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Monday, April 29, 2013

Room service

He opened the door and my heart was pounding like a mad thing. A million thoughts raced through my head becoming a jumbled blur. This was it then...

I'm a flirt. I love banter and I love the delicious interactions between men and women who aren't afraid of their sexuality. Since I had first entered the world of sex blogging he'd had my attention. Lighthearted, playful, and easy interactions flowed.

I was intrigued as well by this man for more than the delicious glimpses I'd gotten of his body and his intelligence, but also by his life. Beautiful family, open loving relationship with a gorgeous, supportive wife. I'd never been with someone in an open relationship. I'd never been a toy.

I'd never really thought, beyond the fantasy, to seek out such a person or interaction though. Until, amidst one of the flirtatious exchanges of words and images, he suddenly issued me an invitation to join him while he was nearby for work.

I knew it wasn't cocktails and a pleasant meeting he was proposing, although that was certainly part of the deal. Suddenly, this vague daydream was a real and actual possibility. I instantly got hot and wet at the thought and agreed. No hesitation, simply excitement.

We began making plans. Not only did his wife know, she bought the condoms for the trip, which just made me all the more in awe of her and excited. Being single, there wasn't really anyone to tell, except my sister, and that was something I was a bit hesitant to do. After all, how would that conversation go:

"Hi sissy! Just wanted to let you know that I am taking a couple days off of work to go have sex with this really pleasant married man I know from the Internet!"

Um, yeah. I avoided the scenario and imagined reaction throughout all of my planning. Instead I focused on the meeting and the items I wanted to pack for my little overnight adventure. He and I exchanged several emails about practical, logistical concerns  but there were quite a few more texts about what we wanted to do to the other when we were finally afforded the opportunity. Suddenly it became a question of "How many sex toys are too many?" and "Is lingerie overkill or killer?" One of the extremely exciting factors to this for me was the fact that I already knew about this man's sex life. I already knew he was just as open and adventurous as I was and that really, can you ever have too many sex toys?

Finally, the day came to make my trip. The only time I'd spent this much time in grooming prep was when I was doing photos (ok, you got me, I take photos constantly.... but there was extra attention given!). Well, and really, I WAS going to be doing photos. He not only liked photos as much as I do, he even had gorgeous equipment I lusted over almost as much as his beautiful dick.

I'd ran into a little problem earlier on in the week. This problem I refer to as "spray tan leprosy". I'd gotten a spray tan on my legs as usual for photos. The problem this time, was that it rained immediately after and my legs got wet. You aren't supposed to get wet for a few hours after application. So, thanks to in-climate weather, I now had light spots on my legs that needed to be filled in. A bottle of tan in a can and suddenly the holes were filled, even if my legs were now a bit too dark.

I dress immaculately normally. I am a woman who loves to ooze femininity and sensuality, so a lovely, form fitting dress to show of my curves and a pair of strappy heels completed my pinup hair and ruby red lipstick. I was packed, ready, and on the road.

The drive time between home and my destination was about 4 hours. I was overly excited and decided to make good use of the present my sister had purchased me for long car drives. So, thanks to that wonderful little bullet, my trip was made much more pleasant by the two orgasms I had while thinking about what was to come (no pun, okay, maybe a little, intended).

It was during the drive that I finally found my gumption. I'd always confided in my sister, and no matter what she said, I was already on my way, there was no turning back. I finally picked up the phone and told her. To my surprise, she not only said that was awesome (she knew the man too and had actually expressed an interest in meeting him and his lovely wife), she also said she envied my spontaneity. It was perfect, there was nothing left now to worry about...

Except actually BEING there. I pulled into the parking garage of his hotel already wound up. I was in a tightly populated business district with construction going on. I hadn't taken anything for my anxiety because I didn't want the dulled senses side effect. My anxiety was through the roof! I was here, he was so close and my heart began to flutter. I checked myself and decided I wasn't too rumpled from my car trip, it was time to go upstairs.

I knocked. Counted my irregular heartbeats, and suddenly, the door was opened. Bright eyes peeked out at me from behind the door where he had playfully hidden to perpetrate a joke we had previously discussed of him waiting naked for me. His tall frame moved from behind the door and I saw him, in front of me (dressed), for the very first time. The next couple of minutes are a bit hazy to me because my nervous system went into overdrive. Thankfully though, despite my pink stained cheeks and nervous glances away, he was able to make me feel comfortable with the lighthearted banter I'd enjoyed engaging in with him previously.

He cupped my cheeks and kissed me, taking the edge off while I got settled and we exchanged pleasantries. I can't describe the transition from friendly meeting to me yanking his shirt off. No more than a few minutes had passed since I had been in the room. He heeded to my earlier expressed desire of worrying about taking clothes off and foreplay AFTER I already had him inside of me. I am notoriously impatient. I wanted to taste him, I wanted to feel him, I wanted to fuck him.

See our next segment Special Delivery coming soon to hear what happens next.

Significant Other Meme

So I've seen this going around and enjoyed learning about other's significant other. I originally found this from Sir Q and Me

1. He's sitting in front of the TV, what is on the screen?
History or Discovery Channel. He loves "How it's made", wars and weapons, history made visual, the earth and all its creatures
2. You're out to eat; what kind of dressing does he get on his salad?
     Only ceasar
4. You go out to eat and have a drink, what does he order?
     Tea or water, rum and coke
5. Where did he go to high school?
A ghetto HS.
6. What size shoe does he wear?
7. If he was to collect anything, what would it be?
8. What is his favorite type of sandwich?
chicken club at restaurants and peanut butter and jelly at home
9. What would this person eat every day if he could?
10. What is his favorite cereal?
Cinnamon Toast Crunch

11. What would he never wear?
    Something flowery, or a corset, I want him to when we go to Rocky Horror Picture Show...yeah, not happening
12. What is his favorite sports team?
      doesn't have one (but I do)
13.Who did he vote for?
     While I filed absentee for him, he failed to actually mail out his ballot...sigh, typical
14. Who is his best friend?
     without question: me
15. What is something you do that he wishes you wouldn't do?
     coddle our son or nag him some days with a disclaimer that he wants me to nag him other days
16. What is his heritage?
Amazon (I swear it should be mom's if it's not offical) and Hispanic
17. You bake him a cake for his birthday:
      He would do it better, but chocolate cake
18. Did he play sports in high school?
     Fencing (teehee, how cute) and hockey
19. What could he spend hours doing?
      Gaming, working on cars 
20. What is one unique talent he has?
      getting me to orgasm with me on top - I've had a lot of lovers, he has been the only one. Also, the kids swear that being a former Boy Scout, he can create everything from nothing (we joke he could make a house from dental floss, some twigs, and paper for example). Seriously, whenever something is needed, he comes up with a way to make it with home supplies. Handy for school projects...or kinky projects.

