Candle lit

Candles, wax. Waiting flesh, taunt with anticipation.

Non Vanilla Flavors

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

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

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

So here's my non-vanilla flavors:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tied and blindfolded

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

He smiled, indulgently. "Okay."

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Breathing with the flame

We have a bucket sex list, or a to-do curiosity list. We can now cross off spanking, as he has wonderfully accomplished that. Next up, wax play.

At the sex store, we picked up some candles. We knew we could probably get them cheaper, and just other candles, but we were there anyhow seeing what kind of new mischief we wanted to get into.So we figured: now would be the perfect time to try it out.

First off, he played with the candles, lighting, seeing how long the wax took to burn, tipping it and checking aim. He encouraged me to do the same. I was getting excited: first that he was willing, and secondly because he was gorgeous in low lighting with the candlelight casting shadows of his wide shoulders, focused gaze seemed even more intense reflecting fire, and his hands gently moving in experimentation. I was anxious to see what his body would do when I poured some on him, how it felt when he poured some on me. But for him in that moment, it was more about technique - how does it splatter? Where does it drip? How to get the smaller drips versus the larger amounts? He blew out the candle once he felt satisfied with the answers, and I felt a little disappointed.

Then we had sex for a long time, trying some things we hadn't in awhile, and enjoying a longer session than normal. 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 him, a clear signal I was ready to use the candle.He wanted it on his thigh first, from a far distance. He was a good sport: I was interested in wax play, but I wanted him to be the experiment first. Even at the time, he stated: "this seems more like it will be your thing, than mine. I'm not getting into pain." He directed me to start out high. 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. God, he moved in such an erotic way, and I rarely observe him holding his breath in anticipation. I was getting excited, but he wasn't. 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, and my skin seemed to be expressing a white hot anger at being used thusly. It felt scalding even when the wax began to harden. 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 couldn't help but yelp and jump a little. "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.

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!).As I was in the glow of a post-orgasm a few days later, the candles being lit nearby, he moved to the side of the bed. Sleepily, I rolled over, and saw the towel. Smiling, I shifted onto it as he lifted the candle off of the nightstand. I held my breath, anticipation building, a sharp contrast to the sleepy lull I was going through. I watched him holding the candle, mesmerized by the dancing flame, by the hand that was holding it. I was so focused on the candle that I didn't appreciate the shadow play across my lover's face, didn't even glance anywhere else but where he may be headed.

He tipped, and a small drop fell and splattered onto my stomach. I didn't expect it, even watching it, and it was quickly joined by another unexpected scattering of drops. I couldn't predict where it would go, how it would move, how it felt on the different places that he was exploring. Some fell in small streams, to cascade upon me suddenly, increasing the heat, and creating little pathways across the skin, before cooling into a line. My chest handled it slightly better than lower on my stomach and hips, the curving in of my waist. My nipples puckered, wondering if wax would kiss the hardened buds. I seemed to breath in time with the flame dancing, or tipping.

I began to thoroughly enjoy when he became more consistent with his placement of the wax. My body, already sensitive from orgasms, thrilled anew and tightened deliciously after the initial fear faded.

Tipping,
falling,
rushing,
                        where?

Hot,
     ahhh,
burning,
     ohhh,
cooling,
drip
       drip
             drip,
s  p l  a  t t  e r,
streaming,
puddle,
hardening.

There was no pattern, but there began to be pleasure in the pain. My skin delighted in this newest sensation, my breathing stayed irregularly in time with the flame, my sex clenched. I wasn't certain if I delighted in every drop, but I was certainly responding with renewed sexual vigor. I moved, arched, twitched, sighed, yelped. It was by no means a slow sensual movement and sound that I was exhibiting. He said something, an affirmation that he could tell I was enjoying it, but his message was muted by my own avaricious conflict of the ruling wax.

When he decided he was done, I rolled up onto my knees and started slowly peeling the wax off of him. I must've looked sexy, as a rare compliment came from him and his eyes didn't move from my body, candlelight casting a glow on the sensitive skin and droplets of his teasing. My hands suddenly moved a little slower, grazed areas and little longer, and fingertips explored and lingered over skin and wax. Intentional now, this movement was the slow sensual kind. His hands were not long in joining my own over my body.

I would like to say that he enjoyed the second try of wax on him, but he didn't. We both enjoyed the second session of sex after our experimenting. Still a happy ending, and one new thing that I can add to my kink. I can't wait to try it out with binds and blindfold, then knife play. I love new possibilities with the right lover.

So glad we did this before the kink of the week, as well!

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.