How I Experience Your Pleasure

I can see it in your face -
the subtle crease under your eyes,
the rush of blood to your cheeks,
the concentration.

Your skin flushes with heat -
a slight, but quick, rise in temperature,
the sweat glistening on your temples.

I can sense it between my lips -
the expectant twitch and pulse,
the rigid contractions.

A soft, whispery groan rises
in the back of your throat -
the sound of the simplest necessary pleasure.

I can taste the salty sweetness -
your perspiration mixed with
a slight bitterness from deep within you.

And when the warmth explodes into me,
it washes through my veins with
the heat of a high greater than any drug,
leaves me satiated, spent, and swimming in
a haze created by the mingled perfume of two bodies,
the signature scent of our sex.

10 things I like about swinging

Okay...time to flip the coin and see what's on the other side.  Thursday's post..."10 things I hate about swinging" wouldn't be able to stand on it's own without it's very necessary counterpart.

1)  Dating with my best friend, confidant, protector, lover, and Daddy is a rather special experience.  I hate dating (as I've made pretty clear), but if you have to do it...doing it with that kind of support is amazing.  You develop your own little codes and can read each others body language to make all kinds of decisions without the other couple even knowing you are communicating.  It definitely draws a strong couple together in more ways than one.

2)  It adds excitement to our sex life.  Eve when an experience isn't positive, it still gives Daddy and me loads to talk about and helps us to learn more about each others needs, wants, and fears.  I can honestly say that if it weren't for our involvement in swinging, we would not have learned half of what we have learned about each other so far.  We have faced some pretty intense situations and have come out with a tighter bond than we started with.

3)  It provides a feeling of freedom.  I suppose many married couples are perfectly content to just be with each other for all of eternity.  And, for the most part, I'm pretty content with that, too.  But, it's simply freeing to know that I'm not expected to only desire one man forever.  And I'm sure it is freeing for Daddy to know that I don't expect him to only desire me.  He's always looked at other women...made comments...and it rarely bothers me.  I don't think we are naturally monogamous.  It takes a lot of work to commit to only one person and keep the relationship from becoming dull.  I have a lot of respect for couples who work that hard.  And Daddy and I work pretty hard at it ourselves.  We know that if we aren't strong and stable, swinging will just instigate trouble.  And it forces some pretty raw conversations.  All of that adds to the strength of our marriage.  Swinging is a team sport (at least in my eyes).  I know I have full freedom to engage in activities with others when Daddy isn't there - provided I ask, divulge all details afterward, and bring whomever it is home as some point to share.  I haven't used that freedom - and likely never will, as ironically, he gives the freedom to me that he wants for himself...and I don't need the freedom his gives and can't provide it for him with the same ease.  Too bad that, while we're "swapping", we could just swap our ideas about that, too...it'd make us both happy.

4)  It provides opportunity for growth and pushes me to try new things and challenge my own fears and insecurities.  As shy as I can be, it takes quite a bit of courage for me to be aggressive in any way...especially with people who are new to me.  But, having Daddy there to oversee and encourage me helps.  I'm still not very daring, but I'm open to experiences and have found myself loving the feeling of being surrounded by naked flesh, touching, feeling, tasting.  For me, it isn't really about the "intercourse".  That might sound weird...but, in my opinion, it's more about the adrenaline rush...the high caused by desire and erotic stimulation.

5)  It gives us plenty of fodder for conversations with each other.  Pillow talk, people.  It's a great way to delve into a lover's deepest desires.  What do want?  What did you like?  Why?  What didn't you like?  Why?  What would you like to be different next time?  What fantasy can we try to create?

6)  I'm kind of an exhibitionist, despite my shyness and my dislike of spontaneity.  I like attention.  I like being catered to, and seduced.  And since I usually know what Daddy is going to do (not always...sometimes he surprises me), swinging provides me (and him) the chance to be surprised by another person - to not really know what they are going to do...or how they are going to do it...the anticipation...the newness.

7)  I actually like watching my husband fuck other women.  I like seeing him from a different perspective...and I seriously love making eye contact with him while he does it.  It's a huge turn on to me watching him give someone else pleasure, because I know exactly what he's doing and most likely how she's feeling.

8)  I've learned that men are really a lot less critical of women's bodies than many women think they are.  There are all shapes, sizes, ages, and appearances involved in the swinging game.  Most are not for me.  But then most non-swingers are not for me.  I'm picky.  I was picky when I chose my husband...and I remain picky now...probably more so because I'm already getting laid - I don't need someone else to get sex - I already have it.  Getting it from elsewhere is just a bonus.

9)  No matter what...I know who I am going home with.  So, even if it doesn't work out, I'll be having sex.  Good sex.  With a very sexy man who knows just how to get me off.

