Summer Motivation

M here.

Sorry postings have been slimmer, though I'll explain an amazing time to be had. A, being the playful, little single she is, isn't the most consistent at blogging, though brilliant about articulating her adventures.

As for me, summer is a time of travel, as the kids have off. It is also a time where my husband and I are most assuredly separated, whether by moving, deployments, or I leave him to visit family, etc..It just seems to work that way.

So I don't have a lot of sexy inspiration during the summer, being busy and focused on the kids and their agendas more. Doesn't leave a lot of time for sex (but my masturbation time increases). Kids just have a way of sucking all the sexiness out of life.

On the bright side of all this, while playing a game together with a group of friends, my husband and I bet that I couldn't hold out 11 minutes and 18 seconds until I orgasmed (it would have been the third time). I really didn't think I would win it, but I did! Our friends were kind enough to listen to me orgasm on Skype, and helped keep track of time. My prize: an hour of being tied up.

The next day over the phone he went into delicious detail about painting a picture of what to expect: wrists tied with an immediate orgasm by fingers to keep me extra sensitive, then by oral sex, and again possibly by vibrator. Then ankles tied with knife, wax, cold glass, ice cubes, vibrator...um, I may be forgetting a few other implements. Edging, he promised/threatened five times, before allowing me to be pleased by the sixth. I believe my ankles would also be tied by my wrists by this point. Next tied position, laying on my stomach. Gosh, I believe a spreader and a plug and paddle by this point...anyhow, I have to patiently wait at least another month to have this become a reality, and I am not a patient person.

And while I was listening to the deep, sensual pitch of his voice, almost hypnotic, I couldn't help brushing my fingertips over my puckered nipples, around the soft globe of my breasts, down the curves of my waist and hips, and up my inner thighs. His words went into such great detail on where he would move, what he would do, how he would smile even (though I wouldn't be able to see through the blindfold), that I tightened with expectation. My fingertips grazed my clit, and stayed there for a few minutes, teasing my body in tone with his words, before sliding into my slick folds. I was slowly rubbing, tingling pleasantly with the soft strokes in and out, but when he began talking about edging and finally allowing me to cum, my fingers tensed up and curled and I came.

Hmm, this may be why the details of being flipped over are hazier than the rest. I heard every word, extended my pleasure to the rhythm of his story, but yet...memory with pleasure just isn't strong.

Anyhow, inspiration promises to come in spades. We are going to experiment and play to a teasing level that we haven't yet, and I'm curious how my sensitive body will handle it all.

And while I have to patiently wait for this, hopefully smaller inspirations will be granted. Until then, apologies for the sparse posts. A and I will continue on in the tempo we are motivated to.

-M

Guilty Pleasures

            Thoughts overtake me. Walking, attempting to sleep, sitting down, in the company of others when it’s not appropriate the thoughts rush my body. Wicked imaginings: I envision you. Heat, moans, a quickening of the breath, water pouring down us both. Guilty pleasures flash through my head, bad but oh so good. Whispers of limits, shattered lines, softly uttered curses, religious prayers, and begging of need. Feeling, taste, sight, overwhelming my body, forcing my breaths heavy, devastating my senses. Becoming an obsession, addiction, a drug I need inside my body. Oh the things I need to do to you:  I yearn to have my lips, my tongue, and my hands all over your body, my body gliding along yours. Memories flashing, burning through my head, coursing down my body.  A tightening of where I crave you most. Stop, but to no avail; I bite my lip.  So amazing, overpowering, consuming, fulfilling. Each thought of you my body begs for your touch, careless that it can’t partake. Tender from bittersweet pleasures, a physical reminder of what was. Erotic. Pulsating. Throbbing, hot, wet. Oh God, just once more, one chance encounter, one moment, but it won’t be enough, just a slight cooling and releasing until the next buildup. I’ve had a taste, I desire more. A memory to savor, torture on cold nights. I can already hear my moans for more, sense my body arching towards yours. Anticipation. Waiting. Aching for the moment. I think of you and my blood pounds, excitement mounting. I can feel your deep breathing next to my ear; eyes conveying longing, your desire pressing hard and ready against my skin. Your lips gently pulling on mine. Our bodies entwined, unable to deny urges. Can’t get enough; you’ve taken over my thoughts, my body now powerless to our yearnings. We shouldn’t, so good, stop, please I need you. I can’t alleviate it, I won’t resist, no longer want to. Make me feel the things I crave. I can almost savor you in my mouth, your hands gently in my hair, compelling me on. Smell you on my skin, a stimulating, impetuous scent. Feel you in my body, overwhelming, pushing, engulfing. When I was mindless with heady passion, not yet you said softly then, the words no truer than now. But like then, it’s only a matter of time. Bad thoughts…guilty pleasures.



