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

FFF: A dream shattered

FFF Prompt - July 12 - Phone Lines

Required Phrase =
"Answer it"

Forbidden Words = Orgasm

Word Length = 661

Extra Credit = Tell us who's calling

Bonus Words = 50 if you tell us a phone sex confession

“Are you going to answer it?” The voice sounded wrong, really wrong. She felt drawn out of passion’s dream-like quality more from his voice than the phone ringing beside her head.

She didn’t open her eyes, just groped around for the phone. He stopped moving in and out of her, withdrawing, rolling onto the side of her. She could feel his weight beside her, and missed that feeling so much.

Her voice cracked with unexpected emotion. “Hello?”

“That guy you brought home isn’t Matt, honey. I saw you walking out of the bar with him. You can’t bring Matt back.”

“Fuck off,” she muttered, frustrated at her best friend. She went to hang up, hit the phone receiver, but if fell down. Refusing to her open her eyes, she grabbed at the cord and swung it up above her head. “Where were we?” she asked.

“Who was that?" A brief chuckle at her ridiculousness, "Why are your eyes shut? What’s wrong?” God, why did his voice grate on her nerves so badly?

“My eyes get very sensitive after I’ve been pleased.” She lied, rubbing his muscular thigh, feeling her way up to his balls, massaging them, feeling him shift and smiling a little.

His body covered hers again. He went to kiss her but she turned her head to the side, and instead his warm mouth molded itself against her neck, sucking and nibbling in the most delicious ways. He moved inside of her, parting her lips, and she relished the feeling of fullness. He began the rhythmical movements in and out of her again, and the ridge of his head felt so amazing when it slid in just the right spot. She moaned, moving one hand around him to stroke up and down, encouraging him to continue. He continued to feast upon the susceptible side of her neck, such an inviting mouth and tongue, and yet she shivered. His hand reached to capture her other hand, and he began increasing the movement.

For the briefest of moments, she believed that he was Matt. It was the right build, the pace was now similar to his favorite. A warm male body covering her own, filling her, loving her. He was here, now. She hadn’t answered the door to the men in stiff, formal uniforms, offering their immediate condolences about her husband. It didn’t happen…that was a dream.

A dream, she thought desperately, as the pleasure began building, and she felt herself drifting off with the indulgence, losing coherent thoughts for the briefest, most needed, escape.   

**Phone sex confession:
I suck at phone sex. I am okay in the beginning, though it feels awkward to me. But then I start touching myself, and listening to the voice on the other side, and lose myself to the pleasure. Eventually I abandon speaking to my lover, instead moaning or gasping at my own pleasurable sensations. Fortunately, they don't seem to mind this verbal communication on my end.  
Sadly, right now I am having far more phone sex than actual sex. 

Unknown Leads to Desire: Mating in Captivity

Esther Perel's book Mating in Captivity: Unlocking Erotic Intelligence was suggested by My Dissolute Life.

I cannot read a book without writing in it (I never borrow books for this reason). I had an English Professor tell me that "books talk to us, talk back", and that seemed like as good as motivation to explain to people as ever. And yes, because most of my reading is done in the bath, I still read actual paperbound books (shocking, I know, but imagine how expensive an electronic book would suddenly become if I dropped it).

As I've been reading this book, I've been reflecting. This seems like a good place to share. I'm strictly going to speak from a military spouse, and generalize that most spouses are females to a military man.

Perel states that unknown factors increase excitement and desire, hence the giddy love-rush feelings at first. But unknown isn't synonymous with security, so we seek to make each other more known in a commitment: "to control the risks of passion, you have tamed it out of existence." (Perel, 10)

She suggests looking at your partner with a new perspective (ever seen someone appreciate something about your partner, and realize that you've been taking that very thing for granted in them?). For example, I go to the same local family business to buy my ball gowns. The seamstress met my husband, and commented on his slow mannerisms, his thoughtful consideration, his absolute respect, and his gorgeous body. By that point, I had taken some of these things for granted, and no longer saw them until she pointed them out. He does have a slower mannerism than say a person from California (who always seems rushed); I’d forgotten how I used to think that too.