10)  Umm....did I mention fucking other people?  That is definitely a plus.  And I get the chance to be with women...in the safety of defined relationships.  I prefer married/committed couples because it makes me feel as if they are in the same boat as us...a team - supporting each other, enjoying a "hobby" together, and not looking to steal anyone else's spouse.  I see a lot of respect in the swinging community.  A lot of supportive husbands, and a lot of women freely exploring sex in the safety of a stable relationship.  Honestly...I think women probably benefit the most.  Most clubs cater to them.  Most husbands follow their lead, making sure they are comfortable and happy.  After all if the ladies are happy...the men are a lot more likely to be happy, too.  So, it works in their favor to be sure their women are pleased.

I know it drives Daddy crazy when I don't get off...or when I'm disappointed with an encounter.  He genuinely wants me to enjoy myself.  It makes me feel valued, and cared for.  So oddly...fucking other people in the presence of my husband brings me closer to him in a variety of ways.  Pretty much every time, we end up in bed, alone...after everyone has retired to their own hotel rooms or houses...and we snuggle up together - feeling closer for having shared each other.

Photo taken from article in reference to a documentary film entitled "Sex with Strangers".  I haven't seen it, though I think it might be worth a watch.  I got a kick out of the review of Roger Ebert.  His last line is:

What damage had to be done to their self-esteem, and how, to lead them to this point?

As if we must be damaged in order to pursue sex with strangers and that it must be a self-esteem issue? Hmmm...I think Roger has a bit to learn about a sexuality.  Or maybe the directors of the film needed to choose a better selection of representative couples?  It is my experience that a large portion of "swinging couples" are just as grounded (if not more so) than monogamous couples.  Of course, that's just my experience and perception.  Sure there is drama with some, and all couples (regardless of their proclivities) have their ups and downs and issues - which aren't based on the sexual actions (per se), but rather the personalities and internal insecurities of the participants.  For example, I have my own jealousy issues...and a few body/self-esteem issues - but those are not caused by my involvement in sex with people other than my lawfully wedded husband.

Suspicion

Flash Fiction Friday (click HERE to see the other entries!)

Word Length = 356 (I went hideously over the limit and should be severely punished)
Required word = suspicion
Forbidden words = Soap, hard, officer, effigy
Bonus words (25) = Who's the sexiest cop on TV?  (I don't watch TV much...I liked Magnum P.I.  - he was pretty fricking hot in those little white shorts...and Johnny Depp in 21 Jump Street - yep - I'm aging myself - and I was completely in love with the guys from Miami Vice...do Charlie's Angels count?)
Extra Credit (25) = Confess to a crime you committed (I've run a few red lights... I speed on a pretty regular basis...and I'm sure a few things I've done in the sack are illegal in a few states)

Greg looked at his watch, glanced at the roses on the seat next to him, and smiled.

He’d been working non-stop on a homicide investigation all week and thought the flowers might be a nice surprise for Stella when she got home from work later that evening.  It wasn’t an elaborate gesture, but it would show her he was thinking about her.

He pulled into the driveway, grabbed the bouquet, and headed inside.

In the kitchen, he pulled a vase from under the sink, filled it with water, and placed the flowers inside.  He began to pen a short note, but stopped short when he heard movement above.

With his hand on his holster, he made his way up the stairs, down the hall, and into the bedroom; his gaze sifted warily over the slowly shifting lump on his side of the bed.

It didn’t take him long to put two and two together.

Disregarding the movement beneath the bedspread, he made his way silently into the bathroom.  Best to give her as little time as possible to come up with a decent lie.

He leaned against the door of the shower and watched her rinse the shampoo from her hair, white suds slithering slowly between her shoulder blades to the curve of her lower back and over her firm, round ass.

“Stella?” he said her name as a father might speak to a guilty child.

She jumped and screamed, her back to the cold tile wall.

“Fuck, Greg!  You scared the shit out me!”

“Is there something you want to tell me, Stella?”  He tipped his head toward the bedroom.

Her deer-in-the-headlights look promised an entertaining story, if nothing else.

“I didn’t know you were coming home, Greg...honestly...I would have told you if I knew...  but, you’ve been so busy lately...and...and...I...I...didn’t want to bother you at work...I know this a big case...and you want this promotion...and...”  Her words strung together without pause.  She was a scared little rabbit caught, naked, in his snare.  He smiled wickedly and raised an eyebrow.

“What am I going to do with you, Stella?”

“I don’t know, Detective...what are you going to do?”

“Fuck you both, I imagine.  And then go back to work.”  Her eyes widened and then a look of utter confusion took her face captive.

“Get out of the shower, Stella.  Introduce me to your friend.  I don’t have a lot of time...I’m expected in Chief Johnson’s office at six.”

Stella walked toward the door and reached for the towel on the hook.  He grabbed her hand to stop her.

“I like you wet.”