Ever read something and feel so inspired by the words, that they echo to your story, and you feel the need to express them? My sister's rough drafts did that to me, so read and see her words that inspire Bad Thoughts

Wasn't Convinced

Most girls outgrow traditional cover-up panties when they get older, and they move onto something sexier, be it g-string, thong, boy shorts... the list is long. I didn't. I kept with the same boring underwear . You know, the kind that cover every bit and normally reserved for days that the monthly comes.

A sister changed over, and then another. Watching the g-string go up their crack, I asked, "doesn't it bother you having something up your butt all day?"

"No, you don't even feel it, it's so thin. Unlike your underwear, where you get wedgies and they suck. And there aren't any panty lines in dresses and pants."

I wasn't convinced, and didn't change over.

...Until.

I was in a long term relationship. We bought a house together, shared a checking account (there is no bigger commitment to me - not even marriage, than these two things).  

We booked a cruise, and I bought a slinky dress (which I normally don't wear). My underwear showed so apparently that I decided that at least for this dress, I would wear a g-string.

And I was sold from that point on. My sister was right: no wedgie, fabric so slight that I was unaware of it after a period of time.  

Sure, I slowly transitioned from my boring underwear to g-strings, and then tried some boy shorts, and other types. I began feeling sexier about my undergarments. I wanted all the sudden for my bras to match my sexy panties. I no longer worried if the pants or dresses would show my underwear.

And

         then

My partner started questioning why all the sudden I was trying to be sexy. Who did I have to impress? Who was going to see under my clothes? Why did I need to replace one type with another? Why was I wanted more form fitting pants and purchasing more dresses?

...Who was seeing under my clothes?  Why was I changing? Why was I showing more skin? Why did I start dressing like a whore?

                                   Who was I sleeping with?

He didn't believe my simplistic reasons, he wasn't convinced. There was a sinister reason, he believed. Suddenly everything I did was suspect, I could no longer do anything without being questioned.

                                 All over my choice of panties.

Yoga I've been doing for years: why did I still have to do? Why was I trying to be more flexible, to move in more positions?

Eating healthy: didn't I look good enough?

Watching a new television program: who introduced me to that?

Going out with friends: was I really going out with friends? "Send me a picture of you and your friends."

This went on for quite awhile, until I had enough. Sadly, looking back, I let it continue far too long. It might not have started with panties, it might have triggered by so many different factors that I was unaware of (his friend was cheated on, he was gaining weight, we were so serious so young...the list is far longer than the types of panties). Unfortunately, the material covering my ass was just the first target. And who knows: it could've been the change in undergarments.

But my ass, and the lack of material covering it, was out of there.

It's amazing how some people perceive fabric at our innermost layer.  For some, it reflects our innermost fantasies, desires. It represents us, our scent, our secret, our sex. It can reflect our time of the month, our insecurities, our confidence, our sensual side.

It can create suspicion, incite lust, kick start relationships, or end them.  

 

Ass April

A is out right now with her arm in a sling, but M still wanted to showcase some awesomeness this month.
 
M's monthly picks:

Category: Husband read this and do it!
She wrote several in a role that I kept showing my husband, and I realized I needed to wait to read Molly until I could masturbate or have husband on hand. Hot, hot, hot!
http://mollysdailykiss.com/2013/04/03/once-a-week/

Category: Picture that got me hot and bothered:
http://justarandomscot.wordpress.com/2013/04/07/sinful-sunday-thoughts-of-you/ Some one I would like to straddle and slowly, savoring, ease my way down the length hidden from view, running my fingers through his manly hair (I really have a thing for hair - just not too hairy).