Gorgeous, well I can’t forget that. For some reason, even after years, he still takes my breath away. When I told her one year that we were done having babies, she declared, “no baby, no. He is gorgeous and he needs to make gorgeous babies.” She’s right: he is gorgeous, but that doesn’t change the fact that he was not having any more babies. Now, we were all for practicing.

Now in the military, the odds for taking someone for granted aren’t as high as perhaps some other couples. For one: there’s deployments. Depending on what branch depends on how long they are gone. The fear of them being in harm’s way makes them that much more precious. And you are away from them – aware of the emptiness of the bed beside you, the lack of tripping over their boots, their interactions with the children. Communication is often short and random, words become that more important, preciseness to convey a message is hard but so importantly necessary. Their voice inflections travel from the ear and burrow deeply into the heart, to nourish until the next time. And when you finally see each other again, it is falling in love all over again. Often spouses have lost weight, change a hairstyle, become more independent, developed a new routine; kids have grown. Military personnel are often more muscular and defined, tired, perhaps have even changed emotionally and mentally from what they’ve experienced.

Trainings/schooling tend not to be as long, but it is still a breaking apart and coming together again. Also, spouses will often travel and visit family if they’ve moved far away for extended periods of time. There always seems to be a reason for parting and coming back together in the military lifestyle.

It is getting to know each other again; they are unknown to each other again depending on the length of time; and their unique and completely individual experiences. The fact that they are married changes nothing of the newness of each other, that is more based on the love and commitment to each other, not in the actual wanting of each other. "Love is about having; desire is about wanting. An expression of longing, desire requires ongoing elusiveness." (Perel, 37) These couples are often elusive, and want to recommit to each other, to discover and delve into each other again, and desire tends to be very high at homecomings. A new lover delivered safely, an "oh yeah, I forgot how that feels" touch or caress, a new trick heard and now tried. Even old tried and try methods are made new and appreciated.

The up and down rollercoaster of the relationship in a military lifestyle isn’t all grand; it is downright challenging. At a recent marriage retreat that my husband and I went to, we heard from the chaplain that the divorce rate was currently 75%. There have a lot of studies debating if it is higher than the average national norm or not, I’ve read a lot of it and it seems pretty undecided as a whole. But it is challenging. Some couples become addicted to the partings and homecomings, and cannot handle their spouses for long periods of time - they've become stagnant and lose that desire. Some have lived apart for so long that when they finally come together, they discovered they didn’t want to be married anymore, the desire simply wasn't there at all and was perhaps more of an illusion sustained by distance.

I am going to suggest her book to many of my friends, especially if they are ready to transition to civilian life where separateness may be more challenging. Perel in no way suggests living separately to gain individuality, those are my own thoughts based on a military lifestyle. She discusses reawakening the newness when there has been no new element in a long time (which the military provides); of desiring each other again. When not forced apart, I can only hope that my spouse and I retain our individual selves and continue to view each other with desire from different perspectives.

*As a side note: even reading other bloggers really helps my own sex life. It has made me curious to try new things, to get out of my comfort zones, to point towards someone else’s words who have more effectively communicated wants that I’ve been trying to tell my husband. There are even some great videos that bloggers provide to offer how-to for so many numerous kinks.

With bringing in new ideas, or often being reminded of old favorites, I believe that we will keep our sex life and desire fresh just because we are so fluid with it.   

Warrior's Cheer

Trying to cheer up some wounded warriors after too much tequila in the parking lot of the bar...

They asked to see my boobs, I told them to grab the cameras, then bent over for my friend in the wheelchair.

Scavenger Hunt

 

Autralia's message for unacceptable military behavior

I have read several blogs and articles discussing how poorly the US is handling sexual assault and harassment of women in the military. Australia Chief of Army is a little more direct in his message. I think this was eloquent, decided to share, and I found it on: The Week.com

Knife Play

 Kink of the Week is on one of my favorites. To KISS (keep it stupidly simple), I am just going to answer the questions.