Keeping her wrist in his grasp, he pulled her out to the bedroom.  A charmingly young man, with shoulder length blond hair and newly burgeoning muscles was falling all over himself trying to pull on his black slacks,while trying to run at the same time.  The look of terror on his face was priceless, and enticing.

Greg loved taking control of a scene.

10 things I hate about swinging

First, and foremost...I apologize if this is a bit of a rambling post.  I've written it freestyle so it's pretty stream-of-consciousness.  Bear with me.  Also, I plan to explore the 10 things I like about swinging in a later post.  So, no worries.  There are pros and cons to every issue, right?

1)  It doesn't come naturally, sexually speaking.

I'm hard to please.  I can admit that.  I'm also hard to get off...for anyone but my husband - who seems to have the magic orgasm wand when it comes to my pussy.  It's no wonder, then, that I HAD to have him, keep him, and make him my own - when he could do it right from the start.  The light shone down from the heavens and a miracle occurred.  I could finally come (by someone's doing other than my own - I've always been an expert, thank the gods)...and quite easily, it turned out.

But, when we started trying things out with other couples?  No dice.  At first, I thought it was just that I was nervous.  Maybe I felt like I was performing...since Daddy was watching?  Whatever the case - it didn't happen.  It happened once or twice - possibly on accident - and mainly because I had my mind wrapped around it, willing it to happen with every ounce of my desire.  Oh wait...no - it was because it was with friends, and we'd been with them a time or two, and I was more comfortable and knew a bit more of what to expect.

Since sex is a very "mental" experience for me (yes, it's almost all in my head), I have to really be in the moment.  That's hard to do when there are more than two bodies (unless they are just the right ones at the right time - you know...planets aligning and all that) in a room...for me, anyway.

2)  Sparks don't always fly from every direction.

The thing about swinging is...it's hard for two people to find another two people equally desirable.  I might like the man...or the woman...or both - but then Daddy won't like them.  Or he'll like the woman, and I'll like the man...but I won't like the woman.  There are several possibilities, but the likelihood of both of us liking both of them, and vice versa, is rare.

And we have this thing about "not taking one for the team".  Unfortunately - I think both of us have at some point or another.  I know I'm the pickier one of the two of us - but that has a lot to do with the fact that I swing both ways...and once people know that, there's this expectation that I play on both teams - even if I only find one team desirable.  I have a hard time hurting people's feelings, and I know I should be more upfront about things and less shy about telling a couple - "Hey, I think your male half is hot, but I just don't have a thing for the wife."  Daddy just has to find the female half hot...and well - he's a man.  He likes pussy.  All types.  He likes a wide range of figures and looks, whereas I really do have a "type".  It's all stupidly complicated.

3)  Dating.

Really, I hated it when I was a teenager.  I hated it in college.  I hated it as an adult.  The whole prospect of getting all dolled up and going out with someone I hardly know, not knowing what to expect is horrifying to me.  I'm shy and a bit socially awkward.  I have a hard time coming up with things to talk about.  And quite honestly,  don't like people in general. There, I said it.  In fact, I've said it before.

So, now, I'm comfortably married.  And I have to date again?  WTF?  The whole prospect of looking on SLS or AFF is distasteful to me.  It's like glancing through a menu and quickly dismissing or accepting people based on a few photos and some well or poorly chosen description when I could be reading a novel or writing a story or cleaning the kitchen.  I'm okay with using abstracts to chose articles for research, but using them to find people to hang out with seems ludicrous.

Obviously, I understand that this is the name of the game.  This is the only way it happens for us...as I'm not about to walk up to someone in a local pub and say - "Would you two like to get it on?"  And I'm not about to try it with friends again.  That was a disaster.

Daddy wants this to be one of my "step-out-of-your-box-and-do-something-that-makes-you-uncomfortable" tasks.  So, I suppose I'll be doing it.  He's always the one to do the contacting and the setting up.  I just don't find it is intriguing as he does.  He can spend hours on SLS.  He's on it pretty much every day...just wandering through the pictures and perusing the profiles, looking for possibilities.  Which is proof it's on his mind a lot more than it is on mine.

I do a lot of sex writing.  And I read a lot of books and blogs about it.  So, I think about sex a lot.  I just don't like visiting porn sites or adult hook-up sites.  Meh.

4)  Dealing with disappointment.

So, I've had a handful of experiences turn out well.  Even if I didn't get off, at least I had fun...and I met some people I could hang out with and not hold back when I got a little tipsy...and handsy.

But, the majority of experiences have just not been great.  They've been more anxiety-producing than encouraging...and let's face it, after a few bad experiences, it's hard to get psyched up to go back out there and do it again.  The metaphor I used with Daddy the other night is that it's like being a football team that hasn't won a game all season, and now, somehow, they're supposed to get all excited about what will probably end up being another loss.  Defeat eventually leads to a defeatist outlook...to which I can be irritatingly prone.