Category: Family facetiousness:
A's Acting: I laughed and could envision her bad acting skills, I've seen when she is purposefully dramatic, and it is a sight worth seeing - especially if you need to be cheered up. In detail I saw her hand go to her forehead and the head tilt damsel-in-distress-style, with her elongating her syllables, trying to go for sultry and breathless.

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...?

Week 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.

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.

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

Spring Break

A writing prompt "Spring Break" from Prowling with Kat, made me think about spring break sex in general, which always tends to be hotter since the kids normally are gone at least a night or two, recently it's been for the entire week. It's impossible, given this recent trend, to reflect on one night of such exquisite passion, when there are normally so many experiences to choose from. Even if they aren't sex, they are sex (or sexy) related. So....

Snippets of thoughts run rampant when I reminisce about this spring break...

Dropping the kids off at the airport, suddenly I am no longer defined in the role of "mom";
I shed even a semblance of responsible adult, and ponder my next move.

Within minutes of the plane leaving, I get a text from husband: "sex store today....?"
I text back, "sounds good lover. Can we use the knife today too?"
"Yes"
Well, there's my first day spoken for once he gets off of work...

Hot Wax
We didn't end up using the knife that first day. At the sex store, we picked up some candles. This was on our "curious" sex bucket list. So we figured: now would be the perfect time to try it out. First off, we played with the candles just goofing off, without putting the hot wax to any skin. It was more about technique - how does it splatter? Where does it drip? How to get the smaller drips versus the larger amounts? Then we had sex for a long time, trying some things we hadn't in awhile. After the glow of sex was gone (which we realized we should've used candles while we were still sensitive), I decided to put a towel under my husband and decide to try the wax. He wanted it on his thigh first, from a far distance. He is a good sport: I was interested in wax play, but I wanted him to be the experiment first. He didn't like it in the inner thigh, but the outer thigh he was ambivalent about it. Then I persuaded him to move up the chest, where I played around with my aim, and watched him arch and writhe about deliciously as the wax covered various parts of his wide chest, and dribbled upon his nipples. He wasn't sure how he felt about it when the experience was done.

Next, it was my turn, and he wanted to start on thigh as well. I rolled over to the side slightly - I figured less chance to get the inner thigh, and he dribbled wax on me. It felt okay, but I could see the appeal if I were already sexually heightened. A bit fell and splattered onto the opposite thigh, hitting the inner most part right before getting to my sex, and that felt a little too overwhelmingly hot. It stung in the spot for quite awhile. He moved up a little and started dripping the wax on my hip and ass, and my ass also didn't appreciate the hot sensation quite the same. "I can see you're going to like this," was his final statement about the whole thing, and truly I am the one getting more into other sensation plays, so he may be right.

Final verdict: we promised to give it a go again, especially immediately following some sex or foreplay. One thing to cross off of our sex bucket list (woohoo for trying new things!).

Edging
My husband really doesn't deny anything I want. This includes orgasms, so when I suggested edging, he was surprised that I would try it. And he was also concerned about his own self control.

Well, we tried it and edging was frustrating, and funny, and ah-mazing. He even chuckled a few times at my noises of frustrations, my body arching and trying to push us there. He whispered a few times, pondering: "I wonder if I can do this again?" and did. And the final result was blissful, relieving, and so hard. He described me as tightening up for so long with no relaxing, almost "locking down" on his shaft to prevent him from denying us any longer.

Downside: I am quite capable of multiple orgasms, but I take my lover on this type of journey where he has no choice but to join me, then I am not having multiple orgasms from sex. Of course, there are other ways around that if I truly desire them, and truly one orgasm is plenty.

Sisters
I also planned a visit with my sister, who is on a picture high, and wanted me to bring lingerie to her house to snap away at me. She's getting very good at using her phone to take pictures (as you can clearly observe if you follow us on twitter). She's also a master at hair and makeup.

The result is the photos of me are stunning. I am not used to photos of me being taken, little lone liking them, but the results were stunning. Even my husband liked them (and that speaks volumes).

I am a tomboy at heart, and one that doesn't really focus on being sexy too much (I'd like to think I just naturally am, but who wouldn't?). A told me to wear something sexy, so I put on some boy shorts and tiny tank top - did I mention that they were superhero? Okay, so maybe lingerie isn't even my strong suit, but she rolled her eyes when she saw what I chosen first and just snapped away. Honestly, some of the first ones are adorably cute.