"Knives excite a lot of people. They scare a lot of people too."
Just yesterday a friend of mine told me that he's terrified of being stabbed. He has something against knives. He's in the military, and has no fear of being shot, but a serious fear of knives. I found this odd; knives have always excited me (and I think being shot is worse).

"Have you ever played with knives?"
Oh yes, I've played with knives. I have two scars in the learning to play with knives. I used to fight with them, and I was adept at throwing knives in my youth as well.

Sexually, I began playing with knives with a boyfriend that taught me sword fighting. This man was masterful with a blade in general and I wasn't afraid in the slightest when he suggested that we incorporate one in bed. The first time the smooth flat part came in contact with my hot flesh I was sold. The contrast in temperature was amazing. It moves smoothly, effortlessly across the skin. The tip of the knife scratches its way, leaving a tiny trail of such precision.

"Does the sight of a knife’s sharp edge excite you, make you afraid, do both? What about the feel of a knife?"
A knife does both for me. I have trusted two partners to bring a knife to me, though I have used a knife on more. With my current lover, we were talking in a parking lot in his car and I saw that he had a ka-bar. It was in a sheath wedged between the center and his seat, so I grabbed it. The weight was so heavy, so solid, the edge so sharp and smooth, the flat of the blade was thick and dark. I loved the feel of this in my hand. "What are you doing?" he asked, curious. Suddenly, impulsively, I straddled him and put the knife up to the side of his throat. There we were, in an abandoned parking lot, in a car, and I had a knife to his throat. He just calmly looked at me, a steady gaze, queried again, "whatcha doing, babe?" and I melted and fell in lust with him.

"Ever played with a knife?" I whispered in his ear, nibbling on it, on the other side of him gliding the flat of the blade across his neck, going slowly from behind the ear to below it, across the side of his neck, against the pulse, slowly down to the front dip between the collarbones. I breathed heated breaths against his neck, moved back a little, and swiveled so that the knife tip so very gently followed the collarbone towards me and arched up the side of his neck, softly moving up to behind the ear I had just recently nibbled.

"No," his voice had a deeper timbre to it, "but I think I've been missing out on it suddenly."

"Does a knife at your throat (or other body parts), or does holding a knife to someone’s throat (or other body parts) make you hot or turn you cold? Is it fear play for you or just sensation play?"
It is fear play, but mostly sensation play for me. I have a glass dildo that is cold like a knife, and thick and smooth, and runs across skin like butter in a pan. There is a picture of my glass toy and a knife resting in ice water that my lover thought to do to increase the cold factor when we play.

The same friend yesterday, when I described the cold sliding against fevered skin said, "then we could just use a spoon." I laughed, and argued that a spoon would work for one type of sensation that a knife can do, but it isn't small and precise like the tip of a blade, exactly what is wrong with my glass dildo; to which then he said, "a fork will do that." Yes, but a fork isn't thick and there's more than one small protusion.

And there needs to be more than sensation play, I need to excitement and fear of a knife. I love that absolute concentration required, that the person wielding the knife is skilled with their hands, that the person receiving the blade is still, focused on the sensation, and above all trusting of the other. A cold knife at my throat is exquisite, the tip of the blade scratching softly at my nipple or gliding flat blade across and making them pucker makes me breathless, and the any part of it moving up and down the inside of my thighs makes me tighten in desire.

Welcome home present

All wrapped up and tied with a bow

See who else is being sinful with me

We are

Lucky

"How lucky I am to have something that makes it so hard to say goodbye."
-Annie (the movie)

When I think Valentine's Day, I think of how many of them I've spent alone. It isn't a romantic thought, but there is nothing quite so difficult as to see so many happy couples and wonder if your partner is safe halfway across the world. While others take their lovers to bed, I go to bed with something of his, and a laptop and phone - just in case he calls. But how lucky am I that he is something worth longing for, loving, loyal to his country, and a commitment to protect it despite the costs?

