No Option of Escape

FFF Prompt for June 4 - Escape!

Key Word = Escape
Word Limit = 333 words
Word Restrictions = Racquetball, lover, sunlight, morning
Bonus Points = Tell us about a time when you had to escape yourself.
She needed to escape! The words pounded in her head, her blood pumping with nervousness as she looked behind her at the bed. What was his name? Shit, she needed to know. It was important, imperative, she remember his name. Normally, it wouldn't matter in the slightest. She reached for her little black dress, searching for her panties and bra. Where the hell were her shoes?

Her head pounded, from stress or the hangover she wasn't sure. Her phone buzzed again, another friend texting about the chaos of the Boston lock-down. He stirred, and she froze in panic. Her friends had nothing to complain about, she was the one waking up next to a practical stranger, after having spent a drunken passion filled night...and she still couldn't remember his name. And now she couldn't sneak away in the perfect-one-night-stand-disappearing-act-routine.

Right when she located her bra and went to put it on, he opened his eyes, and looked directly at her. A sleepy smile appeared on the stubbly face, eyes slightly red but amazingly a vivid blue greeted her. She always did have a thing for dark hair and blue eyes. "Hey sexy," she whispered, trying to come up with a plan, a statue of nervousness, still holding her bra. Who needed a plan, her foggy brain rationed, she had breasts. She threw her bra to the floor and slipped between the covers, caressing his back, his arm automatically going around her.

"Hello Miranda," his voice had a husky timbre to it. Shit, he remembered her name. She began nibbling on his neck, stalling, arching and pressing her breasts against him, feeling his chest hairs sliding across her nipples. She reached down and felt his hardened reaction. First sex, she decided, next joke about how she calls him god from now on, and then more sex. What else was there to do in a locked down city with a stranger?

**I was inspired by this blog after reading about a man stuck in an apartment, during the Boston lockdown with a one night stand (someone he did know, thankfully) and her roommate. He talked about how he lost the dignity of slipping away the next day, and how awkward it was.

Once, when I was younger (and dumber), and handcuffed by the police, I had to escape the cuffs. I smoked cigarettes then, and the officer graciously allowed me to smoke, even lighting it for me, as he awaiting another officer. However, I couldn't smoke with no hands, I just wasn't that talented. So I slipped one hand through the cuff to smoke. He couldn't believe that I could escape that easily.  Fun fact, I can collapse my hand to the size of my wrist (which is tiny to be sure). It hurts, and I don't ever do for that reason, and I never take advantage of it when I am tied up; however, it's comforting knowing that I have that option to escape.

By the way, I have no criminal record. I was not handcuffed for committing crime, simply being around the wrong (awesome) people at the wrong time, it would seem.
 

What...?

"I have the bouquets right here. But before we go in, I want to discuss something with you guys. We all know she never, ever expected to get married, and recently she's been questioning this decision. We all know they love each other, that they will be just fine. She's getting cold feet, is all. So I've posted family members at all the exit-" laughter "I'm not even joking. But we're closest to her, so we need to watch her carefully for any signs of bolting, cut her off before she can get started."

"No problem," mixed in with other agreement sounds.

 "Great, her parents are all ready to walk/escort/force her down. Mom on one side, dad on the other, it's perfect." The hands holding me were cool, belonging to the calm and collective voice, the person obviously in charge. I thought I was being given to the person in charge, but she sounds in charge...who...what am I getting myself into? I'm meant for happiness, not an emotional woman escaping prison confines. We moved into another room, and I was put down for final touches to the lady in white, her complexion almost matching the dress color. I was handled by the steady hands again before being handed over to freezing shaking ones. Did anyone even take the time to sniff me in appreciation? I was the perfect perfume gone unnoticed.