I also had a the brand new issue of having a bruised butt cheek (woohoo!) from my husband (who had read a blog I had posted about spanking, and then followed through on my fantasy). My sister had to apply cover up all over both my ass cheeks so that it blended, an experience we both thought we'd never say outloud: somewhat like, "I write sex blogs with my sister and am constantly getting naked photos of her text to me".

When my sister said give me a sexy look, she ended up nearly in tears laughing at my pitiful and clearly not sexy efforts. I can't do serious, or focused either. Pouty? ...uh uh...not on command, and it certainly wasn't sexy. And yet, somehow she masterfully posed me and snapped away at so many different moments that I now have a hot little collection for my husband to view upon...and possibly some for our twitter or blog (I've already posted one of the about M section of our blog, and one on twitter).

Whew, being sexy is hard....probably more for my sister to make me sexy than for my failing efforts. Thanks A!

Orgasm Challenge
Through twitter, this competition Orgasm Count is taking place. Knowing I can hit multiple orgasms, she exempted multiple orgasms in the competition. John D Stories is all about keeping this fair, and he's awesome in general. He created the site, and through conversations, hilariously created the rules (seriously, check them out, and feel free to join as well!).

I guess to be fair, though I'm a little saddened, multiple shouldn't count. Sunday alone I hit between 20-25 orgasms in the day, but to be fair there were unusual extenuating circumstances at work:
1) No kids, yep that rarely happens;
2) Husband was actually home ALL DAY (rare again);
3) We didn't go anywhere or have anything we had to do; and,
4) I was sad I didn't have my kids, so my husband was willing to have sex more often than normal to cheer me up. Way to take one for my happiness, babe.

Friends and Tattoo
The rest of the trip, when I wasn't with my sister or trying new things and having tons of sex with my husband, I was just visiting with friends. With my vanilla friends, I showed them a BDSM check list because I was discussing crossing through my own list. We went through their desires - which was great entertainment in itself.

And my husband got a tattoo, actually the first session of a cover up that literally covers up the majority of his back from the tip of his shoulders to the top of his ass. They also had to go around the scar tissue the original tattoo gave him (lesson to be learned: don't get a tattoo in a foreign country spur of the moment that covers an extremely large part of your body). Sometimes I am tempted to share photos of us - the size difference between the two of us is stunningly drastic, but this tattoo marks and identifies him too greatly.

TMI Chapters

An Open Book

If your life were a book, what would the parts or chapters be titled?

Your book should have at least 5 parts or chapters.

Chapter One: The General

I am born, and given the gift of two little sisters to boss around, in which I do to a great extent. Play and chaos ensues.

Chapter Two: Mute Nun

I am in Catholic School for nine years, growing up with the same 36 kids, in which I say not one word the entire time I am there. Painfully shy, my classmates just assume I am mute. I envision myself a nun when I grow up, working at school. When I am get home, I am a sharp contrast of a loud drill instructor.

Chapter Three: Disturbed Runaway

Thrusted from the shelter of Catholic School into public high school, I am above the learning. The teachers decide that I am better off tutoring the bad kids in the back of the classrooms; they become my new friends. I discover that I am allergic to pot through unconsciousness - still pretend to smoke it, lose my virginity, run away several times (for months on end and all the way across the country), learn to knife fight, become pregnant numerous times, get my sisters drunk as young as ten, and eventually settle into my own home at fifteen.

Chapter Four: Swashbuckling Times

I work Renaissance Faires. I learn sword fighting from the German Camp. I begin my college education, become bilingual. I am a parent to an angel, anti-marriage, and daughter to a dying woman. Sisters are scattered. 

Chapter Five: Quiet

I oddly settle. Learn to clean and cook, though never well. Decide marriage is acceptable, and more children follow. I begin a career and excel at it. 

Chapter Six: And Then...

Embark upon sex blogging with a sister, push my husband's sexual limits, and question what adventures I want to have next...