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Friday, April 26, 2013

FFF: Is this Me? And obedient?

Rules: Key Word: Liberation, but not Freedom
Word Count: 199-209
*Accidentally looked at the wrong prompt
My mother taught to always be a strong woman. I was fiercely independent - relationships didn't compliment well.
Then I met Max. Instant attraction: tall, dark, handsome, a magnetizing smile. When I pushed for sex, he said wait.
I'm not patient....but I did. When finally physical, we'd already known intimacy, just his terms. It was amazing. As time went on, I began responding to his desires more frequently. He would grab my hair, I climaxed harder. When he told me how to please him, I was excited - not defiant, resentful. I wanted to...

This is where it's gotten me...sitting in an empty room, my back up against the wall (literally and figuratively). He had honestly shared wanting me submissive to him sexually.
So obedient? Dutiful? These words don't describe me! I think... hands pressed together,  knees bent, like in an upright fetal position. I'm not weak, I'm strong. Thinking upon last night, right before bringing me to orgasm, yanking hair - moving mouth to ear, he whispered: "Not weak. Liberation, but not freedom. Submit to me sexually, break free of biases." Then he thrusted in - I screaming and thoughtless.
Still shuddering at the words; I'd made a decision and stood up.   
Notes: I checked out the FFF through my phone. I don't know if I found an old one, or a different one to a different blog, but somehow I thought this was this weeks '- oops! Didn't discover the truth until I went to submit it Friday morning. However, I'm proud...I don't want this to not be published and seen, it was challenging to write.
This is such a tiny word count, it's ridiculous. I had to cut out 100 words once I was done with the draft. And the key word isn't a word, it's a damn phrase...but it was also highly inspirational to this story. As soon as I saw it, and the picture, I wanted to depict the inner struggle of a woman faced with this decision, against her own preconceived notions.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

A's Acting

To be, or not to be the school girl was the question of the night. I stared at the skirt in my hands and let my eyes drift over to the Mary Jane stripper heels, before rolling them at the whole scenario. I've always prided myself on being open sexually and game to try anything, but I didn't know if I could pull this one off.

Random A fun fact: I don't usually go beyond two or three different phrases in the heat of sex talk. The reason being, I think I sound very, very special, and not the OMG-look-at-her-take-that-whole-banana special, more like the I-confused-snack-foods-for-my-vagina special (see Twitter). So this then has me limiting myself to a few key phrases I have grown comfortable saying.

This obviously doesn't lend itself to being a genius sexy-kitten role player. So, with visions of him thinking he is fucking William Shatner in a plaid skirt, I was a bit apprehensive to fulfill this particular fantasy. This is when my real acting skills shine. I could charm the pants off of a nun, so I quickly started trying to come up with ways and excuses not to do this.

So far the only go-to move I could come up with was to just be naked and waiting, and get his dick inside of my mouth as quickly as possible. Maybe he wouldn't notice the lack of pigtails and super itchy skirt. In a mild, sarcastic panic for a bit, I indulged the fantasies of pleading illness or insanity (I call it the snack food defense), before coming to grips that I had to at least try.

Sigh. He'd indulged the things I wanted to try, and the nightmare of getting all of that honey out of his chest hair meant that I owed it to him to at least attempt the school girl thing. On went the white knee highs which I couldn't help but admire sliding over my smooth, tan legs. Naughty red lace thong gracing the ample ass I'd come to love, that blasted skirt....

Ruby red lips in a nervous smile and a slight fidget greeted him as he came in the door. His eyes lit up in appreciation as he took in the sight of me, and my body relaxed. William Shatner or no, I knew we were going to have a great time together. He came over to take me in his arms and I made some coy remark about "Oh Mr. So-and-So! What are you doing!?" because it was his fantasy and he was breaking the rules.

It was bad... The only thing missing was the dramatic hand placed against my forehead and the fluttering of my lashes. He laughed. A lot. I laughed. Role playing just wasn't something I was ever going to be good at, but laughter during sex I can handle.

He tumbled me to the bed, and I am grateful to say, the rest of the evening was just "Let's fuck A with a plaid skirt on and try to avoid getting stabbed with the stripper heels" instead of the Shakespearean acting session I had been dreading all day.

Sometimes, as long as you try, the failed attempts at kink can be just as hot and fulfilling as those you can do like a pro.

Tuesday, April 23, 2013


Click and play: The Whole Story Needs this Song!
Once upon a time, I had a lover. He was goofy, crazy, and quite the nerd. Within a week of us being intimate with each other, I realized that he was clueless with what to play for make out music - and I mean CLUELESS.
The first hint was given one day when I came over to his house. Being new, we were still impressing each other. I looked hot, all dolled up and sexy. He immediately pulled me over to the bed, and we started kissing. He had roommates, so I pulled back, and breathlessly suggested, "put on some music to block us out."
"Good idea," he said, and proceeded to disappear over the foot of the bed, where his CDs were stored. I heard some shuffling around, and then he popped his head up, holding a CD proudly inquires: "Dr. Dre?". Now for those who don't know, Dr. Dre is gangsta rap. Not exactly romantic, or passionate sexy music.
I wasn't sure if he was kidding. "Um, no, try something else." And down again his head went with the CD, below the end of the bed.
Another hint, and the reason why you're hopefully listening to this incredibly high pitched funny dance song, is that the very next day he decided to try to be sexy for me. In all sincerity, he began to slowly unbuckle his belt, pull it out in his most provocative way, and then pushed play for his "strip" song.
Can you guess where this is going? Yep, The Hampster Dance song came on. Now, he was good looking, muscles and fit, but a true nerd. So in his sexiest moves, he began to circle his head around, maintaining eye contact with me, and then slowly lifted his shirt, pretending to move it down again to be a tease, before it came completely off. A few belly rolls, for lack of anything else to call it, and then he moved to his jeans' button, winking as he undid it. An attempt at some shuffling/bouncing type movement as he lowered his zipper. He hooked his thumbs in the sides of his jeans, and moved in a hula-type fashion while moving the sides of his jeans up on one side and down on the other, and then back again. A few repetitions of this, he turned around, and then yanked down his pants, with his ass nicely in the air. Once he was completely free of his jeans, he turned back around and proceeded to do the same hula dance to take off his boxers, except he didn't turn around for his ass to be the focus, this time it was on his semi-aroused cock.

What is it with men who have a naked penis freely moving? Can you guess his next signature move? It was the helicopter, in which he moved his hips so his penis swung around in circles.