A deep sigh above me, the owner's hands were sweaty (seriously: sweaty but frigid?). They hurt in their fierce grip. I was concerned at any moment my lovely fragrant petals would be ripped apart, my stems bent or torn. Music started, and I was almost dropped,  a man's hand moved to my side to steady and stop my descent. Whew, close one, but if she decided to run...would she toss me on the ground? Shove me into a door or the chest of some person trying to tackle her like I was some football? I was meant to be tossed daintily into another waiting woman's hands, where I would be cherished as the love symbol that I am. I am delicate...though apparently not as delicate as this person's nerves.

We began walking, and the quaking became severe. How could anyone appreciate my beauty if I was a blur in her hands? Of course, with the back drop of her white-even the hands, my colors had to be vibrant. At least there's that comfort, though small comfort that that was. Oh my, I'm beginning to feel woozy from the shaking, or is it choking of her hands? I can't breathe, I can't see, why won't the world stop spinning? What....

 

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.

Clueless

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 seriously...how 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.


Not the most wicked, but certainly humorous. See who may be wicked...



Video killed the radio star

Men have always sent me penis pictures. I don't know why. I've recently started receiving video however, and that is FAR more interesting to me.
I NEVER request the penis pictures in the first place, they just send them. It's like:
"good morning"
"good morning"
"How are you? Here is my penis."
The first time a man sent me a video of him masturbating, I was shocked. That lasted all of about half of a second before I was incredibly turned on.
I love watching a man masturbate. There's something so erotic and here it was, in my hands! A man I (kind of) knew in all his delicious glory, right there on my phone. It made my mouth water.
I never thought to request something like that! Why had all these men in my life previously been slacking off!? The possibilities now were almost endless.
The next man to send me a fully nude photo got the request put to him. Imagine my surprise when he said no...
Dude, you just sent me a picture of your hard penis, WITH YOUR FACE IN IT. I just want a POV masturbation clip. They only last like 15 seconds, and your face isn't in it.
Where is there any logic in that? So, I figured man A wasn't very bright, let's move on to the next one. However, I encountered the same problem. Now, I have a LOT of options of men to ask this of. It's the digital age and I live in a very densely populated military town. There are tons of men lining up to send me their penis. Is it too much to ask for that penis to be in action?
I've decided I'm going to start telling them I either get an action sequence or I don't want it at all. I might never have to go root out porn again! I'm definitely going to have to get a bigger memory card, and these men better start warming up their forearms, because momma wants to see some jacking off!

Morale officer

I didn't mean to become their Morale officer... Seriously, it was unintentional.

In military lingo, a "Morale officer" is a woman who has sexual relations with the unit... THE WHOLE UNIT.

Now, it wasn't as bad as all that, however I did sleep my way through their enlisted command structure, just in time for deployment.

It was a complete, sexy, lascivious accident. When Ex and I broke up, we had been together for almost 6 years... OF COURSE I HAD A SLUT FEST! My sex life with Ex was horrible. It rarely happened, there was no foreplay, and we had premature ejaculation problems that we never did work around. That was a glaring deficit in our relationship.

I first met One right after I decided I could no longer be in my relationship. It was a hard choice to make and took a very long time to make it. I was depressed, downtrodden, and completely lost. One night I went out with a girlfriend and we saw a man she knew. He was 6'8 to my 5 ft and exuded sex. There really wasn't a question about where I was going that night. In fact, my friend arranged everything because all I could do was stare and fantasize.  After 6 years, going home with One was like being a teenager again.

One of the things that frustrated me about my previous sex life was that Ex always treated me like I was breakable, when all I wanted was to be manhandled. I could tell instantly, One didn't think I was breakable and if he did then he wanted me to shatter. He tossed me around like a rag doll, made me do what HE wanted, and if I said "ow" he ignored it unless I asked him to stop... I didn't ask him to stop much. The sex was incredible and lasted forever. Round after round of virile foreplay, sex, breath, repeat. I went home with some small bruises and a huge grin. He was just what I needed at the time and helped me reclaim my own sexuality.

After a time I started dating again and I met this great guy Two. We spent a lot of time together having fun, drinking with friends, and acting young. Then I finally took him to bed....That was the end of that relationship. At one point during the sex I wanted to tell him to put his pants back on, and for God's sake stop making that noise! After evaluating my 6 year relationship I decided I would never compromise on sex again.