See who's Sinful with me.

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!

Make Her Famous

Military men have this distasteful habit of sharing nude photos of women who they feel have done them wrong. It's often in a texting chain, and titled, "Make Her Famous", with only a picture of the naked woman. The other men may not even know who the woman is, who she supposedly wronged, or how many others have already seen it; they absent-minded forward it to everyone they know in the military before even looking at the picture themselves. Another way that military men share pictures is when they're deployed, it's called a "Dear John" or other-named wall in which actual printed pictures are posted. Oftentimes, the higher ranking people are not aware of where it is (as it's encouraged or acceptable), and yet it exists at every deployed area.

Now, these men have plenty of access to porn and pictures, both in and out of the workplace. "They aren’t about naked girls; there are plenty of those who are on the internet consensually. It’s about hating women, taking enjoyment in seeing them violated, and harming them... , usually with the complicity of someone they trusted. The whole point is to humiliate, but not just to humiliate; to violate." (http://yesmeansyesblog.wordpress.com/2013/01/29/revenge-porn-and-the-women-humiliation-industry/). These were women who trusted their partners with photos. Being intimate alone with someone requires trust, and yet sending them a picture requires even more trust for many (myself included).  And the forced separation from military men, for whatever reason, lends itself to more nude photo transfers than most couples (at least in my experience).

Now in the blog, Yes Means Yes, it is argued that this is mostly true of women, "because as a society we don’t think it’s inherently degrading or humiliating for men to have sex. Despite the fact that large numbers of women watch porn, there are apparently not large numbers of women who find sexual gratification in publicly shaming and demeaning men they’ve slept with." The blog also shed a new perspective to me in that: "We have a society with a tremendous tolerance for coercion and people can sit around thinking up all the times when it might be okay for someone to be sexualized against their will...[but] we’re better off starting from the proposition that sexualizing the unwilling is always a sexual assault before we entertain questions of intent and mistake and exception."

And it is true, these women are not allowing the men they trusted to forward their pictures to serve as a "warning: stay away" to the other guys, most often they are not even aware that their pictures are being viewed so publicly, and in a negative and hostile way. Revenge porn and celebrity-caught-photos do  the same thing-share a visual that they are not agreeing to. Anne Hathaway was quoted in two blogs recently (both blogs are mentioned in this blog) that: "I'm sorry that we live in a culture that commodifies sexuality of unwilling participants."

What's odd about the whole military men showing nude women photos is that they are (as a whole) incredibly quick to share their own cock photos with a new partner (or one that they barely even know, or heck, haven't even met). I would think that they would be more cautious, or untrusting, of sharing. And perhaps it isn't as shameful for the man's picture to shown in our society, or that they trust that women won't humiliate, because they most often don't.

But I know of a group of women who do. Because military men are so eager to share photos of their male parts, this group of women share it with the phone number, only if the men give an unsolicited penis picture. The girls will then critique his penis and let him know what they think. The argument being, "because if the man wanted to have his penis seen so bad, then they help him." An example I was given was:

Male: How's your pizza? Here's my penis! (Yep, sadly that's all it takes for some (military) men.)

First woman: one word: manscaping

Another woman: why do men always take pictures from on the toilet? You couldn't take it somewhere romantic like...like the garbage dump?

Perhaps these men don't mind as much because, "men’s shame usually centers on not appearing weak while women’s shame often revolves around not being perfect," (http://www.charlieglickman.com/2013/01/what-revenge-porn-tells-us-about-sex-and-humiliation). These pictures do not necessarily make the man feel weak, at least, not until this group of women send back comments, and possibly not even then. This line may seem blurrier as far as betraying trust, because the women didn't ask or even want the pictures, but the sharing of them to someone other than the intended  recipient is still about humiliating and violating; women are not above this.

