...but for him...the up and down is necessary, too.

Ultimately, comfort is important.  Bizarre or difficult-to-maintain positions or better left to pornography.  There it can be entertaining...even artful.  But, when I really want to cum - keeping it simple is best. Of course all of us are different.  What works for one, might not work for another.  It's a matter of experimentation (oh, darn, right?).  These tips are what works for me - maybe you try it and like it...maybe you hate it.  Maybe, even, you think I'm full of shit...some folks would...
 
So, just for fun...here are a few articles about the G-spot NOT existing.  Silly, silly people.  Just because scientists can't find it doesn't mean it isn't there!

Huffington Post - G-Spot Does Not Exist, "Without a Doubt"

Does the G-spot really exist?  Scientist can't find it.

The Telegraph - So the G-spot doesn't exist after all?  Thank god!

I feel bad for anyone who thinks it doesn't exist.  That simply means you haven't found it on your woman yet.  Or, more dreadfully, you haven't found it on yourself.  Get thee to a masturbatorium and find the damn thing, already!  Your body (and your lover) will thank you for it. 

What sex technique tips do you have to share?  I'm always up for trying something new - especially if it's tried and true and effective for someone else.

Anyone here think the G-Spot is a figment of the imagination?

Have you found yours?  Tell us where it is!  Everyone is dying to know!

(Click here for a lovely visual gallery of sex positions.)

Friday, June 1, 2012

Photographs (fiction, part 2)

The time at work couldn't pass fast enough, and as she half walked, half ran to meet her bus, she nervously considered taking a different route, to avoid any possibility of bumping into the stranger.  It was a strange feeling - wanting to confront him and wanting to avoid him at the same time.

When the bus rolled to a stop, the doors opened and passengers poured onto the sidewalk around her.  She waited until the entrance was clear and then ascended the three stairs, glancing skittishly to the back of the bus.  Her stomach tightened and released, expanding with a small pang of disappointment.  With the apprehension gone, she made her way more slowly than usual to the back of the bus, dropping into her seat to resume her novel, exactly where she left off.  She leaned to the side, reached into her bag, pulled out her book, opened it, and buried her nose in the pages.  But her focus was lacking.  It had been all day.  She leaned to the side, dropped her book into her bag, and leaned her head back against her seat, eyes closed, and sighed.  When she opened her eyes, still directed upward, she saw a black and white photograph taped to the ceiling of the bus, directly above her seat.  Her breath caught abruptly, and she nearly pulled a muscle as she whipped her head forward.  Looking around, eyes wide, like a cornered cat, she bit upper lip and nearly stopped breathing altogether.

What the fuck?  She thought.

Since she arrived at work early, she left early, which meant her ride home was much like her ride there - quiet and generally lacking in human presence.  This afternoon was no exception.  Grateful for the absence of an audience, she stood up, put one foot on the seat of the chair, steadying herself by grabbing onto the stanchion next to her seat.  She snatched the photo from the ceiling and dropped hurriedly back to a seated position, pulling her book back out in order to camouflage the photo within it.  Similar to the previous photo, it was of a naked man.  This time, full-light, face-showing, blatant and unabashed.  Somehow, the man in the photo was both vulnerable and confident, lips parted as if he were about to speak.  His eyes exuded heat and nearly burned a hole right through the paper and into Tanya's flesh.  She felt the blush rising from her chest, up her neck, exploding into full bloom on her cheeks.

For photo information, click here.

Good fucking Christ!  

She glanced up, like a scared rabbit or a deer in headlights - some sort of easy but quick prey.  Her eyes darted forward and side-to-side, making sure no one was watching.

It was, indeed, the man from this morning, as she had suspected.  But what on earth was he doing?  What kind of game was he playing?

She turned the photo over, an empty hope that the answer to her question would be emblazoned on the back.  But, nothing was there.  Just a blank and open space, sort of like her face at that instant.

When she made it home, she pulled out both photos and placed them next to each other on her kitchen counter.  She poured herself a glass of wine, a deep, dark, hot red she'd saved for years, hoping for just the right occasion.  This seemed like the moment...mired in utter confusion and uncontainable curiosity.  She felt just a little violated, but not enough to make her afraid.  Just enough to taunt a nervous hum under her skin, a vibrant energy, a growing hint of....Dare I admit it?...desire.

Elbows resting on the counter, she leaned forward, one hand around the stem of her glass.  She bent her thumb nail between her teeth and continued to gaze at the two photos.  They stirred something inside of her.  More than anything, it was the mystery that grabbed her.  Always a lover of the unknown, her incessant need to "find out" to "solve" made her a slave to the pictures in front of her.  They pulled her in, guiding her thoughts and her emotions, and eventually...her hand.  She let go of her glass, placed her palm on the edge of the counter as support, and with the other hand, lifted her skirt above her bare thigh.  She hated nylons, never wore them, and was thankful now for the easy access to her own flesh that their absence allowed.  Her eyes intently glued to the eyes of the man in the newest photo, she slipped her hand inside the crotch of her panties.  She was wet, and she wasted no time fooling around.  Never one for foreplay, she inserted one finger into her cunt.  Then two.  Working her fingers inside, the heel of her palm pressed hard against her clit, she tightened every muscle, from her ass to her toes, and came quickly.

It had been a long time since she'd pleased herself.  She'd forgotten how good it felt.



To be continued...

In my search for photographs for this post, I not only found amazing fodder for another post on "how to stop masturbating" (really...I'm not kidding...people think we should really be doing this!),  but I totally turned myself on perusing photos of women masturbating.  Good god women are sexy.  And with their faces contorted in ecstasy and their fingers buried deep between their legs -- need I say more?  It is now time for me to take care of my own needs.  I think I'll do it exactly the same way as Tanya (we'll call it "research").

(Some beautiful - copyrighted - photography of nude men...just as a bonus:  click here!)