Not too long ago, I had a great time at a party.  It was a redeeming moment for the swing lifestyle for me.  But, it also sort of solidified my take on things needing to be "organic".  Let me explain.

5)  The "synthetic" nature of the game.

What I mean is...it feels staged - planned..."man-made".  And oftentimes it is, by necessity.

We live in a small town...and, by my preference, I try to avoid playing here (though Daddy seems to like it since it is more convenient and because we can extend our relationship to friendship more easily - and since our schedules are crazy, it makes meeting up a lot easier...and cheaper as there is less travel involved).

I don't do well under pressure - and even though I'm not a very spontaneous person - I can't "create" desire.  And when I feel like I'm being put on display, or something is expected of me, I just can't seem to "get it up."  So I drink more wine and hope for the best.  Not the most positive route...but sometimes it gets me there.

Like I said earlier, I don't like set-ups.  But, I'm also shy.  So, yes - meeting people and having it "just happen" organically is really a hopeful shot in the dark.  But, that's the way I prefer it.  Daddy isn't patient enough for that - seeing as how it would only happen once in a blue moon.  He wants it more often - hence...online "dating" sites.

But, honestly, I hate them...and I hate faking my interest and desire to meet up and have an awkward "first date" with another couple.  It isn't exciting.  It's nerve-wracking and uncomfortable beyond measure.

And it's even worse if we have to travel any great distance for the "date".  I know I shouldn't feel like I have to do anything - but it feels like sort of a tease to do all this set up...the emails...the flirting via text - only to find out that, in-person, there's nothing there.

The other issue is swinger parties and clubs.  Though I prefer this venue to dating sites (at least I can see the people in person, chat, and make the decision to commit or casually move on without hurting anyone's feelings), they very much feel like "meat markets"--which, let's face it, they are.  Everyone eyeing everyone else looking for someone (or two someones) to fuck.  There's just something sort of distasteful about the whole affair.

6)  Disagreement over where it should start and where it should go.

In a perfect world, it would all start from acquaintances...moving on to friends with benefits:  friends with whom sex just happens on occasion...when it feels right to all parties involved...not as a condition of hanging out...not as an expectation  But where do we find friends like this if we don't hit the dating sites and search for them?  It isn't like swingers wear an identifying hat or arm band (maybe we should?) that makes them easy to find in public.  And then, if we make friends via one of these avenues, there's the overarching expectation that we'll have sex.

Daddy searches couples out, contacts them, converses via email, we meet, we have sex...and from there - he'd like to keep in touch and build a friendship.

I suppose either way is fine - acquaintance to friend to sex or acquaintance to sex to friend.  But, we are both coming from opposite directions on this...due to #3 and #5...and # 8...

For me, it's about the sex.  I have plenty of friends who are "just friends" - and prefer to keep my sex life separate from them, as I don't want to fuck them up (I've tried...and it's failed...and thankfully our friendship is still in tact).  So, swinging, in general, is about finding people to have sex with.  For him, it's about relationships and making friends.  Sex doesn't make me jealous.  Relationships do.  I guess, deep down, I'm afraid of him falling in love with someone (not out of love with me, mind you) and having to deal with that whole polyamory thing - which is not something I want to get involved in.  It might work for some people - which is lovely...but for me, it just isn't an interest.

7)  I can't handle single women.

I've already tried to deal with a single woman.  And, really, I'm not cut out for it.  Yes, it's a jealousy issue.  And yes, I should get over it.  If only it were that easy.  So, that being said...it means we're stuck with problem #2 from above.

I can't wrap my head around Daddy having a "play-thing"...though that would solve a lot of issues (though create a whole pile of new ones, I suspect).  But, I don't want to "swing" as often as he does.  (We've come down to agreeing on once a month...and even then, we usually don't get around to it due to scheduling conflicts.)

This presents a difficulty.  Yes, he's my Daddy.  And yes, he has the final say.  But, we're husband and wife first and foremost.  And we're best friends.  And he truly cares about my happiness...so the likelihood of him just doing what he wants because he can isn't very high.  I suppose he could push the issue, but as he isn't really my "master", I don't have to go along without complaining.  Oh I try to accept things and make him happy, but...

8)  I'm not as into it as Daddy...until the moment is upon us.

This presents another difficulty.

When I'm in the moment, things can be grand.  But, as I don't like dating, don't like perusing the dating sites, am too shy to just proposition people in public, and can't handle him having a plaything - we're at an impasse.  Basically, it means either I suck it up and play along - even when I don't want to...or I give in and let him have something on the side so I can be done with it.

Hmm...not likely.  Neither of us would really be happy with that.  I'd be pouty.  He'd feel it.  It just wouldn't be comfortable for anyone.