Now, again, he seemed very sincere in his attempts to be sexy. He had no rhythm, and he clearly needed to go to a strip club (I took him to his first one much later in our relationship) to see what sexy moves looked like while removing clothing. But he was putting on a show for me, so I tried very very VERY hard to not laugh, but the hell could I not?

To this day, I still have no idea if that was his idea of sexy, or if he was just joking around with me. I never wanted to insult him with "oh hey, were you for real with that hilarious strip dance?" in case that was his best effort. From then on out, I chose what we were listening to...but I can never hear The Hampster Dance song and not think of a goofy but gorgeous guy stripping unskilled for me...and smile.

Wicked Wednesday... be inspired & share...Not the most wicked, but certainly humorous. See who may be wicked...

Monday, April 22, 2013

Crystal Delights Minx Bunny Tail Review

I won a beautiful minx bunny tail  from Crystal Delights during an Easter contest they had on twitter via @CrystalDToys. That's right, I finally won something... and what a something it was!

I was so excited to get my bunny tail and decided to write a review about it. I'm not being compensated, nor was I asked to, but I love it so much I couldn't resist.

This is far an away my favorite anal toy so far. The packaging was discrete ant the tail itself protected from harm in a heavy duty holder. It included a small bottle of lube and a wonderful care instruction sheet. This was invaluable to me because it is the first "tail" I've owned and had no idea how to deal with and care for the fur. Taking it out of the packaging I was struck by the quality of the craftsmanship throughout the entire product. From the quality of the hand crafted glass, to the fur of the tail, I was even more excited to get it home and test it out.

One of my favorite features about the tail, aside from the ascetics, is the size and spacing between the flared base and the bulb. My biggest problem with other plugs is that I have a big rear end. This presents a problem as my body doesn't have enough space to get around the bulb of the plug and hold between the two. With my bunny tail that problem was eliminated. With a length of 3.3", of which the insertible length is 2.8" and the bulb measures 1.3", it's deliciously sized. It is definitely a great fit for me.

My only reservation with my bunny tail was concern about the lube getting on the fur. I'm quite the lube queen when doing anything anally, and I always wanted to make sure I wasn't ruining my fur. So far, after several uses, it hasn't been a problem, but it is something I keep my eye on.

This has quickly become my favorite anal product by far out of all of the ones I have previously tried, and it looks so cute in! Obviously this isn't a plug that you would wear out under your clothes as some people like to do. It is definitely apt for a sexy little show at home though!

I look forward to trying out other products from Crystal Delights, their craftsmanship and beauty simply beg for you to try more.


Sigh. This wasn't going as well as I'd hoped. I was making a muck of things and it wasn't only hurting my cause, it was hurting him. I had so carefully rehearsed the way things would go, but as soon as I sat him down, it went out of the window.

"I love you."

I knew that these words confused him. I knew they too, almost hurt. It didn't make them any less true; and it also didn't alter the path I had set myself on.

When I first started seeing K it was uncanny almost, the similarities to my Ex. I thought I had done it, finally done it. Ex was everything I had wanted in the care and love department with me, but sexually we were a nightmare. I spent over 5 years in a very loving, committed, nunnery. I wasn't about to do that again. K is a big strapping man and from the first he handled me with care, and cherished me... He also threw me over his shoulder and then on the bed. He'd pull my hair and leaving glowing prints on my ass... I finally had everything. So I thought.

I had been ready to settle down into monogamy again after enjoying the single life for awhile. To achieve this goal I started taking my time getting to know someone. K and I were great together and he respected me for waiting before intimacy. I spent every night cradled in his arms. We'd kiss and touch, sigh and breathe, and reach heights of desire that were hard to come down from.

Finally, though, I was done with waiting. I spent every moment with this man and I knew I had him. We took a weekend trip; I took my lingerie. We had a lovely night out and once we got back to the hotel we were both giddy with anticipation. I lit candles around the room and after a steamy bath I came out in my corset and silk stockings, my garter lace and delicate. My cheeks flushed with excitement...

We came together on the bed and there was a driving urgency, a need that had to be fulfilled. What felt like hours of teasing passed until I was urgent to have him inside of me. This is where it gets tricky.

I had already had a discussion with K about medical problems he had as a child that rendered him unable to feel sensation in more than a very small area on his penis, and the surgery at a young age that meant it never grew up with the rest of him body. He was this BIG strapping man with an extremely disproportionate body. I didn't care then and I still didn't care now.

It didn't work. I am so extremely short and he is so very very tall that the only position we can manage is missionary, and that hurts. My hips can't span him, there was no leverage for me on top. Our height differential made from behind tedious and frustrating as we couldn't even thrust, no matter what we raised me up on. When we were done, it was more an air of defeat and discontent instead of completion.

I got a twinge of apprehension but didn't express it. I offered reassurances, joked about my tiny legs, and said we had so many more opportunities for exploration. We continued on with out weekend and everything was just the same as it had always been.

We had problems with the condom. It wouldn't stay on and what sensation he did have the ability to feel was stripped away. We had a frank conversation about safety and responsibility and decided we would both head out to our doctors and get testing. I was committing to this relationship and monogamy henceforth.

After more blissful time together our results finally came back, and we finally got the green light. I have to say, I expected completely different results from our previous attempt. The foreplay was still amazing. The things this man can do with his hands gives me the shivers just to think of.

45 minutes later and I am covered in sweat. My hips are screaming and my poor body is dried out and tired. K still hadn't come. We waved the flag of defeat and told ourselves tomorrow we'd do better. Weeks go by, our relationship is perfect but the sex is becoming something we are both avoiding now. Sexually, physically, we aren't compatible. I cannot bring my partner to orgasm and it's killing me. I'm a sex goddess in my own right and I do not know what to do with his body. He doesn't feel head, wrapping my hand around him hurts, and other than shallow thrust in missionary, we can't even have sex.

By now though, there's a problem: I love him. I love him enough to be searching desperately for a solution. My self esteem has tanked and I don't make any effort to be sexy... I am losing a very huge piece of me, drowning in loving someone I am not compatible with. His Ex left him for another man, the first woman he had ever been with. Now suddenly, the second might be leaving because of sexual problems. I couldn't do that to him.

I did a lot of soul searching. I felt selfish, confused, and apprehensive. I was thinking about shifting my views on everything I had ever thought was sacred in a relationship. I wanted us to open our relationship.

I couldn't think of losing K, but I couldn't lose ME to US.

I had discussed with my sister the idea and she linked me to some great things on how to approach it. I read everything I could find and formulated a game plan. I had previously been withdrawing from K and now I redoubled my efforts to give him affection and show him I loved him.