Check out others who TMI

March's Madness

So, A had an idea. She suggested that each month we review and list some of our favorites, including one from each other. I think it's brilliant, and we're going with it! Our top three each:

M's March Magnificence:

Favorite Photo:
The Big Ugly created this scene called "The Happy Homemaker", on March 7th. I think it's brilliant, but most of hers are. Many contain nudity, but this one is my favorite just because recently I've been feeling domestically challenged... and exhausted.

Sister's Choice:
A favorite of my sister's, A, would have to be Quickie. I don't believe it is her best piece, but often readers aren't always drawn towards the eloquently written. Sometimes it is more personal; I do so love the quickie moment, as a parent and wife to a busy life, quickies tend to be the thing I experience the most. Even a quick release is a sweet release, especially with someone who knows all the right places to go and the things that I love.
A has become very photo happy and hasn't written as much this month. Despite that, Finale is an amazing piece from her.

Outside blog:
And the most useful blog I've read this month would have to be Adventures in Lube-Land by Lorax of Sex. My husband and I have been having conversations about lube, and the many different types we need depending on what we get involved in. Our knowledge wasn't as extensive as I thought, so I am grateful to add some knowledge.

A's:

Favorite Photo:
Birthday Challenge by Marie Rebel is my choice this month. I love the candle, the lighting, and the way that you get tantalizing peeks at her piercings and lovely tattoo. It's beautiful and provocative and I think a great way to say happy birthday! Talk about eating cake!

Sister's Choice:
My choice this month for M's is a personal one as well. Spanking Noob made me laugh in gleeful delight. Not only had my sister been talking about wanting to do this forever, it is one of my favorite things. I hope she makes it into subspace soon. The reason I like this post the most is that it's like seeing a new awakening. Exploration is a great thing and it's awesome to be reminded of what it was like first exploring those boundaries.

Outside blog:

My favorite post this month is shorter, and incredibly sweet. The post I chose is What is erotic by Silverdropstoybox and SilverHubby. It is the perfect definition, individual and loving, just like the people who posted it. This post melted my heart and reminded me that erotic is many things to many different people and erotic things can be found anywhere.


We can't wait to continue being inspired and sharing our naughty adventures with you and hearing yours...

"Hey M, next month can we call it "Ass April?"

Sisterly Specifics

My sister is exquisitely beautiful, with an almost exotic look. She does not always realize her own beauty, but recently is becoming more comfortable in her own skin. The evidence is in the tactful, but semi naked, pictures she sent me. It is just not the curve of her hip, the swell of her beasts, the deep dark eyes, the long and almost always perfect hair.
She is intelligent, quick witted, humorous. She has a loud voice and an even louder laugh. She quirks up an eyebrow that conveys a whole paragraph in meaning. She excitedly talks with her hands. She loves, hopes, optimistically. She's always up for adventures and very often creates chaos that she miraculously escapes from unscathed. She's impulsive. Caring and considerate. She has a great "O" face that she displays when drunk for giggles, that she disliked immediately upon seeing a picture of. She used to say her makeup was her best asset, refused to believe it couldn't be an asset.
She refuses to bow down, to be judged, to be swayed. She's opinionated and feisty.
She may be taller than me (by just a smidgen) but she's my little sister, my cohort in crime, and my first experience taking care of (BTW, I failed miserably at it) another person.

No lubrication required

Unlike my sister and her amazing ability to be wet with a look, I have the tendency to be dry. This is embarrassing for me many times as I try to explain to the man that OF COURSE he turns me on, my body chemistry plus allergy medication just prevent me from producing all that much moisture.
Because of this minor flaw in my body makeup I have a large enough selection of lube that it has raised some eyebrows. Apparently 8 different choices at a time are far too many for some strapping young infantrymen. What can I say, variety is the spice of life and I'm a damn good cook.

There have been two notable exceptions to my lubrication situation in my lifetime: Michael, who got me went once just by sending a picture of him in his dress uniform, and my new favorite object: baby's first Lelo.

I have wanted a Lelo for ages... Especially after my sister gave me reports on hers. I was looking for a good g spot vibe and decided it was time to break into the big leagues. I went to my local adult store and bought the Gigi.

I was so excited I practically pranced my way home. Just opening the box got me wet. I even took pictures of the thing. Splayed everything out for a sexy showoff photo shoot. My messages to my sister and friends read something like: "it even has it's own special bag, and you should see the BOX it comes in!"