The build-up caused by too much time to think about and prepare for a "meeting" is usually negative for me.  I think about it long enough that I just talk myself out of it.  And once I do that...well...there's little hope of getting myself back on track.  But, as I've explained, I rebel against having it sprung on me, as well.  I don't take well to surprises (been there, done that...didn't work out well).

Right now...I'm not painting a very enticing picture of myself, I know.  But I AM being honest.  I'm a conundrum, even to myself.  I genuinely like having sex...with my husband...with other men...with other women.  But, I hate planning it, feeling obligated/pressured, or facing disappointment after disappointment.  Really, I know I'm hard to get off - and I make it plain that my mind needs to be fucked just as hard as the rest of me - and I know Daddy is an amazingly intuitive and responsive lover, but hell!  The number of pathetic attempts I've suffered through really has me sour on the whole thing.  Don't get me wrong, there are some good memories...but they are heavily outnumbered by the less-than-appealing.

And it's probably also important to note, this was not part of the game plan when we got married.  I hadn't even thought about it.  The most I knew about swinging was that some people...somewhere (mostly in the 70's) did it.  End of story. And when Daddy brought it up to me as a possibility for us, it didn't go over well - I cried and wondered if he was planning on trading me in for a newer, younger model.  Of course...I'd just had a baby 3 months before - so maybe his timing could have been better.  He's spent the better part of our marriage coaxing me deeper into the "game" - and I've been anything but an easy convert.

I don't want to make it sound like he "forces" me or "makes" me do anything.  Because he doesn't.  I'm in full control of my own actions here.

9)  It causes tension in our marriage.

Sometimes I'm into it.  Sometimes I'm not.  But Daddy's always into it.  So, it's hard for him to see where I'm coming from.  And since I'm usually the deciding factor (let's face it, if I'm not into it...we ain't doin' it) there's a lot of pressure on me to "want it" and to be the "awesome wife who loves to fuck any number of people and let her husband watch and loves to have her husband fuck other chicks and gives him the go ahead to do whatever he pleases with whomever he pleases whenever he pleases..."

I probably shouldn't feel this way...but in the process of going to clubs and parties and meeting up with other couples, we have met couples where the woman just seemed to be "that perfect wife".  The dream wife who permits everything, is always horny, and never questions her husband's desires.  It's basically open-season all the time.  I guess I have a hard time believing women like this truly exist (outside of porn)...but I've been assured (by them - and my readers) that they do.

Okay.  So, even if I buy it, I know I'm not one of them...which leaves me feeling like a disappointment to Daddy, since I know he (and most other men) would kill to have a wife like that.  Since I'm not that wife, I end up feeling guilty...  And to complicate matters, Daddy is just like "the perfect wife"...willing to let me have total freedom, open to anything, permissive as all get out.  He doesn't ask for anything he wouldn't give me in return.  This, of course, makes me feel like a stingy little brat - but in many way - I know I shouldn't feel guilty for being the way that I am.  Regardless of some modern trends, I don't believe everyone should feel obligated to accept the ideas of an open relationship.

10)  Fear of disease and pregnancy...and drama...and complication...

I can't tell you how many nightmares and daydreams I've had about the prospect of sexually transmitted diseases or Daddy getting some other woman pregnant.  A little "on-the-side" fun could quite easily become an absolute goat-fuck, destroying families, causing drama, and ultimately ruining marriages.  I can't imagine having to explain to people the custody issues involved in something like that - "Yeah...we're paying child support to some other couple for a child we didn't want and who isn't mine...but it wasn't an affair - I was there when he fucked her...and I was cool with it then...but..."

Of course - there are things I like about swinging, too.  Do a search on "swinging" and/or "swingers" on my site...or check out my topic labels to find several positive posts.  It isn't all doom and gloom, really.  I've had some great experiences and met some kick-ass people.  And ultimately, my marriage, my ego/self-image, and my sexual evolution have all benefited from the things I've done.

As I stated at the beginning of this post, there are pros and cons to everything.  It's all about finding a good balance between them or deciding to live on one side of the fence or the other (with an occasional visit to the other side?).

I suppose, also, it has a bit to do with my perfectionist ideas about what I want.  For me, having an "organic" sexual experience with someone other than my husband every once in awhile is a far superior option to just having sex with other couples to have sex - hoping to eventually stumble across a jackpot.  It doesn't fulfill any great need for me.  Don't get me wrong...let me say it one more time, loud and clear...I like having sex with other people - but in true "spoiled little girl" form...I want what I want, the way I want it, and when I want it.  And it's hard to make someone else happy with that mindset.  So, I occasionally and willingly have sex with people I'm not really attracted to and endure their ill-conceived notions of what makes a woman happy in the sack (really? this works for your wife?)...to make Daddy happy, whom, I might add, never seems to have a problem getting women off, and I'm glad to share his powers with other women.  I just wish I could get lucky enough to find a man who, even if he didn't have the knack, could at least follow instructions and didn't just expect me to give him an earth-shattering blowjob with little to show for it in return.