So here we were, sitting down for this talk I had planned for ages it seems like and I was making a muck of it. His instant reaction was one of inadequacy. I told him repeatedly that it had nothing to do with my love for him or that he was inadequate at all. I was the problem. I was kink and fetish and insatiable. It was just how I was made. The things that made him love me, that made me vivacious and irresistible were now too leading us down this unexplored path.

I wanted to be open. Not just our relationship, but our communications, our feelings. I would never cheat and so I needed to make this an acceptable part of our relationship. K had many of the problems I knew he would, they'd be the same potential problems I'd be opening myself up to if we opened our relationship. Jealousy, possessiveness, fear. What if the unknown "she" could get him to climax when I had proven so woefully incapable of it myself. I explained that we would have to have very clear boundaries. I was ok with coming home every night rules, of letting the other know what was going on while sparing them the unnecessary details. Of taking it slowly over months before any actual relationships with others were formed.

No matter what I said, though, K always looked - always said the same. He was unable to see himself being okay with it; he was inadequate. It broke my heart. This was our last option. We'd spoken with doctor's, we'd done counseling, tried new toys, wedges, everything. This had to work.... Or I had to leave. I told K that I didn't expect him to be ok with the idea at first, and to just consider it for a bit.

A week went by and K was redoubling his efforts to please me and I was doing the same to him. It wasn't enough for me though. This was my path, this was my choice, and either we could journey into it together, or I would need to do so on my own. I was beginning to withdraw again and knew I needed to bring up my resolve. Now I just needed the right time to do it.

One day, K suddenly comes over to me, rubs my leg and says "Hey, I just wanted you to know, that blog you asked me to read? I read it. I also ordered a book on polyarmorous relationships and I've been reading it along with things I've looked up. I want you to know, that I'm thinking about it. I'm trying to see if I can be okay with it. I love you."

My heart melted and I knew I loved him more. Even if it didn't end up being my perfect fairytale ending, even if he decided he would never be okay with it, I knew I made a right decision in loving him and wanting to stay.

Some things remained to be seen, but regardless, at least I knew that the man I loved, loved me enough to try to be open.

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Orgasm Count - Week Two

Seen our # Orgasm Count on twitter? JohnDStories created the website, wonderfully keeps the scoreboard up-to-date, and made the most hilarious rule page based on our twitter-ings, not to mention sadly only one orgasm per session allowed.
Truly, I am just curious. So, how many orgasms do I really have...?

Mother and child an image of a sculpture by State Library of Queensland, AustraliaWeek Two:
Competition: 13                                                      Reality: 36

Interference: I have seen my husband perhaps twice this week - not two days, but twice as he passed out in bed right after waking me for sex, so there goes many opportunities for orgasms. After we were all sick last week, I also had kids' practices to make up (so double driving around), a house in disarray, and a ton of other domestic stuff to make up for. This did not lend itself to really any masturbation time, as I fell into bed pretty much exhausted every night.

This is just a very honest posting of a challenged wife and mother. And as drab as this week has been, there's also no interesting stories to share towards this count.

Saturday, April 20, 2013

Friday, April 19, 2013

Playing footsie during casting call

I've had a man profess to having a foot fetish before. He'd suck my toes and rub my feet and generally be a normal guy otherwise. When I met K and he claimed to have a foot fetish as well, I didn't even bat an eye.

I love my feet. I think they're adorable. Getting a foot rub or having my toes sucked on while being licked from head to foot is delightful and erotic, sign me up! I did, however,  get a bit more than I bargained for with K.

The man never stopped touching my legs and feet. At first I had my usual motto of "if it gets you off, it gets me off". I did enjoy the attention. I did get a shiver when romantically engaged and he'd put my toes in his mouth, but this was becoming a pandemic.

To him, touching my leg or foot was no different a sign of affection than patting my shoulder. One night, while I was meeting his friends for the first time he bent down and kissed my foot as he was getting up to go grab something. You could've heated the house with my cheeks as his friends looked at me, curious expressions upon their faces. We had to have a talk about what was considered taboo in public and what wasn't.

K and I would be in bed (or the livingroom, or any other part of the house) behaving like naughty kids,  and invariably, more attention was paid to my legs and feet than any other part of my body. K made the experience, something I'd been pretty neutral about, erotic. I enjoyed distracting him with stockings. The sight of my small delicate feet strapped into a pair of gorgeous shoes would drive him to whisk me into the bedroom where he'd slowly remove my clothes and worship my body, kissing and caressing his way down.

It was a unique experience, adjusting to my partners fantasies. I loved the foot rubs and pedicures. I eventually stopped apply lotion to my legs myself, knowing how much pleasure he got from caressing soft skin and smoothing, working lotion into my feet. His attention solely focused on the objects off his desire resting in his lap.

After some time, because of my openness, K confessed to another fetish, a side dish, an accent if you will. K had a cast fetish, for, you guessed it, feet.

According to him, casting was the only socially acceptable form of bondage, which he knew I was into. My interest was piqued and I questioned him in depth. According to K, there is nothing more erotic than a leg and foot held immobile in a cast. He enjoys putting his partner in a medically unnecessary cast, he also enjoys the sex while his partner is thus "bound".

When questioned about the feasibility of this fetish, K expressed that his previous partner would be in a cast from as short a time as one day, to once,  two weeks. When appearing in public people simply assume that the person in the cast has merely been injured. Happens all the time, no one would ever dare assume it was a fetish. K's fetish always involved the foot in some way. Any cast he wanted his partner to appear it, it was always at least the foot/ankle.

I'm incredibly open about exploring and experimenting, however the cast fetish proves too much of me. The anxiety of being trapped, the damage one can do to ones body, and the lack of normal mobility are things I cannot get past.

To compensate I've decided to be a martyr and purchase more red tie polish, endure another pedicure, sit through having my thighs caressed and kissed, my calves kneed, and my toes sensually sucked on... It's a hard life, but we do what we must. ;)

Elust #45

Photo courtesy of CreativNooky
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] #46? Start with the newly updated rules, come back May 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

Bringing Toxic Sex Toy Facts Out of the Attic
How Do I Get My Wife to Dominate Me?
I Need This
~ Featured Posts (Molly’s Picks) ~
Speaking the unspeakable
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

Easy Come Easy Go: A Look at Orgasm Control
I came before I was ready
Relationships and age difference
PolyAnna's Musings: Different is Good, Right?
Seriously Proud Queer
Spanking Kink of the Week
How to Be Good in Bed
A Thousand Small Unhappinesses
What's in a Number?
The Absence of,How to Tell if a Man is Gay
Stop Shitting on the Bottoms

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

It's Not Misandry, You're a Douchebag


Catalyst: How it Inspired

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Caning: To count or not to count
Slavery and Social Death, by O. Patterson
His Eyes Hungry. His Body Pleads: Use Me!
Toilet Whore
And then, I apologized.