YesMeans Yes ponders,  "if the culture tells my kids that it’s hot and exciting to violate a woman’s boundaries with a camera, what lesson will they take about violating a woman’s body with a body"? Charlie Glickman suggests, "but maybe it’s time that we take a look at how many ways we create a culture in which their behavior is simply a more extreme version of some behaviors that we don’t even notice anymore".  We are certainly a culture that views private parts "private", gets a thrill out of catching a celebrity unknowingly revealing more than intended, and constantly creating new sites for the "revenge" pictures and/or porn.  I am not sure of a solution. An adult trusting pictures of themselves to a lover is very different than a person knowingly and acceptingly posting or publishing pictures of themselves; and there is no shame - regardless of what a person looks like (body image is another topic for another day) - to publicly and willingly share. But to use the images for malicious intent, or to share if it is someone other than you or not given explicit permission, is an absolute harmful violation. I know that previous partners' pictures I've either destroyed, given back, or still hold privately for only my viewing pleasure. Certainly, that is part of the solution.  And to not feed/buy into the sensationalism of magazines, websites, other media who thrive on the commodity of an unwilling participant, demonstrates that it's unacceptable.  

As for my military man? He deletes the pictures forwarded  to him, at least not perpetuating the problem. It's a small step, but most movements begin with a small step (take the sex blogging community sharing the recent plagiarism/copyright issue with another blogger).

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.

Welcome Home

A writing prompt "March Madness-sex with an athlete" made me think that I have sex with an athlete quite often. He is amazingly fit: he can carry someone across enemy lines, run for distances and speed if need be while being bogged down in weighty gear, can do pull-ups with ease, lift ammo cans, squat and shoot a rifle. I can think of no one more athletic that I am honored to be with than a man who commits his body to his country, to shed sweat and tears and blood for it. But he is just not athletic because his job requires it: he also is a runner by nature, loves to swim, and cycle.

The sexier side of him can lift me easily up for a kiss, or to manipulate me where he wants me. My legs can wrap around his small waist, my arms can barely (heck I may not be able to do this, and if he were around, I'd test it) wrap around his broad chest or shoulders. My eyes can feast of the visual image of his arm muscles bulging when he is braced above me, can feel the ripples of muscles under my fingertips as he moves in and out of me.

The downside to having sex with this amazing archetype of athletic man, is that he is gone for long periods of time, doing his duty to his first mistress: our country. This is a story about needing and greeting him back into my own arms...

As I drift off to sleep, I remember the day's events that have wrung me emotionally dry. The lack of sleep the night before with anxiety and anticipation. The moments of giddy thinking about getting a chance to see you. Hours spent grooming, shaving, shampooing, brushing, straightening, curling, spraying, spritzing, changing. I was a nervous wreck at the thought of seeing you. Laughter, encouragement, compliments from friends were lost in the fog, voices seemingly far away, my own apprehension amplifying the concern from within rather than the reality outward. I don't remember the drive there.

My emotions spiraled out, sense was disoriented, expectation unreasonable, tangled hopes, exaggerated emotions. And then the moment came, and the world was still, and all of the many people surrounding me ceased to exist as suddenly men poured out, so similar in dress and manner that I panicked that I wouldn't find you. But I did, and my breath caught and my heart stopped, time dragged slowly as we struggled our way to each other. And then I was engulfed in your arms, unable to see anything but the fabric clothing you, smelled your unique scent that draws me in. My heartbeat returned, rushed through my body and poured life and sensation back into it, pounded in my head, overtook my senses. I wonder, before I drift off, was that you towering over me that cast shadows, or was the sun blocked out briefly?

My insecurities came to the forefront when you released me, was the reality of me what you've professed to dreaming about all these nights? Did the memory turned fantasy hold up? I wanted to stop the tears, happy tears that my world - in you - was close. How waterproof was mascara, I thought then. You were better looking than the image that I envisioned, vibrant and magnetic, alive and breathing, smiling at me. Safe and sound, a certainty for the first time this year.  