Am I expecting too much?

Read the follow-up post "10 Things I Like About Swinging".

The Proposition

She touched the little box in her pocket and smiled.  She could hardly wait to give it away.

As she moved onto the dance floor, she scanned the crowd for just the right, unsuspecting recipient.  Her eyes landed on a few possibilities, processing their assets and considering their worth, but it wasn't until they found "him" that she knew, with certainty, that she'd found her target.

She slipped through the throng of writhing bodies, plastered with sweat and drenched in a heightened scent of need, and casually bumped into him.  He turned, absentmindedly to see who was behind him.  Her bright-red, see-through, stretch-lace shirt...the black bra beneath - clearly visible.  Neither of them spoke.  It wouldn't have done them any good with the music blaring so loud she could feel the bass of the beat all through her organs.  It made her feel light-headed.

She smiled up at him, her full red mouth itching to be kissed.

He put his hands on her hips and pushed his pelvis toward her, but given his height she could feel the bulge of his cock pushing in to her belly.  They moved together, surrounded by bodies pushing into them and pressing them further into each other.

She pulled out the little box and held it up for him to see.  His eyes questioned her, and she nodded to confirm that it was for him.  He took it, brow furrowed in confusion.  A gift?  From a girl he'd never met before.  It was a touch strange...she had to admit.

He pulled the top off the box, glanced inside.  A tiny piece of paper was all it contained.  On it, a phone number and a message - If you want the key, you'll have to ask permission first.  He looked down at her with questioning eyes.  She flipped up her skirt briefly, exposing the answer to his silent inquiry.

Then she pointed up to the second floor where people were leaning over the railing.  An older man in a suit, who obviously had his eyes on them, tipped his hat in their direction.

What the fuck?, was all he could think.  Who the hell was this girl and did he really want to get involved in this?  He looked back at her, watched her lick her lips expectantly, and decided to follow her up the stairs.  He put the little box in his pocket and smiled, warily, breathing in as fully as he could.

This was going to be an interesting night.

Visit the Wicked Wednesday Site to see who else is playing!

E-Lust issue #48!

Oops!  Nearly forgot to re-post this issue. Really - as I've been a bit off my game lately - I forgot I even submitted anything.  So, here it is ...just a day or two later than it should be!

Photo courtesy of It Girl Rag Doll

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] #49? Start with the newly updated rules, come back August 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

A Submissive's Day
An Open Letter to Modern Female Feminists
Rape Porn: Rapists by Proxy?

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Innocent Dark and the Sweet Talk of the Storm

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~
Sex Toy Stories: Fifty Shades of Pink
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!

Erotic Non-Fiction

I'm fucking you, whether you're wet or not.
Positions Filled
Second Wind
Snippets of bambi
Sir Knows Best
A Taste of Rub & Tug
Feels Like the 6th Time
Call of the Wild
Falling Violently in Lust with Suzanne
Submitting to His Will
Venus' Orgasm
You don't hit me hard enough spanking
Mirror, Mirror on the Wall
Swingers club, group sex & a queue of men

Poetry

Jitterbug
XYZ Me

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Description of my orgasm(s)
Casual DatingMormon Sex Symbols

Blogging

The Big Ugly Self Portrait Challenge
Blogger is dumping adult bloggers; what now?

Erotic Fiction

Perfect Spring Day
Damp
Lolita Twenty-Thirteen, Part Six
Hook-Up
Lights Out
I Am Watching
Wicked Wednesday: Karma

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

There is No Smiling in S&M - Usually
Break the boxes
Your Guide To The Perfect Sex Toy!
Age Inappropriate

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Ass Worship: Errant Oral & a Brave Submissive
Tell Me You Want Me.
Embracing My Strap-On
Talking About Kinks & Fetishes With Vanillas
Thoughts: Age and BDSM

Writing about Writing

Flat-chested Heroines

The Phone Call (FFF)

Flash Fiction Friday!

Required phrase - "Answer it"

Forbidden words - orgasm

Word Length - 661

Ex. Credit - Tell us who's calling

The phone rang. Angie groaned in annoyance and nudged Mason, “You’d better answer it.  If I do, it could be the end of the world as you know it.”

“Ignore it,” he said in a sleepy and unworried way, “She’ll give up soon enough.”

But it kept ringing. Ten, eleven, twelve times.

“I think you are the last person on the planet without an answering machine,” Angie mocked Mason’s old-fashioned ways whenever she had the chance.

“Or a cell phone,” he added. “It’s easier to hide that way.”

“But doesn’t it drive her crazy?” she asked.

“Sure. That’s why she lets it ring twenty times and then calls back every ten minutes for an hour just to be sure I wasn’t just on the porch having a smoke or in the bathroom.”