Two had introduced my best friend Ava to one of his friends, so while I was no longer seeing Two I was seeing his friend regularly with Ava. We'd all go out and different people would join our group. That's how I was introduced me to Staff Sargent (truly, that's all I knew him by). Rawr. The man was a glorious package of wit, rippling muscle, and rock hard desire. He tied me to my bed with my satin ties and worked my body over for hours. When he finally untied me I rode him hard and had orgasm after orgasm. We broke my bed that night. It was casual sex at it's finest and I wouldn't take it back for the world.

Ava and her man got along pretty well so he was a recurring part of our lives for a few months. Their relationship was casual, but ongoing. While his unit was getting ready for deployment the amount of time spent out increased. The ladies of my group had no complaint about joining in the fun. We were all out enjoying the entertainment to be had at one of or local stripclubs when I met The Boot. The term "Boot" is used in a derogatory way by more seasoned veterans about people who have just graduated from boot camp.

The kid was 19, had graduated boot camp the week prior, and was going on a very dangerous deployment, with no experience or time in the unit,  the following week. He also apparently had a huge crush on me. Ava's friend broached the subject with me and I told him that if The Boot wanted to talk to me then he should, you know, talk. I was advised candidly: "go easy on him, he's probably not coming back from this deployment. He's either going to get killed, or get someone else killed."
... Uh.

I had no idea how to respond to that especially after I had this adorable young guy so shyly try to start a conversation and pick up an older, more seasoned woman who would probably eat him alive in bed.
I did the only thing I could do.

I rocked that young Boot's world so hard he couldn't walk straight. I blew him until his knees went out, I asked about his fantasies and immediately went about trying to fulfill as many as I could. You want to bring a vibrator into bed? Go for it! On top  on bottom, in front of the mirror, pull my hair, smack my ass until it's glowing red? Sure thing! He was young, inexperienced, and not the best lay I'd had. If not for their deployment, I probably wouldn't have brought him home. How though, could I have said no? It didn't hurt anyone, and at least this way he was leaving with an incredible night to remember when stuck out there for months.

The day before they were set to deploy Ava and I ran into her man at the club. We also ran into One from months before. They were together...they were in the same unit. Along with Staff Sargent and The Boot and Two....

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. No one knew. And it was only then that even I realized I had slept with FOUR men in the same UNIT. While it may have been over the course of 6 months, during the course of their 6 months deployment the chances were zero that they wouldn't all figure out that I had slept my way down their command structure.

Sure enough, upon their return I found out that everyone knew. I was the units' Morale Officer. Everyone just kind of found it humorous, and in fact a couple of them asked for return visits; I declined. Now whenever some hot military man in this town approaches me, there's a tiny voice in the back of my head praying he's not with this particular unit. When it has happened, I decline developing a relationship. Let me be a legend then, of a deployment, that had a few men a bit more relaxed before they left.

Uniform Sexy

"There are romantic moments about military life that rival only the most dramatic movies. We've been spun around by a man in uniform after he hasn't seen us in months....We've dressed up like royalty and attended military galas and we've watched ships pull into port, with sailors standing at attention around the perimeter." 10 things you may not know about military wives

This statement spurred great thoughts about military men, and why moments (by no means everything) with them are spectacular. Here's to putting a more naughty list together:

Our lovers can lift us effortlessly, whether it's to sweep us off our feet or have sex standing up.

A flight suit is made up entirely of zippers, in all sorts of areas, for easy access.

They are put in a role of authority, in control of the situation.

They can follow directions, immediately and without hesitation.

Got to love a man who can handle his gun.

The push-ups they have to do? It comes in handy for sex.

The pull-ups they have to do? When missionary is called for, the arms ripple so very nicely and provide eye candy.

The mandatory running? It aides stamina.

The sex after a deployment is like discovering a new lover all over again. It's awkward and new and exploring and glorious. (As a side note, sex normally doesn't happen immediately after a deployment. They need down time first, and I'm not talking about them going down on me (or vice versa) time.)