Erotic Fiction

Wicked Wednesday: A little bit of confusion
The Moment
Waxing Lyrical
The "L" word
Lolita Twenty-Thirteen, Part Three

Erotic Non Fiction

Girl on Girl
The Moment I Felt Owned
Tasting Her
Acting on Instructions
Final Cruise
A Lazy Sadistic Orgasm
I had 8 days of sex.
An hour together
Cheerful Disappointment
What is Erotic?
The Coin Flip
Playing with Adam
A Trip to the Hardware Store
Fall From Grace


A Somewhat Different Eroticon2013 4~part Post


The Dark Place

FFF Stolen Moment

FFF Prompt - April 19 - Stolen
Key Words - Stolen
Word Limit - 300
Extra Words - 10 words for everyone you personally invite to join FFF
Extra Credit - Involve a Panda Bear

She bit her lip, unsure what to do. Ordinarily, she knew, but this wasn't like him. Halfway through moving day, and already their relationship was changing. She pushed thoughts aside, proceeded into the room, hoping instincts would guide her with this new predicament.

He was laying on their mattress, stolen from her parents' house, not that they'd miss it from her old room. She knew he was worried what her parents thought, moving in "with a bum like him", but just because he didn't have a degree or great paying job didn't make him less wonderful. He was worried already about buying this fixer-upper; she found it symbolic of their planning a life together: possibilities with an imperfect canvas, sexy image he'd be as he fixed it, muscles prominent, sweat glistening.

He needed to calm down. She dropped her pants next to her panda bear bag she adored, constantly stolen by her friend; she dropped her panties next to his shoes as she approached him slowly. He looked at her at first sound of cloth moving, steadily gazed, waiting to see her next move. His silence was unnerving. She looked at his chest, shirtless while moving, his blue jeans, the blue mattress, smiled as she realized she was wearing a blue shirt.

"Don't be so blue," she instructed, as she straddled his hips and leisurely sank down onto him. The jeans couldn't hide his erection, pressed through the rough material on her sensitive, soft pink folds. Teasingly, she unhurriedly eased her t-shirt up, where his hands - those gifted hands that would soon craft their house a home - already reached up to feel the fullness of her breasts. She realized this was a stolen moment in what hinted a difficult journey, but they had the rest of their lives...

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Non Vanilla Flavors

When I saw the Wicked Wednesday post, I texted my sister and asked her if she had it (like the foot fetish one for Kink of the Week); she replied she was excited to write it. I felt like I had nothing to contribute. I (and she) would definitely identify my sister with these labels, but for myself? Not so much. If I had to choose a label for myself, it would be vanilla, especially in reading so many sex bloggers.

And then I read Molly's contribution this week. And my sister, as is her lovely wont, impulsive took off for a few days on Wednesday, without writing for Wicked Wednesday yet.

Now my brain is going, and I have an opening...

So here's my non-vanilla flavors:

Source: wikipediaKnives: I've always had a thing for knives. Since I was young, I used to practice throwing them at my sister (intentionally missing, but she served as a non-target practice, if you will). Okay, not responsible, but we're siblings. Sword fighting furthered my love of cold steel, and knives have been a part of my kink for seventeen years now. I love the danger aspect, I love the rough scratchy tip, the cold feel of the steel against fevered flesh.

Bondage: almost just as long as my blade fetish, I love the control of a blindfolded and tied lover, the mischievous little imp comes out and plays, and I love the watch their reactions when I unexpectedly tease and please them. I love to hear them beg me.
I love to surrender the control as well. Always in command in my life, it's nice to not be for once. I love not knowing what's going to happen, not being able to stop them teasing me relentlessly, or to take control of my pleasure. I love to see what inventive or creative things my lover will bring in while I am blindfolded. I love the anticipation. I love the denying some senses so that I am more aware of others; likewise, I love not being able to play with them so that for once I am solely focused on my own body and reactions and pleasure.
I can easily "switch" due to the above. However, I am certainly leaning more towards submissive.

Rough sex: I have always preferred a faster pace. I love the rougher sex when I may be sore afterwards, hell I may even bleed, but it was worth it. It's more exciting to me - it shows passion (in the lack of control) in my opinion, and I'm big on that component.

Rough nipple play: just a few years into this one, I love the sensitivity of my nipples after being used roughly. The hard, sensitive buds keep me so turned-on, and serve as a constant reminder of what transpired - a secret only my body is aware of (and of course, the lover). I like my vibrating nipple clamps, but they don't always stay as well as I'd like.

Spankings: Ah, a fairly new love of mine. I've now been bruised from it, and it was awesome. Certainly, I think I am in love with a spank, or two, during the height or after-glow of orgasm, but the bruising wasn't bad either.

Wax: The newest in my repertoire, something that will be a special occasion kink, I think. I really like it, but it is certainly one of those "in the mood for" things. It's shocking and surprising, without being able to anticipate. Who knows, maybe after more uses, it may be a common occurrence.

As for roles: always being in control - from work with over a hundred people that I am in charge of, to family (not just immediate), to domestically, truly I am person who is always responsible for decisions. I want to relinquish that in my sex life - not personal life - but the partner I need in the bedroom is different from the partner I need in the living room. This has been an awareness of mine for a little over a year, and I am slowly trying to move towards that direction in my wants, and requests. It is now what I desire utmost in a lover - to not be in charge of our sex life.

So what do you know? This vanilla person can discuss BDSM.

Wicked Wednesday... be inspired & share...

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

TMI Tuesday: Sex

1. Have you ever considered yourself completely sexually satisfied?

Oh, absolutely. There have been a number of times where I feel like it was more than enough, like the night I was tied and blindfolded. It was the perfect combination of excitement, teasing, experimentation, and having my partner know what I needed.

2. What was the last sexy photo you took?

The last Sinful Sunday, a pinstripe corset and skirt pulled up to expose ass. My dearest sister had to put makeup on my ass to cover some bruising from a spanking, an experience we kept joking about never imagining going through

3. When was the last sexy photo you took AND sexted? What was it of and to whom was it sent?

Some of the photos that my sis took I sent to my partner, who was not with me. He replied with a few yummy ideas of what he wanted to do, and of course I came back with some decadent ideas as well. I was in numerous pieces of lingerie, since I sent an array photos.