It was a sex toy Christmas and I had been a VERY good girl.

As I impatiently waited for it to charge I could hardly sit still. I was curious if it would actually work. G spot searches haven't always gone the best for me, but with my Lelo, I was confident it would be a snap.

Once my Gigi was charged up I took a few minutes just to play with it in my hands. The motor is powerful, silent, and placed such a way that you get the strong vibrations throughout the entire shaft of the toy, without feeling like you're going to vibrate your hand into numbness while controlling it.
The user controls are well placed and easy to manage with one hand. The top of the toy is flared and flat and angled perfectly. All in all, my Gigi delivered on it's promises and then some. This vibrator is perfect for clitoral stimulation as well due to those design features. In fact, I would've bought it just for that because oh my word, I orgasmed so hard the aftershocks lasted for ages.

Much like Michael, the Gigi has enabled me to be lube free more than once and that is possibly the best review I could give a product.

...Now I just have to save up to get one of every toy Lelo makes and the next item on my hit list: the we-vibe 3 .

Men are like shoes

Our mother told us frequently: "Men are like shoes. You must try on a lot of them to find the right fit."

All of us girls have tried on many, many different pairs. For myself, I am all too aware of what fits and what doesn't, and which to keep, and which to pass up on. It is a unique and personal decision. What may not fit me, will have another delightfully happy. I've always found this odd, true, but wonderful advice.

Visiting traditions

My sister (the one I share this blog with) pointed out to me the other day that we go to a sex store every time she visits me, and a strip club every time I visit her.

In our defense, she has better strip clubs in her area. Waaay better. The strippers are hotter and the men drunker. Entertainment at its finest. And I just happen to be in toy stores regularly, so it's no surprise I go there even if she visits.

I think we're also starting a tradition of me buying her a sex toy every year as well. They're just so many varieties and factors of coolness that I can't resist. You're supposed to give thoughtful gifts,
after all.

Thoughts from A:

I love my sister. She's always given the best gifts in the family, hands down. She got me my first vibrator at 20 (late bloomer with masturbation, early with sex), and she also got me my first rabbit. This last trip she purchased a remote controlled bullet for me with 10 different settings. Now during my long car trips I am no longer in danger of falling asleep.

A very merry Christmas for me, I assure you.

When we first went to a stripclub in her area I couldn't believe it. My patronage of stripclubs started here and that's how I assumed all stripclubs were. Man was I surprised to see what I wouldn't even call the "B" team here up on stage on a Saturday!

The men here... The thousands of men here are not only drunk, they're young, handsome, and ready for anything you want. Sigh, I love my town.... Though not as much as I love my gifts from my sister. At least with myself I know the sex is always good.

Our Mother's Blow Job Story

We are clearly a family that doesn't shy away from the topic of sex. Our mother was always dressed nicely. The polish on her toes and nails always matched her lipstick as well. She was an incredibly proper, old-fashion mannered woman; that might be why the words were all the more shocking that came out of her mouth.

Let's set the scene of many times: our mother at the head of the dinner table. It was always set perfectly, with the china and silver. Friends would raise an eyebrow at such a former meal.

My mother would correct our grammar, ask politely about our friends, joke with a love interest of ours, and then transition into her blow job story.

She'd start: "well when I was in school, I was dating this guy for awhile, and I thought I was in love. I had heard people talking about this thing called a blow job and how the guys loved it. I wanted to give my boyfriend something special, so one night I undid his pants and I..." here she lowers her face, slowly shakes her head back and forth, and blows gently. A picture of an earnest young woman softly blowing along the shaft of an excited man's penis always comes to mind.

Laughter, and then she'd continue, "My boyfriend asked me, incredulous, 'What are you doing?'"

"And I broke out in tears. I so wanted to make him happy and do something special. It was all I could do to reply, "but...but...but I...I...was giving...you a b-b-blow job."

"He laughed and told me, 'you don't really blow'".

Whether or not our mother intended this to be a lesson, rather than for entertainment, I'm not sure. But I researched, and watched porn, about what a blow job was before ever attempting one. And why is fellatio called "blow job" when blowing isn't the main event?