The love letters and communications can be both romantic and steamy when apart, fueling the anticipation and stimulating the mind.

They are tone, hard,  physically fit, and strong.

Sex in different states or even countries may occur.

Post military ball or galas? Besides the proper looking, formal uniform being stripped to reveal the gorgeous body underneath, we get to shed our equally formal gowns. The bobby pins in an updo hairstyle can be pulled out slowly after a ball, while he looks as if he's ready to devour but tortures instead with the slow release of the pins, before gripping our hair to pull us in.

If they're willing to risk their life for us, imagine how much they're willing to do for our pleasure?

They never look as if they "just rolled out bed". They are clean shaven and fresh haircuts.

**This really needs to be said, though, that dating or being with a military person is incredibly challenging. They require more support, while not necessarily being in a position to return the support. They can change from war. Their personal lives come after mission, comrades, duty, and training.

Anal: the final frontier

"Are you sure you're ready?"

No I wasn't sure! The last time Michael and I had attempted anal sex with me on the receiving end met with disaster. (See the story here).  I didn't want to fail or disappoint, and I was so nervous.

I wanted it. I wanted him. I wanted to feel him slide smoothly inside of me. I wanted to be lost in the pleasure of his arms. I wanted to be consumed wholly, and I wanted to have anal sex.

I just wasn't sure I was ready. Sometimes, athletes and actors talk about being nervous. Those jitters that seem to take over the entirety of their being to the lose of anything else. In the midst of these jitters, just when the curtain is about to raise or they take their first step onto the field, the sudden blazing moment of clarity comes and nothing is left to be worried about, no fear or anxiety. This is it, it's time to perform.

That in no way happened to me. Not even a little. I was just a ball of anxiety to the point where (and I had to be told later because I didn't realize it was out loud) I was MUTTERING for Christ's sake; "ok, ok, just relax, relax, relax. Ok, you can do this! Relax!" I'm sure this did nothing but convince Michael of my readiness.

Then, a soft sigh on my neck as he gently kissed the spot behind my ear that instantly sends pleasure through me. A whispered compliment of how beautiful my ass was and how very much he wanted me. I was ready. Still nervous- but ready.

Michael, ever the in-tune lover, slid in like a pro. Smoothing skin here, a moan of pleasure/encouragement, a vibrator to keep my body humming and ready to find release. This was the point we had gotten to last time, I decided, why raise the bar too high? If he got in anything over one stroke I was ahead of the game, I'd take it!

Michael ever so slowly pulled out a couple inches. I didn't move. Steady like a rock I was! I was the champ, I had done it, we could call it a game! With my flagging confidence bolstered, I thought, "well...we've made it this far. Let's see how far we can take this..." Within the first few tentative strokes I decided that I could handle it. Still weird, still a bit uncomfortable, but I could handle this. Kind of.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I can do it, I can do it... But Michael? You're gonna have to hurry up ok? I don't know how long I can do this"

"Ok." Half stroke. "Oh God, you have no idea how easy that's going to be." Michael was true to his word. Hot, passionate, extremely brief, then suddenly, a shudder. A tightening of the grasping of my hips, my name escaping his lips in a part groan part sigh. I instantly perked up.

"Wait... Did you cum? DID YOU DO IT!?!"

"Yes, I came" was the chuckling reply.

Then as quickly as I had maneuvered away the first time we had anal penetration, I flipped around in a flash and did the only thing anyone who has just successfully had anal sex from beginning to end would do...

I high five'd him. That's right. I threw my splayed hand in the air and gave him the heartiest high five I believe I have ever given in my life. The words that accompanied this were a bit jumbled, but they went something along the lines of.

"Oh-my-God-yay! I-knew-we-could-do-it. I AM FUCKING AWESOME!"

I've found at times like these, it's best to maintain an air of worldliness and refinement. The look on Michael's face was priceless. He looked at me, looked at his hand that he's put up immediately in reflex to receive my proffered digits, looked at me again, and in the most deadpan voice inquired, "did you really just high five me?"