4. How is your sex-life?
a. Like a wet blanket
b. Like a warm cozy comforter
c. Like an electric blanket getting you all heated up
d. None of the above, I sleep without covers

c. Like an electric blanket getting you all heated up: we have always added new elements, but slowly, so it's comfortable but not what I'd describe "cozy". Cozy, to me, implies settled, tucked, standard. We never get into any routines, and we are always evolving. Heating things up. That doesn't mean we don't stick with a particular "favorite" positon for a week or more, but there are far too many possibilities, and we like exploring, not to mention almost every session we go through several positions. And my goodness, but my man gets me so hot and bothered. Since reading blogs, however, we've really increased the speed in which we change and I suggest/demand new things.

5. What’s your idea of good foreplay?

A long session of it, starting with my mind with the promise or hint of what is to come, compliments throughout the day, shared fantasies, and when we do come together: passion and attention to each other - unhurriedly but with an intensity.
For myself, it would be nice if I could orgasm before he even penetrates me.

Bonus: Can you have a great, long-lasting sex life with the same partner? How?

Absolutely, by communicating, continuing to fantasize and share, experimenting, giving each other independence so there is space to close when together, and looking at each with new/fresh perspectives as we change and grow.

How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Multiples Count Here...

Twitter found my sister and I engaged in a humorous competition.  Heard of the Orgasm Count? Probably if you follow us on twitter. My sister, when I announced I had 25 orgasms in one day alone, decided that multiples shouldn't count, check with the contestants, and they agreed. JohnDStories created the most hilarious rule page based on our twitter-ings, not to mention sadly only one orgasm per session allowed.
Truly, I am just curious. I've never kept track of my orgasms. I am married with someone who knows every button to press, and tries to fulfill every fantasy I have. So orgasms are not elusive in the slightest to my body. Still, how many do I really have...?

Week One:
Competition Count:     10                                                     Multiple Reality: 30

Interestingly enough, on day one almost set the alarm at midnight to get started. Husband decided to set it for early morning. We thought we were done with three sessions, but once I saw two other bloggers hit three, I pushed him for one more. I did, however, patiently wait until he was done vacuuming.
I panicked that we needed to get ahead on a Sunday, because once the work week started, and kids returned, we were going to drastically slow down.
Day four only reflects our typical average of 2.

Running Interference: day two (and three), my husband woke up and fingered me to orgasm, but said he wasn't feeling well enough for sex (but he stated that after a blow job). As soon as he stood up, he had to rush to the bathroom. Either stomach flu or food poisoning - not sexy. He was incredibly ill all day, not even going into work (a situation I've never seen).
I went to work, and returned with a fever.
Next day we both too exhausted, and he still wasn't feeling well. End result: I went from being tied in the lead to under 12 orgasms :(
Day five and six immediately following work, my son starts vomiting, with a fever following. It was a long night, and I called into work the next day.

Story of the week: Going with the apparent conflicting theme of the week:

It's late when my husband gets home, as always. I had just started brushing my teeth, getting ready for bed. "What are you doing up so late?" he questions, surprised.

"I just now put our son to bed," I reply heading for the bed where he follows me. I slip on a tshirt of his, the length hitting just above my knees; I sleep naked almost exclusively. "Please sleep with boxers on in case our son needs us in the middle of the night." He also sleeps naked.

It is a statement to how sick our son is just as clear as if I had gone into detail about it. "Okay," he agrees. "I'll keep our door cracked then too, because he can't open it." This new place, the door to our room doesn't fit the frame well; luckily it's a tight fit, but it is a pain to open and close.

Ah, the unspoken language of parents: we're wearing clothes to sleep in, the door will be cracked, literal translation, "we aren't having any sex tonight."

He kisses me on my forehead and pulls the covers up over me, tucking me primly. "I love you. I'm going to get something to eat," (I had not brought him dinner, unable to travel with a sick kid) "I'm starving. I'll probably play some games too."

Sure, why not? It's not like we were having sex, and I was exhausted and really not caring what he did, just grateful that he was home. "Please check on him before you come to bed, and make sure he's okay," I requested, and he nodded, then left me.

I slept that night fitfully and awoken three different times. The punctuations of awakening made me recall the different dreams I had.

In one, I was having sex with a creature - not human - but having human physical characteristics. The details have mostly escaped me already.

In the second dream, I was having sex with multiple vampires. Again, and especially because of my boy's little voice waking me, the details are hazy. I had to put my son on the couch, and set him up with cartoons; he couldn't sleep anymore, and he had a high fever. Once he was settled, and I felt comfortable, I went back to bed, snuggling for warmth against my husband's sleeping form.

The third dream I awoken from I could lay in bed and think back. Most of the sex bloggers were there, and we lived on this new island in space. Marie Rebelle had the largest house, and most of us around her were very poor, and barely able to scrape by. But she was gracious, and giving, and often we would gather at her house for parties or just to socialize. For some reason, my lover went missing, and was assumed dead after awhile. I was taken and raped repeatedly by several men. Finally, I threw myself upon a man who was sweet, and I could manipulate because he wasn't very smart. I convinced him to marry me, and I toiled at our land just as hard and for as many hours as he did. He occasionally wanted sex as part of the bargain, and while I didn't want to have sex with him, I did agree from time to time more as a sense of obligation.
*This dream is clearly influenced by a book that I had just read, recommended from a fellow blogger.

Such a juxtaposition of desire and family responsibility that night. I often will remember erotic dreams - my husband swears I have them every night, as every time he touches me after I've been sleeping, I am wet. But the creature and vampire sex is a new one. Dreaming about bloggers is probably because this community is such a big part of my life already. As for Rebel, well, she's far and away leading this competition, definitely in the "biggest house" as it were.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Suit Up

 A is amazingly artful
"TRUE! --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am" - Edgar Allan Poe,
(reflects my feelings)
Sinful SundayCome see who else is artful and amazing

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Shades of submission

The rope, it binds me firmly in it's tight embrace. Mastery, dominance, control, binds me firmly to you. I see your love in the delicate violet marks upon my skin, the rosy glow of the ropes impressed upon my body.

"You're such a good girl"

The sharp sting upon my thigh, the soft featherlight caress of your tongue and your lips soothing the offended area.

My reward for immediately obeying given to me by hanging my head over the end of the bed, filling my mouth with your delicious taste as your hands seek out the secrets held between my thighs. Fingers then stroking the delicate throat you can see yourself sliding in and out of.

The bed is drenched under your skillful ministrations and I am helpless to withstand the maelstrom of sensations you evoke within me. My drug, my release.

Finally, you move to give me the ultimate pleasure and I am not proof against the grinding of your hips and the power of your hands. We reach that sweet haven of ultimate bliss and the world pauses for a moment.

Long after life has forced us to leave our warm cocoon locked in each others arms, I carry with me the sweet reminder of who owns my heart and my body, in the lovely, delicate shades hidden upon my skin.
Wicked Wednesday... be inspired & share...