And now sleeping next to me. My expectation, though I knew better, was a night of lovemaking, though I was exhausted and knew you would be as well. Your fatigue after visiting with friends and family left you destitute, with a mumbled apology, a collapse on the bed, an arm around my waist, possessively drawing me close and pinning me there, sudden snores soft against my ear.

Why can't I sleep, even as I drift closer to dreams? I am aware of your chest rising and falling against my side, the heaviness of your arm draped over me.  My eyes burn and itch from holding back tears and slumber. But my body quickens and awakens, rebelling the unconsciousness.

It's going to be a long night. I need to delve my tongue into your mouth, draw in your breath. Hold you tighter, taste your skin. Feel you harden in my hand, drag my tongue slowly up your shaft. Press your tip against my lips, open and curl and suck just the head before I fill my mouth as far as possible with your cock. Coil my tongue around your length as I pull up with my lips, pulling you and releasing you.  

I yearn to have you poised at my entrance, gently part, stretch and fill my body slowly until I am used to you again, until my body knows that you have returned, that I am yours. Your hardness searing me, marking where it belongs, my warmth clinging, clutching, grasping.

I want to surround you.  I've missed you with such an ache that only you fulfill, and it's been so long.

I need to welcome you home, my love.

Blow off some steam

I'm attracted to military men. There, I've said it. There is so much to be attracted to besides just the job/stability.

One word: uniforms.

Good God! My favorite thing is to see him come home, and as I stop him from bending down to remove his boots, I drop to my knees and slowly unbutton his cammie trousers... One by one the buttons part to release his dick, already hard with desire; he knows what is coming.

My mouth waters and I become moist just at the sight of that gorgeous cock standing proud at attention out of his uniform. And as I wrap my lips around his head and slowly slide his shaft into my eager mouth, his hand goes to my soft hair, and a sigh escapes his lips.

As the momentum builds I'm no longer in control. I plead with him to fuck my face until he can't take it anymore and he forcefully bends me over the couch and enters me swiftly, knowing I'm already so prepared for him from just the sight of him in his uniform. My skirt tossed roughly up, panties ripped down. As he fills my body and pummels me into the couch I cannot keep from screaming his name and I feel the rough fabric of his well worn cammies rubbing my skin because the trousers are still half on.

As he fills me with his release I cannot help but to find my own as I tighten around him.
This is just one thing, out of so many things I love about a military man, but truly there is nothing better than getting your face fucked while he's in his cammies... Except for their dress uniform and that is a whole different delicious entry in its entirety.

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.

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.

Not so thankful Thanksgiving...

I am sexually demanding. I acknowledge that and will rarely make apologies for it. So when I demanded sex on a daily basis before agreeing to marriage, it was a clear expectation.

And then the military gets him more than I do....

I am patient, understanding, waiting; always waiting.

And then he actually had a whole four days off. I was wet just thinking about it. I told him all the things I wanted us to do. Expressed the desire to be mindless from so many orgasms. We had no kids for the holiday, I took out our ties and proudly kept them on our bed posts. This was not going to be our normal routine, obligatory sex. Oh, no sir.

And then reality set in, like his exhaustion from actually having time off. So when I demanded, and he agreed, the sex was good, I still wanted it. But I wanted a partner who wants me just as fiercely. This has been a battle in every relationship; it is clearly an internal conflict at this point in my life.

It's not about love. He loves me with an intensity that is unquestionable. It is a separate, and still important, ingredient in our relationship. I need to feel desired. Even after three times throughout the day, I want to be played with, touched, pulled towards, thrown on the bed and fucked senseless, even if we were just there minutes ago. We don't have many opportunities to be spontaneous, languorous.

It's not about adequacy. With the merest of touches, he pushes buttons and an orgasm gushes. But I wanted an urgency, a fervent lust, a physical worship, a need like breath. I didn't want the one-sided initiation every time. I wanted out of our routine....