After a short break, the phone began to ring again.

“Ugh. She’s like a stalker, Mason. You should do something about it. Really.  Just pick up the phone and tell her to fuck off.” Angie lost her lady-like ways when the sun went down. “Doesn’t she sleep at night like the rest of us?”

“Yes, my dear. She does, but she’s across the ocean and she’s probably having coffee right now - having forgotten that we’re in completely different time zones.”

Fourteen rings later, there was another rest, before it started in for a third time.

“Your neighbors are going to freak out, Mason. Really...answer the goddamn phone. Or I will. And she’s not going to like that.”

Mason rolled over on top of her, reached over to the nightstand and took the phone from its cradle. “Shhh....” he mouthed to her.

He held the phone as he rolled to Angie’s side and began to circle her breast with the receiver. She gasped at the feel of cold plastic on her skin, and he motioned for her silence again.

They could both hear the voice on the other end, “Mason? Mason, is that you? Can you hear me? Hello? Hellooooo....”

He began to circle the other breast, and then ran it down between her thighs, teasing her lips apart until the plastic met her clitoris.  The voice on the other end grew muffled, and Angie whispered in a flustered sort of way, “Mason...what the fuck?  What are you doing?” 

“Introducing you to my mother, dear...what does it look like?”

“Like you’re fucking me with a phone.”

“I’m not fucking you, yet.”

“He pulled the phone back up from under the covers and placed it on the pillow beside Angie’s head.”

“She’ll think she got the wrong number. Go ahead and say whatever you want, as long as it isn’t my name...”

And with that, Mason rolled back over on to Angie’s body, spread her legs with his knees, and entered her with ease, despite her weak protests.

A rush of air left Angie’s lungs and came out in a moan - the kind that assured him the phone had left her mind completely.

“Mason?! Are you alright, dear? Are you hurt? Should I call the police?”

Angie tuned out the stream of questions exiting the receiver as Mason pressed into her.

“God, yes!  Holy mother of God, I love the way you fuck me...Jesus H. fucking Christ!"

The line went silent. Followed by a dial tone.

“I don’t think my mother approves of your naughty little mouth.”

“But you do, don’t you Mason?”

“Indeed, I do. However, I might have forgotten to mention that my mother became a nun when I left for college. Your choice of expletives was utterly perfect, dear."

Angie began to giggle uncontrollably. "Does she have any idea you lead the life that you do?"

"There's no reason to upset her, Angie."

"Will I ever get to really meet her?" It was a loaded question, and Angie knew it.

"Best to simply leave things to God. But, considering how many times you called out to Him, I'm assuming you're easily as religious as she is. I'm sure you'd get on famously."

FFF - Independence Day

Key Word - Independence or Independence Day
Word Limit - 237 (exactly!)
Forbidden Word - Fireworks (check)
Extra Credit - Put the action on July 5



She looked at the parking lot full of cars, people mingling around and through 
them to get to the doors of the church.  All that polyester and wool.  Men and 
women held tightly by conformity.  So put together.

She looked down at her own formal attire.  The expected white dress, simple 
and unimpressive....just like Michael.

How had she let it get this far?  The unspoken words screamed in her head, 
and she began to feel more and more confined by the whole thing.

Suddenly she felt suffocated by the satin and taffeta.  She reached back into
the unassuming black car that had brought her here, grabbed the bottle of
champagne meant for afterwards, and only one glass.

She took them with her to the grassy area behind the church, took off the dress, 
hung it on a limb, and walked towards a shady area behind a rock by the stream.

Stretched out on the damp green, she felt it cool beneath her bare skin, and felt 
as if she could breathe again. 

Michael would never understand this side of her.  He’d spend his whole life 
trying to cover her up.

She popped the cork, and let the champagne bubble over into her lap, holding it 
there, between her thighs until it settled and began to trickle through.

She needed to be with someone who wanted to taste that, not mop it up with a 
napkin.



Head on over to see who else is writing for Flash Fiction Friday!

Confessional Writing: Self-Indulgent Narcissism or Legitimate Art?

"True confession consists in telling our deed in such a way that our soul is changed in the telling of it." - Maude Petre

Confessional writing.  I believe the coin may have been termed before Anais Nin, but I'm fairly certain she made it famous.  And it's gotten a lot of flack since.  Auto-biography (the simple telling of one's story to document experience) turned to memoir (the crafting of one's story in such a way that it centers on a theme) turned to "creative non-fiction"(a highly stylized literary version of memoir that relies on all of the literary devices of fiction and poetry).  Be assured, these are my interpretations of the definitions.  I know many would say that all three types of writing are one in the same, or that the words can be used interchangeably.  But, I personally do see a contrast. And over time...if you read through the ages, the telling of one's story has changed.