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Tied and blindfolded

"Tie me." Okay, so I'm not for subtle, or pretty words.

He smiled, indulgently. "Okay."

"And we're bringing the knife, and the candles."


I bounced on the bed as I waited for him to get the ties out of our ammo can (must be a military things). He fastened them to the four bedposts, already knowing that they need to be as loose as possible to compensate for a small female stretched out on a Cal King bed. He lit the candles, grabbed a large towel and draped it in the middle of the bed. I proceeded to flip myself onto the center of it, crinkling the towel so he grabbed the corners and smoothed it out again.

He reached over my to strap a wrist in, and his penis hovered above my face. So tempting, so delicious, and I wasn't tied up yet, so I lifted my head and wrapped my mouth around the shaft, probing the head with my tongue as my lips pushed further up onto his shaft. I started sucking gently, but he moved up further; I increased the suction, but he pulled out of my mouth, smiled and shook his head, then proceeded to tie my other wrist.

He brushed the hair back from my face, gently stroked the side of my head, and then reached back and grabbed my hair at the base of the neck. He forced my head up slightly and pushed his still damp member into my mouth, allowing me to suck a few times, then pulled me back, then pressed me back to suck. He had never controlled this element before, and being denied something I wanted made me want it even more. I would let out a sound of disappointment every time he forced me away. After five or six times, he completely moved away and down to my ankles, tightly binding them, forcing my legs apart.

He grabbed the blindfold and tenderly adjusted it to my face. When we take out ties, we always use a blindfold; I don't recall us ever using one without the other. I love not knowing where he is going next, trying to anticipate, relying on the sounds, smells, subtle movement from the bed. He has more of an advantage than I do - he can reach me without touching the bed, I am too short and he can almost always feel where I am on the bed when he is blinded.

He was still near my face when he proceeded to torment me again with sucking him, his hand back firmly in my hair, guiding my mouth and his cock where he needed, withdrawing and then allowing my mouth back around him. Just ever so briefly, then I felt him remove himself completely off the bed.

"Oh, we have all the temperatures tonight," he stated matter of factly and I felt something very cold and smooth rubbing against the side of my rib. I drew in a breath at the touch of chill, exhaling the breath gradually. Chilliness brushed lower, down the side of the hip and around above the knee, before unhurriedly making its way up to my inner thigh. I recognized it now as our glass dildo. The glass seems to stay arctic for so long. It nudged itself delicately between my lips, rubbed its way up my clit, and then grazed a trail around a breast, rubbing the nipple and making it pucker from the cold. His mouth warmed the cold flesh, a pleasant contrast, soft but wide open kisses to fully cover as much as possible, the tongue flicking the nipple a few times, before pulling up, grasping with suction and tightening on just the nipple, applying a bit of tugging with his mouth. I moaned and attempted to arch up, my pussy clenching.

He inched away just briefly, and there was a small buzzing noise. My other nipple was pinched and forced up, stretched for a nipple clamp to come down on it, the vibrating strong in such a small sensitive zone. He kissed the other nipple again, his hand slowly going down to gently stroke my clit, and I thought he was going to apply the other clamp, when I heard him whisper, "I wonder if you'll like this".

I felt him sit up, and another small buzzing sound, before his fingers played with my clit, rubbing back and forth until it swelled and became more prominent. Suddenly a vibrating sensation was there, and I protested (was it a protest?), "Oh fuck." He inquired if I was okay with that, but before I could offer any other opinions, cold steel touched the side of my breast that did not have the clamp. The tip of the knife point gently scratched its way around the soft globe, the flat of the blade massaged its way across my nipple, and I was breathless.

While I was aware of the shaking clamps on my nipple, and my clit, it became almost background sensation to the cold knife making its way across my body, browsing my stomach, scratching delicately on the inside of my thigh, flat blade almost pressing against my lips. It moved in a slow, icy, deliberate manner. He alternated between the cold smoothness of the blade, pressing it more firmly, chilling my hot skin; and the tip, softer, almost gossamer at points, daintily skimming and scratching the surface.

He set the knife aside, and his tongue flicked the tip of the nipple trapped in the clamp. The tiny little top became so central to every nerve ending, every thought. It felt ridiculously hypersensitive, and amazingly good. He gradually slid the clamp off, kissed the nipple more firmly, softly blew on it, cooling it with his breath. He reached down and carefully took off the clamp on my clit. "Did you like that?" he asked, his fingers massaging the incredibly receptive pearl, before dipping between my lips and discovering how wet I was. "Oh yes, you liked that," he confirmed, and I could hear the smile of satisfaction in his voice. He moved his finger slowly in and out a few times, not to please or press any buttons, but to tease, before he withdrew and I felt the side of the bed give slightly as he shifted away from me.

Suddenly a hot splatter stunned me, and my indrawn breath gave voice to my surprise. It wasn't pleasurable - it was fiery and shocking. Another scalding drop kissed my chest, but being more prepared, it didn't bring me out of any reverie - but it still required my upmost attention. Trickles bit by bit fell, first falling in the center of my chest, then my soft breasts, a few scattered splatters touched very sensitive rosy nipples. My body, already aching, adapted quickly to random drips; the hot drops brought the skin to a heightened sensation, quickly cooled, hardened and left traces with the weight and texture against my skin. I began moaning into it, unable to prevent a twitching every so often at the heat, but always an awareness of my own self and my increasing desire.

He brought the glass dildo up against my skin, skimming the surface where the wax was so swiftly I had no idea what he did with the candle. It was excruciating winter, such a stark dissimilarity, and I writhed as much as the bindings allowed me to, trying to escape the icy glass against some sensitive places and endeavoring to welcome the touch in other places. Slowly, the glass skated across bare skin or raised slightly over the wax, the wax a buffer against the chill in small places. Both nipples were massaged until they were hardened points, then the glass was rubbing against my clit, just briefly. I cried out, wanting...I had no idea what anymore, but just yearning.

The glass parted my lips, and dipped agonizingly slow into my folds, my heated wet passion seemingly an unbearable furnace that felt the onslaught of frosty glass, slithered slowly, sinking, still so cold, my entrance cooling with every new movement inside, my depths aware of the temperature difference but adjusting, warming. Once he moved the dildo fully inside me, he pulled out just as slowly, my folds cocooning, my excitement allowing easy movement. Then down, fast, quickly, and back up to almost the round tip fully out, and suddenly he was fucking me hard with the toy, and my body was so ready for the release, my hips moving as much as the ties would allow, my thighs taunt and resentful of the stinted freedom, and I was screaming into the orgasm.