I paused for a moment in my victory dance/butt wiggle to assure him that yes, yes I had just high five'd him and he had better prepare himself for more if I so chose to share in the delight of accomplishment with him.

Any other man would've thought I was crazy. Any other man wouldn't have cared enough about me to take his time and do it properly, and he wouldn't have even have gotten that far. This was Michael however and he was all the things I could ask for in a lover. So he chuckled, shook his head again while looking at his hand, then cuddled and kissed me.

It was a great experience and incredibly pleasurable. We have since gone on to continue our anal explorations and it keeps getting better. We don't do it all the time, but neither of us certainly have any objections to it anymore.

I am also happy to report, like the conquering heroine that I am, no air was passed that day. So while Michael got the prize for taking it first, I got the one for controlling it after.

(Interested in what I did to him previously? check out stick-it-in-his-ass

Key to Happiness

Me: What would your ideal sex life be like? (We were discussing frequency)

Him: Probably about two or three times a month. (My heart just dropped, a month?! Seriously?) With the ability to negotiate more if wanted.

Me: A month? Are you serious?

Him: More if wanted.

Me: Then why didn't you just stay in your previous relationship?

Him: She wouldn't negotiate more. And we weren't happy like you and I are.

Me: You know why we're happy?

Him: Why?

Me: Because we're getting laid, daily, at my insistence.

Him: Is that why we're so happy?

Me: Absolutely, beyond a doubt. It's the key to happiness.

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.

Stick it in HIS ass

When Michael and I first entered into negotiations for anal, I resolutely determined that what goes around comes around. In fact, it was this very instance about turn about being fair play, that saved me many a drawn out begging sessions for anal from other partners.

The second the words were out of my mouth, Michael instantly said "yes"...

Dammit. Now what!? While the merest of seconds ticked by, while I tried to process a rejoineder, it felt like the world paused for eternity. Did I just somehow talk myself into a corner? Yes, yes I had. And that corner had no way out except the path straight to anal.

I had misgivings about anal for me, but I had never even thought about wanting to stick a vibrator in a man's ass. I was scared it would emasculated him in my eyes. The thing I like about men is being a MAN. How could I still view him in the same light if we did this? This perfect match, this incredible lover. This would RUIN it.

Somewhere, under my initial misgivings, laid a naughty, curious little sexual minx who thought "try anything once!" and I knew, Michael was nothing but a virile masculine man. He carried me around like I was a feather and made me beg for release sometimes. Nothing could change that.

While we were still warming me up for the big show, Michael immediately agreed to start our experimenting with his own anal experience. Much like mine, it was a bit awkward and uncomfortable at first. Uncomfortable for Michael (duh, first time taking something in the ass), and uncomfortable/awkward for me because I didn't know what I was doing. I DON'T HAVE A PENIS.

However, I'm a woman, and I do own more than a couple of vibrators. Once we got started it got easier. The best part about Michael and I is that we can communicate during sex. We would rock at team building exercises, that's how good our communication and understanding is in bed. He was able to tell me when to slow down, adjust angle, pressure, intensity so I didn't feel like a fumbling idiot and he didn't feel like a baby-faced new inmate at the county lockup.

After my not-quite-successful first anal attempt, and the subsequent hilarity, we decided it was Michael's turn to attempt a realistic sized vibrator. This was it, the big moment. Michael had assured me he could take it like a champ (read: much better than I did), and much to my shame, he did.
We decided the vibrator would be controlled by him because he would handle it better. While he was reaching behind himself, I was in front in my oh so favorite position, doggy style. I was a bit bummed there would be no hair pulling with his hands occupied, but I knew I'd still get an incredible fuck. Michael never failed to deliver. So while I was in charge and occupied with keeping his rock hard dick sliding in and out of me and bringing me to a heart racing orgasm, Michael was experiencing anal for the first time simultaneously. We both achieved one of the hardest, most consuming orgasms that day. Something about the situation and how much pleasure he got gave me that much more, and according to him: he now loves his prostate.