So that brings me to confessional writing...the telling of a story with the implicit charge of telling the truth, no matter how private, upsetting, or shocking.  One might ask...why?  Why not just keep a diary and leave it at that?  Honestly, though, in keeping a diary, one knows that his or her audience is singular.  And though lying to one's self may seem impossible to some, it really is no harder than fabricating stories for others.

We shape and warp and sanitize our truth so that we can live with it.  We leave things out, forget them, see them from a particular point of view.  Years after something happens, we can look back on it and see only the good in a terrible situation, or only the bad.  Our memories are fallible at best.  Our tears, both from joy and from fear and from pain, dry...leaving behind a dust that - when it clears - can bring clouded vision, or a paradoxical clarity.

So to create an audience, by publishing, may seem no different than writing for one's self...in that lying about our experience, or making it sound better (or worse) than it was may feel necessary, to protect ourselves, our reputations, or our egos.

I'd like to hypothesize, however, that telling our stories, via writing, to an audience beyond ourselves, actually encourages us to look at our experiences as objectively as possible...to "write it all down", per se.  And that even if we stylize it, craft it to make it artistic or creative, paying careful attention to the story line, what we leave in and what we leave out, we keep in mind that if honesty is the entire point of the telling, then we must "tell it like it is".

Confessional writing earns more than its fair share of criticism.  Memoirs, in the past 20 years or so have moved in that direction...telling one's story of drug use, alcoholism, sex abuse, illegal behavior...and there are plenty of people who believe that telling such private memories is useless, even grandiose.  They posit that these writers are simply telling their stories to get attention.

The interesting part of confessional writing, in my opinion, is that it is precisely the opposite.  Oh, I don't doubt that some writers simply seek fame (or infamy).  But the larger portion of confessional writers, in my opinion, do it more for themselves than for anyone else.  And what they do for others is more about sharing their stories so readers can learn from them.  Confessional writers try to document their deepest, most honest beliefs about events, challenging themselves to the sort of truthfulness that makes them vulnerable.

It is a brave act, more than an egotistical one.

To tell the truth to yourself is one thing.  You know whether you are being truthful or not, most of the time - though it is always filtered through your interpretation.  But to tell the truth to others makes you much more vulnerable.  And it forces you to explain things in enough detail, with just enough narration and explanation to keep the story interesting but also clear and coherent.  You have to leave "stream-of-consciousness" diary-style writing behind, and actually think about the words you will use to create the most honest picture of events as you have experienced them - both for your benefit and for your readers'.

"You have to be willing to reveal everything to get outside yourself." - David Ulin Everyone's Life Is Interesting:  Defending Confessional Non-Fiction

When I was in graduate school, I took a class from Kim Barnes (a notable confessional writer and poet whose works include Hungry for the World and In the Wilderness).  The class focused on creative non-fiction, especially the type that lays the writer bare, exposing the heart of everything that matters about one's personal experience in a way that is both artistic and beneficial to the reader.  Not only did we read a hell of a lot of great essays, we also wrote them.  And the goal was to write them without self-pity or self-indulgence.  That, my friends, can be difficult, when writing from the first person and about circumstances that are frightening and emotional.  But, that is also what makes it art and not blubbering narcissism.

I don't claim that all of my confessional writing is grand or artistic.  In fact, the majority of what makes it on here is rougher than I would have it if I were truly planning to publish in print/book form.  I ramble, meander, and spend a lot of time just "being" in my daily story, rather than trying to seek a theme within it.  Every once in a great wall, I hit the artistic mark.  By, that's the point of the blog for me.  To live my life through daily words and introspection.  To document.  After all, this is what I can draw from later when I am ready to sit back and delve into the meaning of all that has happened to me.  This is the content.  This is the experience.  Time - and sometimes a lot of it - is needed before one's introspection can truly produce revelations.  Being conscious of one's daily experience is necessary, though, to prepare for such an endeavor.  I consider my life to be just that...constant preparation.

For a confessional blogger...Ralph Waldo Emerson's quote, "Life is a journey, not a destination" might be rewritten thus, "Our life story is the journey, our understanding of ourselves is the destination...and if others tag along for the epiphany, no matter how subtle or how earth-shattering, so much the better."

Blogging is a genre unto itself.  But the sub-genres are numerous.  Personally, I think that critics who feel the internet is simply overrun with crappy content from inexperienced writers who have nothing of import to share are being elitist.  Not everyone is a "great writer".  But there are hoards of terrible, published works on the shelves of book stores.  What is good (or not) is a matter of choice.  And just because I don't like what someone writes, it doesn't make their work less valuable in the grand scheme of things.  Art is personal.  It is how we gain understanding and insight about the world around us.  It is how we communicate.  It is how we connect.

Anything that allows us to do that is valuable beyond measure.

Everyone has a story.

This has been a Wicked Wednesday post.  Click HERE to see who else is being wicked.