When I was done, he wrenched the toy suddenly out of my spent body and positioned the head of his penis against my aroused entrance, pausing with just the tip. I let out a moan of frustration, my body greedy already, longing again so quickly for him. Effortlessly slipping inside, but just as slowly as first with the toy, he was so hard, I held my breath and focused on feeling his length slide down further and further into me. He rotated up, patiently measured, and back down, letting out a sigh of pleasure. After a few more times, in his attempt of fully tease me by almost completely retreating before gliding fully in, he shifted too far out. (The ankle ties make sex challenging, as my legs are not a fully spread as he needed for his broad body.)

"I have an idea," he said, and I questioned what. He didn't respond as he released my ankles. I felt movement around my wrists, but I was busy attempting to move my legs around his body to pull him into me. He seemed impervious to my endeavor, and grabbed a hold of one ankle and raised it up to my hand. I believed he was going to hold one leg up and enter me, but felt a fasten around my ankle, attached to the wrist binding. He had used extra ties that were otherwise too short, and I had forgotten even the existence. My other ankle joined up to my other wrist, and suddenly I was spread as open as I've ever been tied up. "Are you comfortable?" he questioned, the concern in his voice.

"Yes, but I feel very open, and vulnerable," and swiftly as I was speaking his mouth was upon my pussy, a gentle suction on the lips and his tongue thrusted inside me. His mouth was unbelievably hot, the suction was amazing, and I tried to squirm against the feelings - a motion that had always been available to me, but suddenly was not. I was splayed, full access to him. And oh my goodness, his mouth was doing the most incredible things with that advantage. He seemed to lick and suck for so unbelievably long, and I felt spent and ravaged. He hoisted up and then entered me, absolutely no gentleness - but my body offered no resistance. I clenched around him, I shouted so loudly that my throat immediately felt raw, but he now fucked me roughly. In the position I was in, he could thrust against me with no boundaries, he went so deeply into me at moments that I felt him hitting a wall, but beyond any sensation beyond orgasm, I continued to scream as he continued to pound into me.

A slight lull, a shifting of his body, after that extreme pleasure that took me to heights and would have kept me until he decided otherwise, and he alternated at a slower pace. It was more controlled, and I could feel the ridge of his head rubbing the inside of my quivering body.

Oh my...and unexpectedly sweltering tormenting rain on my breasts, on my stomach. The wax was commanding my attention, sizzling, startling, focused skin. He persisted to move slowly in and out of me, my body started to grip him tighter, preparing for another orgasm. Suddenly wax poured down the interior of one thigh, still wholly exposed because of the ties, and it burned a fierce path down, cooling and resting about halfway. It took me out the feeling of orgasm with its intensity, but his continual plunging pushed me right back towards that mood to focus on my muscles beginning to tense and shudder, and wax splashed downward again, bringing my concentration back, but my body wasn't to be diverted for long by a lowly thigh, not when the entire core of me was taut, tight, clenching, spasms rippling through that the third time wax was splayed the thigh was rigid and barely registered, consumed by a violent orgasm. I screamed again, forgot to breathe, floated and became dizzy, became aware of his decelerated movements, of his calm withdraw, almost a mockery of the ferocious orgasm just felt.

His mouth was back between my legs, and his fingers and tongue took turns pillaging my already spent but oh so sensitive sex. I sensed a vibrator, and he used my own juices to stroke up against my clit, amid my folds but not quite entering, and then transitioned down to my asshole. "Can I?" he asked.

He could have asked to bring in twenty people just to gawk at me, for all I cared at the moment. I was blissfully happy, exhaustively spent, easily amenable. I gave a shaky agreement - the few times we've tried anal anything with me I didn't like it, and we had only tried a finger, or a small anal toy, nothing that vibrated, and nothing as large as that.

With the same infinite patience that he used throughout this session, he carefully inserted the vibrator into my small hole after using a lot of lube. I tried to relax into it, for once a little easier just because my body was so complaisant after such pleasure. Before I could feel and fixate on any sort of uncomfortableness, he entered me again, not removing the vibrator.

I felt so full, like there was not enough room for me. My muscles immediately reawakened and began a squeezing pattern that was fast leading to another orgasm, but he kept ruining the pace. "It keeps slipping out," he vented, and slid out of me. "Do you mind if we do it doggy-style?"

I didn't mind if he did me on the moon, I just wanted him deep inside of me again. He reached up and pushed the blindfold up, and even the low lighting hurt my eyes, so I shut them. He freed my ankles, and I felt stiff, it hurt my hips to move my legs down and together. Next, my wrists, and then I rolled over, mostly so I didn't lose my nerve again with the vibrator. I pressed my chest flush to the bed, and raised my ass up. He cautiously slid the vibrator in again, and then sank his length into me. A repeat, that feeling of fullness that I was unused to. He increased the pace of his thrusting, the vibrator easier for him to keep in place, and it wasn't long before we reached a peak of pleasure together from this position. Once more, the release was so quick, and made my entire body respond with such force. He withdrew the vibrator first, and then himself. I managed to do nothing more than collapse on the bed, just laying there.

He laughed at my limp form, laid down next to me, and kissed me on the forehead. "You're a mess," he said. I could do nothing other than smile, (and tweet about it the next day).

Monday, April 8, 2013

Three Word Meme

I found this three word meme from Sir Q and Me
The idea is to use exactly three words to answer each of the questions, so here goes.

1. Where is your cell phone?  Usually near me.

2. Boyfriend/girlfriend?  I wish girlfriend
3. Hair?  Always pulled back
4. Your mother?  Disney, PTSD, Christmas
5. Your father?  30 second call
6. Your favorite item(s)?  Ring, lelo, car
7. Your dream last night?  Twitter, orgasms, hashtag
8. Your favorite drink? Water or tea
9. Your dream guy/girl? Already found him
10. The room you are in? Main middle floor

11. Your fear?  Unhappy lonely family-less
12. What do you want to be in 10 years?  Happy, whole, strong
13. Who did you hang out with last night?  S, C, Me
14. What are you not?  Patient, unmotivated, frigid
15. What's outside your window?  so many trees
16. One of your wish list items?  to be dominated
17. What time is it?  dinner time, yum
18. The last thing you did?  erase person's answers
19. What are you wearing? bra, pants, shirt
20. Your favorite book? Clan Cave Bear
21. The last thing you ate? Yogurt, banana, grapes
22. Your life?  Interesting, moving, blessed
23. Your mood? Consistently all over
24. Your car?  Amazingly trustworthy awesomeness
25. What are you doing at this moment? Typing these words

26. Your summer? Hot, relaxed, traveling
27. Travel plans? Always, impulsive, needed

28. What is on your TV screen?  forever video games
29. Last time you cried?  I can't remember
30. School?  apparently like it