As we lay there beside each other, panting and glistening with sweat and shivering with the aftershocks of our pleasure, Michal turned to me to say something... it was then that the air escaped... from him. My eyes grew wide and we both started laughing. Cue more air. I was doubled over laughing so hard I could barely hear it when he said, "well dammit, now I know what you're talking about, you really can't control it," as he sat there passing air two or three more times.

It was at that moment that I realized one other side effect of having participated in anal with Michael. He got it. He really did. He knew what I was talking about with the initial muscle threshold you had to get past and the ridiculous sensation of needing to go to the bathroom that is so weird. He understood everything, and although he got more pleasure from it, he still had to overcome those initial awkward, uncomfortable moments too. This understanding, plus the need to show him up, made me redouble my own curiosity and readiness to keep pushing those anal boundaries myself.

Stay tuned to see if I just talk a big game or if I ever actually successfully completed anal in the last part of the trilogy!

Stick it in your ass

About a year ago I had the pleasure of finding my perfect sexual partner. No subject was taboo, no inch unexplored. He stripped away my insecurities and made me delight in the pleasure we could find in each others bodies. Any fantasy the other had was instantly fulfilled, no matter how awkward it might have been with our first attempt, if you could think it we would do it.

... Of course he wanted anal.
I'd had what we refer to as the "8 second anal experience" before. You don't really want to, but think "Okay, if he wants it THAT bad I'll give it a try". It never ends well and he never gets it in before you squirm, jump, yelp, and generally get the Hell out of there. I didn't have much hope for future anal experiences.

Something about Michael though made me want to try. I knew he cared about my pleasure, safety, and happiness and if I was ever going to be able to accomplish it, this was the man. I also figured anal is a skill set not many woman have and I pride my self on being a very good bedroom experience, so this could only be to my advantage to figure out.

The first time we tried he spent hours worshipping my body from head to toe. I wasn't allowed to lift a finger, this was about me. He worked me until I was more pliable than putty. We had purchased a small wand vibrator and it was time to put it into play. Michael and I had invested in a very good silicone based lube which was ok to use with the plastic based vibrator; a choice we made deliberately and with prior planning. I was at the height of pleasure, every nerve ending vibrating with the taunt tension of desired release. He went so slowly and made sure I was adjusting.

I'm not going to lie, it was uncomfortable, but also a tiny bit pleasurable, so I was able to keep pushing that boundary. That first experience was short, minimally invasive, and masterfully planned. It was decided that I would use the wand during masturbation sessions to get used to it. In the case of anal, practice does make perfect. It is such a foreign feeling that you almost automatically tense up, thus making it uncomfortable.

After about two weeks I felt comfortable to step it up.
This was it, the big moment. I was about to have a successful anal sex experience and was brimming with confidence.

Michael is obviously quite a bit bigger than the wand but with the patience to ease in and the forethought to focus on my clitoris at the same time with a vibrator, we were able to accomplish penetration.

Then he moved. Just pulled out the merest of milliliters to begin the actual thrusting and I lost it. I flew forward and up violently, spun around and said, "I can't do this!", and generally panicked. He was mid reassurances when I found out an interesting fact about anal. Once you're stretched out that far, there's no muscle control for awhile. I laughed at one of his lighthearted comments and that's when the air escaped. This was immediately preceded by me falling off the bed, I was so startled. He laughed, I laughed again, more air. By this point tears of hilarity are streaming down my cheeks, which are stained the red of embarrassment, and I'm begging him to stop making me laugh.

Luckily, like I said, I was with the man who it was impossible to have any reservations or insecurities with. He may have teased me, but it was about me being embarrassed rather than what had happened. It was due to his patience and ability to put me to ease that I was able to agree to keep up the experimenting with anal...

Stay tuned to see if I ever actually was able to complete anal sex from beginning to end, and also what happens when the tables are turned.
*names have been changed to protect the not quite innocent

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?